Sequel to: The Plural of 'I' Is 'We'
Relationship: Luke/Leia/Han
Notes: Ignores novelizations, includes some references to other SW canons.
Leia suggests the plan, and Han doesn't know or care enough about politics or newsfilers to disagree. Luke goes along, though as often as his head has been in another world ever since Endor, he'll agree to anything. Han's been appreciative about Luke's suggestibility over the last few days. Now he's a little worried.
"It will be fine," Leia assures them both. "No one knows Luke is my brother, and no one has to know." She rests her head against Han's chest. Luke's arms are wrapped around her from behind. It's about the happiest Han has ever been in his whole life. That's why he's worried.
Leia is preparing for a position in the temporary new government. She was a Senator from a world that died under the Empire's fist. She'll be a public servant again, one way or another. Han isn't so sure about what role will be left for him in this new galaxy. Chewie's ready to drop their passengers off at Coruscant. He's also ready to go where Han wants, and he'll stay if Han wants to stay. Lando is amused as hell every morning the three of them stumble groggily out of Han's quarters looking for coffee, though he's polite enough not to say anything. He's got a job waiting for him on Coruscant, too. Han still isn't used to seeing his old buddy as respectable, but Lando's latest con is working on everyone so well even he believes it himself.
Luke keeps himself to himself, except when he's wrapped up between the pair of them. He doesn't project the field of doom and gloom he did when he returned from the Death Star carrying a corpse, and that's enough for Han for today.
Coruscant glitters hugely in front of him as the Falcon nears her destination. Han has avoided this place as much as possible over his long career. Already his feet are itching to walk away as fast as they'll carry him. He would go now, but Luke stands behind Han's seat, a calm presence in Han's worried storm, and Leia's face is alight in anticipation of the next stage of her life. He glances over at Chewie, who doesn't even have to shrug. Chewbacca knows Han would walk into hell for him, or for the two humans standing there. Time to prove that.
When they disembark, Leia is instantly recognized in the spaceport by a newfiler, the first of about ten million newsfilers Han will meet, recorder in her hand and ears open for anything to report. "Princess Leia, welcome back to Coruscant. And who is with you?" Other newsfilers swarm close like pel bees buzzing around for a sweet story or satisfying sting.
Leia takes a breath. Han knows she's been practicing her lines. Han and Luke are well-known pilots and heroes of the Rebellion, and Lando is a political ally, and all of them have impressive titles Mon Mothma hands out like ice pops to those she thinks aren't coming back from their missions. "No one has to know more than that," Leia said this morning, rising and falling over him, her hair spilled out, and Han couldn't have argued even had he been able to focus on anything other than how tight and wet she was.
Her hair pinned up and her perfect politician's smile on her face now, she says, "These are my friends."
Threepio interrupts her. "Ah, yes! Allow me to introduce to you General Lando Calrissian, General Han Solo, and of course, Master Luke Skywalker, who is Princess Leia's long lost twin brother!"
There are snaps of vid cams, and an awful, centuries-long moment where Han can actually feel Leia and Luke stop breathing. Luke shutters down into his calm, Jedi place. Leia locks herself into her public role so well he wonders later if she ever let it slip. Her voice is smooth as glass. "Thank you, Threepio. Yes. As I was saying, these are my friends from our time in the Rebellion together." She answers a few questions, and Lando answers a few. The rest of them work on unloading the Falcon. Han doesn't have any words to say to Luke right now, not where someone's vid cam might hear, not where Lando's eyes are occasionally resting on him with questions.
Threepio ruins everything.
Han is looking forward to this conversation as much as he wanted to sit down with Vader at that table on Bespin. Same company, too.
Lando insists on buying the first round. Their table is far enough away from prying ears and eyes that Han knows what they'll be discussing.
"How's the job?" he asks, to get the topic steered in a better direction.
Lando lets the roll of his shoulders under his latest cape speak for him. "Mining rights are tricky when both parties want to obliterate the other's planet, and can. You do not want to know what toys the Empire left lying around."
"Bad stuff, huh?"
"Anyone with enough money and too little common sense can make a mini Death Star of their own within a year. Some of them are crazy enough to try."
"Great." Han doesn't think much about galactic politics. His concerns have always been more local. What cargo is banned in which system means how much he can charge to haul it somewhere else while avoiding Imperial attention. He wants none of this tiptoeing around hurting people's feelings in case they wipe out your solar system bantha fodder.
Lando takes a deceptively long drink. Han's not fooled. They're both old hands at making another party believe they're tipsier than they are. Lando catches his eye, knows he's not fooling anyone, and sets his glass down. "What are you getting yourself into, old buddy?"
Han doesn't tense up. He's spent twenty years burying all his tells. "Sounds like politics to me."
"You know what I mean. Our girl isn't a big ship. Chewie's not going to say anything. Threepio doesn't understand, and you're glad."
"Weren't you the one giving me advice a couple of days ago to go for it?"
"With Leia. I didn't have an issue with the way you three worked it out." Lando's staring at him now. "But I'm worried about you, Han, and I'm worried about those two."
"You don't need to worry. We're fine."
"He's her brother." Lando is speaking very low now. "Did you know?"
"They've known for less than a week. She told me."
"I don't want to know what the three of you are doing. I want to know if you're sure about what's happening. This won't end well. It's going to come out, and it will end her career when it does. Leia is taking a huge risk. Luke could be looking at prison time. And I know how much you love them both, and it'll crack your heart to see them hurt. So I want to know how sure you are before I commit to keeping quiet the rest of my life."
Han sits back. Lando isn't being altruistic. He'll cut them free if he feels he has to in order to salvage his own reputation. He won't rat them out, though. "You know that moment when you first go into hyperspace, and everything is on edge." He doesn't have words for this. He can see Lando understands.
If Han could sort out metaphor and metaphysics, he would say, "There's a pinpoint of time when the ship around you inhales and all the molecules in your body pause between moving forward past the speed of light, or staying behind and slamming you into the bulkhead in a layer of slime two atoms thick, and then you fall over into that burst of starlight and everything makes sense because it's the first time you can really breathe and it's the one place you really belong."
Han doesn't say any of that. Lando's been there. Han says, "I've been standing at the edge of a hyperspace jump my entire life, and I never knew it until a few days ago. I don't want to think about stopping."
"Okay." Lando takes another drink. "I won't say a word."
There's a look on his face Han can't read. They've passed some moment, and can drop back down into more familiar territory. "You're not jealous, are you?"
"There's no point. I was never even on Leia's charts."
"I didn't mean that. I meant, you and I that one time..."
"Never happened," Lando says, very definitely, and Han can't argue with him.
The suite of rooms isn't bad. There's a room for him and Leia, and a second room for Chewie. Leia pulled the right strings to get Luke the suite next door, where he has a room for his weird Jedi meditation and a spare room that can function as Leia's office and a recharging station for the droids during off hours. There are two panels in the sitting room that give easily to Chewie's wrench, and the third is brought down with a lightsaber.
"We don't own this place," Leia says with a sigh, but she loves having double the living space when she's here to enjoy it. She's already been handed some tangled treaty between two planets. Half her time at home is spent on her communicator using her patient voice, and she doesn't spend much time at home.
Han can't stop the itch in his feet. "We got her here. I'm not so sure she needs us to stay," he says one night, blankets tangled and messy and crumpled at the foot of the bed. Luke's desert-hot beside him, thinking about something. He's always thinking. Some nights Han feels like he's talking to a very serene wall.
"She needs us," he says at last, coming back from whatever distant world he's inhabiting tonight. "She's got so much on her plate to do. We keep her stable."
Han doesn't feel like Leia's stabilizer. He does feel like her well-kept sex toy. Luke plucks the thought right out of his head. "Don't. She knows you're not used to staying in one place. She's trying to give you a reason to stay."
Luke is irritatingly calm about this. Han is close to drifting off when the door slides open and his very tired best girl lets herself in. "I know you're awake," she whispers, clothes slipping off in slitheringly sheer noises. She climbs into the bed and wraps up behind Han's back, grabbing the covers as she does.
There's a long pause in which Han hears nothing but the matched breaths of the pair to either side of him, and the distant, quiet beep of R2 charging in another room. Leia breaks the silence. "There's a famine on Danoor. Captain Syndulla is taking a convoy of supplies to aid them. She leaves tomorrow. She needs pilots."
Luke rolls over. He's facing her over Han in the darkness. "Did you volunteer us?"
"No, but I suggested she ask you in the morning, and I told her you'd both probably say yes."
Danoor? Han never much bothered with the place. The Falcon can hold plenty of cargo, legal or otherwise. "How long is the mission?"
"A week. Maybe two."
He could use a week away. Part of him wonders if Luke put the idea to Leia verbally or even as a quiet suggestion in the back of her mind. He feels a hot hand against his shoulder. "No."
"You're not going?" Leia asks.
"I'm going. Han is wondering if I put the idea in your head." To Han's surprise, Luke climbs atop him, pushing Han against the mattress. They've had their fun tonight. He's limp and sated against Han's belly as his legs pin Han to the bed. One hand reaches out to grasp Leia's. They join their hands together on Han's chest. Han is confused. Leia is confused.
Luke says, "I have never tried to use the Force to make either of you think or do something. I never will. Not even when you're both being idiots."
Han glances at Leia. In an instant, they grab Luke and toss him to the bed neatly between them. Leia kisses him. Han realizes Leia hasn't spent the evening messing up the sheets, and might like a turn to do so, which is far, far easier than talking about anything else.
Han, Luke, and Chewie ship out the next day. Leia doesn't see them off due to work. The droids stay on Coruscant with her. Han doesn't see much of Luke on the voyage because the kid is flying his own cargo ship. Maybe it's good to have a little alone time, or as close to as he gets with his best friend on his best ship.
"You're not going to lecture me, right?" Han asks him after Luke signs off from a transmission they know isn't private.
Chewie shakes his head. He likes Luke. He likes Leia. He thinks Han is happy in a giant pile, but since Han brought it up, extra soundproofing between their rooms wouldn't be a bad thing.
"As soon as we get home," Han swears, and he discovers the word isn't as wrong-feeling in his mouth as he thought.
It's a longer trip than Captain Syndulla originally planned. Not only are they bringing supplies, but there's a lot of medical aid that needs to be delivered. Luke's in his element, offering up smiles and Jedi healing for the children who come to the new Republic's makeshift health center. Han just wants to get back into space. He doesn't miss how fond the Captain is of Luke's boyish charms.
"It's not like that. She's fond of Jedi," Luke says when Han teases him later.
"Yeah. Fond." He wants to make a bigger deal of her obvious favoritism, but it's hard to focus when Luke's hands are working magic the Jedi would definitely have frowned upon.
Leia sends him a transmission one night, and he can see Luke's been copied on it. "Miss you both. When you get back to Coruscant, we should talk about marriage."
Luke is on the Falcon poking through their rations for dinner ideas when Leia's message comes through. Han feels like he's been smacked in the head with a hammer, and only Luke's amused presence keeps him from falling over.
"Marriage? She doesn't mean what I think she means?"
Luke says, "I guarantee she isn't talking about me."
"Are you sure? She copied you."
"I'm sure. You're going to be fine, Han. You love her. She loves you." There is the faintest hesitation in his voice. Han feels the terror draining from him, replaced with a different worry.
"You know if we do, you're not going anywhere, right?" He grabs Luke's hand, reassuring himself as much as he can. Marriage has never been on his personal agenda, but if he's going to think about taking that kind of leap, he's clear on what he wants. A lifetime of subtle and not so subtle jokes about Corellian marital habits are in the back of his head. Han doesn't care.
If Luke feels what Han is thinking, he doesn't say. Instead he pulls Han down into a kiss, and if his eyes are closed and the expression on his face is marked with a distant sorrow, Han knows Luke goes into that shadowed place inside himself a lot.
"I've talked them out of making it a state occasion," Leia says to them almost the minute they return to Coruscant. "The Alderanian Embassy, what's left of it, would love to make this a ten day celebration." For a moment, her smile matches the same sad expression Luke's been wearing when he thinks Han isn't looking. They're so alike he can't imagine how he never knew.
"How many days?" Luke asks.
"One, and unless you object, we're doing the majority of it at the Registration Center."
Han's caught off-footed again. Leia was fêted with mad birthday parties as a girl, handed lavish gifts and week-long festivities. She's the last surviving member of Alderaan's royalty, adopted or not, and her people like a good bash. "I figured you would want something big."
"I told them I'd rather spend the money on the Republic's reconstruction efforts." Her expression tilts again. She's the politician when she says, "We are in a time of crisis and uncertainty. People worry they won't have food tomorrow. The Empire was cruel, but the supplies arrived on schedule. It would be a good show for the galaxy to see the leaders of the Rebellion settle down and start families. A small but well-publicized wedding will send that message."
This is the first time Leia is so blunt about using Han as a political tool. He wants to fight her just for that. In fact, he's about to when Luke steps between them and wraps his arms around Leia's neck. "I'm sorry you're being put through this."
"She's being put through this?" Han is still spoiling for a fight.
They both turn to him, similar expressions on their faces. Leia says, "I never wanted to get married, Han. I told you that years ago."
He glances at Luke, who seems unsurprised. They read each other sometimes, better than Han can read either one. Luke would know, and come to think of it, Han knows this, too. A dozen half-remembered conversations filter into his memory. Part of him thought Leia was lying or even flirting when she said she didn't have time to worry about courting, and didn't want to be someone's wife. If anyone he's ever known has been married to her career first, it's the woman standing in front of him now and growing annoyed with his slow uptake of the situation.
She also said something about starting families. He puts a pin into that thought.
"What if I say no?" he asks, folding his arms. It's his last card to play, and this hand was never one he could win.
"Then I find someone who will, and I explain to them they have to share my time with the two of you." She's not joking. Her chin juts right into the air.
Luke kisses her on the cheek then kisses Han on the cheek. "I can't marry her, Han. You can. Both of you stop being stupid about it." He sits on the sofa and watches them patiently to see who gives in first. Han guesses it doesn't matter to Luke. He loses either way. While he and Han could decide to marry each other instead, it would force Leia into another marriage she doesn't want, and Luke will never do anything to make his sister unhappy.
Han lost this argument before he started. "Have you set the date?"
TBC