Archive: If WAAS wants it, WAAS can have it. Anywhere else, please ask. I probably won't say no.
Warnings: This is seriously un-beta'd. Read at your own risk.
Disclaimers: To George Lucas, they belong. Nothing do I own. To Lucasfilms my money goes anyway. Sue me, you will not.
Summary: Luke Skywalker isn't as squeaky clean as they suspect...
A/N: I must stop having Star Wars related conversations with the voices in my head before bed, because they always have me answering stupid questions that involve examples. These examples always lead to theories which then lead to trying to figure out how to make them work, which usually happens as I'm thisclose to falling asleep.
This is a result of one of these conversations. It kept me up for another hour until I finished it.
And the voices in my head? I despise them all.
When Ben had given him Anakin's lightsabre, he had felt something touch him deep inside. It had been brief, so much so he thought he had imagined it.
He didn't know what it was, but it resurfaced again while he watched his onetime mentor die, as the red blade of Darth Vader cut through the frail body of a once great Jedi Knight.
A long time passed before he felt it again, this time in the cave on Dagobah. As the apparition advanced, that tiny thrill awoke, and in his surprise, he struck down the form of the Alliance's greatest enemy.
Seeing his face behind that mask spoke of such rightness to that strange feeling inside that he had fled the cave, uncertain of what it meant.
He was a Jedi.
He was a servant of the Light.
He was above such desires of the Dark.
But was he really?
Luke didn't know anymore. Vader's most recent revelation had caused that thrill to blossom into something awesome. The offer to take up the mantle of apprentice at his father's feet was so tempting; that feeling inside screamed for Luke to accept it.
You could be great, you know, it whispered seductively. You know you want to.
Luke was surprised to find himself agreeing! He did want this, so very much. Ben, Yoda, his friends...not one of them could stop him.
He reached out to grasp the gloved hand of his would-be nemesis and was instantly pulled to safety. The sense of completion, of consummation was so vibrant it hurt. It physically hurt.
He doubled over as the room spun out of control. He couldn't stop the rapid descent as memories not his own, yet so oddly familiar to his heart, bubbled up.
"He's holding me back!"
"In some ways, a lot of ways, I'm ahead of him."
"You're not all powerful!" - "Well I should be!"
"He's got too much of his father in him." - "That's what I'm afraid of..."
Phantom voices of the past confirmed what he had already suspected. His own family, his own mentors, didn't want him to come into his own power - just as they had done with the Skywalker that had come before, just as the universe had confirmed that it couldn't handle the Skywalker legacy.
But now, it would learn. They all would.
A scorned Skywalker was a force to be reckoned with. Two, a proton torpedo ready to blast apart time and space, which they would rearrange to their specifications.
Let the opposition come.
They would be ready.