A/N: Hey, friends! Thanks for stopping by! Same warnings apply, please tread with care.
Just a friendly reminder that I'm not necessarily looking for constructive criticism on my work- thank you to those who took the time to try to help me improve my writing, but I know my brain, and I'll fixate on it and feel really insecure for a while.
Thank you!
As soon as a prominent drop of moisture rolled down the fogged mirror, leaving a clear reflection in its wake, Luke wished he hadn't looked up. He didn't recognize the figure staring back at him, for it was even more decayed than the figure he saw in the mirror after he found out the true identity of his father. His body was thinner, his typically vibrant blue eyes faded, and of course, the fiery 'Z' blazed on his collarbone.
Luke, of course, referred to the blaze of Ziggora, the ruthless bounty hunter who only worked for the highest of prices. However, he earned his rate, for he never failed to drag back whomever the client requested. He always completed the job, no matter what methods he had to use.
Not only was Ziggora a ruthless bounty hunter as it was, but he had...unique methods of forcing his victims to comply. Among them included brutal beatings, waterboarding, and, of course, the type of assault Luke had experienced. He was always sure to top off his brutalities with a permanent mark of his presence: the fiery 'Z' brand, always burned directly onto the victim's collarbone. By marking his prey, Ziggora assured everyone in the galaxy knew what happened to his prey, and to whom they belonged.
But as cruel as Ziggora was, none of it would have mattered to Luke…
...if his father hadn't hired him.
Luke traced Ziggora's employment back to his father during his wild manhunt for Luke, seeming to take any necessary measure to find him. However, Ziggora's sexual assaults only recently came to light, as he had sworn his victims to secrecy with the promise of death should they not comply. It was only a few standard years ago that someone came forward, revealing the assault and the red, swollen 'Z' on their collarbone, exactly the same mark Luke saw on himself now. There was also a good chance Ziggora worked under an alias during the time, so there's a possibility his father didn't even know who he hired.
Clearly his father didn't know the lengths Ziggora would go to in order to find Luke, and this was, of course, not his fault by any means, but his father couldn't know Luke had found out. Force he couldn't know. He was sure his father would never forgive himself. Hells, Luke probably would never forgive himself if his father found out.
And he couldn't let Leia find out either. Stars above she couldn't know. Luke knew she'd blame herself, just as his father would. Leia had far too much to deal with now, and Luke would only add to it if she knew, especially about Ziggora. He only hoped her powers wouldn't strengthen faster than Luke's ability to hide this secret.
Luke sighed, submitting to his shame, and dared to look up again.
He didn't know who this man was in the mirror, this boy . He couldn't say whether he was Luke Skywalker or not, for he didn't know who that was anymore. A hero to some, a traitor to others, but in his core, Luke knew he was nothing.
He wrapped a towel tightly around his waist, avoiding looking down at himself in the mirror until it physically hurt not to do so. His eyes drifted down to his collarbone, his trembling fingers not following far behind. The blazing 'Z' still retained its color even after these few long years. He traced the letter with his finger, foolishly hoping he could erase it with his touch.
His eyes then drifted to his stomach's reflection, a series of slices in a uniform row etched into his skin. The little marks of his only release, the only sensation he could feel anymore. The only thing quieting the persistent noise in his head. However, the blissful silence that accompanied the swift slices was becoming shorter and shorter as time passed. Infuriating as it was, it named itself proof that his father was right- he hit a limit he thought was farther out, should have been farther out.
But his father didn't understand- Luke wouldn't accept the help because he was "being selfless," but because he didn't deserve it. Luke let this happen. If he wouldn't have gone to investigate that damn meteorite on that freezing hell of a planet, this wouldn't have happened. Ziggora wouldn't have found him and claimed Luke as his own. If he didn't follow his stupid instincts to explore, he wouldn't be in this mess. His father would be healing as he should, free of any disruption from Luke. This interference seemed to be the case time and time again, even with his father's denial of it.
But he wouldn't let this happen again, he couldn't. It would only slow the speed of his father's recovery all the more.
Luke would be fine on his own, for he had all he needed: a sharp blade.
Wait.
That was it.
On his own.
It was then Luke realized what he needed to do.
After a moment of convincing himself this was the only way, he took a seat cross-legged on the tile floor. He inhaled deeply three times, setting himself up for meditation. However, this time he had a far different agenda than floundering for a silence he knew he would never achieve.
Luke closed his eyes and searched for his father's Force presence. A quick moment after locating it, as not to be detected, Luke backed out of its energy. He focused on his own presence for a moment, concentrating on his shields, feeling each and every bit of energy push together to create a barrier between his feelings and the outside world, especially his father.
Luke focused in on every bit of energy until he felt himself start to become dizzy...
And multiplied them until his shields were indestructible, fortifying his defenses.
No one would be getting through, especially his father.
Packed bag in hand, incredible weight in his heart, Luke suppressed a tremble as he stood outside the door to his father's quarters. He was once again thankful he had greatly strengthened his shields on his side of the Force bond to cloak his emotion, for if their connection remained untouched, Luke would have surely woken his father with the whirlwind in his weary soul.
He drew in a deep breath, held it, and released a slow stream of air as he began.
"Father," he whispered, careful not to wake the man from his far too rare slumber. He sighed, bowing his head in shame behind the closed door. "I'm sorry. I...I couldn't say it to you directly, but I had to say goodbye."
Luke gripped the handle of his bag tighter with his prosthetic, trying to convince himself this was the correct option- this was the only option.
"This isn't because of you," he assured the durasteel door, catching a brief, unwanted flash of his reflection in the material. He turned his face away abruptly, trying to forget the stranger staring back at him. "It's me. It's my fault. It's...it's all my fault."
Luke faught the hot tears stinging behind his eyes with a hard snap of his lids, keeping them squeezed shut as his throat began to tighten.
"You have to understand that," he choked out, despising the way his voice broke into a pathetic whisper. He sniffled as the raw emotion finally leaked out of his eyes.
With one last shuddering breath, Luke laid a hand on the cool metal door, trailing his fingers down as he began to step away.
"Goodbye, Father."