Archive of Our Own

The air was dusty when he opened his eyes.

Clouded and hazy and thick enough to choke on, Luke could barely see anything at all. He was flat on his back, his whole body aching from what felt like thousands and thousands of points of pressure digging painfully into every inch of his body. There was a painful ringing in his ears and something warm was running down the right side of his face with surprising speed and he weakly lifted a hand to try and wipe it away.

It came away red.

But as the painful ringing in his ears slowly began to fade, he could hear things.

The horrendous groaning of some massive objects, creaking and grinding above and around him as they each tried to settle. There were other sounds, rocks and debris clattering to the ground, running water some distance from him and as Luke strained to see, he caught the outlines of what looked like a massive system of crisscrossing pipes overheard, broken and bent and some spraying water but all of them acting together, creating a sort of safety net by catching and holding an enormous amount of weight in the form of duracrete and rubble above him.

The groaning continued and Luke felt his heart speed up, pounding frantically in his chest at the sound. Dust continued to rain from above as things too heavy to even consider continued to shift and move and oh Force, please don’t fall, don’t fall, please just let it hold –

And it… it was holding. Slowly, so, so agonizingly slowly… the groaning began to taper off as the dispersed weight was finally accepted by the pipes.

Time felt meaningless after that and the only thing Luke could bring himself to do was stare upwards, adrenaline pounding wildly through his system and blocking the worst of his aches and pain. He hardly even dared to breath for fear that that action alone would be enough to tip the scale outside of his favor and he would be crushed to death in an instant.

Eventually, though how much time actually went by, Luke would never know, the mind-numbing terror began to ease the longer that nothing happened. And without the constant flow of adrenaline to hide it, the pain he was in began to return. Slumping gingerly against the ground, Luke coughed wetly and felt his ribs grind in response.

He blinked, feeling slow and dull – empty almost, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint why. It felt almost as if something… something important were missing but he couldn’t for the life of him think of what it might be.

It was odd though.

And he really didn’t like it.

Whatever was gone, Luke only knew that he wanted it back.

Luke slowly tried to shift off his back and look for it and immediately regretted it, biting back a cry of pain. His back and shoulders protested the movement immediately, aching and sore. His neck felt tight and his head was swimming, dizzying little black dots clouding his vision and threatening to blind him. He instantly stopped moving, chest heaving as he fought not to throw up and willed the pain to go away.

Tears pricked at his eyes and slid down his cheeks as he waited. And waited... and waited, all the while berating himself for being stupid.

He didn’t know what had happened and he didn’t know how badly he was hurt.

Now wasn’t the moment to be reckless, he reminded himself. Figure out what’s wrong and move slowly.

As the pain ebbed again, just enough to be bearable once more, Luke closed his eyes, trying to take mental stock of his body.

When he was as relaxed as he could get, he twitched each of his fingers and then tried to circle each of his wrists. Both the prosthetic and the flesh hand responded well enough and so he cautiously began to bend the elbow of his left arm and then his right. He continued, moving on to try and shrug his shoulders. He could feel the strain – the tightness in his back as abused muscles protested against it, but nothing actually felt broken. His right shoulder felt worse than the left, throbbing painfully with each beat of his heart. Luke cautiously used his left hand and prodded his shoulder carefully, searching for any breaks or signs that it had been dislocated but didn’t find any.

Satisfied for now, he moved on, using the same hand to do a quick assessment on his chest and ribs. He sucked in air, swallowing against the movement of broken ribs – on the right side mostly – and carefully brushed away some small pieces of debris from off his chest. He focused hard, not wanting to move too much to confirm whether or not his back was broken in anyway... but after a few minutes of considering what he could feel, Luke hesitantly decided it wasn’t.

Hopefully just bruised as hell.

His neck went under the same analysis and Luke realized with some relief that most of the pain there was actually coming from his head where he assumed he’d smashed it on the ground. It was bleeding but... slower now... and after inspecting his head carefully with his fingers, Luke determined that his skull was intact and the blood was coming from a gash above his right temple.

Moving on, he tried wiggling his toes and while the left ones responded willingly enough… Luke slowly realized that he couldn’t even feel the toes on the other one. Or his right foot.

Or his leg for that matter.

Startled by this, Luke instinctively tried to bend his leg up to his chest and was immediately met with painful resistance.

Eyes flying open, he lifted his head to look and see what was wrong.

The dust in the air had finally begun to settle and whatever small amount of light was filtering into… wherever he was… was just enough to let him see his surroundings.

Oddly enough, it looked as if he were in a small cavern, though in actuality it was probably the basement level of a building that had collapsed on top of him. There was so much dirt and debris that it was hardly recognizable as such and from where Luke was laying, there was no sign of an exit either.

It wouldn’t have mattered even if there was one.

His leg was trapped – no, crushed – under a massive six inch thick, five foot long broken slab of duracrete that was stretched across his leg from the knee down, the broken jagged edge just a few centimeters shy of his left leg. He was effectively pinned to the floor.

And as it turned out, with enough weight on top of it, the human body could get really, really flat.

Luke turned to the side and threw up the contents of his stomach, shaking violently and almost blacking out entirely.

“Oh Suns,” Luke found himself whispering, his throat tight with tears and horror. “Oh Force, oh kriff –"

He couldn’t feel his leg.

“ – oh kriff, oh shit, shit….”

It was gone – nothing could save an injury like that. It wasn’t possible and his leg was ruined, squashed flatter than kriffing flimsy and why couldn’t he feel it?

Luke felt his hands tangle themselves in his hair as he started to hyperventilate. The air was too thin – there wasn’t enough down here and he couldn’t breathe and he was stuck and his leg was… was….

“Gone.” Luke choked out, sobbing. “It’s gone – it’s gone.”

It wasn’t fair – it wasn’t kriffing fair! He’d already lost one limb and that had been hard enough and now it was happening again and he wasn’t ready for this –

With his vision blurred by tears, Luke forced himself to look down at his leg again, to stare at the spot where there was an abrupt dramatic end to his leg, the bone obviously had snapped in half when the duracrete had fallen on him and then where flesh disappeared underneath.

“Oh kriff – “ Luke cried, dropping his head back so he wouldn’t have to look anymore. He looked around, desperate for someone – anyone to appear and help him. “Help me – someone please, help me!” He shouted and despairing when only his own echo answered him back. "Help - help me, please - "

He screamed himself hoarse, shouting and crying for help, made as much noise as he could with the hope that someone above might hear him.

But the hours passed in an agonizing daze and there was no sign from above that there was anyone except him.

No one answered.

No one came. 

He was on his own.

It was difficult to tell time. 

Luke never realized how frustrating it could be to lose track of something as simple as the time with no way of figuring it out again.

At some point, he must have passed out, from shock or trauma or maybe just plain exhaustion. But when he came around again, he felt worse than before. Sluggish and weak. His head was pounding and he was shivering from the cold even though his body felt hot and feverish. When he licked his lips, they were dry and cracked. They tasted like blood.

He blinked dully, looking upwards at the crisscrossing network of pipes and beams above him, wondering how long he’d been unconscious. Wondered how much time had been shaved off his chances of surviving this. He couldn't hear anything. A building of some kind had fallen on him and there was no indication that anyone was engaged in a search and rescue effort. No machinery, no shouting, no nothing. Either Luke was on some Force-forsaken planet with no inhabitants, or no one was searching where he was at yet.

Luke was getting worse and no one was coming.

Not quick enough to find him alive, anyways.

He was on his own and if he had any chance at all… then he needed to be able to move.

Steeling himself, Luke slowly propped himself up on his elbows and then into a sitting position, forcing himself to look at his leg again. His stomach immediately flipped at the horrible sight but he reached and with trembling fingers, tore at the fabric of his pants, exposing his skin so he could see what he was dealing with better. Luke closed his eyes, breathing in through his nose, trying to calm his heartrate.

It was hard to tell with so little light but the skin looked... dark. Dark and hot - throbbing, a shooting, twisting pain unlike anything he'd ever known or felt before.

“Focus, Skywalker.” He whispered to himself, feeling lightheaded. “You’ve done this before. You already lost a hand – what’s one more limb?”

Everything – and nothing. There was nothing – nothing at all that could compare to the horror that was losing a limb. But he’d done this whole song and dance before. He could do it again.

Opening his eyes once more, Luke looked at the spot where duracrete met skin and this time he didn’t look away. He was completely pinned – the duracrete had crushed his leg entirely but it hadn’t cut it off for him. Helpful in the long run that that might have been, he probably would have bled out by now had that been the case. But pulling himself out from under it was completely out of the question. 

That left lifting the damn thing off of him or cutting his leg off entirely. 

Swallowing thickly with distaste at the thought of the second option, Luke hesitantly reached out for the Force, waiting to find and access that warm flood of light that lived and breathed inside of every living thing. For the familiar, comforting tingle of power to appear in his fingertips, signifying that he’d found what he was looking for. He waited, searching and… and nothing happened.

Luke frowned, straining before slowly realizing that he couldn’t feel… anything.

Nothing.

There was nothing. No hum in the background of his thoughts, no sense of otherness – that sixth sense that always allowed him to recognize an upcoming sandstorm as a child in the desert, no thrum of distant life. It was just… empty. Gone, as if there was no Force at all.

Something important was missing.

That was what he’d felt when he’d first woken up. Even hurting from the pain and shock of a building collapsing on him, Luke had subconsciously been able to recognize the absence of that crucial piece of himself. He couldn’t feel the Force.

Why – what did that mean? Where was it? How could it just be gone?

Releasing a shaky breath, Luke shook his head, trying to shake away the rising hysteria inside him. He couldn’t afford to get worked up again. Not now. He didn’t have enough time for that. “One… one problem at a time, Luke.” He said to himself, voice shaky. “Survive first. Force later.”

It wouldn’t be possible to move the duracrete without the Force. Not without some type of heavy machinery, which Luke most certainly did not have.

Which left only one other option.

Twisting as much as he was able, Luke started feeling around him, immediately searching for his lightsaber in the rubble.

“Come on – come on, where is it?” He whispered, tossing rocks and other nameless objects out of the way as his hand came in contact with them. It had to be close – he was a Jedi and surely he wouldn’t have left it somewhere before doing whatever he’d done that ended with him in this position.

It had to be here. Because if it wasn’t, then he was totally kriffed.

Just as he started to grow frantic, something metallic gleamed in the corner of his eye. Heart leaping in his chest, Luke turned his head, straining to see through the dark shadows.

There.

Just a few feet away, behind him somewhat was the metal cylinder of his lightsaber. He could just barely make out the curves and grooves of the hilt and Luke rolled backwards, stretching so he could reach it.

No. No no no no.

It was too far.

It couldn't be too far!

Luke strained, not even bothering to hold back his cries of agony as he forced himself to stretch his whole body a little farther, reaching his arm out as far as it could go. He could feel the grinding of his ribs and felt the wet tear of skin as he desperately pressed his left foot against the duracrete slab, trying to push himself farther. The motion shifted his ruined leg, the broken bone underneath the skin hitting and bumping the edge of the duracrete, poking at his flesh every so often as Luke tried to maneuver his body to where he could just... grab – 

His fingers just barely brushed against the cylinder of his lightsaber.

“Come on,” Luke begged desperately, sweat dripping profusely into his eyes. It was too far – just barely out of reach. “Come on, please….”

He had to get it – he needed it because it was the only hope he had and there was no other way –

Luke squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath now as he stretched, his fingers once again tapping the edge of the weapon – he could just imagine it rolling backwards, farther away from him and –

His middle finger snagged it, just barely catching the metal somehow and with the utmost care, heart beating wildly in his chest, Luke curled his fingers back towards him, allowing the lightsaber to roll his way.

It was enough.

He reached again and this time his hand curled tightly around his weapon.

Clutching his lightsaber to his heaving chest, Luke slumped against the ground, panting and exhausted and shivering almost uncontrollably as he swallowed thickly, staring upwards at that Force-forsaken safety net of pipes in a slight daze.

But he had it.

Aching and hurt, Luke took a moment to breathe through the nauseating pain and then slowly sat up again and holding his right hand slightly away from him, switched on his lightsaber. Green light instantly illuminated his immediate surroundings, and he raised the blade up, positioning it as close to the offending concrete as he could so he could see better. The visible portion of his leg was red - and angry with infection. Some of the veins under the skin were already beginning to turn black.

He wanted to save as much of his leg as he could – he wasn’t a doctor by any means but it didn’t look as if the infection had spread too far yet. If... if he cut his leg off an inch or so above the knee where the duracrete was, what was left probably wouldn’t have been affected by it yet, judging by the lack of black veins higher up his thigh. And fortunately (or perhaps not so fortunately), due to prior experience, Luke was already intimately aware of the fact that lightsaber wounds didn’t bleed. If... if he passed out from the pain or shock, he wouldn't die of blood loss.

I can't do this. Luke thought hysterically. His hands were shaking. I can’t. I can’t do this, I can’t kriffing do this – I don’t want to do this! 

His head was positively pounding now, his heart racing wildly in his chest and he almost couldn’t hear anything else aside from his own wild thoughts and the pleasant, familiar hum of his lightsaber. Because of how he was positioned and the length of his lightsaber blade, it would be an odd angle to cut from. He shifted his left leg as far to the side as he could so it wouldn’t get caught by accident and faintly hoped he would be able to cut in a straight line.

You can do this. Luke coached himself. You have to do this. Just one swing.

I can’t!

You can!

No!

DO IT!

Squeezing his eyes shut, Luke raised his sword arm and swung downwards.

When he came back to himself, Luke felt… different.

A lot of time had passed - he didn't know how he knew that but it was true. It had been hours, at the very least. He was sluggish and weaker than he’d ever felt before in his life… but also whole… somehow.

Less empty.

Even if he’d had the mental energy required to decipher that feeling, he was distracted from doing so by the abrupt realization that there were hands on him, touching him, maneuvering and dragging his body around and it was as disorienting as it was painful and confusing. Luke blinked his eyes open and there was light now - where had the light come from? - and it pierced his retinas with a torturous stabbing pain that had him moaning pathetically. When he tried again to look and see what was going on, everything around him was a grey and white blur. 

“Hey – look, I think he’s waking up.”

Whoever was dragging him around suddenly dropped him and Luke had the air in his lungs knocked out of him as his back hit the ground again.

What... what was happening? He didn't understand - 

“Well, that’s just too damn bad for him.”

It took a moment for Luke to recognize that there were voices speaking above him were modulated and he stiffened as he faintly began to recognize the familiar snap-click of stormtrooper armor moving about.

Imperials.

They must have been assisting in search and rescue - maybe...?

The second voice cursed and Luke felt his heart sink as a vague sense of danger rippled around him in the Force. “The bastard will wish he died when the building collapsed after I’m through with him.”

That was bad. 

He instinctively reached for the Force and found it willing to respond to his call for the first time. But it felt different than usual; slippery and elusive in his grasp, and even as he pulled on it, he couldn’t quite find his grip –

Something solid connected harshly with his side and Luke cried out in surprise and pain, immediately curling in on himself as his body was once again jolted to life.

Everything hurt.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Skywalker.” Someone sneered and that awful, gut wrenching sense of danger got even louder. “I have to say, no one expected to find you here –" Luke felt the air knocked out of his lungs as he was kicked a second time and dammit, he couldn't breathe - "- but with your track record of blowing people up, it probably shouldn’t be a surprise. Never took you for the type to take out a hospital though.”

“I didn’t.” Luke croaked out wildly, desperately even. He didn’t know what had happened, didn't know where he was but he knew that he hadn’t been the cause. “I didn’t – it wasn’t me, I wouldn’t.”

Someone moved, crouching down beside him and grabbing a fistful of his hair, yanking his head up. His head pulsed in agony and Luke might have thrown up if there were anything at all in his stomach.

“You’re a damn liar.” The same person hissed. Luke lifted his hands, scrambling to try and make them let him go. He could make out the vague, hazy image of white body armor beside him and the tan, sweaty face of an angry human male. The trooper let go of him, slamming his head painfully against the ground and standing up to tower over him. “And I’m going to kill you like the dog that you are.”

His heart skipped a beat even as a new wave of adrenaline rushed through his system. All of his senses sharpened in an instant and he rolled over with a flood of energy, trying to inch backwards put some distance between him and whoever these men were that had found him.

“Y-you don’t want to do this,” Luke rasped hoarsely, trying desperately to press the Force into his words, to overcome their will and replace it with his own. “You want to leave me alone.”

It didn’t work. He felt the Force slip and his concentration break but he felt a spike of anger directed towards him.

The first voice – the modulated one, from the trooper still wearing his mask spoke up, seething. “He’s trying to use a Jedi trick on us!”

“Kriffing rebel scum -"

The world whited out around him as a heavy boot connected solidly, deliberately, directly on top of the bone visible in the charred stump of what remained of his right leg.

....

....

....

....

The first thing he became aware of as the pain ebbed the tiniest fraction of a degree was the distant sound of someone screaming in absolute agony.

The second thing he became aware of was that he was the one screaming.

The third thing he became aware of was the fire in his body. Everything hurt. It burned, aching and wretched and terrible – and there was laughter peeling out around him, and even as Luke cried and sobbed, there was the unbearable sense that his agony was a source of cruel amusement for another…. It was torture - blinding, terrible - there weren't words to describe it. It was the worst pain he'd ever been in. Worse even than losing his hand or cutting his leg off himself.

He was scared.

He wanted to die. To just disappear and never have to feel anything ever again and they kept laughing.

In an incomprehensible swell of power that he’d never felt before at any time previously, the Force was suddenly in his grasp again and no longer was it elusive and slick, like an eel on Dagobah – it was welling up around him, like a dark thunderstorm in the Force, soaking into his very being, practically vibrating in tune with his fear and his hurt.

With his senses sharper than they’d been in all the time he'd been down here, Luke keenly felt the stormtroopers Force presences around him. They were weak, small and insignificant, and their amusement at his pain was polluting the air. Without thinking, Luke reacted, ruthlessly swatting them away from his person and sending them flying. He heard them crash into rock and debris and felt their sudden pain and shock and fear – they weren’t laughing now but that didn’t matter.

It wasn’t enough.

He reached for the closest stormtrooper – the one that had dared to kick him – and wrapped his Force presence around him and squeezed. The man would pay – and more importantly, he would never touch Luke again. It only took a moment before something in the man broke, snapping as easily as a twig between his fingers, and then his life fluttered out.

Luke dropped his body and immediately searched for the other and it was so easy – the man was frozen in horror and Luke could feel his fear rippling in the Force, black and creeping with energy that could be used if only one knew how to use it and – and….

That… that wasn’t right.

That wasn’t – that wasn’t the Force, was it?

Did it even matter?

Luke was still crying – still riding out the waves of agony that ripped through his abused body. His muscles ached and his head was pounding and if it weren’t for the Force carrying him, protecting him, he’d be blinded by the pain of it. He was sweaty and cold and weak and he could feel the nauseating sensation of blood seeping out of his stump leg, the cauterized wound now split deeply down the middle.

Everything was pain and he needed help and there was no one to help him. But Luke hadn’t survived this long to let himself be killed now. Curling his fist, Luke made up his mind and felt the Force darken as he began to squeeze once again, the rush of pure power making it easy to ignore the sounds of the remaining stormtrooper choking. It was thrilling – a high, better than any drug, than any breath-taking, adrenaline inducing act of daring he’d completed during his lifetime –

“Hey!”

Something – someone hit him from behind and in an instant Luke felt his concentration break. He dropped the stormtrooper and distantly heard him coughing and gasping for air while Luke began to struggle against this new threat that had latched on to him, pulling at him and hitting him, trying to beat him down. Luke could feel his strength in the Force slipping away like sand between his fingers and in a brief moment of clarity and fear, he threw a hand out and called for his lightsaber.

Like a faithful friend, it answered his summons and in a swift, practiced move, Luke caught it and switched it on, the kyber crystal inside thrumming with deadly energy.

His attacker shouted in fear and quickly released him, scrambling to get away. Luke turned over and saw the newcomer - another trooper - rush to the aid of his comrade and pull him to his feet. They backed away from Luke together and he tracked their movements until they disappeared around a boulder, presumably from where they’d entered.

Tight with adrenaline and shivering with energy, Luke waited, refusing to look away for even a moment.

He didn’t have to wait very long. New signatures flickered to life in the Force nearby and after a few moments, Luke could hear what sounded like a squad of troopers coming his way. Seconds later the first few stepped into his view. There was a gap of between six and eight yards between Luke and them.

It wasn’t nearly enough.

The one in front – the leader, Luke assumed, took one look at the scene - at Luke - and demanded that everyone, except ZK-0283, CV-0121, and CC-0732, get out and wait for further instructions. They left as ordered but Luke could sense that they hadn't truly gone that far. 

"What the hell happened?" The leader demanded angrily. 

" - the kriffing Jedi," one of the gasped, pointing at Luke. He remembered the Force signature - that small, insignificant life that had laughed at his pain. "It's Skywalker. He killed Rory and he tried to kill me! Probably blew up the hospital -"

"They caught the man that did this half an hour ago!" The leader snapped furiously. "Some - disgruntled employee of a weapons manufactory who thought he was more important than he actually was! The rebellion had nothing to do with this attack - now what happened here?"

There was a pause. 

"- was angry...Rory - kicked him... had...friends on - Death Star."

Not a pause - Luke frowned, feeling as if he were starting to drift away somewhere. There was a ringing in his ears and he wasn't - wasn't hearing correctly?

How odd...

There was a loud clatter somewhere and then -

"...don't care - he killed your kriffing mother!" Luke blinked dully at the explosion of noise, watched his enemies as one shouted at the other without really understanding. "This isn't - ...warzone! There - 'ules... for proper arrest - detainment. ...actions - everyone in... danger." 

His vision blurred abruptly as Luke tipped to the side, the blade of his lightsaber skimming the concrete with an angry skreesh - before he jolted and managed to right himself again. His heart was pounding in his chest and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. They were staring at him again, Luke realized. He hated the feeling of their eyes on him. He felt cornered and trapped. 

One of the stormtroopers - and there were only two of them now? - took off his helmet to reveal his face and raised his hands peacefully. He was older looking, darker skinned and his head was mostly shaved. His expression was one of forced, practiced calm and Luke spied a medics patch on his arm. After a moment, he took a cautious step forward and Luke stiffened immediately. 

“Stay… a-away from me.” Luke warned, his voice hoarse and pained. The green light of his lightsaber was harsh on his eyes even as he tried to glare menacingly at the new arrivals. He didn't want them anywhere near him again and he used his remaining leg and his free hand to try and inch himself backwards to put more space between them.

It was slow and ultimately futile effort – there was nowhere to escape to, and every tiny movement sent spasms of pain throughout his entire body and left a lengthening blood trail from his stump. But it did its job - the trooper stopped his advance in an instant.

“Luke – it’s Luke, right?” The trooper asked calmly, radiating peace. “My name is Kix. No one here is going to hurt you, Luke.” He soothed.

Luke barked a bitter laugh, blinking sweat and blood out of his eyes. “…bullshit lie if I ever heard one –" he snarled, shaking his head in denial.

“I swear to you –" the trooper tried again. His brown eyes seemed gentle with sympathy. “I won’t. I’m a medic. It’s against the job description.”

Kind words aside, Luke felt his anxiety and anger rise in response and could feel himself on the verge of snapping. He didn’t trust the Empire on a good day and today was not a good day. “If you come any closer, I will cut you in half.” He warned lowly, chest heaving as he fought to stay in control.

The stormtrooper hesitated and then nodded. “Alright.” He agreed easily. He took a careful step backwards, offering Luke his space. “I’ll leave you alone – just, don’t move, alright? Take it easy.”

Luke didn’t bother to respond. Stormtroopers weren’t worth the effort it took to humor – especially not ones who wanted to harm him. Stepping towards his remaining comrade, Kix raised a commlink to his mouth and began speaking into it quietly. This time Luke couldn’t make out the words being said at all. Keeping his eyes on his enemies, Luke turned his attention inwards, searching for the Force once again, wanting it to come back and protect him.

Why did it keep slipping away from him? It was there – it was so close and Luke grasped in vain at the strings of it, trying to call it back into his control but it wouldn’t answer and he could feel things, could sense emotions and some intent from the people nearby but the larger whole – the part that could help him – was just out of reach.

Luke sobbed in frustration, shaking and so incredibly tired now. His body had been pushed to the limit, wired up with energy it didn’t have to spare. He couldn’t maintain a defense forever but he knew the second his body gave out on him again, that would be it. 

Help me. Luke whispered, pleading and desperate that someone – anyone at all – might hear him. Someone... please help me.

He watched the ‘words’, his message in a bottle for lack of a better term, in his minds eye drift slowly outwards into the massive void of light and energy that was the Force and then sensed the almost infinitesimal, miniscule vibration of them bouncing off of something enormous just moments later.

Enormous and blacker then pitch. 

And... and coming closer?

How strange. 

His vision was blurry again with little black spots that made his head spin. He could feel an odd mix of anxiety and concern rippling in the Force... but couldn't bring himself to understand where or who it was coming from. He slowly glanced at the spot where his leg was supposed to be.

Gone. His leg ended abruptly, a little over an inch above where his knee had been. It smelled strongly of burnt flesh and blood.

There was a lot of blood now.

Too much blood, actually.

That was... bad.... Luke felt his lightsaber slip out of numb fingers and clatter to the ground before everything went dark.

It was pain that brought him back around this time. 

Pain, sharp and quick, a tight band of fire squeezing around his stump leg, unrelentingly firm.

Luke coughed, his eyes flying open as he gagged in response. There was nothing but the blurry image of something black directly above him and he felt tears streaming down his face as the band of fire around his leg tightened again, blindly crying out, begging for it to stop stop stop, please stop! It was too much - too much, he couldn't handle anything else, please -

Someone was speaking - their voice rumbling and loud, repeating a phrase over and over but Luke couldn't hear over the sound of his sobs as he felt his body being shifted, every movement tantamount to torture. He reached for the Force, clawing for it madly once again, needing whoever was touching him to get the hell away. 

But it didn't answer him - it was as if there was a weight that had settled around and on top of him in the Force, firmly constricting his force presence and withholding his power in an unrelentingly tight grip.

His lightsaber - where was his lightsaber?

He was being rolled onto his side and into a recovery position and he managed to stretch a hand out, scrambling to find his weapon and feeling nothing but dirt and rubble. There was a strong, heavy hand on both his shoulder and what remained of his leg, holding him steady and keeping him in place. His head was adjusted so that it rested in the crook of his left arm and his right was carefully tucked back into his chest.

He was weaponless - again. With his heart pounding frantically in his chest Luke instantly tried to lift his head to see where it went.

But just as quickly, the hand on his shoulder moved to gently pressed his head back down again, accompanied by the same rumbling voice as before - Luke ignored it, instead trying to call his lightsaber back to him with the Force. He could feel his kyber crystal thrumming pleasantly somewhere nearby – but for some reason, it was hard to pinpoint where it was exactly. Even in the Force, it felt like he was peering through intense darkness, trying to locate something small and indiscernible, despite knowing it was so close. Luke forced himself to move, heedless of the agony it caused him, squirming to try and get out from under those hands keeping him in place, a desperate need to find what was his filling him to the brim.

His lightsaber was the only protection he had now – and Luke couldn’t bear thought of being at someone else’s mercy again. Of enduring any more pain than he already had. He wouldn’t – raw panic clawed at his throat at just the mere thought of someone being close enough to kick his leg again.

If that happened twice, Luke thought for sure he would lose his mind; the memory alone petrified him and made him want to throw up and die.

“G-get off me!” Luke choked out, fueled by a renewed surge of fear and adrenaline. It wasn’t as effective as earlier but he still had the vaguest sense that he startled whoever was with him with just how quickly he managed to move.

It was a short lived victory.

The pitch darkness that kept his lightsaber from readily responding to his summons suddenly shifted in the Force, not unlike a massive Krayt dragon moving in the desert sand. It moved much faster than he could, curling around his body and then pressing down on him firmly, but gently enough as to not cause him pain, until it had him pinned like a butterfly from the waist down. Luke was stuck and he... that was - he couldn't be stuck again.

Panicking, he instantly redirected his attention and energy to this new threat, desperately trying to use the Force to shove at the offending pressure with all the strength he could muster, trying to make it let him go. He couldn't do this again - couldn't be trapped, unable to move... not again - it was too much like being trapped under that massive slab of duracrete.

“Be still, Luke.” That someone who dared to have their hands on him was saying, their rumbling voice powerful and faintly commanding. If his head wasn’t aching like it’d been split open with a sledgehammer and spinning to the point where he felt he’d fall right off the planet, if he wasn’t terrified beyond all reasoning… he thought maybe he would have recognized who it was. “Just try to be still, my little one.”

As it was, he didn’t know – frankly didn’t give a damn either and like hell he would be still – he was a Skywalker. He wasn’t made to lay down and wait for slaughter and he hadn’t cut off his leg just to be captured by the Empire or anyone else either. He would continue to fight, even if the effort kriffing killed him. But no sooner did Luke have that thought when a veritable tidal wave of calm peace quiet flooded through his battered mind, sinking into every orifice in his body and penetrating down to the marrow of his bones. His efforts to get the other presence off of him were immediately brushed aside, and his strength began to fail just as quickly as it had come to his aid.

Luke felt his muscles uncoiling and his racing heart start to slow until he could no longer feel the pounding of it in his chest – he was literally being forced to relax against his will and that wasn’t fair. As much as he wanted to defend himself, all Luke could do was slump down in defeat and try not to cry.

It was disturbing how pitifully weak he had become. Hours or days of hunger and starvation and pain, he had no idea how long it had been - but he just didn’t have the energy to keep resisting. Not against someone healthy and so much stronger than he was. Luke sobbed wetly at the thought of how pathetic he must seem, lying in the dirt, a filthy bloody disaster of a wanna-be Jedi. It was stupid to think that people in the rebellion considered him the galaxy’s last hope when he couldn’t even protect himself. What good could he possibly be to anyone when he couldn’t even do something as simple as that?

Luke didn’t – couldn’t – resist when the darkness carefully and so very gently maneuvered his body back into a recovery position, though this time it felt like a bundled up towel was placed under his head. It was easier to breathe this way. Luke hadn’t really cared to notice before that he’d been struggling to do so until he wasn’t. As he quieted, he felt whispers of encouragements start to flicker through his mind, more sensation than actual words but it felt a lot like stay still, don’t move, be calm, safe, no danger.

He wanted to reject those suggestions – to deny what he was positive could not be true. But after so long on his own, the warm promise of something that wasn’t just plain suffering was more attractive than water on Tatooine. He’d never felt anything like this before. And yet... at the same time something about it was… almost… familiar? Luke wasn’t sure how that was possible… unless it was the darkness itself that was familiar? It was so hard to think straight with his head the way that it was pounding but that… that felt right.

With nothing else to lose, he weakly poked at the dark presence surrounding him, wondering why that was. It felt nothing like the stormtroopers from before; it was too vast, too immense, and powerful for him to completely comprehend. It burned cold and radiated deadliness and pain more powerfully than the twin suns of Tatooine could on even the hottest, most miserable day of the year.

Luke also got the sense that the darkness was not accustomed to being kind or gentle or displaying any sort of patience for anyone or anything. That it was doing so with him was an anomaly and it… no… he felt somewhat awkward, though determined in his attempts to try. The darkness usually dealt with threats and annoyances alike with a swift, punishing nature and never bothered to offer comfort to anyone. Neither did he even have the desire to do such things – not in a long, long time at least. Hundreds, perhaps even thousands had met a grim, painful death by this man’s hand. That realization instantly had Luke’s heart trying and failing to skip a beat once again because what did that mean for him?

What was going to happen to him now? 

Not even the forced state of calm could stop Luke from flinching when something heavy and warm was carefully draped over his upper body a few seconds later.

"I will not hurt you, Luke." The rumbling voice spoke again as if hearing Luke's thoughts, and to his surprise, the Force reacted, whispering a pleasant chime of truth. It shimmered between them along a thin, but powerful thread of light. He and the darkness - they were connected somehow? There were echoes of gentleness in his mind, some faint emotions even, as if the owner of that voice had wanted to speak softly to him and was only prevented from doing so. Instead, a gloved hand began to quietly card its way through his matted hair, little pulses of warmth, concern, and affection accompanying it.

It felt… nice.

Damn it to hell, but it even felt safe.

Who are you? He’d meant to demand an answer but instead of being intimidating, Luke’s voice just sounded small and confused, even to himself.

There was a moment of silence, the dark figure alternating between petting his hair and tenderly brushing his thumb against Luke’s temple in a small circling motion. It was soothing and his eyelids grew impossibly heavy as a result.

Do not concern yourself with that right now. Was the soft response. Someone shifted before him and then a cool, damp cloth began to quietly wipe at the blood and grime on his face. Luke closed his half-lidded eyes in response and scrunched his nose, tossing his head a little to try and pull away from it. Just try and relax, little one. The voice soothed again with an infinite amount of patience, in tandem with little tapping suggestions reminding him to calm calm calm.

It was impossible to resist but Luke didn’t want to be calm and he pressed that feeling along their shared thread of light, as well as his unease and fear regarding how vulnerable he currently felt. Remarkably, the darkness twinged with something that felt regretful and empathetic and only moments later, he finished cleaning Luke’s face. His skin tingled, feeling cool and clean for the first time in forever.

You are in no danger from me, Luke – and I do not want you to hurt yourself. The darkness responded honestly. He quietly took Luke’s flesh hand and began to wipe it clean with the same wet cloth as before, methodically tending to his palm and then each individual finger before switching to his prosthetic and repeating the process - it was such an... intimate gesture of kindness. None of this was something Luke would expect from an enemy or even a stranger.

"Kix - bring your supplies. The scene is safe." The darkness spoke audibly to someone else, somewhat louder and more commanding of a tone then he had taken with Luke yet.

I know you. Luke guessed hesitantly, trying to open his eyes again. They were so heavy but he wanted to see, to confirm what he was thinking. Don’t I?

Oddly enough, Luke could feel the darkness smile at him then. It was the faintest impression, softer than sunlight against his mind. Not very well. He agreed sadly, and Luke felt knuckles brush so, so gently along the length of his cheek. But yes. You know me.

Luke was startled from his thoughts and from the affection, flinching in surprise and renewed fear when someone else touched his leg, doing something that caused it to sting and throb. It was enough for his eyes to fly open again at last and he looked down the length of his body, past black clothing and saw white armor exactly where he didn't want it to be.

“Father,” Luke gasped immediately, trying and failing to draw his leg away. The word - that title - came as easily and as unbidden from his mouth the same way that it had after the events of Bespin all those months ago. His grabbed at the darkness, at his father, because who else could it possibly be? Instantly a gloved hand held his own and Luke clutched it tightly, with all the strength that he had so his father wouldn't be able to let go. “Don’t – the, the Imperials - he, they’ll hurt me. Don’t let them – please don’t let them.”

He was shaking again, trying to push himself backwards and away from danger but he couldn't - he was still pinned in place, vulnerable to anyone who wanted to harm him.

“Luke. Luke, no one will hurt you.” Vader reassured and his other hand was in his hair again, running his fingers through it quietly while a soft mantra of calm peace safe safe safe was diligently lulling him into a state of quiet rest again. "I will not let them."

"But - before," he struggled for the words and sent a raw burst of emotion and memory along the thread of light between them. All of it, the terror, the fear, the pain, the jeering laughter while he suffered and cried - he sent it all.

There was rage - horrible, blinding rage building in up inside his father as he saw in part what had happened before his arrival. Vader's anger was its own living thing, writhing and furious, destructive and cruel but so tightly controlled in this moment. He had known something had happened but hadn't gotten the details - hadn't cared to learn them while Luke so obviously needed medical assistance but was too dangerous for anyone else to approach. Vague, shadowy impressions of what his father wanted to do - the pain he would inflict on the ones responsible for this - fluttered at the edge of Luke's thoughts, too indistinct for him to make out. All of Vader's anger - he was holding it apart, as far from Luke as he could keep it, attempting to shield him from the blackness of his rage lest it hurt or upset Luke more than he already was. 

No one will dare do such a thing again. Vader swore fervently, pressing so much passion and honesty into his promise that it did its job, easing the ugly pit of tightly coiled fear sitting heavy in Luke's gut.

"Luke," another voice caught his attention - the stormtrooper by his leg. Luke swallowed, still trembling but comforted by the steady presence of his father, and managed to blink some of the blurriness out of his eyes so he could see better. The medic offered him a tight smile. "My name is Kix. I'm a medic for the Imperial Navy - and this is my colleague, Zeke." He gestured to what must have been a second stormtrooper kneeling beside him. "We both work for Lord Vader." Kix held up a bundle of white fabric for him. "This is just some gauze and bandages. We're going to wrap your wound real fast and get you ready for transport, alright? Can we do that for you?" 

Luke had a verifiable death grip on Vader's hand now but his fathers offered protection and the promise of getting out of this hellhole was a powerful motivator. 

That - earlier... it won't happen again? He double checked, feeling small and childish but needing to ask regardless. 

No. It will not. His father promised, not upset in the least to have to reassure Luke once more. You are not in any danger now. 

Now.

For some reason that word stood out to him. 

There was something else though - a bigger picture, something desperately important, the details of which were hard to recall in this moment. It was becoming hard to think again, the constant thrum of comfort and safety from Vader and the mind-numbing exhaustion from his own abused body working in tandem now. His injuries were severe and Vader was anxious to have him treated. They couldn't wait any longer.

What about... everything else? He forced himself to ask, trusting his father would understand what he was referring to.

The hand holding his lightly ran his thumb over Luke's fingers and there was another faint impression of a sad smile directed at him. 'Everything else' can wait, little one. We will figure it out later - but only once you have been taken care of. 

There was no hint of a lie anywhere in the Force. No deceit or ill-intentions.

Nothing except his fathers steady, powerful presence and the knowledge that he would be looked after by someone who... who loved him endlessly.

The quiet, tapping pulses returned full-force.

Safe. Rest. No danger. Calm.

He was fading, heavy and warm, on the precipice of wakefulness and unconsciousness.

Rest... peace... sleep... safe...

Luke barely managed to nod his consent to Kix just as his eyes dragged closed.

The last thing he knew before he slipped into restful oblivion was the echoing promise that there wouldn't be anymore pain and the warmth of knowing his fathers love and concern.