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| Gray Shame |
Grey Shame
She sighed as her dark eyes took in the form which lay just
meters away. At first glance, one would assume the entirely gray man was out of place in
this grand, lush room; for this was the sleep chamber of New Alderaan's most infamous, and
beloved couple - the Solos, and to see this almost ragged, harsh looking being lost in a
placid wave of sleep upon the royal bed looked like a blasphemy - a blemish - in an
otherwise beautiful setting.
It was this man that the stately woman's gaze could not leave.
To most who came into the chamber, quickly exiting upon the sight of the slumbering, gray
male, this man looked frail and weak. Closer inspection revealed his true self.
The man wore a warrior's build, lithe, battle-hardened and scarred from head to toe; but there was something else too, that indicated the greatness
of this mysterious man. A wisdom and strength only associated with the family of knights known as the Jedi. It was this aspect the regal woman knew best about her visitor.
As she watched diplomats, servants and the usual traffic glare at the man still in rest, the proud lady cared not what they thought of the strange looking Jedi who seemed to finally find peace in mere sleep. This lady who sat by the warrior was not so sure. She knew the truth about this one's life and condition.
Leia Organa-Solo waited until she was certain her guest was in
deep sleep. To one untrained in the Force, he appeared to be either dying or in a deep
coma. The breathing was shallow and slow; but this did not worry the Princess. She knew
he was in hibernation trance: his body bound in a wave of healing yet more wounds. These
recent slashes, bruises and battered muscles came from a vicious fight with a renegade
Jedi. More scars to add to an already battle-plagued frame.
The fragile, beaten man seemed to be turning a bit more gray
with each passing hour. He would heal - crudely. With this vision before her, Leia's
turmoil with her conscience began.
She wiped the stream of tears from the corners of her eyes.
Even now, after all these years, she still hated to be seen as vulnerable. She only
showed this side of herself to her beloved Han.
'Yes, that's right. Drift deeper into sleep. Dream of good things for a change,
of the life you desired for so long'. The Princess was weeping now, her mind brimming
with burning thoughts. 'I look down at you now and know I AM the reason you've had
such a hard life - my brother. Ever since you came into possession of a certain astromech
droid;and in that droid there was a message and plans. Secret plans of a battle station
that destroyed planets. A battlestation that obliterated my home and our mother. And then
you came into my life, rather abruptly. I wasn't too trusting, almost laughing at you,
and the way you stared at me. Gawked and probed at me with those deep blue eyes. Blue eyes
glinting with lust, adventure, hope, fear. That same glint your eyes wore when you burst
into my prison cell some 43 years ago still remains.Even now, after all I've done to you.
For you see, my brother, just about every person that was taken away from you too soon -
those who died - can be traced back to me. I AM to blame for their deaths. Your Aunt,
Uncle, best friend, mentor, the many friends you made during the galactic civil war, they
all died because of ME and MY Rebellion!
The worst was your wife and unborn children dead in your arms.
Again, because of me. MY Force sensitivity still is not anywhere as keen as yours, and
it seemed non-existent when I brought the death knell to your beautiful, beloved bride
Tehelazane. It was all due to my letting her in. That Dark Jedi Malfinatae... to train
under you. How did I know she was of the black cult known as the Kraitbaneti? The cult
of Palpatine's wisest adepts and descendants of the begotten Krath! In revenge for
the murder of the clone Emperor, she returned to destroy us and above all - YOU! In a way,
she succeeded in her task because you have never been the same since that horrible event.
Yes, my brother, you have been dying slowly these past 43 years,
and more so, since the passing of Tehela. And what could I do? Console you?!! NO!! That's
not and never will be enough! They all perished by my hand! And Force preserve you -
there is more to your suffering than in the mind. I brought malice upon your flesh too -
my sweet Luke.
The scars you wear no Bacta fluid or Force skills can ever heal:
layer after layer - endless, eternal. A perpetual landscape of wounds. You shrug it all
off, and say, 'It's just the life of a Jedi and that's that.' NO! STANG AND DAMN IT LUKE!
Your life was, and still is ,devastated and drained by me. Can't you see I am the reason
for your 'destiny'?! How I wish I could never have made it into your life. I often
wonder where you would be right now.
Maybe, you'd still be on Tatooine. A moisture farmer forever
cursing the vaporators, but at peace within. You'd have a wife and children. Probably
be a grandfather by now. You'd know love and intimacy, and HAPPINESS. You'd learn to
deal with that strange effect of yours: raw, untrained Force powers. And, my kin of
Skywalker ,you'd still be in one piece - your right hand, leg and shoulder still your
own. Not mechanical mimicries like our father. That face of yours would have retained
the pleasing angles; worn from the perpetual exposure to Tatooine's binary suns; not
from the losses too great to endure; not ravaged from the fire of Force lightning.
Luke, you look so much older than you should. Time, too, is
against you - like everything else - a mark of your suffering. And you seem to
let it all slide. Squinting has become the norm. The now raw, deeply parched edge to your
voice makes you laugh. The pains which scream from nerve endings that are slowly becoming
familiar with their technological counterparts,and the pain from most people glaring in
disgust at you- the overgrowing gray mane that now hangs at your breast, not the proper
tresses you wore back in your glory days... no, none of this bothers you.
Even your eyes, like the rest of your form, are giving in to
the grayness, Luke. Your eyes too, turning to the hue of ash, your eyes which still
offer me the love and wisdom from your heart... those eyes which are blind to your
murderer - ME!
Here you sleep, despite the pain, I know you are finding a
slight peace, my brother; but you will never find peace as long as I am around you.
OH LUKE! Why do you not see?
It's me - Leia, who marked this fine man a fate worse than death!
Do you NOT HATE ME? I WISH YOU WOULD HATE ME! You, a wise and powerful Jedi Master, perhaps
the greatest to ever exist, cannot see! Your angel of death has loomed over you since the
age of 20. My brother!
How I would gladly give my life to reverse the agonies you've
endured. The suffering that was borne from my hand! All those losses, all that grief. I
am far worse than Palpatine or Vader, Luke. You were gladly a pawn in my Rebellion, my
knight in raven-colored armor - and what have I given you? Death, loneliness, misery.
You may claim that Leahane and I saved you from the damnation
of becoming another Sith Lord, or even Emperor; but what I've done to you, Luke, is far
worse. I begot a ghost from a loving, strong, fine man.
Even now I still continue to kill the only hope! I truly am
of the dark side, and I pray the Force takes me for my sins! I wish I could die
to return the life I stole from you, my brother! FORCE STRIKE ME DOWN, what have I done
to the son of Skywalker.'
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