*******

Despite the efficient accommodations of the Rebel ship, Han had insisted on sleeping on the FALCON in its temporary home in the cavernous main hangar bay of the Mon Cal cruiser. Leia and Luke used to constantly joke that Solo felt safer in that rusty bucket of bolts than he would secured in the galaxy's tallest tower, made of the strongest materials, bristling with weaponry and surrounded by legions of elite fighters.

"Of course I would," Han had retorted indignantly. "The FALCON flies."

Leia was now unspeakably grateful for the safety and seclusion that the ship and its captain offered as she lay slumped over the game table in the corner of the Falcon's lounge, the holographic creatures washed out by a distraught princess' dark head pillowed in her arms. Her thin shoulders shook with quiet sobs.

Solo entered the lounge, bearing a glass of water and a troubled expression. "Here you go, sweetheart," he said quietly, setting the glass on top of a multi-appendaged blue creature.

Leia raised her head, swiping at the tears on her splotched cheeks with the back of her hand, and reached for the drink. "Thank you." She took a small sip of the bland water as Han slid into the seat next to her.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked quietly, his hand reaching up to softly rub her back.

Leia nodded quickly, wiping again at uncooperative eyes. She attempted a weak smile and brushed disdainfully at her falling hair and streaked face. "I must be quite a sight." The sleeves of her white senatorial gown were damp with tears. She dabbed at them uselessly. "The Rebel princess," she said quietly, "senator, freedom fighter, the I-never-get-upset figurehead, the I'm-always-strong image..." hot tears sprang to her eyes again. "Oh, stars, how am I going to be able to face everyone?" She broke down into a new round of tears and Han slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Leia melted into his embrace.

Solo knew just how hard she had avoided everyone these past few days--not an easy accomplishment in a ship like HOME ONE. He had worried about her when she never emerged from her small cabin, not to eat, not even to do her duty to the Alliance and attend her meetings. She was taking Luke's death extremely hard.

Behind Han, there was a low growl, and Solo twisted his head to see Chewbacca standing unobtrusively in the entrance, Lando just behind him. It was time to go.

"Okay, Chewie," Han responded, waving them away with his free hand. "We'll be there in a few minutes." The wookiee grunted and he and Lando left the ship.

Leia's small hand balled into a fist and it slid down to rest over her heart, her face still buried in his shoulder. "It's like I have never cried over anything before--Alderaan, the Death Star, Bespin. I never had time--but now I'm falling apart at the seams!"

"It's okay," Han soothed, stroking her long, soft hair. "Everyone has their days."

"I never even knew he was my brother until later," she went on in a muffled voice. "But now that he's gone, it's like something has been torn out of me, right here. I feel so hollow and empty."

Han didn't know what to say to that. Luke and Leia's strong connection through the Force was probably something he'd never understand, much less be able to sympathize with. He drew her closer to him, sobs racking her thin frame.

Eventually, she raised her head, swollen eyes searching his features, hands frantically wiping away the flood of tears. Solo took her face in his hands and leaned forward, gently kissing her forehead. "It's the only part that's dry," he quipped softly, giving her a lopsided smile as he wiped her tears away with his thumbs.

Leia's hands came up to his, pleading eyes still boring into him. "Do you still love me, Han?"

The question caught him by surprise. "Why in the worlds wouldn't I?" he asked.

Her dark eyes were still searching. "Even when the galaxy's most feared, most hated villain turns out to be..." she swallowed, suddenly unable to meet his gaze... "my father?"

"He's dead, Leia--"

"I know he's dead!" she snapped, the doused flame of her anger suddenly lighting her eyes. "But being dead doesn't make it any less true...or less horrible."

Solo took her hands in his, gazing at their twined fingers. "Leia," he said softly. "All the terrible things Vader did to you, and to me, and to Luke has nothing to do with who you are and how much I care for you, regardless of biology." He looked meaningfully into her eyes. "You're still the same beautiful princess that I love."

"But I'm scared," she whispered. "Scared that one day that could be me, what I turn into. Everything I've fought so hard for and believe in...." she searched for the right words. "Just like Luke and his `Dark Side'. I don't want to be at risk of turning against everything I hold dear."

"It can't happen against your own will."

"Can't it?" she asked.

Han didn't answer.

"How can I face people as the daughter of Darth Vader?" she asked into the silence.

Han shrugged, bringing their clasped hands up between them. "Who says people have to find out?" he asked. "What they don't know won't hurt them."

Her gaze went unfocused and she nodded, swallowing. "Yeah," she whispered.

Han pulled her into another gentle embrace and kissed her softly. "Are you ready to go?" he asked finally. "You don't want to be late for the funeral."

Leia made another feeble attempt at looking presentable, but then just smiled wanly. "Yes," she murmured. "Probably as ready as I'll ever be."

*******

The Grand Audience chamber was nearly filled to capacity with Rebels, all attending this small but sincere funeral service to the fallen fighters of the Alliance in their most recent and costliest battle. The atmosphere of the hall was subdued and sad. For all the necessities of this war, the glory of its heroes and the triumph of winning, there was tragedy too. Leia blinked back a new onslaught of tears that threatened to fall as they entered the large assembly room.

She quickly regained control over her emotions, as she saw General Rieekan approaching them, smiling kindly. "Solo," he greeted Han with a nod and a handshake. "Princess." He rested sympathetic eyes on her and said, "please accept my condolences over the loss of Commander Skywalker. He was a born fighter and a gifted pilot..." he paused. "And I know he was a good friend."

Leia nodded, swallowing. "Thank you, General."

She sighed, tears rising to the surface again. The fact that Luke had been her brother and the Dark Lord her father would never be known. The secret would be buried with them.

Mon Mothma intercepted Han and Leia as they made their way across the auditorium. "How are you doing?" she asked the princess, giving her a brief hug.

Leia tried to keep her voice under control as she answered, "I'm fine, thank you." She knew her bluff was obvious.

"I was sorry to hear about Luke," Mon Mothma said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her expression one of genuine sympathy. "He was a wonderful young man and will be sorely missed."

Leia didn't trust herself to speak. The Alliance leader patted her hand. "And I do want to apologize for General Madine and his behavior in the debriefing."

Leia nodded, not really wanting to talk about it. Beside her, Han bristled.

"It's difficult for him to accept the Jedi and the daunting power they wield. I think it frightens him. He's always considering--as all of us must--how that power can distorted into something horrible and evil."

She didn't say it, Leia thought. But she didn't have to. *Like Palpatine and Vader. She's comparing Luke to them--even after all he's done, they can't leave it alone. *

"I think Madine forgets," Mon Mothma went on, "that that power can be used just as well for good too." She smiled reassuringly and Leia swallowed a lump in her throat. "My dear, I know Luke was one of those noble people, and there's no one I would have trusted more with that power than him."

Leia tried to nod again, and thank the other woman, but the words wouldn't come out. Han steered her like a lost child through a crowd of milling people and aliens, nodding at several of them as they offered meaningful condolences, their faces all blending together until she felt powerless to correctly identify any of them. She finally glimpsed Lando and Chewie, seated down close to the front, beckoning to them. Save for Han's guiding hand at her elbow, she felt numb as they carefully made their way down to the waiting seats.

"Are you okay?" Han asked, leaning over her, warm brown eyes dark with concern.

Stars, how she loved him. Leia tightened her grip on his hand; strong, calloused fingers twined with hers. "I'll be fine," she whispered.

They sat down in the rigid, uncomfortable seats while several of the Rogues approached them with their inelegant, but heartfelt offerings of sympathy.

Afterward, Leia would not recall a single word of the funeral service, but only that it seemed wholly inadequate to be a closing for Luke. Unfinished.

* My brother. Lost and found.*

*And lost again.*

The choking tears seemed to lodge in her throat. This was the way of war, the ordered price for freedom. She had to move on with her life, continue the fight where others had left off. There was no time to grieve, to mourn--they just had to move on.

*Goodbye, Luke. *

*Goodbye. *

******