Stems from my story AU : Storm - I felt it deserved a bit more attention.
I'm back at work tomorrow, which is SO unfortunate. I've thoroughly enjoyed by full-time nerdiness over the last two and half weeks. :)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Sadly.
Luke seemed older. Tired. It was as if a great burden had been placed on his shoulders, yet - he was unwilling to share it, unable to lighten the immense load. Except with me, Leia though harshly before she had a chance to feel annoyed at her own selfish pettiness; staring up at the grated metal ceiling, the feel of Han's arms wrapped around her, anchoring her to him, his breath hot and slow on her shoulder. Mind restless, flicking through the events of the last few days.
So much had happened. She had been hiding out on Tatoonie for three weeks with Chewbacca; waiting for Luke to formulate a complete plan. It was intricate, detailed and fluid enough to account for a few missteps. Which, Leia had though wryly watching him speak quietly with Artoo before he sent the droids on their way, was good thinking, testimony to the other various disasters they had dealt with in missions past. The journey to Jabba's and everything that had taken place there. Bringing Han home, his commission. Dealing with the High Council and their reactions to her choices. Their Endor mission, Luke leaving, after having dealt her a massive emotional blow. Han's frustration with her the evening before the battle. Her fear. The party. The pyre. Han. She blinked into the darkness.
The night had been a mixture of mounting euphoric celebration and bone-deep, excruciating sadness.
Vader.
Luke had burned the body. Or at least - started too. Evil, she imagined, would not ash quickly.
She hadn't asked him where the pyre was. She hadn't needed to. From the village, the smoke from the blaze could clearly be seen, billowing and curling up into the night. He had returned as the party was starting to get underway.
You need to tell him Leia. He deserves to know the truth.
The truth. Yes. That was a very simple way of putting it. Perhaps he did. Perhaps everyone deserved to know the horrible, vulgar tragedy she now found herself caught up in.
Vader.
She had stood, wrapped in Han's arms, allowing herself to soak there for while longer. One more moment of happiness before she tossed an emotional detonator on everything she wanted. But, Luke was right; he did deserve to know. So, she had tugged on his hand, pulling him, leading him away from the party. Towards the clearing where Lando had rested the Falcon along with the rest of the fighters. She had turned back once, still holding his hand, finding his face in the growing darkness away from the multitude of village torches. The grip of his hand in hers shifted, firming and reassuring. They stopped at the clearing edge and she dropped his hand. "I need to talk to you." She had whispered, "It's important."
He hadn't said anything, only nodded and followed her again as she moved to sit on the medical crates scattered among the abandoned X-Wings.
"Leia?" He called her name quietly and sat down, perched on the edge of a large container. Face worried. She took a seat opposite him and inhaled a ragged breath. She watched him for a moment. Memorizing the way he was looking at her, openly, loving and full of trust. A hard earned love, something deep and personal. That's what shone there. She wanted to remember it. Be able to call it back to herself when she opened her eyes next and he would be gone. It was a look she needed to hold on to forever.
"There's something about me..." She started, and closed her eyes, taking a seat opposite him. She couldn't watch him leave. Couldn't bear to watch the horrified, disgusted look cross his face. It would. She knew it. How could it not? How could he love her once he knew who and what she was? "Something you need to know." She wouldn't watch him leave her.
The words poured from her. Clear in the dark cool night of the forest moon. Sitting alone, huddled against the anger and desolation roaring through her fragile heart.
She didn't hear him move. The blood pounded in her ears. Her own breathing the only thing she could think of. Tears leaked from her eyes and she let them run over her face, creating tiny rivers of solitude down her throat. She waited. Counted to thirty as she used to do as a child. And opened her eyes, choking back a sob when she met his face. He was at her side in an instant. Hands grasping around her back, supporting her, holding her to him.
She had pressed her face into his neck, holding on tightly. Allowed him to calm her, stroke her hair, before pulling back slightly, watching her eyes.
"I love you, Leia." He said earnestly, stroking his thumbs over the tear tracks, tenderly erasing her pain.
"But I'm-"
"Leia." He shook her gently. "I love you."
His hands left her face and fingered her loose hair. She allowed him to pull her against him again. Listened, half numb from fear and cold, as he promised her loved her over and over. She was the same person. She hadn't changed. He hadn't changed. He was hers.
They sat that way for a long time. Small bumps broke across her skin from the chill in the air as she sat back from him. She was exhausted. "Do you want to go back?" She had asked halfheartedly, gesturing to the party still going strong in the distance. Han had shook his head, "come on." He murmured, pulled her up with him and palmed the access hatch to his beloved ship, drawing her inside.
His cabin was exactly how they had left it before arriving at Sullust. The sweater she had forgotten to take with her on to Home One was still laying on the bunk where she had tossed it after Han had applied the last of the bacta gel to her bruised neck. He kissed her temple then, breaking her out of the small spell, and moved passed her to the fresher. She sat heavily on the bunk they had shared only once before, running her hand over the sheets. She had spent weeks here, after taking the necessary leave of absence to hunt for him, holed up alone on that dusty back-world planet, reading data cards and planning. And, she smiled for the first time in since Luke had returned, now here she was again.
Here they were. Finally.
Han had been half asleep when she appeared again from the fresher, sprayed on his back, arms folded typically above his head over the pillow. She stepped lightly over the mess on the floor to join him, hair loosely braided for sleep, clad only in one of his shirts. Perhaps not the modest of sleep attire, but she was passed modesty - at least at the moment. She had worn little else while camping out in this ship, waiting for everything to come together. Waiting to bring him home. And force of pattern being what it was, his worn-soft clothes were now a habit. He was silent, gathering her him gently at first, then, as sleep became to pull on his mind, his grasp tightened as if afraid to lose her, worried perhaps that she would slip away, disappear. She had watched the ceiling above them, wishing sleep would take her as well. Cherishing the fact that he was still here with her. For hours, she watched him; exhausted as he was - still recovering from the affects of the carbon freezing.
Her mind wouldn't stop. It hissed at her. Even here, curled up in the arms of the only real home she had, the events of the day wouldn't give her peace.
Dead. She thought decisively. Vader is dead.
Han's grip on her loosened finally, slacked as he shifted and groaned beside her. She slipped out of the bunk, grabbing the discarded sweater and tugging it over her head and padding softly to the cockpit where she stood, looking over the dark forest surrounding them.
Of course he was dead. The smoke billowing up from the pyre was only just visible out the corner of the viewscreen. Leia tucked her hands into the long sleeves.
She watched the smoke. Lifting and curling towards the stars.
Vader.
Leia was down the ramp, striding quickly across the field before her brain registered she was in motion - or even where she was going.
Something out in that blackness needed her, called to her. She needed to see if for herself. She wanted to watch him burn.
The path was crisscrossed with fallen brush and battle debris, and by the time she reached the clearing where the pyre sat, ignited and scorching, her legs were protesting and the scraping of flora against the sides of her face agitated her skin.
All of a sudden, however, it made no difference.
Vader.
The pyre was enormous, clearly constructed with care. Leia stood in front of it for a long while, transfixed by the dancing and licking of the flames.
Anger flicked darkly inside of her. Crushing against the fragile casing of her heart. It pressed forward and she screamed, sound lost against the crackling and splitting of the heated wood. It was cleansing and she hurled against it again. Over and over until her voice was hoarse.
Leia had no reference as to how long she stayed there, coming to herself something later, sitting frozen on the ground. Chill spreding through her body, replacing all other emotion.
She stood. Walking the circle again, letting the heat from the fire caress her skin, allowing the floating ash to burn and sting at her eyes.
Father.
Her brain rebelled against the idea.
No! Her broken heart cried bitterly. No, never!
She hadn't brought anything with her. No ale to pour over the inferno; no offering to aid in her father's passing. No prayers to commission his soul to the afterlife. She would not mourn him. She would not pray.
Not like she had for Bail.
Not like she had for the millions of beings killed by this burning monster.
Vader.
Leia turned to leave, nerves wrung out and shattered, but as she reached the edge of the clearing, before stepping into the forest again and leaving this place forever, she hesitated. She didn't know what made her do it - but the curse was passed her lips before she registered it's existence. A curse of loneliness and pain. Solitude and wandering.
Let Luke keep his Anakin Skywalker, the man who saved him from the evil of the Emperor, the man who was his father. The creature smoking before her eyes was, and always would be, Darth Vader.
Her eyes locked once more on the face of the mask, softening to the intense heat engulfing it. No more running. The hot air bit her lungs. It was over. She turned, away from the bright light of the blaze, back towards the quiet darkness of the forest.
Back towards home.