The Medical Frigate

The wounded Jedi was completely alone in his room on the medical frigate, waiting for surgery to happen the next night. He was shaken by the revelation that his father - Vader, he meant, had given him. Luke could no longer think like he used to. Whereas before he thought of the potential wonderful acts he could fulfill as hero of the Rebel Alliance, he now felt like a harbinger of doom. He was the son of their greatest enemy and the symbol of all things Luke had hated.

There were still several hours before his operation. He looked sadly at his right arm - he raised it up in the air and groaned as he felt a dull pain that even the strongest injections of bacta couldn't hide. The tourniquet that gripped and protected his stump was a constant and dim reminder of his loss. Luke looked to his holster on the other side of the room; there was an empty space where his lightsaber had once been clasped for nearly three years.

Gone in an instant.

Luke wondered if he even wanted that weapon back. It disturbed him how much he had identified and symbolized himself around that blade, how an heirloom became the sole basis for his identity. He was shocked and terrified of finding out the answers to the questions that were rattling around inside his skull during these moments. Who was Luke Skywalker? Was he truly a Jedi? Did he deserve it?

Why did Obi-Wan and Yoda lie to him?

He felt sick as he pondered these questions. The worst part of it all was that he wasn't able to talk to anyone about it - Han was gone, there was no way he could share that information with Leia. He'd instantly be turned in as a traitor and an accomplice of the Empire. "I wish I listened to you, Yoda," he trembled, sinking into his cot as he absent-mindedly rubbed his right arm. "But why didn't you tell me."

There was suddenly a knock on the door. Skywalker looked to a clock nearby and saw how late it was - who could be checking in on him at this time of night? He wasn't in the mood to talk.. not that he was even able to speak more than three words at a time. Another knock.

Luke stood up and walked toward the door.