There is one chapter following this one, just FYI. —T.

********************* He was first aware of a steady beeping noise percolating through his consciousness. The sound dragged him from the fringes of his dreams. He had been drifting, among mist and memories. Familiar voices spoke unintelligible words and drifted around him in a serene blur. But now the steady beep and the cool air brought him to awareness, making him shiver in the cool, dry air. Cracking his eyes against the warm brown light, he became aware of the antiseptic odors of cleaners and the unmistakable smell of bacta.

He had fully expected to be dead. It had been his last conscious thought when the darkness had taken him, lying in pain on the cold, unforgiving stone floor. His mind had accepted it ahead of time, with an admitted measure of relief too. Palpatine would finally let him go.

Luke opened his eyes, blinking. He was lying on a repulsor bed in a small room. The walls and sheets were a stark, sterile-looking white. There were two machines standing unobtrusively near his bed, one of them the source of the beeping that woke him. An IV stand was there, dripping a clear fluid into his arm. He was obviously in a med-center. It looked as though the Emperor wouldn't let him die after all. His heart sinking, Luke wondered why.

He recalled his conversation with Mara, that dreary blur of pain and exhaustion—he, reeling with shock and despair, she, pleading with him to think clearly, to rest, and to not make any foolish decisions.

He snapped his eyes open again, his heart quickening again, this time with the horrible thought of what might have happened to Mara after he'd blacked out on the throne room floor. His father had been kneeling over him, Palpatine had been leering purple-white lightning. *You care for her,* the ruler had taunted, gleeful at finding another of Luke's weaknesses to exploit. *You care for her. *

Heart and mind racing, Luke stared up at the ceiling, as a thousand unbidden images came to his mind. He could not let himself be the cause of his friends' deaths. Mara, Han and Leia...

Luke's stomach twisted again in another knot of fear as he thought of his sister. She was a prisoner of Palpatine as well. The ruler knew they were siblings—surely knew she possessed the same potential as Luke. But brave and strong-willed though she might be, she was untrained, virtually defenseless against any kind of attack Palpatine might orchestrate. And Han had said she was pregnant...

Resisting the urge to pull the IV out, Luke tried to sit up a little. He had no strength for that, he realized a moment later, sinking back down to the bed.

Turning his head to see the other side of the room where the door was, wondering if it was guarded, Luke saw a hunched form sitting slouched in a chair, scooted close to the other side of his bed, obviously sleeping. He blinked and realized the person was Han.

His pulse quickened, a thousand more scenarios running through his head. What was Han doing here? "Han," he whispered hoarsely. His voice was dry with disuse. His throat ached.

With effort, his fingers found the edges of the breath mask covering his nose and mouth and released the catches, pulling the mask away. "Han, wake up." He raised his head, stretching his arm out to touch his friend on the shoulder. "Han."

Solo suddenly jerked awake with a start, sleep-bleary eyes regarding Luke at first with alarm and then with dawning recognition. He looked only relieved, rather than fiercely angry and frustrated as he had been when Luke had last seen him. "Luke, you're awake!"

The Jedi sagged back again to the pillows, trying to summon a smile over his confusion. "Hi."

"How're you feeling, kid?" Solo got to his feet, looking as if he was fretting. "You feeling okay?" He didn't look like a prisoner—his blaster was in its holster. So unless they'd emptied the power packs....

"Fine," Luke answered tersely. He didn't hurt anywhere. "What happened? How—how long have I been out?" He tried to raise his head from the pillows again. "Is Leia okay? Where is she?"

"Hold up, kid," Han told him, urging him back down. "Take it easy. You've been out of it for a while."

Luke grimaced, thinking of what could have happened the hours that he had been unconscious. "How long?"

"Three weeks yesterday," Solo answered. "It was touch and go for a little while—the medics weren't sure you were going to come out the coma."

Luke sagged back, frowning, feeling thoroughly bewildered and a little dizzy. "Three WEEKS?" he repeated. The room began to spin a slow circle around him, with a concerned Han splitting into two. "But how...?"

"It's a long story," Han assured him quickly. "But everything's okay now. Not to worry."

"But the Emperor..." Luke began.

Is dead," Solo finished for him. "We're at the Alliance base." His mouth twitched. "We're safe."

"The Alliance...?" Luke looked around again in confusion, his mind registering belatedly the out-dated equipment of the room that could only be valued by Rebels, always desperate for money and supplies. It was strange then that he should be allowed his own room. "We got away?"

"Whoa, kid," Han waved him back down. "One question at a time." The smuggler sat back in his chair again. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Get you too worked up and Too-onebee will kick me out."

"I'm fine," Luke repeated, shutting his eyes to make the room stop spinning. There were really free...

Solo didn't exactly look convinced. "I could call a medic—you look kind of green."

Luke shook his head again, looking around the hospital room with a new, more appreciative gaze, hardly believing what he was hearing. "I'm not hallucinating, Han," he whispered. "Tell me I'm not seeing things."

Solo glanced around, frowning. "ARE you seeing things?" he asked in mild alarm.

Luke only shut his eyes. "You're sure the Emperor's dead?" he asked.

"Trust me, junior," Solo drawled, smiling. "Anybody that can make a crater like that has to be dead."

"Who killed him?" Luke asked. "How did it happen?"

"It's a long story, kid. It'll take a little time to tell. I think you need some time to recuperate before you hear it all. Take it one question at a time." Solo eyed his friend. The Jedi looked pale and tired, but the sudden relief had seemed to ease the tautness of his features. "Your friend Mara helped us escape."

"Mara?" Luke's eyes were suddenly wide. "She's here? Is she okay?" The Jedi had struggled uselessly again to raise his head and shoulders from the bed, to a half-sitting position. Han sprang forward to help him.

"Take it easy, kid," he reprimanded. "Don't hurt yourself. Mara's doing fine too. She's here." He could see the shock of too much information register on his friend's features as the Jedi sagged back into the pillows. "Okay, overload," he murmured. "You can hear about all this later." Luke nodded.

Solo reached for his comlink. "I'll call Leia and let her know that you're awake." He eyed the discarded breath mask by Luke's side, the kid's gray features and the bluish tinge around the Jedi's mouth. "Put that thing back on, kid."

He thumbed his comlink. "Leia? Oh, hi Goldenrod." He scowled. "Get Leia for me." He looked at Luke again. The Jedi was lying still against the pillows, most of his energy spent. "How good of friends are you and Mara, anyway?" Solo asked. "I mean—cuz you're going to have to beat Lando off with a stick. He's been hitting on Mara since she arrived. Leia?" He asked. "Hey sweetheart, get down here. Your brother's awake."

*****************