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His heart drops into his gut like a heavy weight when he comes to the realisation he can’t breathe . There is nothing but pitch black darkness surrounding Luke, and it’s suffocating him like thick tar seeping down his throat and into his lungs. Consuming, too much, he can’t save himself. He reaches for help but no one and nothing is there for him to grab a hold of. Luke is so, so alone here. And he sees them. He sees it all.
The burning remnants of the Lars household and the only parents he’d ever known. Old Ben Kenobi, Master Yoda, both his masters dying in front of his eyes. The towering figure that is Darth Vader standing over him, demanding he join the Dark Side or die. Cutting off his hand. Palpatine, that cold cackle drumming relentlessly in his ears.
Luke feels like he's falling.
He snaps upright, heart pounding against his ribcage, wide awake and hyper-aware of his surroundings. Drenched in cold sweat, out of instinct, his hand clasps over his mouth to stifle the heaving gasps for air ripped from his body. It's not enough to do the trick.
"Luke?"
Kriff. He woke Din.
"I-I'm fine." Luke's voice cracks when he finally speaks, feeling so fragile inside. Weak. He shouldn’t be this way. He’s a Jedi. He should have control over his emotions the way he was taught, not be waking in the middle of the night to cry like a youngling. After a pause, shaking breath, Luke tries again. "I'm okay."
Luke knows Din isn’t stupid or naive, and Luke isn’t delusional enough to even hope he’s convinced anybody, let alone his husband.
Luke’s hands twist tight in their shared bed sheets as Din eases himself upright, and he gives a sluggish yawn and rubs a hand down his face. When the hand drops into his lap, Luke sees the expression of concern etched into Din’s features. “Luke, what is it?”
Why does Luke’s mouth feel glued shut?
“Luke.”
Search your feelings, Father, you can’t do this.
“Luke,” Din’s warm hand comes to rest on his forearm, squeezing gently, “please. What is it?”
I feel the conflict within you. Let go of your hate.
“I’m okay,” is what Luke says in response, automatically, eyes squeezed shut as he shakes his head. It’s what people want him to say. He’s the rebels’ hero, a living legend and a Jedi Master, what more could he possibly want or need? He has his happy ending, a husband and a child and a reputation most would kill for. Skywalker will be a name spoken in stories for decades to come because of him; a fight between father and son, Light and Dark side, that shook the galaxy.
He carried his body from that ship alone. He burned him alone. He barely sees the Force ghosts anymore.
It is… too late for me, son.
Hyper aware of Din’s calloused hand rest on his arm, Luke's panic-ridden brain wills him to react irrationally. He doesn't mean to. Any other situation, and Luke would have latched onto the chance to be in his husband's arms. Would’ve been the one to initiate it. A part of his brain cries. Nonetheless, he jerks his arm out of Din's grasp and wraps them both tight around his own form. Luke's undershirt is sticking to him with cold sweat. His breaths sound shaky even to him.
“ Cyar’ika .”
That word - Din uses it often when referring to him, told him it’s a term of endearment - is what breaks him. His heart seems to physically split in two at hearing it, then Luke is openly sobbing. He curls in on himself, pathetically trying to mask his own weakness.
When Din tries again, it’s with a softness Luke feels undeserving of. " Cyar'ika. " Din reaches for Luke, one hand coming up to brush some of Luke's damp hair from his forehead and the other trailing down his tear-streaked cheek. That hand cups his face, thumb dragging gently down his jawline. His touch is feather light. It makes Luke’s heart positively ache. "You're burning up. Here-"
As his mind reels, Luke feels familiar hands go for the bottom of his shirt, those calloused fingers digging into the fabric to pull it over his head.
"Stop, no, no-" Luke begs in hysterics, hiccuping despite himself, as he brings his arms down to break Din's hold. All he knows is he doesn't want to see his skin, doesn't want anybody to see-
Your feeble skills are no match for the power of the dark side.
Din has seen them. Seen the scars, the faded lightning markings running down Luke's chest and stomach. He doesn't care. He didn't see them the way Luke did. He loves him all the same. They would be in bed together, and Din would kiss the lengths of each and every forked branch like they were worthy of such attention.
You, like your father, are now mine .
“Oh.” is all Din says, pulling back until there's a decent space between them. It doesn’t make Luke feel any better. If anything, it makes him feel even more alone and the cold feeling in his gut intensifies. He wishes he’d just kept his mouth shut. He doesn’t know what he wants, doesn’t know if he wants space or to be taken into Din’s loving embrace again. An embrace he’s sure he doesn’t deserve. How does Din put up with him? How can he stand Luke when he is just so pathetic ?
“I can- I’ll just go-” Luke’s hands scramble to give him some steady ground in which he can pull his legs over the side of their bed. His frazzled mind is set on finding a door to lock himself behind, namely the bathroom.
Somewhere he can take a breather, alone, and search his feelings. To calm down.
But a solid grip, calloused fingers and palm with so much strength behind it, takes hold on his shoulder. Even though Luke gives his all not to flinch, he jolts nonetheless. He still has his back to Din, sitting upright with his bare feet brushing their bedroom floor. Din doesn’t release him this time. “No. You’re not shutting down on me, Luke.”
Luke blinks. “...Huh?”
“You always do this,” says Din, but it’s not harsh or reprimanding. At all. And not once does Din’s grip move. “When you’re obviously hurt, you shut yourself off from me and hide away. Then you’ll return an hour later like nothing happened. I notice, Luke, every single time. Especially when you think I don’t.”
“I’m sorry… I just… I didn’t want to bother you. You’ve been so busy with Mandalore lately, you need your sleep. This is something I-I can deal with on my own.” Kriff . His voice cracks yet again.
Din doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Luke’s words hang heavy in the air. His heart and mind gnaw at him. He’s said too much, exposed an ugly side Din doesn’t want to see, and he needs to close this up now . But then there’s a rustling of the bedsheets behind him, and that grip on his shoulder skims down as Din brings the other arm up to wrap loosely around his middle. That one gesture has tears rolling Luke’s cheeks with the way his heart squeezes with warmth.
"Is it nightmares?"
Luke, hesitantly, nods.
“Right. Okay.” And Luke feels Din press a kiss to the junction where his neck and shoulder meet, but refuses to look anywhere but dead ahead. “Do you need anything?”
“...I don’t know…”
I need it all to stop . He’s so, so tired. But he finds nowadays, with the anniversary of his father’s death, when he closes his eyes he sees the horrors of his past. Luke sees the people he failed to save, his own mistakes and weaknesses presented to him on a silver platter, he hears evil laughter. His victories seem so insignificant to his failures, despite all these people telling him he is the rebel hero. It is not enough. It will never be enough. Help me, help me, helpmehelpmehelpme-
"Luke, is there something I can do for you? Ask and it's yours," says Din, and Luke doesn't reply. Just gives another dry sob. "Anything at all, ner cyar'ika .”
The fear of loss is a path to the dark side.
That was not said to him, these words from before he was born, yet he feels its significance in the Force. Now, Luke has come to realise, Yoda said it as a warning. Not a rule. The old ways, and those who followed them, are gone.
"Can- can you hold me?" Luke's voice is embarrassingly small, a forced squeak from somewhere in the back of his throat, and it cracked when he spoke. That alone makes him wince, let alone the awareness of Din’s eyes on him. His heart squeezes uncomfortably in his chest, like a cold clawed hand has grabbed onto him and won’t let go.
He expects rejection.
Din does no such thing.
"Of course, Luke,” Din murmurs, voice still husky with sleep. It makes Luke’s heartache; his eyes feel dangerously full of oncoming tears. It dawns on him that it is relief. Din pulls away to tug on Luke’s undershirt. “Of course. Will you let me take this off?"
Again, Luke nods.
When Din moves, it’s slow and methodical, patient. Luke is grateful for it, and helps Din peel off his shirt. He also becomes very aware - and a little self-conscious - of how sweat-soaked his skin is. His own hands are slick, he tries to wipe them on the sheets to no avail. It just frustrates him more. Another shaking sob forces itself free.
His husband clearly doesn't care, though, as he curls one arm securely around Luke's waist and pulls him snug and close. Din then eases them down on the bed, with Luke lying across his chest. With the familiar musk of his husband and patterned breathing, Luke feels so safe . The fear and nasty adrenaline from his nightmares seem so far away, unable to touch him within Din's embrace.
“I don’t know what happened to have you dreaming like this," Din murmurs. "Don’t know what triggered it. I don’t pretend to know the weight of what you went through, but I won't act like whatever it is doesn't affect you. You don't have to pretend you're handling it fine, Luke, not around me."
"But I can handle it, Din. I just need to control myself. It- it will take time," says Luke softly, a breathy whisper, "but I will do it. I will manage. I'm a Jedi, I have to. This-this was just a slip up. I won’t let it happen again."
Din gives a resigned sigh, turning his head to press a firm kiss into Luke's damp blonde locks. He keeps Luke tight against his body, one hand trailing gently up and down his spine in a soothing movement. "But , cyar'ika, you told me yourself; you want to change the old Jedi ways. And isn't that what marriage is all about? Taking on each other's burdens?"
“You didn’t sign up for this.” Luke knows Din wasn’t expecting this, can feel the surprise and concern through the Force.
“Comes with the territory, though,” Din tells him. “I grew up with warriors. You’re not the first to suffer from memories. You won’t be the last, either. It isn’t something to be ashamed of, cyar’ika . You are hurt, because you survived something you should never have had to face. Your pain doesn’t make you any less of a man, a hero, or a Jedi. As your husband, I want to do everything in my power to make you sure of this.” “And I want to do anything to make sure you never have to relive it again, but I can’t do that if you don’t let me try.”
Do or do not, there is no try . Luke huffs a wet, sad laugh.
"I… I wouldn't know how to begin," says Luke truthfully.
"The first step is always the hardest part, cyare , but I know you can do it. Just talk to me. Start from the beginning, as much as you want to tell me."
Why does he feel split? His heart wants to spill his entire story, wants to include Din and tell him everything and let him help. But at the same time, he wants to pull away, shake his head, and collect himself someplace else. Another system, perhaps.
Luke chuckles, a little more humourlessly than he'd wanted. "You don't have the time, Din."
"For you, riduur , I'll make time. As much time as you need. I am dedicated to you, ner cyar’ika ."
So, after a moment, Luke opens up his mouth and, simultaneously, his heart, and gets the words out. As he speaks, it begins to come out easier and easier, because he comes to the realisation he is talking to someone he trusts with his life. Because he takes comfort in the assurance Din won’t look at him differently afterwards, Din won't pity him or treat him like a broken object. Din rubs a path up and down Luke’s back throughout it all, listening silently. In the parts that are particularly rough to bite out, Din cups his tear-streaked cheek and draws his face up into a chaste kiss. He holds him as he cries. He whispers loving words in Mando’a into Luke’s ear, words Luke doesn’t quite understand but knows they are genuine anyway.
“More often than not, “ Din tells him during one of Luke’s breaks, whispering the words into his hair as he holds him unyieldingly close, “I believe you don’t know just how astounding you are, mesh’la . Nor how much I adore you. Am I failing you as a husband?”
And Luke’s heart swells with all the love he feels. “Of course not.”
Luke isn’t sure how much time passes, but he feels physically lighter by the end of it. The Mandalore sunlight is starting to peer through their bedroom window. It’s like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders. Or, to be more accurate, someone has shared his burden. Luke thinks he will be okay.
Afterall, he isn’t alone in this anymore.