Ben was awake before the sun was up, outside in the crisp morning air practicing with his lightsaber. He had promised Luke that he would keep up with his practice during his week at home, although being severely hungover had prevented him from doing so on the previous day.
The energy blade glowed vividly blue in the pre-dawn gloom, humming and whooshing as he spun it about.
Luke always said that lightsaber practice was a form of meditation, meant to focus the mind and hone the senses. Yet with each slash of his blade Ben imagined it severing the limbs of his former girlfriend and her lover. With each thrust he imagined it piercing straight through Emmett's torso or Jaliyah's beautiful, traitorous face. He was aware that his uncle would be appalled by this. He was aware that it was wrong, and that it was not the Jedi way. Yet he had made the conscious decision to hold on to this little bit of Darkness, just for now, and allow the anger to flow through him. What was the real harm in imagining his enemies' deaths, anyway? It was all in his mind. He could never actually kill anyone.
He paused to remove his perspiration soaked shirt and decided to finish his practice routine with the one move he had not quite yet managed to master, a backflip.
"I'm gonna get it right this time," he promised himself, clutching his lightsaber and giving himself a running start. He kicked off the ground with one foot, then the other.
The air rushed from his lungs as he crashed directly onto his back on the hard packed dirt. The lightsaber flew from his hand and skidded a few inches across the ground. For several seconds he lay gasping and struggling for breath while his eyes watered.
Han, an early riser since his days as a smuggler, had been sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee and watching his son practice from the window. He set his mug down and hurried outside.
Ben had managed to catch his breath by this point but he had not attempted to sit up.
"You okay?" Han asked him concernedly, reaching down to offer him a hand. "That looked like it hurt."
"You mean you saw that?" Ben wheezed, dismayed.
"Your perfectly executed backflop? Yeah, I saw it," Han said with a lopsided smile. He helped his son to sit up. "You okay? Not hurt?"
"I'm okay. Just knocked the wind out of myself." Ben stood up with his father's assistance.
"You want to come in and have some coffee?"
"Yeah." Ben retrieved his lightsaber and his shirt and followed Han into the house.
Han was in the process of cooking when Leia walked into the kitchen.
"'Morning," she greeted Han with a kiss.
"Could you guys keep the happy couple stuff to a minimum?" Ben requested sourly. His hands involuntarily tightened around the coffee mug and he had to set it down to prevent himself from breaking the handle.
He turned his head away when his mother glanced at him. He couldn't stand the sympathy in her eyes, couldn't stand for her to see him vulnerable and hurting like he was.
"I'm not hungry," he mumbled when Han set a plate in front of him. "I don't have any appetite."
"Please stop torturing yourself, Ben," Leia said gently. "Jaliyah's not worth it. No one who treats you the way she did is worth it."
"Don't ever say her name!" Ben slammed his fist down on the table with enough force to make the dishes jump. With that he stormed into his bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind him.
"He's taking this so hard," Leia said quietly, reaching across the table for Han's hand. "Do you think he'll get over it?"
"I hope so," Han responded sincerely, knowing exactly what it was that she was asking. He squeezed her hand.
