Luke Skywalker (firstofthenew) wrote in parabolical, @ 2009-01-22 17:11:00 |
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Entry tags: | luke skywalker, peter petrelli (future) |
[ only love can save us now ]
who; Luke Skywalker. (Open if someone's interested.)
where; The site of what was once The Witching Hour.
when; Say uhh.. early morning.
summary; Luke has ghosts to face down and a lot to think about.
rating; R-ish for mentions of past nasty stuff.
status; Finished!
It had been over half a year, but the building had never been repaired-- perhaps people thought it was cursed. For Luke, who had spent days and days there, ten years old and bleeding and screaming, it wasn't far from the truth. Exar Kun had done things, there-- had done things on Yavin IV. Unspeakable. Unthinkable. An eternity of torment, it had seemed-- and bringing back those things he'd hoped to forever put behind him.
He kicked at a charred bit of wood, and remembered Palpatine's spidery fingers gripping his face; Exar Kun's teeth against his throat. Disgust crawled up his spine, froze his blood, sent panic skittering through his brain and across his skin. For a moment more, he was an animal, blindly terrified and wanting nothing more than to flee---but he drew calm around himself, then, like a shroud: covering the cracks, the chips, seemingly irreparable damage. Life--his life--was a stage. There was a script to it, somewhere, but it was one in which parts were missing, which he had to rediscover along the way.
(Luke is unbreakable, the script reads, unassailable. Such lies it speaks! He belongs to fate.)
(And: A step forward, turn, the sun in his eyes-- is he human?)
The ancient Sith Lord had a voice like a tempest: Luke, he'd husked as power howled around him, gale-wind, and Luke-the-boy had been afraid, so afraid. You understand, don't you? I hurt you because I can, and because you can take it. You know pain; it is a way of life. I give you this gift, as once it was given me. You will always know darkness---it will flay your soul when you face it.
Kun had kissed him, then--lips against his brow and fingers squirming between rough stitches into his belly, as if he were some sort of torn doll, ripped open and spilling his intestines like rags. And oh, the dark. Suffocating, crushing, scalding.
Darkness is in your blood, in your heart. Your father.. and Palpatine wanted you both, didn't he? Such.. lust, as if he has ever known such carnal pleasures. But you remember, don't you? The way he watched you. Proprietary. The same way he kept your father by his side, pet Sith. --Thrilling, dangerous thing, keepings gods pulled down onto the earth.
Luke couldn't remember screaming, but then.. he probably hadn't had a voice by that time, either, and.. perhaps he had forgotten that he'd ever been anything but the Dark Man's mute little ragdoll.
Lock that part of yourself away, Luke. Deep inside the ruined, shadowy places of your heart. Make yourself bright. Become what you promised to be. But leave that part of yourself for me.
Shuddering once, the Jedi chafed his arms. He'd forgotten to find a coat, and for a man who'd been raised on a desert-planet, sun-browned and bleached and oh, so innocent, then, it seemed foolish.
(Fool, the script reads, he is a fool, and lost, and wounded, and that is something no one will ever know. And he wants to scream Lies!, because it hurts to hear it, to see it, to feel it, but the words are already written. He fears, oh, he fears, and loves, and forgives, but he is already a monster, and this is something he knows.)
(And: Something is ending.)
(He speaks!:)
"You were right, you know." His voice was swallowed, barely audible, and Luke crouched in the rubble--slight, bright figure surrounded by ash and ruin. "There is some part of me that is capable of being cruel. I'm still human enough to feel anger, to be hurt. To.. to want to lash out when I'm frustrated. But I won't." Shuddering breath, and the fingers of one hand traced shapes into the dust, coming away blackened---symbolic, perhaps. "I love my father, and I love him. Could I do anything else? Father did what he thought was right, and so did Jacen. I want him to see what I see in this place-- in Peter and Nathan and Hiro and everyone. He and Tenel Ka can be happy here, I think, like my parents were." The palm, steady, flattened--smearing away the marks all at once. "I understand why she defends him. It's easy for people to hate the Sith without ever caring what drives them to make the choices they do." He curled his arms loosely around his knees, palm leaving soot streaks down his pants-leg, long shadows falling as the sun slowly moved across the horizon. "After a while, you expect the worst out of people."
He rose, then, tilting his face up toward the sky, darkness receding in his sight until it was just the sun-- blazing-bright and blinding. Like eighteen again and dreaming.
"I suppose she'll believe me or she won't. Whatever the Force wills." Steps, then, away from the cadaver of a building that had once been the scene of all his nightmares. "Whatever happens.. you've still lost. I'm not yours, and I'm not afraid of you any longer."