I saw the new movie last night and I'm still processing all of my overwhelming feelings. Aaa! Star Wars is cool again!
Anyway, this has been percolating in my mind for a while. It will probably have three chapters, but I've been wrong about that before. This is, of course, a work of fan fiction that is not being used for monetary gain.
When Luke Skywalker was in a pure meditative state, a part of him was in every compartment of every ship attached to the space station. His mind could focus in on every being, sensing their levels of comfort or unease, fear or drunkenness, drowsiness or wakefulness. Or, he could let that awareness blur a bit and his mind would only feed him the reassuring, empowering sensation of being surrounded by life and the Force.
On this particular occasion, however, he was sensing a strong disturbance, close by and impossible to ignore. He recognized it all too well. Leia is having another nightmare, he thought, and then he was instantly shy about knowing that. It felt like spying, even if it was an unintentional result of his exercises – and for her own good, besides.
Luke pulled his mind back into himself, feeling a little guilty and a little annoyed with himself for not letting go of the guilt. It's not like I lie awake at night intentionally trying to figure out how she's feeling, he thought defensively. I can't help that she's in the compartment next to mine, having bad dreams every single night. She's my friend, I want to help her. Any other friend would feel the same way, if he managed to notice the problem.
He sighed and checked the chronometer. 00:00 on the nose, but he wasn't sleepy yet. Or rather, he wasn't going to be able to sleep yet.
Luke unfolded his legs, got off the bunk, knelt down, and opened the tiny drawer that passed for a wardrobe on a crowded Alliance station. He fumbled for his robe, the prosthetic hand still a little clumsy despite weeks of practice. His missing hand throbbed.
Wrapped in the robe and wearing a pair of soft shoes—the only shoes he had to his name, as a matter of fact—he quietly slipped into the passageway. The princess's room was right next door to his own, mostly, as far as Luke could tell, because they'd arrived at the same time. The quartermasters at this base had been overworked ever since Hoth was evacuated, and grouping occupants by rank and gender was not high on their list of priorities.
Luke tapped on the door as gently as he could. No need to wake the whole station. He heard blankets rustling and the soft padding of slippered feet. The door panel slid open a crack to reveal a blaster, held by his friend Leia, who managed to look surprisingly intimidating even in her rather flimsy-looking nightdress. She didn't look like she'd been crying, at least, but it was also fairly clear to Luke that she hadn't been sleeping.
She lowered her weapon when she recognized him. "Luke? What are you doing up so late?" she asked.
"My hand hurts," Luke said with a wave of his right arm. "The missing one, I mean. It feels like it has cramps that never let up." Also I knew you were in pain, and I couldn't go to sleep unless I spoke to you.
"That sounds awful," Leia said sympathetically. She opened the door wider and stepped aside to let him in. "Have you talked to the medics about that?"
Luke shrugged as he entered the small compartment. "They said all amputees have the same problem. It's all in my mind, so medicine won't do anything. Meditation helps but, well, I can't meditate day and night." He leaned against Leia's desk as she closed the door. "When I saw your light was on, I thought maybe I wasn't the only insomniac on this hall."
Leia managed a tight smile at that. "I suppose you aren't." She slipped the blaster under her pillow and sat down on her bed. Luke waited to see if she'd volunteer a reason for why she was awake. She didn't.
So, I'll have to get her talking. If only a mind trick could work on her. "Anyway, I was on my way to the mess hall for a cup of tea. Do you want one?" he asked. The question hung in the air for long moments. Leia's face was as unreadable as a face could be. Luke had known her long enough to know that that meant she was trying very hard to hide how upset she was. But is she upset at me for offering tea, or upset in general? He had no idea. Being Force-sensitive didn't mean he could guess how the princess was thinking.
"Tea sounds lovely," Leia said at last. "Should I get dressed and walk with you?"
"No," Luke said hurriedly, "No, don't get up. I'll get it. It won't take long." He smiled at her and headed out.
The mess hall was two decks down from his bedroom, but the lift got him there in a matter of seconds. At this hour, it was mainly deserted, though one or two night-shift crew might pass through. The server droids were turned off to conserve power, so Luke helped himself to two mugs and two packages of tea.
He tried to open the first package to get a tea bag, as he had done thousands of times before, but his prosthetic hand grabbed in the wrong place and tugged too strongly. Tea scattered all over the countertop. Maybe I should stop volunteering for tasks I'm not sure I can handle, Luke thought grumpily. At least after midnight. Swearing quietly under his breath, he clumsily swept everything into the disposal and began again. This time, he opened the packages with his left hand.
Somehow he got both cups brewed without breaking anything. He carefully put lids on both mugs—left-handed, again—and, with one in each hand and his concentration fixed on keeping both steady, made his way back out to the lifts.