Description:

The New Republic is on the brink of the collapse, the Sith have reemerged, war is on the horizon—yet everything that is happening feels wrong....So when Luke Skywalker receives an offer to go back in time to change the galaxy's destiny, can he refuse?

Rating: T

Setting: Twenty-five years after ROTJ

Genre: Drama/Angst

Primary Character: Luke Skywalker

Secondary Character: Anakin Skywalker / Darth Vader

Shattered

By CWBasset

A/N #1: I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy.

A/N #2: Thank you so much to my beta reader. This story would not be what it is without her invaluable help and patience.

A/N #3: Although I am not a big fan of the EU, with the help of Wookieepedia, I have tried to stay relatively consistent with most of the events that occurred up to the point where this story begins. For example, Chewbacca was killed three years ago and will only be referenced in the past tense. Some events, however, are far different. The most glaring changes are that the Yuuzhan Vong War never happened, Luke’s marriage to Mara Jade and the uncomplicated birth of their son occurred five years earlier than canon, and the Jedi re-established their home base back at the Temple on Coruscant. There are other inconsistencies, but they are fairly minor and will hopefully not be too distracting.

Chapter 1 - Shattered:

Coruscanti sunsets had always been spectacular. It was a rather odd anomaly, considering the artificially maintained environment of the planet. By far the most populated world in the galaxy, Coruscant was basically a globalized city. Nearly its entire surface was covered with man-made structures, and its stratosphere was cluttered with arrays of planetary mirrors and atmospheric purifiers. Of course, these accommodations were necessary for such a dense inhabitation. The deployed technology had maintained the planet as the viable heart of the galaxy for thousands of years.

In exchange for the artificially sustained temperate comfort, Coruscant no longer experienced climatic changes to indicate the passage of seasons. No cooling temperatures and waning displays of brightly colored foliage to designate the approach of fall, no crystallizing frosts and thick blankets of snow to mark the dormant slumber of winter, and no flowery blooms or melodious birdsong to herald the rebirth of spring. All that remained was the continuous gray of neutrality, as bleak and artificial as the dull plasteel and colorless ferrocrete that covered most of the landscape. The only hints of nature’s past splendor were those spectacular sunsets. When, without warning, the evening sky would inexplicably burst into a magnificent display spanning shades from pale ocher to deep magenta, then the sun would slowly ebb away.

Such a glorious visual spectacle was on exhibit even now. The approaching evening had once again caused an explosion of color. Today’s event was accented by gathering storm clouds that somberly filled the heavens. Nature’s grandeur was lost, however, on the lone occupant of the council room set high above the ancient ziggurat building that housed the resurrected Jedi Temple. Where normally he would have marveled at such a breathtaking scene, this day, he ignored it.

But it wasn't just the sunset he refused to see. On this day, nothing outside his personal world of pain could interest him. Master Luke Skywalker sat with unfocused eyes as lengthening shadows crept methodically across the faded geometric designs inlaid into the room's marble floor. Knee-high black boots impeccably shined, dark Jedi uniform meticulously pressed, his external orderly appearance belied a chaos of agony and heartache that churned within.

He had chosen this secluded retreat to wage his own desperate battle to control his turbulent emotions and regain a shred of inner peace. He was overcome by his sorrow, something he had found to be the case with continual regularity of late.

Luke lowered his grief-ridden face into callused hands as his fingers reached into his short, cropped, graying blond hair. His shoulders started to quiver as he was once again overwhelmed with sorrow. He had no idea how he would survive the next two hours, just as he was not sure how he had survived the prior two weeks.

He forced himself to concentrate on the beats of his aching heart, silently counting his ragged breaths. After a few long moments, he dropped his mechanical right hand back to his side, keeping his flesh hand clamped across his tightly closed eyes. He coarsely rubbed his features once more, absentmindedly scratching the gray-peppered beard that had covered his lower face for many years. Gathering his resolve and inhaling deeply, he lifted his head, still keeping his eyes tightly shut. Memories of recent events came crashing back to him. He had been fighting their assault for days, but he was growing too weary to mount a strong defense against them for much longer.

As his was mind was flooded with painful recollections, Luke felt as if he was drowning in a turbulent sea of despair. They had been so happy just a short two weeks ago. The Corellia countryside had served as the perfect location for a much needed family vacation—Mara had made all the arrangements. She had made sure that his sister, her husband, and their children had joined them—for Mara's underlying goal was to make sure Han and Leia had time to cement their recent reconciliation. The ruse of a family reunion was just the excuse she needed to put her plan into motion.

Scenes from that blessed time together flashed before Luke's eyes:

Ben, spending hours methodically stalking through green meadows as he fervently searched for grass snakes.

Young Anakin, one minute brazenly touting his skills at taming a wild krahbu, and in the next picking himself up from where the beast had tossed him.

Leia, for once not thinking about the worries of the New Republic—allowing herself to relax underneath the warmth of a sun without pondering all the duties which she should be attending to.

Han, entertaining the family while sitting around a blazing bonfire as he told sanitized versions of adventures from his scoundrel past.

Leia’s oldest son, Jacen, arriving with Tenel Ka and announcing their future plans to marry.

He and Mara, slipping away from the rest of the family to capture a few stolen moments together.

It had felt as if a glimmer of light had finally broken through the clouds to shine down upon them. Who was to know that the illusion of hope was not to last? During their all too short stay, little thought was given to the descending darkness that threatened to overshadow the New Republic.

It was nearly twenty-five years since the destruction of the second Death Star. Twenty-five years since the fall of an empire that a Sith despot had constructed and that his enforcer, Darth Vader, had maintained. Twenty-five years since the durasteel vice of evil that had once gripped the galaxy had been loosened. And now, after all that time, Luke questioned whether all he had fought for, all that he had sacrificed, all that he had given in defense of a democracy and freedom, had truly made much of a difference.

True, the New Republic had been established, but a restoration of peace and justice had not truly been achieved. The dark side of the Force had never been completely exterminated. And now, after festering in shadows for decades, it was growing strong once again. Evil was on the rise. The Force was beginning to feel dim and oily, as it had during the dark times. Perceptions of the future had become obscured and clouded. It seemed that even hope itself was slowly withering away.

Luke shook his head viciously as he again berated himself for his lack of vision. He should have been more wary of the urgent message they had received recalling him back to the Temple. He should have insisted that they all return to Coruscant, not just him and his sister. But Mara had pleaded with him to stay just a bit longer, and he had relented. He had never won an argument with her, but this time he should have taken a firmer stand. Instead, he had believed that those that he had left behind would be safe. Han had averred as much.

While their families continued to enjoy their time in the Corellian countryside, he and Leia had returned to Coruscant to be informed of more rumors of war and threats of impending terrorism. Neither of them had realized the peril in which they had placed their loved ones.

Although their parting had been tender, Luke would forever regret that it had been all too brief. He should have hugged Ben longer, kissed Mara deeper. He should have taken in every fiber of her essence. But how could he have known that he would never have another opportunity to do so?

Luke had felt the tremor in the Force when the explosion tore apart the landing platform and destroyed the transport. It was as if his heart had been ripped from his chest. He had known immediately that part of him had vanished, snatched away as Mara and Ben's life forces flickered out of existence. At least they had not had time to suffer.

The tragedy that had befallen Leia’s family was unfathomable as well. Jaina, Anakin, Tenel Ka—they had also been killed instantly. Jacen had survived, though he had been burned severely. Han still clung to life, but the prognosis was poor. Even if he lived, he had sustained such grave injuries that it was unlikely he would ever fully recover.

Luke’s anguished reverie was interrupted as the council chamber door quietly slid open. He raised his bleary eyes to see his sister Leia standing in the opening. The ornate black brocade dress she wore befitted both her station and her state of mourning. The stark contrast of the heavy onyx material against her waxen complexion made her appear every bit as frail as her Force presence projected her to be. She would not admit to her weakness, though, not even to him. She would remain as steadfast and resilient as her position as Supreme Chancellor demanded. Luke envied her resolve, yet he vowed to be there for her when that impenetrable façade of strength would finally crumble.

She slowly stepped forward, her full skirt rustling softly around her as she moved. Luke rose and went to her. The closer he came, the more he could see the impact of this ordeal reflected on her delicate features. The finely netted veil that covered her face did little to disguise her exhausted drawn expression or the puffy redness of her eyes, both of which had been caused by too many sleepless nights and bitter tears of loss. They met mid-room and embraced each other tightly, each willing the other strength and comfort.

“Are you okay?” she asked pensively.

“No,” Luke whispered.

Leia tightened her embrace, trying to ease her brother’s pain.

After a moment, Luke pulled back from her, his hands still resting on her shoulders. He mustered a deep breath. “How are Jacen and Han?”

“Han is still in stasis,” Leia’s voice broke with emotion. “The bacta treatments are helping Jacen, although much of the scarring will be permanent. He will be released by the end of the week, but I’m so worried about him. He seems so distant. He refuses to talk, especially to me.”

“I’ll go and see him after the funeral,” Luke offered.

“Thank you,” Leia said, feigning a slight smile. A shadow crossed her face as she thought of what was to come. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to get through this.”

“You will be.” He drew her into another embrace, as much for his comfort as for hers. “We will make it through this together.”

They remained tightly clutching each other for several long moments, each of them drawing on the other to shore up their resolve. They were truly siblings in spirit as well as blood. Though raised apart, they had been closely bonded ever since they had first found each other. It was as if each one contained a piece of the other within their soul. They had shared both joy and pain through the years. Now, they felt each other’s loss more deeply than anyone in the universe could possibly understand.

In their shared sorrow, the Force began to quietly stir around them. They could feel the slight pull at the edge of their awareness as Masters, Knights, Padawans, and secular guests began to gather in a small chamber adjacent to the temple atrium. Subdued, gentle energy thrummed throughout the empty marble halls of the vast temple structure, offering temperance and calm to its inhabitants. No words needed to be spoken; they both knew it was time to go. The memorial service would begin soon.

They slowly released each other from their embrace, yet they each kept an arm around each other's waist as a means of offering silent support. They left the council chamber together and stood in muted silence while riding the turbolift down to the main level. When the doors opened, the deep, resonating echoes of soft chanting could be heard wafting through cavernous halls.

They let the Force as well as their grief guide them until they entered the appropriate chamber. The dimly lit room was already well occupied. Friends, many of whom they considered as close to them as family, stood stoically against the tall, windowless walls. All attending were silently mourning their shared loss, and many had their faces well hidden beneath dark cowls and heavy shawls.

An unlit pyre stood prepared for the impending rite in the middle of the room. It was empty by necessity. There had been little that remained from the shuttle’s explosion—the terrorists had done their jobs all too well. This funeral would be a memorial only, a final farewell to five souls whose brilliance in the Force had been extinguished far too soon.

As Grand Master of the Jedi Order, it was Luke’s place to officiate at such functions. He could not place this obligation on another. As the senior Jedi took his position at the head of the pyre, he grimly reflected that he had officiated over far too many such occasions, especially these past few years.

Luke heard little of the eulogies that were offered. There were no words that would mitigate his feelings of loss. All that he would remember of the service was the suffocating silence as each attendant reflected on the lives of those who had passed. Luke slowly waved his hand across his chest, igniting the bed of the funeral pyre. He numbly observed crimson flames began to rise, consuming their fuel hungrily as they symbolically took the spirits of loved ones away to reunite with the Force.

As Luke watched with dull eyes, his thoughts flickered to the first time he had lit a pyre for a Jedi’s passing. His memory took him back to a lonely clearing on a verdant Endor Moon, to a solitary commemoration erected by a son for his father. Then, he had watched the feral flames free the tortured soul of the father he would never know from the imprisoning armor of his greatest enemy. He had naturally felt grief for the man’s passing, yet he had also experienced joy that his father had finally found his peace.

This time, there was no acceptance of fate, no rejoicing at the release of a spirit, no tranquil acknowledgment of destiny. This time, there was only grief, sorrow, emptiness—and a gut-wrenching sense of hopelessness. Each moment that passed seemed to take a small bit of light from his soul. He solemnly wondered how long it would be before his anguish would extinguish all that was left.

As he watched the flames slowly diminish, Luke felt a small hand slip into his. He turned slightly to see the harrowed brown eyes of his sister looking hauntingly toward him for support. He attempted to give her a smile to show his appreciation of her concern, but he knew that it came only as a grimace.

“Luke,” she quietly whispered. “Please tell me that everything will be all right—that our lives will get better again.”

“I wish I could, Leia,” was the only reply he could give her.