Another short-ish chapter. This story is probably going to end up all over the place. I'm still not sure how it's going to end, but, meantime….enjoy...and feedback is always welcome. -T
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Luke hadn't emerged from the bunkroom. It had been over twenty-seven hours now and Han was starting to grow concerned. He knocked lightly on the door at some point. "Luke?" He called. But there was no answer.
Later, Solo tried the door, and to his surprise, it was unlocked. It hissed open to reveal the darkened cabin, Luke's dark form curled against the bunk, his back to Han. The smuggler could not decide if the young man was sleeping or not, but decided not to disturb him.
Later, he left a plate of food on the deck near Luke's bunk, trying to decide if Luke had stirred since he last peered into the cabin. Hours later, he reclaimed the same plate of food, untouched, noting that Luke still hadn't moved.
Let the cub be, was Chewie's advice. Still, Solo paced.
There was an encrypted message from the Princess. Things were tense there. High Command had issued a directive to hunt down and capture the Millennium Falcon. They were not safe on any Alliance-friendly planets. She was okay, so they should not worry. They needed to be vigilant, stay safe.
With a sigh, Han decided to get some sleep himself. The full weight of his responsibility felt heavy and stifling. What in the worlds was he doing anyway? How did he get tied up in this mess? One thing he had learned over the years was that things would look better after some rest.
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Luke lay in the bunkroom in a haze of dreams and wakefulness. He felt detached from his body, not knowing how long he had lain there. Several times, he heard Han's voice speaking to him, but he couldn't bring himself to even lift his head, or acknowledge. It was as though the life had drained from his limbs.
He dreamed of Obi-wan again. This time, when the old hermit appeared against the blinding white crystalline dessert, Luke railed at him, thrashed and screamed. "If it's true, why did you lie to me?!" He pummelled the apparition in front of him with his fists, tears streaking his face, blurring his vision. "Is it true?!"
He screamed himself hoarse.
But Ben seemed immune to Luke's physical and verbal assault. Luke's angry fists passed right through the ghost, who then dissolved into the glittering sand.
When Luke blinked again, Kenobi was gone, but his voice, calm and unperturbed as ever, was in Luke's ears. "Luke, you must go to the Dagobah system."
"Damn you!" Luke screamed to no one, crumpling to the biting sand, sharp-edged crystals digging into his knees and elbows. He almost welcomed the pain. "I hate you! I hate that you lied to me!"
Numbers were in the sand-coordinates, they appeared to be. In spite of himself, Luke read them over and over again.
Then he sank gratefully into dark oblivion.
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Han found Luke in the cockpit at the end of the sleep cycle. Solo had slept, which was probably more than he could say for Luke, judging by the looks of him. The younger man was hunched over the nav-computer, the blue glow lighting his face garishly. In his hand was the whole bottle of Correllian whiskey. The cockpit reeked of alcohol.
"What are you doing, kid?"
Luke didn't look up. After a moment of silence, the kid staring at the navicomp, Solo staring at him, Luke took a long swig from the bottle, his eyes not meeting Han's.
Han chewed his lip, entered cautiously. They were still roughly fourteen hours away from their destination. The mottle blue of hyperspace flashed weirdly through the small cockpit. Han didn't look at it.
"You hungry?" Solo asked, for lack of anything better to fill the silence.
No answer. Luke frowned at the computer, typed in several numbers, frowned again. Took another swig.
"You trying to poison yourself with that stuff?" Han asked, standing to take the mostly-empty bottle from Luke's hands. Luke did not resist. He continued to stare at the computer. Solo looked over his shoulder to see a stream of coordinates. "What's this?"
There was a long silence. Han was about to repeat the question.
"Dagobah," Luke answered finally, his voice flat.
"Dago-what?" Han shook his head. "Never heard of it."
Luke did not elucidate.
Han sat back down. "Kid….I…." he felt at a loss for words. Nothing he said was going to make anything all better. "I'm really sorry."
Luke turned his head, mechanically, his eyes glass-blue, empty. Han felt another shiver go down his spine. He knew Luke wasn't anything like Vader, but that expression was soulless, completely hollow. The thought occurred to him, not for the first time, that if Luke was Vader's son, he might be capable of all the things Vader was. But that was unfair. He was simply Luke Skywalker, a kid plopped down into some bad circumstances.
"Sorry for what, Han?"
"For all this….crappy stuff life has dealt you." Solo shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. "You don't deserve it. And I'm...sorry." Was that all he could say? Sorry?
Luke looked back to the navicomputer, expression still unchanging. "You said there was more that I needed to hear. I'm ready to hear it now."
Han looked at him dubiously. Luke was a wreck-he wasn't ready to hear anything at the moment, much less more bad news.
"I don't need your pity," Luke snapped, as though the Correllian had spoken out loud, momentarily fire flashing in his eyes. "I need information. Tell me what I need to know."
There was a long silence. There was an edge to Luke that Solo hadn't seen before, an underlying thrum of anger, like an electric current, a sour tang in the air. Han hesitated. How to put this in the best possible way? He told himself he should bill the Princess double for having to be the designated bearer of bad news.
"The….um...Alliance," he cleared his throat. "Once they read this communique some of them - not all of them, not the Princess or general Rieekan - but others, decided you might be a liability to the Alliance-bring Vader down on them. Then they thought they could use you as….a bargaining chip against Vader, and then they concluded that it was too dangerous for you to be allowed to fall into Vader's hands, and that they should do whatever is….neccessary….to prevent that." He swallowed, realizing it had all tumbled out in a heap of words, a heap of words he had just poured down upon the kid's head. That wasn't fair, was it?
Luke's eyes flickered, coming up to Han. He didn't look surprised or angry...or anything. "You mean, they intend to kill me." It wasn't a question. His voice was so quiet it was barely audible.
Solo hesitated, his gaze steady on the young man, wondering what else he could say to bring him down gently. "Yes," he finally said. There was nothing else. Sugar-coating and telling half-truths would only hurt him now. "That's why we had to get you away."
Luke's shoulders slumped, his gaze dropping to the floor. "So that's it then," he whispered.
"Luke…" Han began. But Luke shook his head.
"No, I understand. I understand now."
This time, he did not flee the cockpit, but rose unsteadily to his feet and walked slowly out.