On top of his bed side table, he traced the rim of his full glass. Corallian whiskey, very expensive and well aged. He was still tracing the rim when he broke his glance away, acknowledging the ghost he has always wanted to see. Or that he had only wanted to see. It became harder to remember which. Luke Skywalker always saw ghosts, although he wasn't sure of any other twenty five year old man who saw the dead. The familiar ache of love and sadness pulled through him. He gave the phantom a brief haunting smile. The phantom that Luke was sure wasn't there. Anakin moved closer, his eyes breaking with concern. Anakin's emotions and love filled the room, but it was bittersweet. Always mixed with darkness and agony. Agony hung like a curtain around Luke. It had cloaked his life. Luke sighed, and unbuttoned his black shirt. He never wore white anymore. Not since Han had died two months ago. Not since his father had died five months ago. Not since...Well, it didn't matter anymore. Mara had told him she liked him in black. Luke smiled humorlessly, the vision of auburn hair and green eyes filling him. He knew he was falling in love with her, against any sane reason, against his will. Darkness was more than slightly seducing.
( Join me, Luke.)
Shirtless, he picked up the whisky glass. he grimaced when he sipped it, warmth flooding his frame. Life had not always been so complicated. He knew she would be there, be there with him any second. Why she still came, he did not know. Neither discussed it in the morning. There was nothing to say, not really. His mind turned back to his father, and he felt the waves of love and regret. Smirking bitterly, he toasted empty air. His father's death was supposed to have given
him closure of some sort. It had not.
Shirtless and fluid in motion, Luke made his way towards his enormous window. He walked out to his balcony, and let his gaze fly across the stars. How badly he had wanted to be a pilot. More than some Jedi, more than anything else. He had wanted to be a pilot, a great pilot ( Like his father) Oh force, the stars were unbearably beautiful. The shining glimmering stars. It was outside, that he felt happy again, outside where he could feel enveloped in the force. When he was younger, he had wondered if his father had been the same way. Had he too gazed longingly at the stars? Luke had always imagined it to be so. He sighed, feeling a soothing tremor in the force. Leia.
Right on cue, she came in, her eyes locking onto the young man who seemed to be
staring into thin air. He smiled at her, the ghost of the boyish sweetness she
had known long ago enough to make the tears come back for a third time in the
night. He made his way towards her, away from the bite of the night air. Pushing aside logic, she leaned into him, her body molding into his, mouth firm, eyes closed. He held her tightly, her long dark hair entangled in his fingers, her breathing soft against the muscled plains of his chest.
He was not Han. She was not Mara.
Both knew, neither cared at the moment.
Luke tried not to think about reality. It was hard to ignore the ghosts he always saw, hard to unhear words that changed his world. Impossible to pretend the events of the last year hasn't changed every aspect of his life. Knowledge was power. It wasn't comforting. Had Luke been so foolish as to long for this sort of adventure? No, he had been so idealistic. Dashing heroes. Flying. Saving princesses. He had always wanted to feel loved and happy.
Vader's consuming love for him had not made him happy. It had made him unbearably weak, and it was torture to know his father was dead. Torture, because Luke did not know what to do with the emotions. Han's death had turned his world upside down. Anakin's death had been hard, but Luke dealt with it. He could not deal with Han.
His mind turned back to the pretty, pale young woman he held. He absently stroked her cheek, feeling them cold and damp already. She was always cold, he reminded himself. He didn't think about the fact he was holding Leia like this. Before he had known the horrible truth, they had been far more than just friends. She had feelings for him, charmed by his sweet farmboy manners, his laugh. He had to ignore his infatuation to focus on becoming a Jedi ( Like my father) Leia of course had turned to Han, the attractive scoundrel they both adored. He supposed he should feel guilty, feel wretched, and feel disgusted. He didn't.
Leia had come to him for a while. She had shown him so long ago, things he wished he could forget. When he had been an innocent farm boy, and she the regal princess whom he longed to rescue. Before she and Han- The gentle kisses, soft caresses, ( "Like summer on Naboo..") Where had the voice come from? He felt eyes watching him in the dark. Love was forbidden. Hate was was forbidden Attachments were.. Forbidden. Leia rolled herself over,and looked at Luke. He looked so tired. She traced the shadows under his eyes and sighed. She thought of another... His laugh, his smile, dark hair that picked up shadows. Luke's startling eyes watched her, and she settled back into his chest, trying not to think. It did neither of them any good to think, to sense-
( My sister has it- You, Leia.)
The war had ravaged them both.
At night, when Leia could cease feeling, and Luke could stop thinking, they ravaged one another. The passion was colder now. Loss filled his bedroom- loss of things that hadbeen so close. Loss filled him with grief, with anger, with wishful thinking. Falling in love with Mara was another painful complication, a tug of war. Pain had turned Leia into a shell, a tight lipped- stoic shell, who's forehead lines deepened by the day. He hated seeing her like that, but he could do nothing tostop it. She didn't want help.
He held her until she left, feeling both empty and fulfilled. He did not know how he felt. Rising from bed and quickly putting on black boxer briefs, Luke made his way out towards the balcony, and let himself sink into the night sky, his heart burned across the stars.