A/N: This was the HARDEST story I have ever had to write. I wrote and re-wrote this chapter at least three times over. Hopefully it's as interesting to read as it was for me to write.

Oh, and another note, this story encompasses a whole lot of characters, just that only lets me put in two. T_T There will be some Luke and even an appearance of some familiar Force-ghosts. And then, lots of new AU charries of my own creation.

Thanks for reading and reviewing, all. ^^

Without ado, I present; For The Greatest Good!

For The Greatest Good

By GarbledWords

Chapter 1

The Dream

Darkness.

A dark figure, shrouded in black silk, glides soundlessly across the hangar. Suddenly, the dark is illuminated by a burning red lightsaber, clutched in the slender, graceful hands of the shadow. A small perimeter is dimly lit, showing the face underneath the silken hood. It his eerily beautiful, with pale, smooth skin. She has soft, perfect features that is somehow radiant, yet hiding an evil, like glowing poisonous radium. Suddenly, a familiar shout of shock echoes through the large room. The scuffling of boots are heard, but not before a muffled gasp and splutter. She curls her free hand in the motion of choking, raised before her, slender and manicured.

The man gasps for breath, and in the dim lights he falls to his knees, trembling in agony. All the while, the tall, willowy woman approaches him, footsteps echoing loudly against the empty hangar. She suddenly releases him, and he takes a deep, shuddering breath, head bowed in pained silence.

The woman comes to a stop in front of the weakened man. He lashes out suddenly, snarling, but the shadowy figure stops him with the Force. He glares defiantly up, held frozen in place.

"Where is she?" he snarls venomously, eyes glinting in hatred.

A wicked smile curves upwards on the being's thin lips. It ends at the eyes, which are a dead, frosty grey.

"She has come to her senses. The Force is strong with her, and she is now a Dark apprentice," A dead laugh cackled through the air, terrible and bloodcurdling. "And now, to finish her training, you will be the last obstacle. You must die." The last three syllables were emphasized with the shadow of death, and the smile on the woman's face suddenly changed to an ugly scowl.

"Leia," Han Solo mumbles, hazel eyes filled with tears as the red blade cuts through flesh and bone. The body falls back out of the lightsaber with a soft thud that echoes with an awful finality through the empty hangar.

Leia Organa Solo awoke, trembling violently, each breath coming in ragged gasps. A sheen of cold sweat covered her body, her hair damp. Her eyes darted to her left, where her husband lay, snoring softly, and still very much alive. She brushed his face, reassuring herself that he was not just a specter. She sat up on the edge of the bed, gathering her frayed nerves and forcing herself to stop shaking. She stepped down from the bed, took another step, and promptly crashed to the floor.

Han Solo sat up with a start, blinking through the gloom. He flicked the lights on to see Leia sprawled awkwardly on the wooden floor, cursing to herself and wincing. Her foot was tangled in a mess of power cords. He covered his mouth to hide a smirk and choked back a laugh as he walked over to give her a hand. She grit her teeth, leaning on the wall and removing the mess of cords from her ankle. She avoided his eyes, staring determinedly everywhere but Han as they sat down on the edge of the bed.

"What happened?" he asked, snickering.

"Stop laughing!" she shouted suddenly, staring at her husband and bursting into tears. Han took her in his arms, patting her on the back. He blinked in bewilderment and they sat there for a moment. The torrent of tears soon began to slow, and she pulled away, face in her hands.

"Does it hurt that much?" Han asked, concern suddenly creeping into his voice. Leia shook her head, shaking.

"It's not that," she choked out. She stood, wiping her face. She managed to gather her composure. Her brown eyes turned to Han's, suddenly dark and frightened. Han flinched, knowing that gaze. The only time it had appeared on her face was when Alderaan was destroyed and Luke had given the revelation that Darth Vader was her father. "Not at all."

"What is it, then?"

"I…I can't tell you." her eyes looked haunted. She bit her lip when she realized she was practically repeating history. "I need to talk with Luke." She immediately looked away, afraid that he would become angry again like he had before, not so long ago, on Endor. She was surprised when he only drew her to him and kissed her tenderly on the lips. She responded by holding him tightly back, calming down. They broke apart, nose to nose.

"It can wait, then," he breathed softly, pushing a lock of hair from her face and giving her another short kiss. Leia managed a weak smile.

"Let's go," she said, walking off to the dresser to change.

"Wait, we're going to Luke's now?" he sputtered, suddenly indignant. Leia managed a grin at the sudden change of emotion.

"It's urgent," she responded, her face turning sober again. She threw some clean clothes at Han, who narrowly avoided being hit in the face. He sighed, rolling his eyes in mock despair. His wife was walking towards the bedroom door when she caught the look and raised her eyebrows. "You can stay home by yourself, if you want."

Han's face lit up like a child promised ice cream before dinner, and he nodded. He sauntered over to the drawer, stuffed the clothes in messily, and bent over to brush his lips against Leia's again. She smiled, having dressed into her day clothes.

"See you, princess," he murmured, winking exaggeratedly. Leia knew he was trying to make her feel better, and she giggled softly.

"Bye, nerfherder." She responded a bit louder, shouldering her jacket and closing the door behind her.

Han sighed again, this time in pleasure as he flopped back onto his pillow and thumbed on the bedroom holoscreen.

A/N: Reviews would be very much appreciated.