Readers--Thank you so much for the reviews. The wowewsad factor was more or less what I was going for. I noticed that a few of you are the same who read Not Ready more than a year ago--I'm still planning on finishing that story, just to let you know. Please enjoy chapter 5!

Chapter 5

I forgave her. I couldn't not. I couldn't pretend that the betrayal I felt in any way altered the love that I would always feel for her. After steering clear of her for almost a month, I had to talk to her. I had to tell her how I felt.

I was away on a mission with Rogue Squadron, which I now had command of, and I called her on a voice-only subspace channel on board my X-Wing. She didn't want to speak to me at first, and I don't blame her for being angry at me–I had taken off without a word to her or even Ben–and it tore me apart to hear her cry. I told her hastily, so that she would hear me out, that I loved her no matter what, and I'd like to come home to her and Ben if she would let me. It didn't matter to me whose baby it was. Ben wasn't mine, either, after all.

"And...if you love him, and you want a...divorce," I said softly, the words grating in my throat, "Then I understand. We'll find him, and you two can be together."

She didn't answer right away, and later she told me that she had been struck speechless that I would make these sacrifices so that she could be happy. "I don't love him," she said at last. "We need to get him back for his own sake, not mine. It was just a lapse in both of our judgements, Luke–not love. And...by the way...I had a test done. It's yours. And it's a boy."

I closed my eyes tightly, thanking all of the stars in the sky silently. Though I already had Ben, and I'd thought I'd known what joy was when I first held him in my arms, somehow knowing that this life was one that Leia and I created together made me happy beyond description, beyond feeling almost. He was mine. My son.

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I wake up to a headache, nausea, a strange surreal feeling, and a general bad mood. "I shouldn't have smoked so much," I say to myself, "Especially after drinking."

But seeing Han and having all of those things brought to the surface had made me panic. I all but overdosed with how much spice I took last night, and I bought more than usual to begin with. I wonder, getting up from bed carefully, if it's finally time to admit to myself that I have a problem, and not only the psychological kind.

I brush it off and go to the kitchen to make come caf and toast–my hangover breakfast. I skip the milk in the caf and only put butter on the toast, trying to keep it simple so that my nausea doesn't get worse. I sit on the couch to eat–my apartment doesn't really have a lot of furniture–and glance out the balcony's glass door. By the light it looks past noon. No wonder, as I stayed up almost until dawn, torturing myself with memories.

After the toast is gone, I sit sipping my caf thoughtfully. I hear the Palace's chrono chime at some half-hour mark. I sigh.

After I'm awake and feeling better, I suddenly realize that the place is kind of messy, and for the first time in a long time that bothers me. More strange, I actually feel active enough to want to do something about it. I start cleaning up–hanging up my black clothes, thrown about the apartment; emptying out ash-trays; even doing dishes. I start thinking that maybe today won't be so bad–after all, I'm safe where I am, and I don't have to let any of the old things in if they don't want to find me.

Then my comm beeps.

I sigh in desperation and curse. It's probably nothing, but my relative peace is interrupted.

I hit the comm button on the wall. "What?" I ask–I have no reason to be polite.

"Kid?"

I hit my head lightly on the wall, cursing again silently. "How'd you get my comm signal number?"

"I asked the...the guy at the cantina."

Han doesn't say who the "guy" was, so I'm suddenly aware–and it frightens me terribly–that someone else is listening.

"Han..." I ask, trembling, "Is Leia there?"

After hesitating a long time she says, "Hello, Luke."

I hear her voice for the first time in seven years. It knocks the breath out of me, and I have to sit down on the couch. I breathe deeply, trying not to hyperventilate, my head in my hands. Oh, gods....

A moment passes, and Han asks, "You there, Luke?"

I nod to myself, slowly. "I'm here. Why are you two calling me?"

Another pause. They–or at least Leia–are as nervous as I am. "Luke, where have you been?" she asks.

I sigh in desperation and scan the room for spice-sticks. I must have left them in my bedroom last night. Great–if I made a run for them, they'd know. "Here and there," I answer, and I sound annoyed even to myself. I hope she doesn't hear the tremor in my voice.

Pause. When she answers, her voice is trembling, too, but as if she's on the verge of tears. "'Here and there?' Luke, you just abandoned me and Ben, and I was PREGNANT–"

I stand, unable to believe that she would be angry with me. "Exactly! With MY child!" I shout. "I was scared to death of what had happened between us, after finding out...and I don't think you can sit there and tell me you weren't, either!"

Pause. I calm down, feeling guilty for yelling at her. I find a box of cig-sticks, the legal kind of spice sticks, on the caf table under some other things, and light one. They won't give me the high, but they'll clam me a little and give me something to do.

"You could have at least kept in touch with Ben...and made some attempt to know Anikin."

I blow out some smoke thoughtfully. "Why'd you name him that, Leia?" I ask softly.

"Because of what you said, about wanting to make peace with him–so did I."

"I killed him, you know," I say, disregarding her sensitivity completely.

She is silent for longer this time. "I know. But I still had to make my peace."

I don't answer. I just watch the stick burn down.

"Ben has been asking about you a lot lately, Luke. He remembers you, and he's at the age when he starts wondering where he came from–"

I smile ironically. "Then tell him, Leia," I say jeeringly. "Tell him how he was created."

Shocked silence from the comm. "Luke?"

I shake my head. "Leia, stay away from me. There's nothing in my life now but anger, hurt, and a lot of drugs." I wasn't going to tell her about the drugs at first, but if it would keep her away from me, then it would keep her away from me. "I don't want to hurt you or the kids."

She's really crying now. I can hear her. "It's a little late for that."

She cuts the connection off, and I feel, at first, very satisfied for making her cry. Then the memories of what she meant to me come flooding back, and the satisfaction turns into pain. I pull my knees up to my forehead and push back tears.

So much for cleaning up the apartment, I think.