Out, out

For the first time in months, Luke looked himself in the mirror. Up until that point, he had only thought that his change had been within him.

He didn't recognize the man staring back at him.

This man wore a tight fit black jacket and matching trousers when he used to only wear white and occasionally grey. He remembered his rationale for this change: you were able to hide the best in black. After the fight with...with Him, alliance members kept bombarding him with questions about the fight. Everyone seemed to want to mark the event as a historical landmark while Luke had just wanted to forget that it had ever happened. So he hid. He hid from everyone and used his solitude to meditate. More than once he would hear His voice calling to him, whispering into his ear words of sweet seduction. The black clothes he had chosen hid something else he wished to hide. The high collar was buttoned up his throat, making it a bit uncomfortable to breath, but it was better than letting the world see what laid beneath.

He unfastened the collar and freed his neck. He sighed gazing at the purple, blue and black flesh that encased his throat like a necklace. He gingerly touched the wound, pressing lightly against his Adam's apple. It still stung to his touch. He thought bitterly that the bruises were the only thing He had given him.

His hair was darker as well despite being more clean than it usually had been. While still clearly blond, especially when compared to his dark clothes, it had darkened at the roots. He was curious to why. Surely the battle raging inside of him, trying to claw its way out, couldn't change his physical appearance. He passed it off as simply his body deciding to grow up. It wasn't unheard of for a blond's hair to darken as they age. Though, in a way, he was torn up inside because he had grown up. He had grown up abruptly when his world was shattered by 6 syllables.

His skin was rubbed raw though it was cleaner than Luke had ever kept it. It was most notable on his left hand that almost looked red. His right wasn't affected as it wasn't truly his. He knew why this was. For the first time in his life, he had access to a shower system. The water was never warm, nearly ice cold, but Luke would spend plenty of time in their scrubbing his skin. He felt revolted by himself if he didn't shower in the morning. He had skipped it one morning and felt nauseous the entire day, constantly going to the 'fresher to scrub his hand, arms and face in a desperate attempt to hide his filth. Even now he found himself scrubbing his face and hands after every drill his squadron went through. His hands mostly. They never felt clean. So he would wash them until they almost did. When Wedge came into the 'fresher to inform him that he had been in there for fifteen minutes, Luke realized that he probably had a problem. But try as he might, he couldn't stop himself from washing his hands.

Despite being as raw as meat in a butcher's window, his skin was pale, the color of porcelain. His deep tan that he had acquired from years spent being baked under the twin suns had finally faded, leaving in its wake white, pasty flesh of one who spent his time among the stars. He had never thought it was possible for him to lose the color in his face. And yet, any warm tone had drained from his face.

He saw how thin he had become. Or perhaps he had always been this scrawny and had just been better at hiding it. His new wardrobe hid his stretched muscles to a point where no one would look at him and think he was in shape. Looking at just his body, he looked like a small, malnourished child.

But his face told a different story. His once boyish looks had vanished. His cheeks were sunken in so tight that he could see his bones protruding through his tight skin. Their were deep lines surrounding his forehead and scowling mouth. Curious, he attempted to smile, hoping to bring some life to his near-death like face. It only appeared at a grimace or a smile an executioner would give while torturing and killing his latest victim. He stopped attempting to bring life into his face.

One thing looked about the same: his bright blue eyes. He had never truly comprehended how blue his eyes were. Framed by dark marks and blonde bangs, the color truly popped. It appeared to be the only light color on his body. The only part of him that looked anything like he was before. Though even saying that, they too had changed.

They now saw differently.