a/n: okay, okay, i know you've all probably missed your Han/Leia togetherness...
i don't super strictly state a timeline in this chapter (or in the next few) so suffice it to say that here it's been maybe two or three days since the rescue.


Eleven


Leia put a considerable amount of thought into her decision on whether or not to wake Han up – they really avoided doing that to one another, as there was a fair amount of trouble sleeping in both of their lives. She ultimately decided she needed him awake, though, and rolled towards him stealthily, slipping her hand over his chest under the sheets lightly. She peered at his face carefully and curled her fingers around his shoulder, shaking gently.

Han opened his eyes immediately.

"You were snoring," she lied, pressing her lips to his arm in a soft kiss – she wanted him to think she had a legitimate reason for disturbing him.

"Was not," he retorted, blinking. He moved his head and looked down at her skeptically.

"How would you know?" she retorted, lifting a brow. "You were asleep."

"No, I wasn't," he said resigned.

"You were faking sleep?" she asked.

"You were pretending I was snoring so you could wake me up?" he countered.

She compressed her lips, and lifted her head, leaning over him thoughtfully. Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she lowered her head, resting her chin on his chest lightly.

"I thought you were asleep," she admitted.

He shifted around, moving his arm until he could comfortably wrap it around her and run his fingers over her spine.

"Thought you were," he said, shrugging.

"Hmmm," she murmured, the sound humming against his chest. "You mean we've both been laying here awake?"

Han snorted quietly.

"Sounds about normal," he replied dryly. His fingers traced ambiguous designs on her bare back, and she shifted her head, resting her cheek on his shoulder. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She laughed tiredly, and he tilted his head back – it was somewhat of an unanswerable question. Everything was wrong; the world as she knew it had been turned upside down – again. The past few days had just been – exhausting, overwhelming, draining, and she'd finally had more than a few spare moments alone with Han and the world still seemed to be moving too fast.

"I'm so tired," she murmured in answer.

Han continued to run his hand over her soothingly – he was tired too; he couldn't sleep either. After a moment, he turned onto his side, letting his arm lay over her hip lightly, fingers splaying over her lower back. He cleared his throat and lowered his chin so he could make eye contact easier. She moved closer, resting her head on the same pillow as his.

"How do you think he's doing?" he asked.

He didn't need to clarify whom he was talking about; Leia drew her lower lip into her mouth, sighing and lifting her shoulders up and down tensely.

"I think he's doing remarkably well, considering," she answered. She shook her head. "He's so unlike I've ever seen him – I've never known him to be so…uncertain."

"Well, last he heard the Emperor was still in charge," Han pointed out dryly.

"He's taking in the briefings, he's being an incredible leader to the others," Leia said earnestly. "It just seems that it's not quite connecting yet, you know?" she asked. "As if – he knows all the basics, but then he stands in the kitchen and asks me what I thought of Ben Kenobi…" she trailed off.

The past few days since the Alderaanians had been brought to Coruscant had been filled with sessions intended to brief them on what was going on – the Media was a mess but was so obsessed with the reappearance of so many dead people, they'd completely neglected mentioning Han, as they were much more keen on continuously showing clips of Leia crying publicly in her father's arms. Things were moving a mile a minute, and a hundred-plus people were being educated on five years worth of important information, all while trying to cope with where they were, and what had happened. They were being strictly quarantined in nice quarters, eased into everything with psychologists and doctors and therapists present; their news and gossip intake was monitored - it was clinical, but it was what the Council, under Leia's authorization, had decided was best.

Bail was taking it all in truly incredible stride, but he also carried a heavy weight on his shoulders, and he seemed reluctant to let everything click – which Leia understood; she really did. He'd spent so much of his life fighting a war against the Sith regime, it must feel like relinquishing control to try and accept a different norm. Leia – Leia had felt that way herself, when the final huge warlord threat had been defeated and she and Han had come to Coruscant to stay. She still felt that way, sometimes, like she had no place, like she was falling apart; it must be worse for him, at the moment, with everything so fresh.

"It's like he's absorbing," Leia said softly. "But he's not analyzing; he's not asking questions."

"You got that right," Han muttered, moving his hand to her hip and squeezing gently. "He sure as hell didn't ask what I was doing in your apartment at night."

The Viceroy had been over earlier, just after dinner – and he hadn't really remarked upon Han's presence at all, except to ask him about his rank, and his ship, and a few generic other things –

Leia laughed, though not quite in amusement; she sounded strangled.

"I apologize, I didn't realize you were in a meeting," she quoted hoarsely – it's what her father had said when she'd let him in, and Han had been sitting in the living room.

Han smirked.

"A private meeting."

"In my apartment, after hours," Leia agreed.

"In casual clothing," Han noted seriously.

Leia sighed, drawing her fingers down his chest.

"He's distracted; disoriented," she murmured.

"You could've told 'im, Leia," Han said after a pause.

Her hand paused, lingering just above his navel. He felt her sigh, felt the soft brush of her breath against his lips, and she lowered her eyes for a moment. She pulled away from him slightly. Even though he hadn't said it with any animosity, she felt – critiqued.

"Han, he's so – he's so out of sorts. I don't want to be cavalier with his state of mind."

"You think I'm going to scramble his head that badly?" Han snorted dully.

"No," she said, shaking her head. She looked back up at him. "No, that's not what I mean – it's barely been three days. There' so much going on; the media's grabbing at him, he's trying to catch up," she murmured. She faltered – she realized how bad it sounded, but she didn't know what she was trying to say. "I just…don't know what to say to him."

Han made a skeptical noise in the back of his throat.

"Sounds like it was easier for you to throw me in everyone's face when everyone didn't include your father," he said edgily.

She reached out and clutched his upper arm, shaking her head slowly. He watched several different emotions flicker across her face, and her expression settled on troubled.

"Han, you know, on top of everything else, I've never been in a relationship before," she said, almost timidly. "And I wasn't exactly socialized, growing up, the way other human girls were. Any man who wanted to court me would have gone through a process."

His shoulders dropped a little and he tucked his arm over her tightly and pulled her close, a silent sort of apology for doubting her. He nudged her jaw with his nose and kissed her quickly on the lips, lifting his other hand to draw it through her hair.

"Process, eh?"

"Mmhm. Something about – oh, asking his blessing, if you were determined suitable," she murmured.

"So I should drop by the consulate tomorrow and ask him," Han broke off, arching a brow. "Should I be specific?"

Leia blushed.

"Well, I wouldn't lead with this," she said, gesturing at their current tangle of sheets, bare skin, and limbs.

Han grinned, and she smiled back softly, dropping her forehead against his shoulder.

"I feel like I'm watching all this happen on a holovid, Han," she confessed quietly. "I feel like I'm not reacting appropriately."

"How're you supposed to know how to act?" Han answered, shrugging. "There's no rule book," he pointed out.

"But I feel, I feel," she choked, her voice taking on a raspy, shaky quality. "I feel like I should be clinging to him, like I should – I don't know," she broke off, and sat up suddenly, her hair falling over her shoulders. She pushed it back, holding a handful of it for a moment before letting it fall. "I can't tap into that emotion I felt at the docking bay," she gasped. "It's gone; I just feel – analytical, and wary – judged, like we're sizing each other up, I feel like – "

Han sat up slowly, taken by surprise. He blinked a couple of times, eyes adjusting, and she held out one hand, palm up, desperately.

"—I don't understand what our relationship is – will be – now – Han, I lost him when he died, but I really lost him the night Luke told me about Vader, and I'm not – I'm not a naïve Senator, anymore, I'm not even really a Princess, I fought in a war, but when I'm standing in front of him now I can tell he still looks at me like he did the day I left – I'm nineteen in his eyes," her voice was hoarse, filled with panic.

"Yeah," Han agreed slowly. "You can't expect him to catch on right away to you – bein' different – "

"I don't," she said, nearly cutting him off. "I don't – that's not it; they keep showing that clip of me, when he arrived, hugging him and crying – and you know I wish they'd take it off the air," she said angrily, "it makes me look – weak – "

"Leia, he's your father, you thought he was dead!" Han interrupted shortly. He looked at her like she was mad. "No one thinks it's weak for you to have acted like that!"

She closed her eyes tightly for a moment and ran her hand over her face, her lips compressed.

"I never expected to react like that, to feel like that, and I want that feeling back," she said, "instead of this – hesitance around him, this – it's almost suspicion, or it's fear – and I had such a good relationship with him before I lost him, before all of this – sithspit," she gasped.

"Why are you afraid of him?" Han asked, furrowing his brow. "Is it 'cause of me, 'cause you feel like now you've got to defer to him? Leia, I get that he's your dad, but you earned your own life – "

"It's got nothing to do with you!" she snapped harshly, her eyes narrowing. "Dammit, Han, I'm not going to leave you – if you want out you're going to have to pry yourself free from my cold, dead fingers!"

He drew back, slightly astonished – but even despite the dramatic declaration, as heartening as it was, he still felt nettled, and not wholly that she was picking up on her own hesitance.

"Look, Sweetheart," he growled, "I got enough faith in you to know you're in it for the long run, but there's somethin' to be said for him coming in here and not even considering that I was here for anything other than a professional chat."

Her brow furrowed angrily.

"What do you mean by that?"

He threw his hand out.

"I mean it didn't even occur to the guy that I live here; he assumed you were in a meeting! Kinda makes you think the idea of me and you is so preposterous he didn't even entertain it!"

Leia caught her breath – he made a significant point, and she swallowed hard, her eyes stinging.

"Then I should have said something," she said, almost nastily. "I should have mentioned you see me naked every night so I could complicate my feelings more – as long as you're satisfied, right?"

She turned to get out of bed, and he lunged forward, taking her hand.

"Leia, stop," he growled. "I'm not – I get why you didn't – ahh," he broke off, rubbing his jaw with his other hand and releasing her, pulling back. Without thinking, he said: "Hell, if we'd just gotten married already, it'd be an easy topic."

Leia, half faced away from him, her hand resting on the bed between them, turned her head, looking over her shoulder. Her heart raced wildly at his words, but other parts of her calmed down – her soul, her mind. She drew the sheets towards her, slowly twisting back towards him, crossing her legs and pushing her hand through her hair again.

She closed her eyes.

"It's not about you, Han," she repeated.

"I'm not saying I don't trust you," he said tiredly. "Leia, it'd make sense if you cared what he thinks about me, and if he reacts like Dodonna," Han said sourly, "it ain't gonna make me feel great seeing you suffering, in the middle of it."

Her lips trembled, and she sighed, opening her eyes very slowly.

"I can handle whatever happens concerning you," she said hoarsely. "As long as it doesn't involve losing you."

He smiled apologetically.

"Well, I'm not goin' anywhere, Sweetheart."

She took a deep, shaky breath.

"There are just so many unknowns, and so many hurdles to get through – but I'm not going to change the way we live, I'm not going to deliberately disguise who you are to me, but I do think it needs to wait a little longer," she said. "I just don't want it to seem like the only thing I care about is a man. For him, there are so many other things he can barely cope with. You're not the reason I'm uneasy around him, Han, I – even when I'm angriest at you, you're a source of comfort."

He thought he might have flushed at that, but her unease was bothering him – he didn't want her to be so on edge around her father; he wanted her to be at peace, relieved, glad to have him back. He wanted her to have her answers and her reconciliation – and knowing he wasn't the issue was gratifying, but he had a sinking feeling that he was starting to understand what was bothering her.

"Leia," he began huskily. "What's the problem? He's trying to get his head around this. When he does, he won't look at you like you're nineteen anymore," he soothed – Bail would start to adjust, and he was smart; he'd realize she had grown up quite a bit, and he wouldn't expect her to be a naïve teenager.

"I know," she whispered, her eyes red and shimmering with dread. Her shoulders shook, and she bowed her head. "He'll find out everything – everything that they did to me on the Death Star, and he won't ever look at me the same again."

Han grit his teeth, trying to quell the nausea that struck him suddenly – here, he'd been thinking she was angry he'd treat her like she was immature or childish, while she tormented herself with the idea that he'd somehow – repudiate her, or disown her, for what other people had inflicted on her.

He reached out and took her hand again, pulling her towards him. His grip did not allow for negotiation; she found herself wrapped up in his arms and buried under soft sheets, her nose pressed tightly against his chest. His lips brushed against her temple, and then rested on the crown of her head a moment, and she felt, rather than heard, him sigh – not in exasperation, or irritation; he made that noise when he felt powerless to make her feel better.

It wasn't that she thought her father would blame her for what had happened, or literally think less of her – but she just knew what he was going to go through, because she'd gone through it, too – and it was hard, and rough; it was fundamentally unpleasant to try and put the pieces of your life back together when some of those pieces were missing forever.

"Leia," Han murmured gruffly in her ear. "Nothing that they did to you made you less valuable."

She nodded heavily, squeezing his arm – she was used to him telling her that; she was used to Han, and everything he knew about her, and everything he accepted about her without comparing it to how she'd been before – because he hadn't known her before. Han's peculiar skill for treating everyone with the attitude he felt they earned from him, his penchant for refusing to consider himself subordinate to anyone because in his eyes, people were just people – that's what had kept her sane; she didn't have to be anyone for Han but herself.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his lips in her hair again, and he slid his hand under the sheets, feeling for her legs, pulling her thigh closer to him. His hand moved over her intimately, though not quite explicitly, and he cleared his throat quietly.

"You don't have to figure it all out in a day," he offered.

She nodded again – it had just shaken her so much more than he could know to have her father in this apartment earlier; before tonight, they'd been at the consulate, they'd been with Mon Mothma, they'd been in political settings – and tonight, he stopped by to see where she lived; he mistook Han's presence for something innocent and businesslike, and she got a truly personal taste of what this radical reintroduction was going to be like – and she almost wished she was back in the command center of bases and starships, fighting Imperials.

She pulled back just slightly, looking up at him.

"I want to get him settled," she said softly. "I want the fervor to subside some, for his disorientation to abate – he's going to have to have a place in the New Republic, but when it comes to my personal life – you, him, Winter, Rouge – our personal lives," she said huskily, "I don't need that all over the media. It's difficult enough."

Han nodded, but she caught his jaw in her hand, stroking his cheek with a fierce look in her eye.

"Don't interpret that the wrong way," she advised quietly. "I don't mean I want you sleeping on the Falcon."

"Hmm," he grunted after a moment. "Speaking of that."

Leia flicked her eyes down and back up.

"Chewie told you?"

"No, the cabin smells like you."

She pinched him lightly.

"Chewie ratted me out," she corrected knowingly. "You said that cabin has smelled like me since Bespin."

"That was just me flirting."

"You're terrible at that."

"Am I?" Han asked, feigning surprise. His hand slid over her suggestively – this time, explicitly. "Then how'd I end up with a naked Princess in my bed?"

She pulled his face closer, laughing under her breath.

"Same way I ended up with a naked smuggler."

"Last resort?"

She nodded solemnly.

"Hey," he growled playfully. "I'm a general."

She pressed her lips to his, curling her foot around one of his under the sheets – he had such an uncanny knack for calming her down on nights like these, and she was always struck with a brief moment of awe, because she could hardly imagine life without him, and yet there'd been a time when she'd thought him contemptible; nothing more than an arrogant pain in the ass.

If she could come around, then anyone could. He was right; she couldn't expect herself to figure it all out in the blink of an eye. It had only been a few days; emotions were still running high, adrenaline was still charging through all of them, keeping the peace, giving everything a rosy hue; but whatever happened in the upcoming days and weeks and months, whatever hurdles had to be tackled, it was nothing like what she'd been through five years ago.

She had a place in this New Republic, and she'd clawed her way through hell to survive thus far, and maybe what struck her so poignantly about this whole thing was that she held more power than she had in a long, long time; there would be inevitable strife with her father, whether it was over Han, or the past Bail had shrouded from her – but this was her world, and he'd have to come to terms with it.


The best word to describe Bail Organa at this point in his life was haggard. Haggard, careworn, downtrodden – all synonyms, all appropriate descriptors for the Viceroy of fallen Alderaan. As Luke sat with him in one of the more private staterooms of the Alderaanian Embassy, he studied him intently, positive that under the veneer of exhaustion and anxiety, a fearless soldier and a formidable politician still remained.

Surely the man who had raised Princess Leia would be able to resist the black hole of depression, despair, and defeat that often beckoned Alderaan's survivors.

This was their beloved and esteemed leader, and furthermore, he had so much knowledge to share, he could be so integral to their new Republic – if they could only acclimate him, if they could only get him past these rough first days and set him on the right path.

Luke had attached himself to Bail Organa from the moment they rescued him; he received the blessing of the Chief Of State to present himself as some sort of minder, a guide for the man – and for any Alderaanian who sought comfort or explanation from a Force-sensitive being; they were, after all, a planet who had lauded the Jedi, mourned their demise, and revered their legacy. Luke, for one, was relieved the New Republic agreed that he was the best choice to serve as Bail Organa's point of contact and constant companion for a while. Luke cared about the galaxy's freedom and the significance of miracle survivors, but his personal interest in the Viceroy couldn't be denied.

This man had known Ben Kenobi. He was Leia's adoptive father, he'd sent her off to find the last Jedi – he was an invaluable link to the old order of things, and though Luke kept his millions of questions to himself for the time being, his desire to wring all possible knowledge out of Bail was simmering just under his skin.

Bail gave a gruff sigh as he drew his finger across the data pad in front of him, grimacing. He looked up and met his young companion's eyes, his forehead wrinkling deeply.

"Why is it that these files are so difficult to read, despite knowing the Alliance succeeded?" he asked.

It seemed rhetorical, but Luke answered anyway.

"Victory came at a bloody cost," he remarked solemnly – that was the simple truth of it; there'd been death at every turn, danger in every step, and so few of those who had originated the Rebellion lived to see its goals come to fruition.

"Yes, as expected," muttered Bail. He put his chin in his hands and rubbed his jaw, shaking his head slightly. "But such a cost, such a cost," he said under his breath. "Entire planets."

Luke was quiet respectfully for a moment.

"What happened to Alderaan…it really drew a line in the sand," he offered. "There was no ambiguity after that. You were either with the Empire, or against it." Luke hesitated. "They created more enemies than they anticipated, with that."

Bail Organa nodded, his eyes narrowing.

"The success of tyranny is rooted in a very fine equilibrium of abject fear," he said wisely. He held up his hands evenly. "When the people are oppressed and afraid, but not too destitute, they kneel, and they pray to be left alone," he said. "If the people are not afraid of a tyrant," he raised one hand, "there is no tyrannical power at all," he said, and then lowered that hand, and raised the other: "if the people are so afraid, and so destitute, that they think they will die no matter what their choice, the time is ripe for an uprising."

He looked at his hands for a moment, and then lowered them, flattening them on the table.

"For the sake of security, I watched the inhabitants of this galaxy bend very far for Darth Sidious," he said heavily, "but I knew that deep down in their souls, those souls that remembered the Republic despite its faults, they would not break."

Luke tilted his head with interest – of course Bail, and Mon Mothma, and the other progenitors of the Alliance, had laid in wait for so very long; they'd operated through political dissent at the beginning, when they could; they'd constructed ways to undermine the Empire, they'd laid the groundwork for the eventual overturn of the dark legacy – but hearing Bail Organa speak about it was fascinating; he was clearly a great mind. Not to mention –

"You refer to Emperor Palpatine as Darth Sidious?" Luke asked curiously.

He'd never heard Palpatine referred to in that vein – he knew that's the name he had taken, but it was only Vader who had worn the mantle of the Sith publicly and terrifyingly.

"That's who he is," Bail said stiffly. He hesitated. "Was," he muttered, and curled his fingers up in slight fists on the table.

It seemed too good to be true to be extracted from a stranded hell and brought into a world where both Sith Lords were gone, and the Galaxy was in full-throttle reconstruction.

"This is incomprehensibly difficult," Bail remarked suddenly, looking down at the data pad before him – it was downloaded full of declassified Alliance files, mission reports, profiles – essentially a library of what had happened, including dossiers on the most prominent actors and what they were doing now, if they still lived. "It's as if I'm studying history."

"It is history," Luke said frankly. "Just very recent."

"What I mean is," Bail began dryly, "it's as if I'm studying history as I did when I was a boy – I have clear proof it happened, but I have no attachment to it, no connection," he noted thoughtfully. "The sense of – indifference that keeps striking me is bewildering."

"Indifference?"

"Not indifference," he said, frustrated. "It isn't indifference. The intake, though, sorting through all of this – it's altogether too analytical, considering how much of my life was devoted to the destruction of that regime, and considering," Bail paused for a long, heavy moment, "considering what I put my daughter through," he finished quietly.

Before Luke could say anything, Bail looked up at him critically, his lips pressed together tightly.

"You haven't provided with me with five years of files on her," he pointed out.

Luke winced slightly, leaning forward – they hadn't, and it was difficult to explain why. Mon Mothma hadn't wanted him bombarded with Leia's full rebellion history, particularly considering it had never been on Bail's agenda to thrust the Princess directly into the core of the fight. Luke sensed the Chief of State feared, on some level, that her old friend would be upset with her for allowing Leia to fight the way she had – but Luke was ready to assure Bail that there had really been no stopping her.

"We wanted to give you an appropriate framework for everything leading up to now," Luke said carefully. "The missions Leia was involved in are outlined where they're pertinent – "

"Yet I have dossiers on you, on the Wookiee Chewbacca – Wedge Antilles, two Darklighters, Madine, Dodonna, this General Solo, even Rieekan – people I know, people I don't know," he listed. "A file on Leia is conspicuously absent."

Luke grimaced slightly. He chose to be honest with the Viceroy –

"There are disturbing details in it that Madam Chief didn't want to burden you with immediately," he said grudgingly. "She expected you – all of you – to be in a fragile state, and the more personal details – ah, well, it seemed best to leave that to you and Leia."

"Leia wants to discuss it personally?" Bail asked.

Luke flicked his eyes away evasively. He didn't think Leia wanted to do any such thing. He sensed Bail's eyes still on him, and with a heaviness, he turned back to the older man, leaning forward on the table.

"The leadership doesn't think you're prepared to cope with the things that happened to her right away. They thought it was best to get you, and the other Alderaanians, acclimated to current events and settled in. It's also why Leia has been giving you some space."

Bail considered him a moment.

"The leadership," he quoted. "Are you suggesting you think they're wrong?"

Luke shrugged warily.

"I think…it's all a lot to take in, and once you've got the basics – we won – you're ultimately probably more concerned about your daughter."

Bail looked impressed, and nodded once – it was exactly what he'd been thinking. It would take him weeks – months – to comprehend all of the things he'd missed. Adjustment wasn't going to take place over a day, and he had no pressing things to attend to, because he had no planet to rule. He had no idea what he'd even do in this new world, as it was even uncertain if he'd be in charge of his lost population: it seemed clear that Leia oversaw the Alderaanian Diaspora.

Despite all of the things they'd given him to read, and the briefings he'd been subjected to as they tried to fill him in and occupy him, he felt like a listless outsider, wandering through the world with no place. He'd never have the kind of experience and knowledge they had to be a player on the stage now, and while that wouldn't have bothered him in the old days – he'd always preferred representing to ruling – he no longer even had a home to govern, or a world to speak for.

He sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair.

"Does Leia have a file?" he asked.

Luke was quiet a moment.

"Yes, I have it," he answered finally. "Before I give it to you, I think it's appropriate I give you an outline – "

"I've got that," Bail said, somewhat edgily. "She was involved in the heart of all this; that was covered in most of what I've been given," he explained, gesturing at the data pad. "She went from the Senate to some of the seediest places in the darkest corners of the galaxy," he said distastefully, "and somehow made it out alive – head of the Alderaanian Council, Ambassador At-Large for the New Galactic Republic," he sounded irritable, though Luke sensed the irritation was not directed at Leia or her titles.

"She's assumed to be the favorite in general elections for either Vice President of the Senate or Chief of State, if she challenges Mon Mothma," Luke noted quietly.

Bail sighed shortly.

"I don't know that a position like that is advisable for her," he said somewhat tersely. He went on: ""It's natural to me that she's in a position of influence; what I don't understand is why she was in the trenches."

He grit his teeth, and Luke drummed his fingers lightly on the table.

"She had nowhere to go, once Alderaan – "

"There was a plan in place, if it became necessary for her to disappear," Bail insisted. "She was supposed to return to Alderaan after she took Obi-Wan to the Yavin Base, and, ah," he broke off, his face blanching, frustrated. "I know it all went to hell; I know it did, but there was an underground system in place for high profile fugitives, and I trusted that was where she'd end up."

"I have to defend General Rieekan and Mon Mothma on this one, Viceroy, because – "

"No, you don't," he said flatly, holding up his hand. "I have no doubt that Carlist and Mon did their best to follow through with contingency plans, and I am sure my daughter in some way flouted them."

Luke smiled a little – at least Bail Organa seemed to know Leia well. It made Luke wonder what she'd been like as a young girl and younger teenager.

"What I don't understand is why she remained with the rank and file," Organa went on, "when her skills were vastly better served recruiting others to the cause via the underground channels."

Luke looked down at his fingers on the table quietly, grinding his teeth together – he didn't know what Organa's plans had been for Leia, and he didn't know what Leia would have done if the mission had gone completely smoothly and she'd gone back to Alderaan – or even if she'd had to go into hiding. He didn't even really know what had driven her to stay with them on the bases when, as Organa pointed out, much of the current leadership had separated themselves when they could and drew together only at the most important moments.

He looked up after a moment, and cleared his throat.

"You were told she was killed, weren't you?" he asked. "You and your wife were told Princess Leia was killed in an accident when Tantive IV had a malfunction," he recited.

Bail nodded, lifting his shoulders.

"Yes," he said. "We hardly believed that. That's why I took an elite cohort to head for the Senate and demand more information – to rally vocal opposition to such a boldfaced lie – "

Luke nodded, holding up his hand.

"I know," he said succinctly. He considered Bail. "You know she's alive. Then you know, because you read these files, that I met Leia when Ben Kenobi and I infiltrated the Death Star. That she was held prisoner."

"Yes," Bail said again. He blinked, unsure of where the conversation was going. "Obi-Wan sacrificed himself on that mission."

"Oh, you can hardly call it a mission," Luke choked. "We ended up on that battle station as prisoners, and if it weren't for General Solo's smuggling compartments, it would have all ended pretty quickly. The droid Leia sent to Ben is the one who told us she was even there – "

"This report is in your file, Commander Skywalker."

"Well, I'm trying to drive home the point that she was held captive on the Death Star by Darth Vader himself," Luke said dryly.

"I understand that," Bail said bitterly. "A high profile prisoner on a high profile base – she had diplomatic immunity," he asserted.

Luke pushed his finger into the table, shaking his head sharply.

"I'm trying to tell you that her diplomatic immunity was not respected," he said flatly. "She was slated for public execution, after Alderaan was obliterated."

Bail stared at him, his eyes narrowing.

"The Empire had no legitimate proof that she was – we were very careful – "

"Careful about sending a teenage girl up against a Sith Master?" Luke interrupted skeptically. "It doesn't matter if there wasn't a paper trail; her true loyalties were written in her feelings."

"I did not deliberately send her up against a Sith Master," Bail said sharply. His mouth felt dry, like cotton; he had sent her after Obi-Wan Kenobi; she had taken the opportunity to get the plans on her own, on a once in a lifetime chance she couldn't pass up. The spy who had them had been caught and, in a desperate bid, sent them to Leia instead. Bail had instructed her to continue to Obi-Wan with them, but Vader had discovered the deception.

Bail cleared his throat, tapping his datapad.

"These files very clearly honor her for keeping the location of the rebel base a secret."

"She did," Luke confirmed. "She never gave in. They put a tracker on us when we escaped and that's what led to – anyway," he switched gears swiftly. "Viceroy – Bail," he went on emphatically, "Governor Tarkin and Vader didn't just ask her nicely for the location and hang their heads in a bit of a huff when she refused," he said ominously, "and that's why her file wasn't given to you at top priority."

Bail Organ was silent for a long, heavy moment. He sat forward and laced his fingers together, staring down at his palms. Luke watched him swallow hard, and watched the lines in his face seem to visibly deepen as he considered the implications. He cleared his throat quietly and then took a quiet breath, his expression bleak.

"What exactly happened to my daughter on the Death Star?" he asked finally.

Luke shook his head solemnly.

"She doesn't talk about it," he said. "I've never asked, and out of respect for her, I didn't read the file that was put together. All I can tell you is that – she needed a lot of medical attention, for a long time, after the Battle of Yavin," he revealed quietly. "I think what you'll find in her file regarding that time is purely medical record and physician's conjecture, because I don't think she ever explicitly answered any questions about what happened. The only thing she'll tell me is that Vader oversaw it all personally." Without thinking, he added: "I think she only talks to Han about it."

Bail only seemed to be half listening, though; his face had turned pale, and he'd closed his eyes lightly, bowing his head forward. He did so – because he'd heard rumors concerning the kind of inhumane interrogation tactics the Empire employed; he'd heard whispers of what sort of sadistic and experimental things they did to non-human and human prisoners alike, and he tried desperately to block out thoughts of anything like that happening to Leia –

He shook his head after a moment.

"I miscalculated," he rasped, his face stricken. "I never thought Vader would – "

"He knew what she was on sight, Viceroy," Luke said sympathetically. "I know there was an assumption that she was too popular to really be treated poorly but – "

Bail was shaking his head.

"No," he said hoarsely. "No, it isn't that. It doesn't...truly surprise me that her immunity was ignored, that they held her without trial."

"Then…?"

Bail looked at him unfocused.

"It had to be her," he said. "She – I thought she'd be safe. If it came down to a confrontation, I never thought he'd hurt her."

Luke eyed him curiously for a moment, and then his eyes widened, and he leaned forward – eager, almost morbidly so.

"You're talking about Vader," he said, his words rushed. "You – you had faith in Vader?"

The sense of excitement that the notion evoked in Luke made him feel somewhat guilty, but he couldn't help it; he was so used to Leia's absolutely non-negotiable feelings about Vader, and to sense that Bail had known her first move in the Rebellion might put her face to face with him because the Viceroy thought she'd be able to somehow crack his armor – it made him wonder if Bail had known Anakin Skywalker, the Jedi, the man who existed before the monster.

"Not faith," Bail said, in that same raw, sickened tone. "H-Hope – I barely even call it hope," he managed, leaning forward to cover his face, and then run his hands tensely through his greying hair. "Obi-Wan held out such hope, even as the years went on – we thought, at the very least, if things went awry and it was Leia face-to-face with him, it would stir something – " he broke off, looking at Luke desperately through his fingers. "But you say he personally – he personally – "

Bail couldn't finish the sentence, except to shudder and fall silent.

He'd placed his last sliver of hope in Obi-Wan's fierce convictions; he'd sent Leia on to meet with Kenobi himself, to let him know the time was right to reunite the twins; the game plan had been complex; he'd been sure that the consistent lenience and tolerance Vader had shown towards Leia while she was a senator indicated he sensed something about her, and that something was the faltering they needed.

But to hear – to learn – that Vader had – whatever he'd done – the guilt that struck Bail was unbearable; the horror palpable. He stared into his palms, frozen, unable to find words. He'd sent her into that, without explanation. He'd asked for her patience; he'd been relying on a reunion with Obi-Wan to help guide him, to help him make things clear, to put Leia's latent power in her hands.

Yet in this reality, he found the Empire defeated as they'd always wanted, and things so wildly different – Luke Skywalker had clearly reached the potential they'd planned for him, but Leia's path –

"Anakin Skywalker was truly dead, then," Bail said, his voice hollow. "Obi-Wan was wrong."

"He wasn't wrong," Luke defended softly. "Anakin Skywalker defeated Vader, and he killed the Emperor," Luke insisted. "When my father died, he was Anakin again. But he – he didn't know about Leia; he didn't know I had a sister," he said." Not until the end."

It wasn't a defense; it was a statement, and a lukewarm, dreadful one at that – Luke didn't want to come off as if he took lightly what Vader had done to Leia, but his understanding of the Force helped him to peacefully and more logically separate the perversion of the Sith from the man who had been a Jedi.

Bail lowered his hands slightly, and gave Luke a piercing gaze.

"Does she know?"

Luke heard the unspoken part of the question easily from Bail's mind – about Vader; does she know about Vader?

He nodded solemnly.

"How did she come to know?" he asked faintly. "Obi-Wan – but no, she told me she never properly met him," he murmured, as if confused. "Who – "

"I told her," Luke said. He paused for a beat. "It was Vader who told me."

One of Bail's hands dropped from his face to the table, and Luke was unprepared for how startled the other man looked – his face looked damn near panicked for a moment, before he composed himself, and his brow furrowed darkly.

"Son," he said, his voice low. "Vader was told your mother died before your birth."

Luke swallowed hard.

"He figured out that was a lie, then," he said. Luke held up his arm, and drew his sleeve back, revealing the eerily real looking, and yet wholly prosthetic, hand that fused with his wrist. "He told me the truth," Luke murmured. "The moment after he did this."

He flexed the fingers, and showed Bail Organa the slim metal ring that held his mechanical hand to his flesh. His lips compressed tightly, Bail reached out to touch the artificial palm, and then drew his hands back, studying his fingertips wordlessly.

"There's no way you would know this," Bail said finally, "but his first injury – your father, Anakin Skywalker's first major injury, was the loss of his hand," he revealed dully. "I almost wonder if he marked you."

Bail's expression was low, dark; he slumped back in his chair.

"When you told her this," he began, looking up, jaw set tautly. "How did she-?"

"She doesn't acknowledge it," Luke said. "She – it certainly isn't public knowledge," Luke explained quickly. "She's told," Luke stopped suddenly, unsure if he should mention Han again. He wasn't sure Leia had that conversation with Bail yet, and he would certainly think it odd that she'd confided in a general - Luke cleared his throat: "She didn't take it well," he said heavily. "To her, you're her father," he said. "No one else."

"Mon Mothma is aware," Bail said flatly. "She was just a Senatorial Aide on Chandrila when we made the arrangements, a very close friend of mine and of Senator Naberrie's."

Luke leaned forward, eagerness taking over him again – that was the surname Leia had mentioned once, wasn't it? The surname that went with the Naboo name Amidala, her second name?

"This Senator Naberrie – " he began, but Bail cut him off heavily, leaning forward again.

"It's imperative I read my daughter's file," he said tiredly. The lines in his face did seem to deepen every second, etching themselves into the corners of his eyes and the creases of his forehead like so many ravaged canyons.

Luke bit the inside of his lip – despite his burning curiosity, he knew now was not the time to press Bail for information on Anakin Skywalker or any other member of their family; there would be time enough for that in the future. He nodded curtly, and leaned back some, drumming his fingers for a second.

"I'll go have access authorized," he said, starting to get up. "It shouldn't take long." He paused, and glanced at a clock on the wall. "If you want to take a break, I'm sure you could find Leia for lunch," he ventured. "She usually eats in her office, but I can make sure she's there and not out with Han or something."

Bail sat quietly for a moment.

"No, I think I'll plow on," he decided, hesitating momentarily after that. "I wouldn't want to ask or say something insensitive," he added darkly.

Luke nodded, and sidestepped his chair; before he could leave, Bail stopped him.

"These files seem to indicate she spent most of her time with you, some of these Rogue Squadron members, and her pilot."

Luke blinked.

"Who?" he asked. "Her pilot?"

"She was meeting with him two evenings ago, when I stopped by to see her," Bail said quietly. "To get a feel for her life."

Luke still looked uncertain.

"I…didn't know Leia had a personal pilot. She can fly," he said lamely.

"That older fellow, the General," Bail clarified. He snapped his fingers. "Solo. The one who came for us."

Luke blinked, this time with understanding, as realization clicked. He wrinkled his brow slightly, almost amused at the assumption – he hadn't realized Bail had gone by to see Leia at her apartment.

"Oh," Luke said neutrally. "Han," he said – he'd mentioned Han twice, and Bail had read the files, but he still didn't seem to be making the connection very well. Then again, he was taking in a lot. He barely even seemed to associate Han with the crew who had rescued him. Luke hesitated. "Han's not her pilot, though. He never worked for her. He sort of – well, he was my pilot, technically, at first. And then a supply runner. But no one is really the boss of Han." Well – okay, except Leia, Luke thought; but he didn't say it out loud.

"He's a general," Bail pointed out skeptically. "He has to take orders."

"If you find a way of making him understand that, let us know," Luke snorted.

Bail frowned thoughtfully.

"I only spoke with him briefly, outside of the voyage back from Alderaan," he said. "I presumed she was meeting with him because he's to receive some sort of award," he went on.

Luke started laughing.

"Han? An award?"

He saw the serious, composed look on Bail Organa's face, and he hastily forced his laugh into a cough and composed his features solemnly. He cleared his throat.

"Uh, no, we don't give Han awards. We did that once and he didn't shut up for two years. When he does something good, we just stop making fun of his ship for a week."

"I'm sure my people would like to see him publicly commended. Yourself as well – and the Rogues," Bail said diplomatically.

Luke felt his neck get hot – he hadn't felt like much of a hero, nor dreamed of glory and honor, since his first taste of battle five years ago. He just felt sheepish at the idea of recognition now. Not to mention – Luke knew for a fact the only reason Han had been at Leia's apartment was because he lived there, but Leia did not appear to have shared that with her father, and Luke was not about to rat her out if she had some reason for protecting that information.

"Um," Luke said inelegantly. "Well, I'm sure Leia will commend him for you," he said – and then frowned to himself. Maybe that sounded inappropriate—was it a double entendre? He hadn't meant it that way. He cleared his throat tensely, and stared down at the light saber hanging from his belt.

"General Solo doesn't work for her, then?" Bail ventured. When Luke was silent, the Viceroy gestured at the data pad mildly. "It would appear she recruited him; he didn't take an official position until after he'd worked with her for a while."

Luke wasn't sure what to say. After a moment, he settled on:

"Leia trusts Han."

It was simple, and true.

Bail made a thoughtful noise under his breath.

"Do you trust him?" he asked Luke.

"Yes," Luke answered automatically. He paused briefly. "He volunteered for that rescue mission, Bail," Luke went on. "If you're concerned about him for some reason, you shouldn't be."

Bail Organa shrugged.

"He seemed like an excellent commander," the Viceroy said simply. He looked at Luke mildly a moment. "He was at Leia's apartment after hours the other night," Bail said finally. "He constantly addresses her without her title," he added. "It struck me that he might be – "

Luke winced, seriously unwilling to be the person who had this conversation with Leia's father.

"—making advances towards her, and she hasn't realized that."

Luke stopped wincing and resorted to trying not to roll his eyes – well, at least Leia's concerns that her father would be unable to grasp how much she'd changed, and grown up, since he'd last seen her weren't entirely unfounded. It was on the tip of Luke's tongue to assure Bail Organa that his daughter definitely realized it, and had encouraged it and committed to it, but it wasn't his place, and he didn't want to make her life more difficult or throw Han under the landspeeder.

"Things were a little less formal in the Rebellion," Luke said neutrally, pointedly evading the finer details of Bail's comment. "And Han's not from a cultural background that recognizes that sort of thing."

"I see," Bail said, rubbing his jaw. He nodded to himself, his expression uncertain. After a moment, he put his head into his palms again, and heaved a deep sigh. "I'll – resign myself to Leia's file now, Commander Skywalker," he said, his voice slightly muffled.

"Can I bring you back some lunch?" Luke offered sympathetically.

Bail lifted his head.

"If you'd be so kind," he agreed.

Luke nodded, and eyed him a moment more before finally leaving the room. He had a bit of a walk to access the command center of the Embassy, where he could put in a call to General Rieekan for transfer access to Leia's files. Carlist might want to come up and sit with Bail himself for that read – as he'd told Bail, Luke had never read it, and didn't intend to. He assumed it was a nasty story, but all he really knew of Leia's time on the Death Star was that it was where she'd gotten the angry red scar just above her elbow that she always covered with some sort of jewelry cuff if her arms were bare.

For what it was worth, Bail was striving to adjust to what he was being thrust into; he was taking in current events and reading up on the past. Despite his obvious eagerness to spend time with Leia, to just be a father to her, he complied with the leadership's request that he acclimate himself first – particularly when he was told that Leia saw that as best, as well. Luke himself sensed that Leia's fear of this whole situation, erased the day Bail Organa had returned and she'd succumbed to raw emotion for a few precious hours, had returned and was leading her to keep it all at arms' length while she processed it. He wondered if Han was irritated that she seemed to be keeping their relationship from her father.

Luke rubbed his forehead tiredly as he entered the command center and greeted Braxxer and Tyr Taskeen – he shot a moody glare at the large screen holovision, where one of the returned Alderaanians was being interviewed alongside a shot of Leia on the platform with her father – and then he sat down to put in the call to General Rieekan, dreading being the one to place Leia's file in Bail's hands.

It would no doubt upend the delusion he was clinging to – that she was okay; that she was the daughter he'd last seen when she was nineteen – but it would also probably serve to obliterate the haze he and his people had been living in for the past five years and enable him to step into the new reality.


so, stepping forward into the actual Bail is alive AU part.

-alexandra
(feedback appreciated as always)