notes: So my ao3 readers came through, and gave me 10 reviews by today. So, as I promised, here's chapter 4!

Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter. You really made my weekend. I hope you'll consider reviewing this chapter as well!


CHAPTER 4

Leia wiped her streaming eyes with the backs of her hands and settled back down to the floor, curling onto her side and burying her face in her arms. Her eyes and head hurt—she had barely been able to open her eyes enough to even make out Vader's blurred shadow—and whenever she blinked she saw bright lights explode behind her eyelids.

Why had Vader come, Leia wondered. She suspected there was more to it than what he said—that it was more than just him wondering how she was doing.

Unless—unless he knew that she was his daughter.

But he had never cared about her before—why would he start now? He had left her to the wolves, visiting only that one time over a year ago. Even then he had barely stayed more than a few minutes before whirling and disappearing, and had done nothing about the Inquisitors hurting her.

Unless—and the thought came to Leia gently, like mist beading on glass—he had only just come to find out that she was his daughter. But if that was the case, she reasoned, why did he simply turn and leave again? Why did he leave her here, in this cell, where she had to piss on the floor and her only company was a boy in her mind? Why didn't he take her with him?

The Emperor is his master, a reasonable voice whispered. She remembered her father saying that, one night over dinner when galactic politics had been brought up. Leia hadn't understood much of that dinner conversation, but she had piped up long enough to ask what that meant.

"It means the Emperor owns and controls him," her father had said.

Leia had frowned. "But you can't own people," she had said.

"You can," her mother had said gently. "It's called slavery, and it was outlawed under the Republic. Now, however, it's fairly common practice."

Leia had pulled a face at that. "It doesn't seem right," she had said.

"It's not," her father had said. "That's why it's not allowed here on Alderaan."

"Okay," Leia had said. Then she had added, "Good. I don't think anyone should own anyone else."

But whether it was right or wrong did not change the fact that, as her father had said, the Emperor was Darth Vader's master. That meant that Vader had to do what the Emperor wanted. And the Emperor wouldn't want Vader to take her away.

But he was her father. The man who had sired her, in any case. Shouldn't that mean more to him than what his master said?

Miserable, Leia curled into a tighter ball and squeezed her still-watering eyes shut.

Didn't anyone care about her? Didn't anyone love her?

She felt Luke's thoughts slide into hers, warm and bright and blue. "Hey," he said, and Leia could feel his smile in the edges of the thought-word. "Miss me?"

"Yes," Leia said, and with the word came a rush of relief and hope.

Luke cared about her. Luke loved her. He had not only said so, but had shown her that he did time and time again—showed her every time he came back to her, every time he made her smile, every time he made her laugh.

"What's wrong?" Luke asked. "I can feel you're tense and anxious."

"Nothing," Leia lied.

"No," Luke said, "it's something. I can feel your thoughts, remember? I can tell it's something—and I can tell you're lying."

For the first time, Leia was irritated that Luke could read her thoughts.

"I don't want to talk about it," Leia said at last, throwing up walls around the memory of the Emperor telling her who her father was. She also went to put a wall up around the memory of Vader coming to see her—but she was too slow.

"Who was that?" Luke asked, poking at the image of blinding light and a smudge of shadow standing in the doorway.

"No one," Leia snapped. "I thought you said you wouldn't snoop."

"I wasn't," Luke protested. "You thought about it, and I saw it."

Leia groaned, and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "Have you heard of Darth Vader?" she asked.

"No," Luke said. "What's that?"

"Who," Leia said. "Who is that. And he's one of the most important people in the Empire."

"He is?" Luke asked. "I wonder how I haven't heard of him before."

Leia shrugged mentally. "I don't know. But he's the Emperor's right hand."

That was something else her father had said. "He exacts the Emperor's will with a hard hand and a harder heart. Nothing is too foul for Darth Vader to do."

Leia told Luke his now. "He's awful," Leia added.

"Why did he come to see you?"

"I don't know," Leia said, and it wasn't a lie. She didn't know for sure why he had come—she just had suspicions. Suspicions she had no way of proving or disproving.

"Okay," Luke said. He was silent for a moment, before changing the subject.

Leia continued to search her mind, in the dark and silent moments when Luke was not with her, for the thread of light he had described to her. He had told her how it had grown, how it had woven together into a cord of light and the essence of her, how it connected them and their minds. Leia wondered if it was, in fact, his Force Sensitivity—or if it was something else.

What if it's something unique to us? she wondered. When I feel the Force, it's like fire, and like it's a part of me. Luke describes the cord as just being us.

And so she continued to search for it, combing through her mind and her thoughts for the cord of light.

Then, one day, as Leia was laying at the back of her cell, Luke only half in her mind as he concentrated on listening to his uncle teach him about circuitry, she heard the bolt on the door to her cell slide back. Then the door opened with a burst of light that sent her cowering and covering her eyes.

There was a shuffle of movement in the doorway—then, without warning, there came a spray of cold water. It splashed over Leia's body, soaking her instantly, and then flowed from her to the floor of her cell.

Laughter, and then mockery about the filth collecting at the grate. Leia covered her face and tried not to cry—she hated having to go to the bathroom on the floor of her cell, and had quickly learned to do so over the grate at the center of it—and so to hear unknown voices mocking her for it made her want to weep, in anger and frustration and embarrassment.

Footsteps, and then the water splashed over her again. It was cold, and stung her skin.

Anger and fear swelled in Leia's chest, black and hot and desperate. She wanted them to stop, to suffer, to pay for what they were doing to her. They were cruel and mean, and were laughing at her discomfort. They deserved to know what it felt like.

The Force rose in response—and Leia, unaccustomed now to quelling it, scrabbled at it with nails and teeth, frantically throwing durasteel bands over it. The shields buckled and bulged, allowing streams of the Force, burning and bright, into her blood. It would be so easy to reach out and grab the hose from her tormentors' hands, to turn it on them. It would be so easy to push them with a fist of power, to send them tumbling to the filthy ground.

No, Leia thought, grabbing onto the Force and wrestling it back behind her shields.

"Leia?"

Leia froze.

"Leia, what's going on?"

"Not now," Leia barely managed to say, fighting the rising tide of the Force.

It sang to her, begged her to use it. Leia fought the allure, ordered it to obey her command—her command to be still and silent, to go back behind her walls and not come out. She grabbed fistfuls of the power and ripped it from her blood, throwing it back into her chest and the shields she had built there.

And that was when she felt it—a bright, shining cord embedded in the heart of the Force, brilliant and gold, woven together with her thoughts and Luke's. It was her and it was him—it was both of them together, entwined inextricably.

Her shields faltered just for an instant, her attention wavering, and the Force exploded out of her. The water seemed to hit an invisible wall—and then sprayed back toward the men standing above her. They yelped and jerked back, the nozzle of the hose turning away from Leia.

"Stupid bitch," one of them cursed, and then the sound of the water splashing against duracrete vanished. "Come on, let's go."

Their footsteps retreated, and Leia was left alone once more as the door swung shut behind them.

Only she was not alone.

"Leia, what just happened?" Luke's thoughts were more forceful than they had been before, diamond to flint.

"Nothing," Leia said.

"Bantha shit," Luke said. "I felt that. That was...was…" Leia felt him flounder, searching for words to describe what he had felt.

"That was the Force," Leia admitted softly.

"The Force?" Luke asked.

"Yeah," Leia said. "It...I don't really know how to describe it. Or how to explain it. But that's what it was."

"Okay," Luke said slowly. "It felt...I don't know. Dangerous."

"It is," Leia said, and ended the conversation.

It took time to extricate the cord from the rest of the Force—time and patience. Leia would loosen the bands of iron that covered the Force buried deep within her, and would sink slowly into it, searching for it. She would drift through the ether of bright, brilliant light and fire, searching for the sense of Luke that was intrinsic to the cord.

The more she did it, the easier it became to find it. Once she had found it, she would grab a hold of it and drag it slowly, slowly toward the surface. It came grudgingly at first, happily rooted deep within the Force. But the more she worked at it, and the longer she pulled at it, the faster it came, drifting farther and farther out of the heart of the Force, rising toward the surface—until at last, at last, it existed just beneath the shields.

But Leia wanted it on the other side of the shields—wanted this alone to be as easily accessible as a glance and a thought. And so she parted her shields and drew the cord away from the rest of the Force like poison from a wound, pulling it strand by strand and inch by inch past the edges of durasteel.

"Have you done something?" Luke asked her the afternoon after she had finished, when he slid back into her thoughts. "I can feel you stronger now, somehow. And it's even easier to reach you than it was before."

Leia sent him a picture of the Force—showed him how she saw it within her—burning behind her shields with the light rain falling on it. Then she showed him the golden, glowing cord that connected them shining in front of those shields, sparking and hissing beneath the rain.

"I found it," she said. "And I got it out from behind my shields. I can touch it now."

"Can you go into my mind?" Luke asked.

Leia tried. She tried—and failed. She could touch the cord, could prod it, could circle it. But she could not sink down into it. No matter what she tried—and she tried a hundred different ways, tried a hundred different methods—she could do nothing more than touch it.

"I'm sorry," Leia told Luke.

"It's okay," Luke said. "I'll just keep having to come to you."

~oOo~

Six months after Luke and Leia's bond had been restored, Old Ben visited the farm.

Luke was home working in the greenhouse with his aunt, preparing the soil for spring planting, when the bell rang at the door. His aunt stood, dusting off her hands, and went to answer it, Luke trailing after her with soil still streaked on his pale hands.

"Ben," Luke heard his aunt say, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm only here for a moment, Beru," Old Ben said. "I just wanted to make certain that Luke was doing well."

"He is," Aunt Beru said.

"May I see him?" Old Ben asked.

Aunt Beru hesitated, but then stood away from the door. "Come on in."

Luke quickly pulled away from Leia's mind, for the first time in months leaving completely. He did not want Old Ben to somehow sense that the connection he had sought to sever had grown back, stronger than ever.

Old Ben came down the stairs and into the courtyard, to see Luke standing there waiting for him. He smiled, his bright blue eyes dancing with light, and he commented, "My, Luke. You've grown since I last saw you."

Luke drew himself up, proud, and then led the way into the house at his aunt's insistence. He took Old Ben into the living room, and waited for Old Ben to sit down on the sofa before seating himself on the other end of it.

"Surely you can see for yourself he's doing well," Aunt Beru said, coming in a moment later with a glass of water for their guest.

"Thank you," Old Ben said, acccepting the glass of water and taking a sip. When he put it down, he said, "Yes, I can see that Luke seems to be doing well. But I would like to check on his connection before I be certain of that."

Aunt Beru nodded. "Do what you must," she said.

Old Ben set his glass on the small table at the end of the sofa, then turned to look at Luke. "Will you sit next to me?" he asked.

Luke scooted closer. Old Ben reached out with both hands, placing cool fingers on Luke's temples and cheekbones. Old Ben closed his eyes then and took a deep, centering breath. As he let it out, Luke felt his own eyes close, sealing him in darkness.

It seemed to Luke that he looked down upon himself. He could see his body sitting on the couch, could see Old Ben sitting beside him, holding his face. He could see his aunt sitting in the armchair in the corner, and the glass of water on the end table.

Then, as if drawn by an invisible tether, Luke felt himself drawn toward his own body. He squinted his eyes shut, preparing for a shock of impact—only to feel nothing. Opening his eyes, Luke found himself standing in the darkness of his own mind, feet planted on nothing, a void all around.

As he watched, however, light flared overhead, though when he looked up Luke could find no source for it. The light was pale and thin, and fell in crystal rays toward Luke's feet, which when Luke looked down he saw stood on glass above emptiness.

Luke looked forward—and with a jolt, he saw his own thoughts.

They were a twisted into the corners and dead ends of a labyrinth, the walls formed of smoke and mirrors, of locked doors and steel windows. The walls rose high into the air and stretched on, on, on toward infinity—only, he realized as he looked closer at them, it wasn't infinity, but that they looped back upon themselves.

Looking at it made his head hurt.

He started into the maze, marvelling at the shape and form of it all, as if it was not his own mind he was venturing into. Within seconds he was lost, the entrance vanishing behind him as surely as mist in sunlight.

Each time he turned a corner, Luke expected to find himself face-to-face with a thought, a memory, or an emotion. He had glimpsed them hidden in the labyrinth from the outside. Yet, no matter how many corners he turned, how many doors he forced his way through, how many windows he climbed into, he never seemed to be able to capture one. They remained firmly elusive, always just beyond his grasp, believing every moment that he was only one turn away from reaching one.

"Well."

Luke blinked, startled by the sound, and found himself sitting in his living room once more, Old Ben sitting beside him on the sofa.

"Well?" his aunt repeated.

"That is not what I expected," Old Ben said. He looked at Luke with a frown. "Has anyone been teaching you how to shield your thoughts?"

"Shield my thoughts?" Luke echoed. He shook his head. "No. I don't think so."

"Why do you ask?" Aunt Beru asked.

"Because I was unable to search his mind," Old Ben said. "It was like a labyrinth, only… Never mind. I doubt either of you want a lecture on the Force."

Luke frowned. He remembered Leia speaking of the Force, but he had never really understood what it was. He had seen it in Leia—had seen how she saw it in herself—but it remained a power he did not understand and could not comprehend.

"Suffice it to say," Old Ben said, interrupting Luke's thoughts, "Luke's mind is very well protected. I sensed nothing of the sort the last time I searched his mind, which leads me to believe that he learned it from somewhere—or from someone—since then, but—" He cut himself off, and smiled at Aunt Beru. "I sensed no trace of the connection that so concerned me last time," he said. "So rest at ease, the both of you."

Luke forced himself to smile as if he was relieved—as if he wasn't hiding the fact that he and Leia had reconnected months ago, and had been talking daily since then. Old Ben glanced at him, then nodded as if to himself.

"I will take my leave of you and your hospitality," he said, rising. He bowed to Aunt Beru, and smiled at her.

"Thank you," Aunt Beru said at the door, so softly Luke almost didn't hear her.

"If you notice anything odd, please do not hesitate to contact me," Old Ben said. "The comlink number I gave you will still work."

"Thank you," Aunt Beru said again. And then, with that, Old Ben was gone.

~oOo~

Dr. Amareus Ammit was livid.

He slammed his way into Palpatine's office, ignoring the secretary's loud protestations. The Emperor and the two Admirals he was meeting with turned to look at him, the Admirals wearing expressions of shock, the Emperor simply staring at him with a vaguely surprised look.

"Get out," Amareus snapped to the two Admirals, stepping aside and gesturing to the door. When they hesitated and glanced at the Emperor for instruction, Amareus all but shouted, "Get out!"

The Emperor nodded, and the two Admirals rose and scurried out of the office, closing the door behind them.

"Tell me, Amareus," the Emperor said calmly, folding his hands into the sleeves of his robes and leaning back in his chair, "what has gotten you so riled up that you forewent the politeness you hold so dear?"

"Do you want Leia Organa to go raving mad?" Amareus demanded, crossing to the Emperor's desk and leaning forward over it, planting his hands on the desktop.

"Of what do you speak?" the Emperor asked.

"I just found out why she hasn't been to see me for six months," Amareus said, "and it's because she's been locked in a dark room this whole time. That drives people insane. Surely you didn't sign off on this?"

"On the contrary," the Emperor said, "I was the one to suggest it."

Amareus bit his tongue, only just barely managing to keep from snarling, "Are you serious?"

Instead he said, the word coming out bitten and over-formed, "Why?"

"I need not explain my reasons to you," the Emperor said icily.

Amareus ground his teeth together. "She's going to go insane."

"A little bit of insanity could be good for her," the Emperor said. He smiled. "And for me."

Again Amareus bit his tongue, this time to keep from saying, "You're the one who's insane."

He took a deep breath and forced his emotions down. He had to get a hold of himself or he was going to do something stupid.

"Don't tell me, Amareus," the Emperor said. "You haven't grown fond of her, have you?"

Amareus straightened, allowing his hands to fall in fists by his sides. "Not fond, no," he said. "I have a vested interest in her growth, however. I don't want to see her ruined or destroyed before she can be used."

The Emperor laughed. "This will not destroy her," he said. "Quite the contrary, in fact. I believe it will ripen her into the perfect pupil."

Amareus bowed stiffly. "As you say, Your Grace."

~oOo~

In the time Leia spent in the dark, empty room, Leia dreamed of Shmi once.

"I'm proud of you," she said, appearing before Leia amid the dunes, the spiral arm of the galaxy shedding pale light across the sand. She gathered Leia into a hug, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"Why?" Leia asked, confused.

"Because you continue to fight."

"It's only because of Luke," Leia said. "Without him I think I would have gone crazy."

Shmi smiled. Leia could feel it in her chest, pressed against Leia's cheek. "Yes, Luke," she sighed. "Trust him," she said. "He will shape the galaxy with his love."

Leia pulled away. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"You will see," Shmi said.

Leia huffed with frustration. "Can't you tell me any more than that?"

"No," Shmi said calmly.

Leia frowned. "Can I at least tell him about you?" Leia asked.

"Trust him," Shmi said again, and with that began to fade away.

When Leia woke, it was to find Luke already in her mind.

"Were you dreaming?" he asked.

"Yes," Leia said. "Why?"

"It felt...strange," Luke said.

"Strange how?"

"Like it feels when I touch your mind—only not, because it wasn't me. It was someone else."

Leia smiled. Shmi had told her to trust Luke—and that meant it was safe to tell him about her, right? If she hadn't wanted Leia to tell him about her, she would have said as much. Right?

Leia made up her mind.

"It was Shmi," she said.

"Shmi?" Luke said, shocked. "That's the name of my grandmother."

"I know," Leia said. "I don't know if it's her, but she says her name is Shmi. I've been dreaming about her since I was taken. She's the reason I haven't Fallen."

"Fallen?" Luke asked.

"Fallen to the Dark Side," Leia said. "Shmi said I would bring darkness to the galaxy if I Fell. So I can't Fall."

"What's the Dark Side?" Luke asked.

"Evil," Leia said.

"Okay," Luke said. "I'm not sure I really understand—but if you can't Fall, whatever that means, then I'll do what I can to help."

Leia wished she could hug him. "Thanks," she said. "I think...I think I may need your help."

"Well I'll be here. I promise."

~oOo~

The time passed quickly for Luke. His aunt and uncle, realizing he was falling behind in his education, took back up his tutoring. They taught him together, his uncle teaching him math and science, his aunt teaching him about the desert and its history, and about language—both Basic and Huttese.

His aunt and uncle still needed his help around the farm, however, leaving his days even more full. He collapsed into bed every night exhausted, falling asleep almost instantly and sleeping until his chrono went off at 0500.

He felt bad for abandoning Leia like that, but she assured him it was fine. "We have all day now," she told him when he expressed his disappointment in himself.

"Only part of the day," he corrected her. "I still can't talk and pay attention while Aunt Beru or Uncle Owen are teaching, or when I really have to focus on a vaporator."

"That's okay," Leia reassured him. "It's enough."

Still though, Luke worked hard on learning how to both do his work and talk to Leia at the same time. He practiced sinking only part way into Leia's mind, testing the limits of how deep he had to go to speak with her, how deep to feel her emotions, how deep to sense her thoughts. And slowly, slowly, as he grew more accustomed to her mind and her thoughts, to their rhythm and their rhyme, to the avenue that linked them, Luke grew more and more adept at navigating the bond.

Leia, for her part, came to understand the cord that bound them as well, but in a superficial and theoretical manner. She poked and prodded it, felt the telltale burn of the Force when she would draw too near. She suspected that the link was one born of the Force, and that it was the Force that linked them.

She told Luke as much, and told him of her other findings: that the cord was one intricate whole, rather than an amalgamation of disparate parts; that it was as strong as the durasteel that she used to suppress the Force; that it refused to be separated from her, or from him, but that it clung to them as if it had been sewn into the fabric of their very souls.

As the months since reconnecting with Leia marched on, Luke grew more and more confident in their bond. He sent Leia snippets of thought and sight and feeling—the warmth of the wind, the taste of his aunt's cooking, the echoing sound of the krayts calling in the night—and in return he gleaned her emotions and dreams and memories, as well as her thoughts and sensations.

"How long has it been?" Leia asked Luke one day. He was working on a biology paper for his uncle, sending Leia snippets of it as he wrote for her judgment. Leia found it fascinating, and kept asking him questions which, though it slowed Luke's writing, thrilled him to no end. He liked being able to tell her things.

"How long since what?" Luke asked.

"Since we started talking. Since our bond was reconnected."

Luke counted. "I was ten and a half," he mused, "and I'm almost eleven and a half now. So it's been...nine months? Why?"

"I was just wondering how long I've been in here," Leia said, and Luke felt a wave of despondency tinged with fear rise in her. He sunk deeper into her mind, channeling soothing thoughts toward her.

"It's okay," Luke promised. "I'm not leaving you."

He felt Leia sniffle and wipe her nose on the back of her hand. "Sometimes I still see things," Leia admitted softly. "It happens when you're not here."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Luke asked, worried.

"Because I didn't want you to worry. And you already take such good care of me."

"But maybe I can do more," Luke said. "I...I'll talk to you more. I won't leave you alone at all."

Leia laughed weakly at that. "You can't always be here," she told him practically. "I'll be okay. Really. I've managed it for this long."

Luke sat back in his desk chair and ran his fingers through his sand-blown hair. "You shouldn't have to, though," he said.

"It's not your job to keep me sane," Leia said.

"But I want it to be," Luke said.

He felt Leia shake her head, the movement sending her hair scattering across her face. She was laying on the hard ground on one side, her head resting on her crossed arms. "But it shouldn't be."

"It's my choice," Luke said stubbornly. "And I choose you."

Leia was silent for a long moment. Then, softly, she said, "Okay."

After that Luke spent more and more time in Leia's mind, talking to her and sharing with her moments of his own life. At the end of the month his aunt and uncle commented about how distracted he seemed to have been—to which Luke simply replied that he was thinking about his plans for the future.

"And just what are those?" his aunt asked, ladling a bowl full of soup for him.

"I don't want to be a farmer," Luke said, grateful he already had an answer for her. "I want to be a pilot."

"And how do you think you'll go about becoming that?" Uncle Owen asked.

Luke shrugged. "Maybe I'll sign on with a crew out of Mos Eisley. Or maybe I'll go for the Imperial Academy. Either way, I'll get off Tatooine."

"Life isn't so bad here," Aunt Beru said. "Is it?"

Luke shook his head. "I just want to see the stars."

"Well," his aunt said, "you still have a while before you're going anywhere."

Luke frowned, but nodded. "I know," he said grudgingly.

He went to bed that night talking to Leia about his plans. "And maybe you can come with me," he said hopefully.

"I doubt it," Leia said. She sounded woeful.

"Why?" Luke asked.

"Because I…" She trailed off.

"Because why?" Luke pressed.

"I don't know that I'm ever getting out of this dark room," Leia said at last. "And even if I do, I doubt I'll be free."

"Free from what?" Luke asked.

An image formed in Leia's mind of the yellow-eyed monsters Luke had once dreamed of. Two humans stood to either side of them, cold-eyed and cold-faced. Luke shuddered.

"Of them," Leia said.

"Oh." Luke thought a moment, then said, "Well maybe you can escape."

"Maybe," Leia said, but Luke could tell that she was only saying that to agree with him.

Luke climbed into bed.

"Why don't you think you can escape?" Luke asked.

"You don't know what they're like," Leia said. "How could you?"

"I used to dream about them," Luke said. "So I think I have some idea."

"No, you don't," Leia said. "Not if you think I can just run away from them."

"It's not that I think it would be easy," Luke said. "But maybe—"

"There's no 'maybe'," Leia said. "It won't happen."

"Okay," Luke said, stung. "Fine. I was just trying to help."

Leia was silent for a moment. When she did speak, she simply said, "Good night," surprising Luke. She rarely said good night. Instead, they usually talked until Luke fell asleep.

"Good night," Luke said, trying to hide the hurt he felt at her dismissal.

He fell asleep wondering what he had done to upset her.

~oOo~

Leia woke to the sound of the bolt being shot back and then the creak and groan of the door. She turned over so that her back was to the door and pressed her hands into her eyes, preparing for the spray of light and cold water that was sure to follow. She wished Luke was there to keep her company through the uncomfortable ordeal—but he wasn't there.

The light came, but the water did not. Instead, Leia heard Ninth Brother's voice say, "Well, go on."

Then came footsteps, which she felt as much as heard, and then hands reaching down and grabbing her by the arm. She yelped as she was dragged to her feet, her hand pulled away from her right eye, and then another pair of hands fastened around her left arm.

She thrashed, but their hands were iron around her arms and she could not see. All she could do was kick at the filthy floor as she was dragged out of her cell and into the hall.

A smooth, cool hand that Leia was certain belonged to Ninth Brother touched her cheek, turning her face upwards. Leia kept her eyes shut tight against the light.

"What a pity," Ninth Brother said softly. "You could have been so great. And now look at you—covered in your own filth, unable to even see."

Leia jerked away from his touch, and she heard Ninth Brother drop his hand to his side.

"Well, come on," he said, and the next thing Leia knew she was being dragged down the hall.

She felt them ride up a lift, felt slick marble under her feet, and heard doors open and close behind them. The light grew brighter on the other side of her eyelids, and Leia's eyes began to water. She longed to wipe the tears away, but she couldn't move her arms—could only be dragged as much as guided across stone and up a flight of stairs. Then another set of doors, and more smooth marble underfoot.

There was another lift, and another hall. The light was dimmer, and Leia risked cracking her eyes open. Everything was blurry and painful, and Leia closed her eyes again.

Eventually they came to a halt on the other side of a pair of doors, and Leia heard Ninth Brother's voice again. "Well?" he said. "You know what to do."

The hands released her, and Leia stumbled and nearly fell, her legs buckling beneath her. She fell to the floor, trembling, and turned toward the invisible hands. She opened her mouth to say something—to demand to know where she was, what they wanted, why she was here—but shut it again when she heard a clatter. She cracked her eyes open again—only to see blurred shapes and to have her eyes water all the more.

"Get those clothes off her," an unknown voice growled.

Leia scrambled back, scooting along the tiled floor, lifting a warding hand. "Wait," she said, finally finding her voice, though only with difficulty. The word felt strange on her tongue, and her voice came out thin and strained, unused.

But they ignored her. Hands grabbed her wrists, lifting her upright, and then Leia felt fingers wrap in the back of her shirt and tug. The thin, grimy cloth ripped, and Leia felt a wash of cold air across her back. She jerked against the hands on her wrists—only for them to tighten their grip painfully.

More cloth tore, and more, until Leia was naked and unable to see in the cold air. The hands disappeared from her wrists, and then Leia heard feet retreat. She stayed upright, barely, legs trembling. Another clatter—and then, very suddenly, there came a spray of cold water.

Leia yelped and skittered back, only to fall back to the floor, but the water followed her. It followed her until she hit the back wall, tile-covered and cool. She cowered, covering her head with her hands and hunching between her knees.

"Get up, 851," Ninth Brother ordered.

Leia ignored him.

"I said get up." Ninth Brother's voice was a warning.

Still Leia did not get up.

Footsteps, and then a hand tangled in her hair and dragged her body upright. Leia cried out and reached for the hand, nails scratching at skin. Ninth Brother grunted, but he did not release her. Instead he shoved her forward, and then said, "Continue."

The cold water splashed over Leia's unprotected chest and stomach, trickling down her legs to pool beneath her feet. After a moment Ninth Brother twisted, turning her so that her back was to the water.

It stopped for a moment, and Leia hoped it was over. She was cold and shaking, both from fear and from the water, and just wanted to go back to her comfortable, dark cell.

More footsteps, and then Ninth Brother released her hair. Leia slumped in relief, collapsing back to the floor—only for a cloth to be pressed into her hand.

"Wash yourself," Ninth Brother ordered, "or we will wash you."

Fumbling, afraid and embarrassed and cold, still unable to see and barely able to stand, Leia scrubbed her body with the soap-lathered washcloth. When she was done with her face, a hand appeared to take the cloth away from her, and then the water returned. This time, at least, was shorter—just long enough to wash the soap from her skin.

"What do we do with her hair?" one of the other men attending to her said. It was the first time Leia had heard one of them speak.

Ninth Brother touched her matted, tangled hair, picking it up off of her back and examining it. Leia remained stock still but for the trembling with the cold and barely restrained fear, waiting for a pronouncement of doom.

"It's unsalvageable," Ninth Brother said, dropping Leia's dripping hair. "Shave it."

A sick, desperate feeling swooped through Leia's stomach. "No," she cried, turning toward where she had heard Ninth Brother's voice. Desperation fueled her voice, giving her the words that seemed to stick in her throat and on her tongue. "Please, don't cut it. Please, don't—"

Hair on Alderaan was close to sacred. Most women wore it long, so that they could braid and style it in ceremonial and traditional ways—ways that meant something different depending on where the braid was pinned, how many strands were used, how the braids were piled on the head. It was also a matter of modesty: you only let your hair down among family—with your parents, siblings, and, eventually, your husband and children.

Ninth Brother ignored her.

They dragged her to another room attached to the first and shoved her into a chair. There was a clatter of drawers being opened and closed, then came the hum of a razor.

"Please," Leia begged, close to tears.

The razor touched her head, and the tears spilled over.

"Please," Leia said one last time, half a whisper.

In desperation, fear and humiliation and despair, Leia sank deep within herself and found the shining cord of connection that linked her and Luke. "Luke," she begged, pressing her thoughts against the cord. "Luke please, I need you."

Luke did not answer.

It was over in less than a minute, though it felt infinitely longer to Leia. At last, however, it was done, her hair gone but for a dark fuzz covering her head. Leia sat on the chair and cried—and not for the light still burning her eyes.

"Here," a new voice said. Leia guessed it belonged to the second unknown man who had been guiding her. He pressed something made of cloth into her lap, then said, "Get dressed."

It took Leia far longer than usual to dress in the simple cotton pants and shirt. Still blind, she had to fumble her way through the motions, nearly falling while stepping into the second pants leg. That her head felt light, no longer weighed down by her hair, did not help.

Once she was dressed, they half-dragged, half-carried her out of the room and down a long hall, then a second, a third, a fourth. Then Leia heard a door open, and she was ushered into a room.

"Sit," Ninth Brother ordered, and Leia was set down on the soft mattress of a bed.

The footsteps of the men escorting her receded, and then Leia heard the door close, leaving her alone with her horror, desperation, and sorrow.

It was silly, Leia told herself, to mourn for her hair. It wasn't alive, it couldn't feel pain, it was just a dead part of her. But still, all the same, when she lifted a hand to touch her shaved head, the tears that had abated flowed freely once again, spilling over her cheeks and running down to drip from her chin.

Why? Leia asked herself. Why did they do it?

She knew, logically, that it was because her hair had been filthy, matted, and tangled. But they hadn't even tried to wash or detangle it. They had simply decided to shave it all off—and that hurt. It hurt like a thorn lodged deep within her chest.

They hadn't even cared enough about her to try to salvage her hair, when all it would have needed was a wash and a brush. This just showed that she was nothing to them—just as she had been nothing to Carlist, to Mon, who had cast her away at the first opportunity.

She was nothing. No one.

"Luke?" she called again, sitting on the bed and pressing her thoughts against their shining connection. "Luke, please… Where are you?"

Luke didn't answer.

Her eyesight eventually returned. Slowly, slowly, objects began to emerge from the blurry haze, turning from smudges of shadow to distinct lines and shapes. The light hurt less and less, until Leia could crack her eyes open without tears clouding her vision.

She found herself in a small, bare room, the only furnishings the bed and a small table beside it. There was a tray of food and a cup of water waiting for her on the table,and Leia hungrily wolfed them down. It had been ages, it seemed, since she had eaten or drunk.

She had finally opened her eyes all the way, her vision fully returned, when the door to the small room she was in opened. Ninth Brother and two red-clad guards appeared in the doorway, then filed into the room. Ninth Brother, leading the way, softly ordered, "Get up, 851."

Leia crossed her arms and did not get up.

Ninth Brother sighed, then turned to the red-clad guard and nodded. They skirted past him, coming to the bed on which Leia sat, and seized her by the arms. They dragged her to her feet, holding her between them, then followed Ninth Brother out of the door and down the hall.

Leia lost track of their route after the sixth turn and second lift ride. The halls stretched on and on, carven wood and gleaming marble, some low-ceilinged and some with vaulted domes. Paintings and frescoes and tapestries hung on the walls, adding color to the otherwise natural tones.

At last, however, they came to a halt in front of the throne room's great double doors.

"Here is where I leave you," Ninth Brother said, turning to Leia and looking down at her. "I hope you will choose wisely." Then, with that ominous statement hanging in the air before Leia, he turned stepped away, leaving the way to the throne room clear.

The red-clad guards stepped forward and opened the doors. They swung inward, noiseless, to reveal the obsidian throne room beyond. Then, seizing Leia by the arms, they marched her in.

"Luke?" Leia said one final time, desperately. "Luke, I'm scared. Please…"

The Emperor sat on his throne, cowl thrown back to reveal his wrinkled and scarred face. Darth Vader stood on the first step of the dais, black and hulking and dangerous, mechanical breathing filling the air.

The red-clad guards escorted Leia down the long room toward the dais, stopping half a dozen paces from Vader and the first step. There they halted, and shoved Leia onto her knees.

"Leave us," the Emperor said in his thin, scratching voice.

The red-clad guards bowed and retreated.

"So, young Leia," the Emperor said, leaning forward on his throne, "you come before me once more. Tell me, how do you feel?"

Leia scowled. "I'm fine," she said, fighting to keep the tremble of fear out of her voice. She did not like the Emperor, or this room, or Vader standing half a dozen steps from her. It felt oppressive and dead, like a carcass left to rot in the sun.

The Emperor nodded. "I see," he said. "Tell me, young Leia," he said, "are you happy to be free from your cage?"

Leia's scowl deepened. "I'd like to go back," she said.

"Hm," the Emperor hummed. "I don't think that's true."

"You don't know what's true," Leia snapped.

The Emperor laughed. "Such fire," he said, "even now. But yes, child, I can tell what's true and what's lie. Just as you can."

A chill raced through Leia. So he could sense lies as well, just as she could? That meant he had the Force, just as she did.

Of course he does, she chastised herself a second later. How could I ever think he didn't?

"You have a choice before you now," the Emperor said. "Join me...or die."

A jolt of shock smashed through Leia's chest. She looked up at the Emperor, surprised and barely breathing, to see him staring at her with hard, cold eyes. He smiled.

Darth Vader ignited his lightsaber. It shone red amid the obsidian shadows, humming with hungry intent.

Leia stumbled to her feet and staggered backwards, fear sprinting up and down her spine and settling cold like ice in her stomach. "No," she gasped, looking from the Emperor to Vader. "Please."

"Make your choice," the Emperor said.

"Leia?" Luke's voice smashed through the fear holding Leia frozen. "Leia, what's going on? I can feel you're scared, and...and where are you? I can see where you're at, but I...I don't understand—"

"Luke," Leia gasped, relief pouring through her and pooling as tears in her eyes. "Help me."

"What's going on?" Luke asked again.

"The Emperor, and Darth Vader, and he told me to choose or die, and the lightsaber—"

"Slow down, Leia," Luke said.

"Here," Leia said, and thought back over the last hours, showing Luke the highlights of what had happened to her since being woken. "And now—"

"Make your choice, Leia," the Emperor said. "Choose me—or die."

"What do I do?" Leia asked desperately.

"You told me that you couldn't Fall," Luke said. "You said you'd bring darkness to the galaxy."

"But is it worth dying for?"

"I don't know," Luke said, sounding desperate.

Leia backed away, entire body trembling with the struggle of staying upright, watching Vader come on with his 'saber humming at his side. He moved with slow, purposeful strides—strides that Leia knew would eat up the distance between them in no time. She backed away farther still, heart pounding in her chest, sweat gathering in the small of her back.

"I can't Fall," Leia said. "But I don't want to die. Please, Luke. Help me."

"What will happen if you choose the Emperor?" Luke asked.

"Shmi said I'll be a force of darkness the likes of which the galaxy has rarely seen," Leia said, repeating what Shmi had told her. "I...I'll kill people. And hurt people. And be the Emperor's right hand."

"So which is worse: that, or dying?"

Vader neared. He lifted his lightsaber—and Leia collapsed beneath it, crawling toward the dais and the Emperor.

"I don't know," Leia told Luke. "I don't want to hurt anyone. But I don't want to die either."

"You're gonna have to decide."

"What do you think I should do?"

"I don't want you to die," Luke said. "But...but you have to decide if your life is worth more than others'—more than those you'll kill and hurt."

Leia was silent for a moment as she crawled to the foot of the dais, looking over her shoulder and watching Vader turn and come on again, lightsaber once more at his side.

"No," she finally decided. "No, my life isn't worth more than theirs. I...I know what I have to do."

Luke's emotions struck Leia like a load of bricks: sorrow and fear so profound it made her dizzy. For a second her conviction wavered. But no—no, she had to do this.

"I love you," Luke said. "I love you so much. I wanted to share my life with you."

"I did too," Leia whispered—and sat up.

"I won't choose you," Leia said, looking up at the Emperor. "I won't be a weapon of the Dark Side."

The Emperor looked surprised. "So be it," he said, and nodded at Vader.

Vader approached.

"This is your last chance," the Emperor said. "Choose me, or—"

"No," Leia said stoutly, and turned away from him—away from him and toward her death.

"You truly are a troublesome child," the Emperor said. "You could have been great—could have been greater even than your sire. But instead you are nothing but a grave disappointment."

Vader lifted his lightsaber overhead.

Leia closed her eyes, ready and waiting for the killing blow.

Something hard and heavy struck her on the head. She heard and felt Luke cry out in pain as he felt the blow—and then the whole world vanished.


end notes: The deal I made with you all last chapter was a resounding success. Soooo, let's try it again, shall we?

10 reviews by Thursday, and I'll upload chapter 5. 15 by Saturday and I'll upload it then. Otherwise I'll upload next Sunday. How does that sound?

Regardless, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I'd love to hear from you (...especially as I'm really uncertain as to the quality of this chapter...So please, let me know if you thought it was good, or if you thought it wasn't so good (though please, don't be *mean*...) Thank you!)