Trigger warning: Luke plans to jump off a cliff to his death. *Spoilers* he doesn't, but there are some intense death-wishing undertones and overtones to this chapter. Also, there is a miscarriage. It is more implied than anything, but it does happen.

PART III: "Apocalypse"

Leia is beginning to show. No surprise, since she is now—what?—almost three months? It's remarkable to think that life can still exist among all this destruction.

Life. The blooming of her orchids, now shooting upwards at full intensity, their vines grasping at the bars awaiting them.

Life. The baby within her belly.

Life. The indolently-smiling Han, who seems to be combatting Leia about the rebellion again. Or maybe he never stopped. Maybe she wants to keep going even with the baby, and he doesn't.

None of it matters, anymore.

"Han. Leia. Padmé… she's…"

"Oh, stars." Leia clutches at her breast. "She reported us. Oh my stars—"

"Kriff." Han buries his head in his hands.

And Leia's and Han's lack of faith in their own daughter, when in fact she deserves so much faith, when what she did to protect them and all of us should have been on her shoulders—it all just shatters me further. For the first time in decades, I want to raise my voice. Because even though Vader didn't mean to interrogate her—just wanted to kill her with the upmost of pain—if she had said she knew me, or knew of a rebellion… I bet he would've stopped.

If she'd said she was the granddaughter of Anakin Skywalker, he surely would have stopped.

The latter fate would have been worse. Or would it? I sense she lives, but what I sense also is a shattered thing: like a vase broken into a million pieces and scattered to the four winds of the galaxy.

Broken. Maybe irrevocably. And they think she reported them.

But my voice only comes out husky and hoarse. "She did not. Though maybe Vader would have spared her if she had. She's…"

Han, eyes suddenly wide as a child's, shakes his head. "No, she ain't."

"She's on the Death Star. Tarkin saved her life, I don't know how. Vader nearly tortured her to death.

"She should be coming back… they should be bringing her back here… But I don't know… I don't think she's alright." Of course she's not alright. "I don't think she's alright at all."

And they are frozen now. Frozen. Uncomprehending. Because how could so much go so wrong in a mere day?

Then Leia screams—a terrible, long, drawn out scream—and drops to the floor, a broken heap upon the ground. She breathes hard. She clutches her abdomen.

But Han isn't immobile. He grabs me. He screams at me. "You come here and you tell us this so calm like! Did you ever even care?! You promised me! You promised me forever ago that she was gonna be safe—that both of 'em would be safe because of your training—you promised me and I believed you—!"

"I failed," I say. "I saw… but I didn't understand. I didn't understand until it was too late. It's my fault. I…"

"You bastard! Sorry isn't good enough!" Han punches me, and then again. Instinctively, I move to defend—

Then let it go.

And Leia is sobbing, and screaming at her husband to stop—stop—

And then there's blood, so much blood. Mine. Leia's. The lost baby's—

"No!"

"The baby—"

"Leia, hold on… I'll—I'll go get… h-help…"

"My baby." And she is sobbing. Sobbing. Her baby. Her baby… But which baby? The one whose life is seeping out from her right now or the one whose life might better have been ended than preserved?

A fate worse than death…

I struggle to my feet for the last time. Looking between the people I've utterly failed, I say, "Goodbye."

OOO

The Stone Needle. A high cliff with dangerous tunnels. Considered impossible to thread—until I once did it at fourteen in my skyhopper. So long ago. So very long ago.

I thought about that boy, with his wild joy and farmboy grin and bright blue eyes, and realized I now knew nothing of him. Nothing. He'd had hope. He'd wanted to leave Tatooine. He'd wanted to be a big hero.

And now I stood at the top of the cliff, and knew I'd never climb as high as I'd once wanted to. I'd never leave Tatooine again. I'd be here for eternity.

Eternity, in all its sweet oblivion, called to me with its siren voice this very moment. I shut my eyes, drawing in a deep breath. But I had to open them again. Awake or asleep, eyes open or closed, all I could see was Leia's broken sobs as she lay on the floor, losing both her children, Han's ashen face and screaming words, You promised to protect her! You promised! and Padmé—

Padmé—

And then, someone said,

"Don't jump. Stars above, Luke. Please don't jump."

My head whipped to the side. I saw Biggs, who, having climbed up next to me, now held his hands out to me. His hands shook, even like I did from head to toe.

"Get back! Don't come any closer!" I screamed. I knew I sounded insane—as insane as everyone now said Padmé was. Tortured to madness.

My voice broke as I added the next. "I mean it! I'll jump!"

Swallowing hard, clearly believing me, Biggs took a step back, hands raised in the universal gesture of surrender. Yes. That's right. We're all surrendering now. We're all stopping. We're all laying down arms…

It's over.

This is a useless, futile fight. And I've been an idiot to ever think I could succeed as a Jedi.

I'm no more than a big failure, in everything.

But my host of failures didn't even affect me.

But Biggs didn't leave. He stayed on the cliff edge those few steps back, and kept meeting my gaze. "Why don't you tell me why you're about to do this?" he asked almost conversationally.

"Don't try to talk me out of it! I know all about that gundark druk! You know how many people throw themselves off cliffs around here?! And I've helped some!" I laughed. "How perverse of me! I should have gone right with them then, before I even started all of this… Before—" My voice broke. "Before—"

"Before what?"

He wanted me to tell him! So he could take it back to the Empire! To Vader! And I'd been regretting choking him.

I'd been regretting it.

"I hope you die," I hurled at him. "I hope you go right to the blazes. You should for what you've done in service of the Empire. It's evil. It's evil and you know it. Or you once did, when we were kids. Remember that? And you serve Vader now. You make me sick. Get out of here. Leave me. Get out. I don't want you. You disgust me."

"…no." Biggs spoke quietly, immense pain rolling off of him. And I wasn't even using the Force; I'd closed myself off from it. Permanently. "I'm not leaving you to do this. No matter what you—no matter how you feel about me. Rightly feel about me."

"Don't try to trick me with some pathetic repentance act," I retorted. The first cruel words had had made me feel better. Purged. But the second sting just made me want to jump even more.

"I didn't feel repentant at all," said Biggs, "until I saw you again and realized you'd done more with your life here than I ever did in the fleet."

"I've done nothing with my life. Don't you see? I've done nothing but hurt people. I'm a failure." And I hurt you, I thought. I hurt you. So why are you here now? How did you even know to come—?

"No. I don't see that at all," Biggs returned, hazel eyes steady, calm, utterly honest. I noticed that he had bruises on his neck from where my fingers in the Force had grasped him; I dug my fingernails into my flesh to steady myself.

He went on, "You've kept your water prices at the same rate for a decade despite it being great and the fact that you could charge much more—and inflated taxes from the dying-out Hutts—because you cared about helping people. You kept buying from Camie's store despite it being a real druk hole. You help everybody around here with repairs for no charge. You somehow stopped that lynching of Jaiv Bellard just because she'd been seen kissing another girl. And I'm pretty sure you've been a member of the White Suns for years—and you somehow saved them from arrest by rescuing Vill and then warning them. The list could go on.

"Whereas I… have spent my life deluding myself that I was the cutest trick since rancor-boot leather. I've hurt people. I've done things that make me sick—followed orders that made me want to vomit. And I kept telling myself that it was the only time, that I'd make up for it once I got into a position of command. That there, I could do some good for everyone. I'd make it all up. I even thought… about you when I did it. Because if I could come back and impress you, then maybe it was all worth it. But I was a coward. I couldn't ever face you again. I was too scared you'd reject me! And somewhere along the way… I lost myself. I lost myself almost completely, Luke.

"You… were the one piece of myself that I didn't lose. And seeing you again… I realized how far I'd fallen. How profoundly I'd failed in what I once planned to do…

"The Emperor—his programs—being in the service—it does something to you. It seeps into your mind and heart and devours you whole. Because he isn't just content with having your service—he wants your—"

"Soul," I said.

"Yes," agreed Biggs, startled. "How did you—?"

"It's no surprise," I uttered quietly.

"Well. Anyway. You aren't the failure, Luke. Believe me. You're the hero. I'm the villain. And in fact—" And he came to the edge beside me, intent clear.

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"I'm not. I'm actually feeling this, too. So—you want to go together, or should I go after you?"

Furiously, I accused, "You know that I won't let you do that." And so he knew I wouldn't jump.

"…why wouldn't you?" he asked with such honesty in his voice and in his face that my throat closed up even a little more than it had during his speech. And he really meant it, I knew. Everything he'd said. Even if he was wrong.

Even though I had choked him.

I'd Force-choked him, and Leia had lost her baby, and Han was shattered, and Padmé was broken, so what did did Jedi tenants matter now?

"Because I love you," I choked out, lips quivering with an emotion I couldn't name.

"—no."

"Yes."

"You can't."

"Of course I can. I always have. And I… I hurt you…" And I didn't just mean the choking, either. I'd been stupid. I'd been so stupid, and so full of hubris like he'd said.

I had become an abusive man. It was impossible to quantity. Me. Luke Skywalker, who always saved life when he could and everyone thought couldn't hurt a fly buzzing around a bantha's bottom. I'd hurt someone the very same way as Vader—as my father.

I was going to be sick.

But Biggs was still here. He kept talking. "Luke… I think we've both hurt each other enough for a lifetime. But we have another chance, if we choose to take it." And then offered me his hand.

My head fell back. I wanted to cry, but it was like I'd used up all my tears these past few days. "You don't understand. There's no more chances for me. I don't want to do this anymore."

"Why?"

"Because of Vader! I'm like him! I'm turning into him!" I burst out. Now the tears came. And the shaking. And I could only whisper, "And I don't think I can make it stop."

Biggs assessed my words slowly and carefully, meeting my gaze with evenness the whole time. Finally, he said, "Vader… is he—"

"My father. Yes."

"...how is that possible?"

"The normal way, I'd assume," I said softly. What could my mother have been thinking?

"Stars. I mean… after what happened… it was the only thing I could—but of course not…

"I see why you told me to get away while I could," he said with a feeble smile.

Maybe he wouldn't jump after me, now. "Please. Just go away." I hid my face.

"I've got nowhere else to be."

"What d'you mean?"

"I finally realized where I recognized that girl from. It kept nagging at me… until I saw a HoloNet report on the princess of Alderaan a few days back. And I've got friends on Alderaan, Luke. I know what happened to her—what really happened, not that story they're telling about her falling down one of the staircases. More of it made sense, then. Seems like she didn't break."

"It wouldn't have mattered if she did," I said, still hidden within me hands. It felt safer here. "He never asked her any questions. He just wanted to kill her painfully, for a perceived offense to him.

"Her name. It's my mother's. His wife's. Her grandmother's. But he doesn't know. He doesn't know she's—"

"His granddaughter. My stars!" Biggs inhaled sharply. And apparently he accepted the revelation of Queen Leia of Alderaan being my sister, Padmé being my niece just like that.

Just like that.

Biggs ventured slowly, "Luke… I know it feels hopeless right now. It must, cause you're the most hopeful man I've ever met and if you're here…— stars… how do I make this better?—"

"You can't." And that was the simple truth. I let my hands down from my face and met his gaze. "No one can make this better, ever."

"You're right." And that was the simple truth, too. "No one can ever fix what happened. It's awful. But to do this… is to let them win, Luke. Please—stars—don't let them take you, too. They've taken everything else. Please… come with me."

He wasn't promising to make it better. He knew he couldn't. He wasn't saying things would get better, because maybe they wouldn't. But he was promising to stay by my side through it all.

And that was love.

Don't let them take you, too.

It would let them win.

The latter sentiment didn't stir me. But the former did. I owed Biggs this much after how I had treated him—how I had hurt him.

And for some reason, he was willing to give me another chance.

I slipped my hand into his. He breathed out sharply in relief.

"Let's go home," I said quietly. He nodded. And that served as our agreement to make a home together.

OOO

Thoughts?