A/N: A while ago I started thinking about the night before the battle of Endor, after Leia found out about her connection with Luke and Vader, and Han thought he'd found out about who Leia really loved. They both probably struggled falling asleep that night and being around each other—Leia because she must have felt guilty about keeping such a secret from Han, and like she was somehow deceiving him by still being around him; Han because he must have thought their relationship had been an entertainment for her while she waited for Luke, and now he'd have to let her go. So this must have felt like the last night for both of them. (Gosh, I feel tempted to write a version of this from Han's POV...)

The title comes from the song "Better in the dark" by Say Lou Lou, which was in the official Leia playlist in Spotify and inspired me to do H/L fanmixes (I'm otterandterrier on 8tracks, if you're interested). Thanks a lot to the lovely pink-and-13 for helping me out with this!

There's a cheerier sort of follow-up of the morning after Endor! I'll be finishing and posting that one next. Thanks for reading!

Waste away the darkest light

'Let's go find some place to sleep, we leave early,' Han said above her head, loosening his grip around Leia. She nodded and disengaged from the embrace. As they walked back towards the centre of the Ewok village, she reached for his hand. There was a moment's hesitation before he closed his fingers around hers. Unlike minutes ago, when he'd found her after her conversation with Luke, he seemed distant now. Detached from her.

Her own internal turmoil distracted her from considering the reasons why.

She felt angry, cheated, and above all, for the first time since she had actively joined the rebellion, she felt spent. If what Luke had said was true—and somehow, she'd known it was—the implications were too horrible to contemplate. She was fighting a war against her own blood. Her own father had tortured her, destroyed her homeworld, hurt the people she loved... It was too much to take in. Her hand twitched in Han's grip as she let him guide her.

The Ewok council had disbanded; only Chewie, the droids, and a couple of the small creatures clearing the remnants of the reunion were in sight.

'They gave me a hut for my personal use earlier, where I changed and had something to eat,' Leia said, wincing at how dull her voice sounded. 'We can use it for the night.'

Chewbacca growled.

'All right, pal,' Han said, then turned to Leia. 'He says he'll stay out here with the droids.'

'Oh my,' Threepio said, heading to his throne and sitting on it in a remarkable show of royal dignity. 'Well, if we must.'

Leia guided Han across the square to the hut she remembered from earlier. It was a single room, with a round window. Inside, there was a nest of roughspun blankets, furs, and rustic pillows. Her personal items were there, too, and there was a clay container with water, and a small pile of fruit.

Han examined the place, hands on his hips. 'You think breakfast is included?' he joked, but she could tell his heart wasn't in it. Frowning, he sat on the makeshift bed and started pulling out his boots.

Deciding it would be best to be as ready for the morning as she could, Leia changed into her old clothes. Through her numbness, she was still too aware of the fact that Han was avoiding looking at her, even as she undressed, something he'd never done before. When he'd finished setting his blaster and belt on top of his boots, he flopped onto the furthest side of the blankets, his back towards her.

Leia sat next to him, splitting her hair into two braids. Her gaze wandered around the inside of the hut, bathed dimly in the orange light spilling from some round lamps, and her thoughts drifted along with it.

Her father—Bail, her actual fatherly figure, the man who had taken her in, shaped her into the person she was—had once told her that in war, there was no time for personal sorrows. He had been trying to give her a tool for strength in hard times, and she'd used it over and over, even when it became unhealthy to keep burying her distress deep down (or so a certain scoundrel had told her). It had helped her get through another day. But Bail hadn't told her what was one supposed to do if the war never ended and your sorrows kept piling up over you.

Her eyes halted over Han. How would he feel when he found out? She had no right to ask him to understand, but he had the right to know. Not tonight, though. It was selfish, but she couldn't wager with the consequences of his possible reaction on the eve of the battle. And if she had to give him up soon, she needed one more night when he didn't look at her as the daughter of Vader.

Sighing, she lay down.

'Han?' With a jolt, she felt a stab of pain that wasn't her own when she called him. Is this what Luke was talking about? Is this the Force's doing? Leia wondered. She thought of every time, after Bespin, when she'd felt a growing awareness of other people's intense feelings, little mood markers that transcended the realm of physicality. 'Please don't be upset.'

''m not upset,' he mumbled, but the pain peaked and she knew that wasn't true. There was a pause. 'I thought you might have wanted to go with Luke.'

Leia was surprised by the question, but it only served to make her own heartache worse. 'I can't follow Luke where he's going,' she said bitterly.

Han looked at her over his shoulder. 'What do you mean?'

'He's gone to seek Vader. He's on this moon, waiting for him, and Luke's gone to meet him.'

'He what?' Han bolted upright, his eyes urgent. 'He's crazy! That's suicide, we gotta stop him—'

He caught sight of Leia, unmoving on top of the blankets, and searched her face. That seemed to tell him enough. 'He's made up his mind, huh?'

'Yes.'

'But if Vader's just waiting, why make the job easier for him?'

'Because he—he thinks he can bring him back to the light,' Leia explained quietly.

'Bring him to the light?' Han repeated with a revolted expression, shaking his head. 'Vader's a monster! He won't stop at anything—'

Leia flinched in spite of herself and looked away, but not before he saw the tears welling up in her eyes.

'Blast, I'm sorry, Leia,' he said, looking apologetically at her as he lay back down by her side, rubbing a comforting hand on her shoulder. 'I'm sure Luke'll be fine...'

He had misunderstood her reaction, but she didn't set him straight. It was true: Vader was a monster. And she shared his blood—

She shut her eyes tight for a second, inhaled, and opened them again before whispering, 'I'm sorry, Han.'

He gave her a crooked smile, but it was the forlorn kind.

'I'm sorry too,' Han said, apologising again for his earlier outburst, she assumed. Not that she could blame him.

Han knew she was hiding something from him, but the brief anger he had shown before had been replaced by a sort of resigned pain—and that was without him knowing. Once she told him, it'd be over. It'd be the last time she'd cause him any pain, and he'd be free from her and her secret. Maybe Han wouldn't blame her, wouldn't push her away at once, but he couldn't stay with her, either. No sane man would, and even if Han's sanity was questionable most of the time, how could he look at her and not be reminded of everything he'd been put through by the person who had spawned her?

Tomorrow, after they destroyed the Death Star, if they both made it out alive, she'd tell him. Tomorrow… she would have another reason to fight: to prove him—herself, everyone—that she wasn't Vader's daughter in more than the technical sense. Blood had never defined her; she wouldn't let it start now.

Leia raised her eyes to meet his—hurt, caring, resigned, longing, hurt hurt hurt, why are you hurting in advance, Han?—making a brave attempt at a smile, trying to slip back into the person she was before.

'Hey hotshot,' she started, not knowing what she wanted to say, what she wanted from him, and she choked up before she could figure it out.

'It's okay, sweetheart.' He gathered her up in his arms, and it was so different from all the other times he had done that, but it made her feel the same way. Sheltered, cared for, loved for who she was regardless of her name, her rank, her past, and for those things, too.

She hadn't known what she wanted from him, but he had—he'd always had. Leia closed her eyes and burrowed into his chest, trying to revel in the present and ignore how hard it would be to finally let him go.