A Single Thread

Part I: A New Hope

Act IX

The galaxy was infinitely larger than he'd ever dreamed.

And twice as lonely.

Growing up, Luke Skywalker had always felt different from the other children on Tatooine, even those that he counted as his closest friends.

In some ways, he'd always known that he didn't quite fit in, that he didn't belong there, but he'd never understood those feelings until he'd learned the truth about his father from Ben Kenobi. He was the son of a Jedi Knight, and a great Jedi at that, no wonder he'd felt like he was out of place in the bleak desert.

He wasn't meant for moisture vaporators and farming, but for lightsabers and justice.

The blood of a Jedi flowed through his veins, and, as Ben had revealed to him, he'd been born to follow in his father's footsteps as a servant of the Force.

But it hadn't just been the... uniqueness inside of him that set him apart from the other children.

All his life, Luke had been keenly aware of the absence of his parents, even more so when he watched his friends with their mothers and fathers. Even as a baby, he'd known that he was missing something, that people who were supposed to be there with him were gone, but he'd never been able to explain that feeling.

That sense of loss.

How could he mourn people he'd never even met?

How could he miss them, waking up in the middle of the cold night with the Tatooine winds howling just outside of his door and cry out for someone that he'd never even known?

Then again, very little in Luke's eighteen years had ever made much sense.

Who would have thought, he mused to himself with a weary ghost of a smile as he examined the orange flightsuit he'd been given. That I would ever end up here?

It had been his dream all his life to get away, to escape the scorching sands of Tatooine and fly from one corner of the galaxy to the next, seeing every star and planet there was to see, but now that he was here, lightyears away from home and about to experience combat for the first time, he was tired.

Physically, he was well-rested, he'd gotten sleep on the Millennium Falcon during hyperspace, Leia had insisted that he get some rest, but he still felt as if he'd been awake for days on end.

As if he'd just stumbled upon the smoking bodies at the homestead.

Everything had happened so fast, part of him was still reeling from it. One morning he'd been complaining about Uncle Owen keeping him stuck at the farm, wondering if he could sneak off to fly Beggar's Canyon, and the next he'd lost the only family he had left, watched his mentor be struck down, and joined the Rebellion with imminent death upon them all.

It was a lot to take in.

I'm so sorry, Aunt Beru, he thought, chest tightening painfully. Uncle Owen. I should have been there.

Ben had told him that there was a reason he hadn't been, that the Force had drawn him away from the homestead so that he would survive, because it wasn't his time and he still had a purpose to fulfill, but Luke still felt guilty.

Owen and Beru had raised him, loved him in their own ways, and he hadn't even been there the one time they needed him most.

Just like he hadn't been there when Ben needed him.

The moment had replayed itself countless times in his mind since their escape from the Death Star, and it still caused a lump to form in his throat, not just because Ben was dead, but because he knew somehow that he could have stopped it.

But what could he have done, really?

Running up to Darth Vader and shouting 'I'm Luke Skywalker, you killed my father, prepare to die!' was ridiculous, and yet if Ben, a Jedi with decades of experience, could not defeat Vader, what chance did Luke have?

But I have to try, he thought, gritting his teeth. I have to try, not just for Ben, but for my father, as well.

And, he conceded, for himself.

Vader had betrayed and murdered Anakin Skywalker, a fellow Jedi Knight, but the crime he would have to atone for most had little to do with the Force or betrayal, and everything to do with a little boy who'd never had a father there to tell him bedtime stories or work on a speeder with him.

It had been Vader that stole his father away from the son who so desperately needed his love, his guidance, his presence at the center of a little boy's world.

But it had not just been Luke whom Vader had hurt that day.

His mother, her name and face unknown, though he often fancied that he'd seen her in his dreams, hidden behind a delicate mask of ivory that forever concealed her features from him, had also suffered. She had lost her husband, and though he knew very little about her death, Beru had simply told him that she died bringing him into the world, in his heart Luke knew the truth was that Vader had killed her.

By taking away her husband, he had killed her, as well, for she had not had the strength or the will to continue on without the man she loved.

His family had suffered, from one generation to the next, because of the monster in the black armor.

And what of Ben, who had once been teacher and mentor to Vader, who had been betrayed by his own student? Worse yet, to have his own student turn and kill his best friend? The anguish in the old man's eyes, deep and heavy, had not been lost on Luke when Ben spoke of Anakin Skywalker.

The wistfulness in those tired blue-gray eyes, the sad lift of the mouth as memories played in his mind, had touched something deep within Luke.

They must have been like brothers, Ben and Anakin.

And Vader had destroyed them both.

For the second time in his life, Luke had been orphaned. He now had no father, no mother, no uncle or aunt, and not even an aging hermit to guide him down the path that had been set before his feet.

Even Han and Chewie were leaving him, off to roam the galaxy once more.

It was his fate, it seemed, to be alone.

And, as if conjured by the aching loneliness in his chest, as if his heart had cried out and she had heard him, an angel appeared in front of him, stepping away from the Rebellion leaders she was speaking with and coming to his side.

"What's wrong?" Leia asked him worriedly.

There was concern in her dark gaze, warm and unwavering, and it eased some of the throbbing in his chest.

He couldn't explain the strange pull he felt towards the young princess turned senator from Alderaan, but it was a constant that had been there since he first laid eyes on her lovely image in the holomessage that Artoo had been trying to get to Ben.

It was as if he'd known her all his life, long before he'd developed memory or consciousness.

And somehow, he knew that she felt it, too.

"It's Han," Luke answered, discouraged as he shrugged haplessly. "I really thought he'd change his mind and stick around."

"He has to choose his own path," Leia replied with a shake of her head, though he thought he caught a flicker of regret in her eyes, the same regret that he himself was feeling on the matter. "No one can choose it for him."

Luke nodded faintly, knowing she was right.

"I just wish," he murmured, gaze lowering to the floor, his helmet suddenly feeling inexplicably heavy under his arm. "I just wish Ben was here."

I know.

There were no words spoken, but somehow Luke knew it was what she was thinking.

Just as he knew that she wanted to put her arms around him, hold him tight to give him what comfort she could, but she restrained that impulse, and instead gave him a small, tender smile.

Then she leaned in and kissed him gently on the cheek.

Luke watched her go as she slipped away, returning to her duties.

This wasn't the first time she'd kissed his cheek, it had happened on the Death Star, as well, just before he swung them both across a great canyon in the battlestation, and the warmth had lasted until the end of their escape.

She'd told him that kiss was for luck, but this one hadn't come with a reason.

It wasn't necessary, really.

I'm here. I care for you. Be careful.

The words had stirred within him, as if they'd been spoken, and as he continued on towards the fighter that had been given to him, a X-wing model, he smiled faintly.

Maybe he wasn't so alone, after all.