The festivities were well underway when Luke finally managed to slip away. Though fireworks lit up the night sky, he felt fairly confident that his absence would go unnoticed. And he would have been about right. All but one remained ignorant of their hero's disappearance.
Surprisingly silent, Han followed the young Jedi from a safe distance. He had no desire to be within range of Luke's blaster or light saber if the kid were to become startled and react on instinct. Both had been running on adrenaline for so long that it had become second nature to shoot first and ask questions later.
The follower and the followed walked for some time. Han's curiosity grew as Luke continued, showing no signs of stopping. Finally, though, they broke through a line of trees and entered a clearing where Han observed that a funeral pyre had been erected.
Abruptly, Luke fell to his knees. "Father!" he cried out, eyes trained on the charred figure above him.
Han raised his eyebrows in confusion at the kid's exclamation. I thought that Luke was raised by his aunt and uncle, and that he had no idea who his parents were.
Luke continued to kneel on the ground, shoulders shaking with barely suppressed sobs. Cautiously, Han approached the hunched-over form of his friend. Luke's head snapped up at the sound of Han's boots crunching on dead leaves. In the glow of the dying embers, Han could see that Luke's eyes were still glistening with unshed tears.
"Hey, kid. You okay?" he asked.
Hastily, Luke scrubbed at his face and attempted to smile at the older man. "Of course," he replied. "Shouldn't you be celebrating with everyone else?"
"I was worried about you," Han admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly in embarrassment. He didn't know what to do. Comforting a person wasn't really his thing. But this was Luke. And now that he was here, there wasn't any way that he was backing out of helping a friend in need.
"You shouldn't be. I'm fine," said Luke, a little too casual for Han's liking.
"The hell you are," said Han, gruffly. He decided that maybe if he riled Luke up enough, then he stood a better chance at figuring out what was wrong.
Han's plan seemed to work, for Luke immediately leaped to his feet, chest heaving from the effort it took to control his emotions. "What would you know?" he spat. "The things I've seen, and done . . . you can't even begin to imagine. So how can you hope to understand me, or relate to my experiences?"
"I'm here, aren't I?" Han countered softly, which seemed to deflate the young Jedi, who'd been itching for a fight mere moments before.
"Yeah," Luke muttered fondly, shooting Han a tender, but strained, smile. "You're here."
An easy silence now settled over the pair, broken only by the sound of fireworks going off or the occasional drunken call of well-wishers that were carried to Han and Luke on the wind.
Han, for his part, took this moment of relative peace and quiet to observe Luke. The kid had grown up since their first meeting, and not necessarily for the better. Where before, he had been an impressionable youth, he was now hardened by battles and war, facing evil at every turn. There were lines around his eyes that hadn't been there before. And though his body had always been lean from the work he had done growing up on the farm, he had a new edge to him that spoke of knowledge gained and innocence lost.
"Do you think who our parents were or are define us?" asked Luke suddenly.
After a moment's contemplation, Han spoke, putting more care and consideration into his words than he ever had before. "Not necessarily," he said slowly. "While it's true that a part of our parents continue to live in us, they don't make or break our character. Only we can do that, kid."
"The Force is strong in my family," commented Luke. "I have it. My sister has it. And . . . my father had it."
Han was quick to pick up on Luke's usage of the past tense in referring to his father, as well as the slight tremor in his voice and body. Whoever Luke's father was, the discovery had shaken him greatly.
"Who's your father, kid?" he asked gently, refusing to refer to the man as being in the past. Death didn't eradicate his contribution to Luke's creation. When Luke didn't answer right away, Han asked again, "Who's your father?"
"Darth Vader," whispered Luke, looking for all the world as though he wished for the ground to open up and swallow him whole, now that his secret had been revealed.
Although momentarily stunned, Han quickly recovered, enough to sense that Luke seemed embarrassed by his parentage. Han set about to reassure him. "Doesn't change things between us, I promise," he vowed. When Luke continued to look doubtful, he went on, "You'll still be that skinny farm boy I picked up for money."
"God, you make me sound like one of your conquests," said Luke with a weak chuckle.
"Who's to say you weren't?" asked Han, winking suggestively at the young man beside him.
"I'm not the one who left and came back, then stuck around to fight," Luke pointed out. "If anything, I'd say that you were my conquest."
"Maybe I was, kid," said Han. "Maybe I was."
They lay together on the ground, side-by-side, Han's arm wrapped around Luke's shoulder, who curled reflexively against his side as he sought the physical comfort of another human being. Together, they gazed up at the heavens, watching as the stars twinkled happily down on them.
"You really scared me today, Luke," said Han seriously. "I thought I'd lost you."
"I'm impossible to lose," said Luke, confidently. "When I die, I'll become part of the Force, which flows through everyone and is all around us."
"Whether that's true or not," said Han, "Your physical body would have been gone. Was it really so easy, then, to leave me behind without even saying goodbye?"
Luke began to shake within his arms, and Han realized that he was crying again. Uncomfortable with the position he found himself in, Han settled for simply holding Luke tighter and hoping that his sobs subsided soon.
Eventually, Luke's body ceased to tremble, and he collapsed against Han, his energy completely spent. "You've no idea . . . how hard it was to just walk away," whispered Luke. "But I knew that I couldn't face you. I was the only one who could end it all. And if I'd seen you, my resolve would have weakened and I wouldn't have gone. Or I would have taken Leia's advice and run away – to the other end of the galaxy, perhaps."
"Why did you go?" asked Han, who'd overcome the hurt and betrayal he'd felt at Luke's departure the instant that Luke had returned safe and sound, relatively unharmed.
"Vader wanted me," said Luke, simply. "That's why we got through the checkpoint and that's why I had to give myself up. We could sense each other through the Force."
Suddenly, Luke's comment on the ship about knowing that Darth Vader was on the planet below made more sense. He'd been so sure, that it must have been due to the Force and the bond that their blood had created between them.
"That explains a lot, kid," said Han.
"Including how he knew that I would come for you in Cloud City. He played to my weakness – you," said Luke, who still clearly blamed himself for Han's predicament.
"Hey, now – it wasn't your fault," said Han, moving to lean on one elbow so that he could look down at Luke.
"But it was my fault that I took as long in coming for you on Tatooine as I did," said Luke. "I needed time to hone my Jedi skills, though."
"Practice makes perfect, eh, kid?" asked Han, playfully elbowing Luke in the side. "And it paid off in the end, right?"
"Yeah, but it doesn't make me feel any less guilty, though," Luke admitted.
"You'll get there," said Han. "Time heals all wounds. And for what it's worth, I forgive you – not that I ever blamed you for anything in the first place . . ."
"Thanks, Han," replied Luke, smiling appreciatively over at him.
Han shook his head in amazement at Luke's apparent willingness to take the weight of the world – no, of the entire galaxy – on his still-young, but no less capable, sturdy shoulders. "You expect too much of yourself, kid," Han observed.
"And you expect too little," Luke quickly countered. "That's why you first ran away, isn't it? It didn't have anything to do with the money, but the fact that you were afraid of being a disappointment, of letting yourself and others down."
As Han opened his mouth to deny Luke's accusations – which were entirely not true, thank you very much – he had an epiphany, of sorts. "That's why you stayed, isn't it?" he asked. "You wanted to prove yourself to all the doubters."
"Partly," Luke agreed. "It was also just right."
"Just as coming back was right for me," said Han.
Luke shuddered and shifted closer. "I thought I'd lost you," he whispered, echoing Han's earlier sentiments. "I'd already lost Ben, and before him, Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. I don't know what I would have done if you'd stayed away permanently."
"That would have been impossible, kid," said Han. "You're too charismatic for you own good. I'd have been sucked in sooner or later."
For the moment, no more words needed to be spoken. As Han continued to shelter Luke in his arms, he thought about all that they'd been through and what they'd surely go through in the future, together, as always.
Han would freely admit – to anyone but Luke – the relief he'd felt at hearing Luke's voice in his still-blinded state. He'd easily fallen back into the pattern of their playful banter, and could even confess to having missed the danger and excitement that accompanied their adventures. The only time Han had not welcomed danger was when Luke was the one in trouble, such as when he'd been caught out in that blizzard. Han had found him beaten and bloody, half-frozen, and mumbling madly to himself. Han had many regrets, but going after Luke was not one of them. The crippling fear he'd felt at thinking that Luke was lost to him was the same as when Lando had said that Vader was only interested in someone called Skywalker. Threatening Luke was a surefire way to get on Han's bad side, and also drove him to desperate acts to ensure Luke's safety, both for Luke's own sake and his.
Luke still seemed troubled, though, so Han broke into both their thoughts by asking, "What happened on the Death Star, Luke?"
Luke sighed, as though he'd been waiting for this question. "I surrendered and was taken to Vader. I tried talking to him, to get him to come back to the good side of the Force. But he refused, saying that it was too late for him."
Han squeezed Luke's shoulder comfortingly. He knew how much Luke tried to believe in the good in everyone for as long as possible, and how he never stopped trying to save his friends, many of whom had become like his family. For Vader to turn him down must have been quite a blow.
Luke continued speaking, "Vader personally took me before the Emperor, who informed me that we'd only made it as far as we had because he'd let us think we were being clever and smart. It was all a trap – everything."
Han said nothing, sensing that Luke needed to get this off his chest without interruption.
"I could feel the anger and hatred for the Emperor building within me," said Luke, "And he could too. He began taunting me about our eminent defeat, and how all my friends would die. I tried to resist – I really did – but I couldn't take it anymore. I summoned my light saber to strike him down, but Vader got in the way. I said that I wouldn't fight him, but he forced me to defend myself."
With Luke's descriptive storytelling, Han had no trouble picturing the scene as Luke had seen it.
"Finally, when I was hiding from him," said Luke in a hushed voice, "He tried to draw me out by talking about how deeply I felt for my friends, and especially for my sister, Leia, which would have led him straight to you. I couldn't allow for that to happen, so I attacked."
Han continued to listen in silence, entranced by Luke's tale and horrified at what he'd gone through.
"I eventually managed to cut off one of his hands, the same one, in fact, that he'd cut off of me."
Here, both men's gazes fell to Luke's gloved hand, which hid the mechanics that caused it to function normally.
"The Emperor began applauding me, and urged me to finish my father off and take his place. I refused and threw away my light saber, stating that I had now become a Jedi and would rather die than turn to the dark side of the Force."
Han had a sinking suspicion as to what was coming, a feeling that Luke soon confirmed.
"He began to shoot bolts of electricity at me, while I lay writhing on the floor, calling for Vader to help me. But he just stood there, watching. Then, suddenly, something changed. Right before the Emperor was about to finish me off, Vader picked him up and threw him down an exhaust shaft."
At hearing this turn of events, Han gasped, both at the realization that the tremors Luke had been experiencing were probably aftershocks from being electrocuted, as well as the fact that Vader had helped his own son, effectively turning back to the good side of the Force at the very end.
Luke gave a wry grin, slightly misinterpreting Han's incredulous expression, "I know – I was surprised too. He threw him down, but came in contact with the Emperor's electrical force, which broke the breathing apparatus that was keeping him alive. I tried to get him to safety, but I was too weak. I didn't have the strength to carry him anymore, which he seemed to sense. He asked to look at me with his own eyes, and told me to tell Leia that I was right about him."
With a choked sob, Luke finished his story, saying, "Then, he died. I took his helmet, got on a nearby craft and flew away."
Overcome by just everything, Luke began to cry in earnest, as though his world were coming to an end. And in a way, it almost had. The last connection to his past – with the exception of Leia – was gone forever, never to be recovered.
"It's alright," said Han, patting Luke's shoulder in what he hoped would be considered a comforting gesture. "No one can be as strong and for as long as you've been, kid. They'd break."
"Guess this is me breaking, then," Luke muttered, giving a wet laugh.
"Everything's going to be fine – you'll see," said Han. "We'll get through this, together. That's what friends are for."
"Friends . . ." Luke mumbled.
Han chuckled and tried to ignore the moisture he felt collecting in his eyes. He held Luke until the kid cried himself to sleep.
When they stumbled back to camp the next morning – Han supporting most of Luke's weight, who's head was buried in his chest in an effort to shut out the rest of the world – Leia gave them a knowing look, having also noticed their disappearance the previous night. However, she didn't say anything, for there would now be plenty of time to talk in the future.