No spoilers here but - I saw TFA last night. All in all, I liked it; such a great ride. I was expecting what happened - you know - and while it saddens me, I understand the need for it, both from a "move the story along" and a real world practical perspective. I'm excited to see where the story goes - so much potential. Anyway, I won't say anymore about it - not just yet at least. It was fun. Well done, JJ. Loveable, funny, touching and deep. TFA doesn't spoon-feed you the story, or what the characters have been up to in the last 20 so years, or even who they are - you have to do a bit of searching and piecing together for yourself. I think there is a lot more to this story than what was handed out to us in Ep7. At least - I hope there is for everyone's sake.
Personally, I'm choosing to look at this story arch as a "choose your own adventure" type thing, and while it's not the story line I will be "choosing" (I'm sticking with this Universe - like it or not), I appreciate it. Now, on with my happy little world!
xox
AN: I intended this to be longer and more complicated, but TFA has kicked my ass today, I'm so tired and emotionally drained. I need a glass of wine and some tumblr posts.
The air outside was warm - unusual for this late in the third season. It hung around him; still and silent with a hint of sweet grass.
Luke sat on the small balcony facing the city, eyes closed. He breathed deeply; a slow and steady rhythm. The greenery under him leaving small imprints in his skin.
The suite's thick carpeted balcony of sweet Borleias grass had been Leia's idea. Something organic and clean. Leia loved grass - had grown up surrounded by it.
Loved it and missed it. Such vegetation an impossible luxury on his dry, arid homeworld, Leia had made a well argued case for his need to be grounded, to have something natural in his life to centre him in between all the duracrete and metal and imitation on the capitol city. She argued grass would help him meditate and find his peace.
Looking back it was perhaps a selfish request on her part; as he would typically find her - especially if Han was off-world on assignment - sitting alone, eyes closed, hands running across the soft blades, toying with them between her fingers, twisting the small spines unto loose curls. And all the while she would hum a tuneless, meandering melody. He never dared ask her what it was; content to simply let her sit there and feel at home for a while.
Han never really understood Leia's obsession with grass. Having grown up in space, grass was never something he longed for. Space and sky. Limitless possibilities, that's what his friend hunted. Leia chased home. And the beautiful possibilities which went hand in hand with the desire to be grounded to something, someone. Perhaps they both chased that, his sister and his friend, in their own way. Together they both grounded each other and allowed the freedom to be completely boundless.
Luke envied them. He always had. Now, of course, differently. He envied their closeness. He longed for the kind of partner they had found in each other.
He sighed and closed his eyes, in vain effort to pull away from the self misery of loneliness welling up inside of him.
He was so easily distracted these days.
Finding his focusing shifting further and further outside of himself.
Breathing deep he focused on the steady rhythmic pulsing of his heart.
Leia.
His attention snapped again.
Irrational anger and a brief stab of fear pierced through him. Leia!
His sister was usually guarded, protective of her emotions, hard to read and even harder to gauge. The last three days had taken it's toll on her and it was starting to fray that unscratchable demeanor.
The surface rippled again.
Leia had found a tentative peace with her lineage over the last few years. Or so he thought. She never spoke of it. He had tried, of course, for a while to get her to come to terms with who they were, what that meant. He had wanted her to start engaging, inquiring and she hadn't responded to that, he pushed harder, demanding that she learn, even if only to protect herself from what she feared. He wanted to teach her and felt she should want to learn. That plan had backfired and landed him on Han's defensive side. It was a side of his best friend he had seen before, but seeing it and being on the receiving end of it were two very different things. The ferocity by which Han protected Leia from him was shocking. It had rocked him and it had taken him a great deal of apologizing and back-peddling to get back inside their little world again.
Fear zinged once more through his veins before settling uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach.
Luke uncrossed his legs and stretched out. Meditating was clearing off the agenda, he needed to focus on his small family. They were so important to him, and they were hurting. Leia's hasty resignation from the New Republic and Han's subsequent departure from the Navy had what seemed like the whole galaxy in an up-rawr. But the Han Solo who had called him earlier was worried - that in itself was worth being concerned about. He pushed himself up and passed quietly through the door, resting a hand lightly on R2's domed top as he passed. The droid tweeted and sang to life, emitting a series of pops and beeps.
"We'll go down to the hanger later, Artoo. I need to call Leia."
Artoo's happy, plucky beeping sang behind him and he walked quickly towards the comm and punched a series of codes. He needed to help her. She was starting to loose herself.
xXx
"Leia." The familiar soft spoken voice interrupted her quiet tinkering. She straighten; coolant leak forgotten for the moment, dripping at an agonizingly slow pace onto the landing pad - pooling in a small puddle, tinted a faint blue, at her feet.
"Mon." She didn't turn on purpose, instead watching the hull of the Falcon, tracing the patchwork of metal, finding abstract patterns in the multitude of small scrapes and score lines marring the finish.
"I came to," Mon Mothma paused uncomfortably for a moment, and cleared her throat quietly. "To wish you well in your travels."
"Oh."
"Both of you." She added quickly.
"That's very kind. Thank you."
"Leia-"
"Everything okay?" Han's concerned voice came from behind them both.
"Captain Solo, hello. Yes, I just came by to wish you both well before you leave." Mon hastily answered. Leia turned, mildly surprised by her forced light tone and met Han's eyes as he stood tall behind her use-to-be mentor and friend.
Han watched Leia straighten, her chin raising slightly in that adorable haughty way it always did. She looked every ounce the royal pain in the ass he had rescued off the first Death Star seven years ago. Except now she was different. Now, she was his. A streak of coolant line degreaser blazed across the right side of her chin and down both forearms. The sight of her working on his beloved ship broke his heart. He loved her. He would catch himself watching her sometimes; happy to just watch her be normal.
Be free.
He loved her like that, the real Leia, the one only he got to witness. The Leia who mumbled to herself while reading briefing notes for an upcoming meeting, rolling her eyes and chewing on her lower lip as she jotted notes in the margins of reports. Or cursed loudly when she thought she was alone, laying on her back on the floor of the maintenance hatch for the Falcon, banging on an electrical conduit with a hammer, because she said she could do it herself, and she would rather lay there for hours angry and exhausted than admit she couldn't undo the coupling. Or like she was at this moment, standing in front of a woman she had known and respected all her life with grease from a smuggling ship streaking across her fair skin and utility belt slung attractively low across her hips. She was a force to be reckoned with. And Mon Mothma knew it.
He had liked Mon, sort of. He understood her at least. Appreciated her tenacity. He didn't like that he liked her. But he did. When he had first met her, he had expected to want to like her. Expected her to be a lot like Leia. And perhaps she would have been - had worry, responsibility and the tremendous weight of leadership not pressed on her shoulders for so long. Perhaps, Han reflected watching the two women carefully in front of him. the real issue was he pitied her, and she knew it.
A deep pinging noise shot through the air, making Leia jump. Han half tuned and grabbed her commlink from the crates beside him and handed it to her, coming to stand beside her, tucking her into himself.
"Luke?"
Han couldn't make out the other half of the conversation. Only watched worryingly as Leia's eyes narrowed and darkened.
"I'm fine. Yes really. We're packing up the Falcon. I thought you were coming down."
More mumbling. Han lifted his brows at her in question, half turning to place himself between her and Mon.
"I'm not discussing this with you, not now. Not ever."
She wouldn't meet his gaze, instead staring straight ahead as if trying to bore holes through the hull with her eyes.
"Well, come or don't come, then. I'm not sure what you want me to say to that... Yes I know you are. Yes. I know. But I told you to leave it. Luke, please." she turned to half lean into him. "Sure... Right... Sounds fine. No, really that would be great."
He kissed the top of her head.
"See you then." She clicked the small device closed and quirked a brow at him.
"Luke's coming down to help us finish load up." She then turned to Mon Mothma who was standing stock still, watching them.
"Thank you for coming down. I'm sure we'll meet again. Somewhere. Now, if you will excuse us, we have a lot to finish."
"Yes of course. Good bye, Princess, Captain."
Han nodded at her and smiled tightly as the older woman turned to take her leave.
"Leia." She turned quickly when she stepped off the pad, "I'm sorry."