Disclaimer: If I owned Star Wars, you would all know it because there would be a press release. Sadly, it's not mine.

Hands: ROTJ Twins

The Death Star hung in the sky like any other star, but instead of freely burning gasses illuminating it, the twinkling light of the deceptive star came from artificial suns staged across the ceilings of each floor. Luke stared up at it. On Tatooine there were no trees to block the suns and stars. On Hoth it had been too cold to stay outside of shelter for night, he hadn't seen its night sky. The thick canopy of trees had prevented him from seeing the night sky on Yavin IV. Here, though, on this moon of Endor, the tree leaves merely added to the sky. Branches wove in and around the darkness.

"Luke, what's wrong?" Leia asked. Her steps brought him no comfort. He only had bad news for her. The wind blew gently and a tiny gust brushed his forehead like a hand to brush at his hair. Again he heard a voice, "Luke…oh, Luke." Luke looked inward, tried to find the source and heard the sharp cries of babies.

"Leia," he turned around, curious. He sat on the wooden railing the Ewoks had constructed on their bridge. "Do you remember your mother? Your real mother?"

Leia smiled and sat down in front of him. She placed her hand on his. "Just a little bit, she died when I was very young."

The need to know burned in his chest. So much of his family knowledge proved to be false and if he were to walk to his death because of his faith in his father, he deserved – he needed to know some truth. Leia would not lie to him. She never had. "What do you remember?"

"Just images really, feelings," Leia sounded unsure – but whether that was of her memory or of how to answer, he couldn't decipher.

"Tell me," Luke pressed.

Leia sighed and looked down and away. "…She was…very beautiful," her tone implied that this was an understatement. Luke tried to summon an image of his mother, but could not. He couldn't see her. "Kind, but sad." Leia looked at him. "Why are you asking me this?"

Luke stared into nothing, continuing to hunt with the Force for his mother's memory. "I have no memory of my mother," he realized. "I never knew her."

"Luke, tell me. What's troubling you?" The Force fueled search ended abruptly. He had to tell her. And so he did, first she held his hand, then as he told her of his plan, he took both her hands in his.

Those few years ago when he'd taken her hand on the Death Star, their first meeting – only not – he had felt something he couldn't identify. But now he could. In the turbulent times of his life, Luke and Leia had always clung to each other. Their hands ready to catch the other. And now they knew what they had always known deep down.

They had comforted each other in their crib by holding hands. He'd taken her hand on the Death Star, countless times on bases, their hands had guided each other back where they needed to be.

And now they had to separate. He to find his father, Leia to continue the fight. But at least the fight would be in Leia's hands, he could think of none other more capable than she.

It was Leia who did not want to let go. They held hands until his step away separated their contact.

The memory of her mother – her mother's face, the cries she'd heard, and her brother…

Her womb-mate, her rock, her friend, her hope – her emotions for her brother burned a hole in her chest like when the Death Star had destroyed Alderaan.

She had lost him before, she did not want to lose him again, but it seemed she was.

"Hey, what's going on?"

"Nothing," Leia kept her voice as calm as she could, to hide the storm. "I just want to be alone for a little while."

"Nothing?" Han moved to where just moments before Luke had been. He sat down, just like Luke and Leia had. He pressed her to tell him.

"I – I can't tell you," she wanted to tell him, but the words caught in her throat, burned, and she nearly choked.

"Could you tell Luke, is that who you could tell?!" Han demanded, frustrated.

Leia turned away to hide, "I –" she stopped, the words trapped in her chest: brother, father, mother, twins…

She heard Han's steps and tried to keep herself together. She didn't want to cry until she was truly alone. Han stopped walking. He turned around and came closer, but not too close. He didn't take her hand, he hadn't been like Luke. His touches had been more provocative like pulling her closer to kiss or more romantic. Luke had touched to offer comfort, safety, and just to let her know he was there if she needed him. She needed that now. She needed someone to hold her hand, but instead she asked a more appropriate request of Han. "Hold me." And he did.