That last kiss had puzzled and haunted me since that night. I keep wondering why I went back. I was terrified of what have happened between us, and I was nauseated by the thought of all we'd been to one another, but I still came back to kiss her good-bye, like lovers do at a parting, as if the reason for my leaving had been of usual consequence. Why?

I know the answer perfectly well, and the answer scares me more than where I came from or anything I've done in my life, much more than my dark and uncertain future. The answer is the reason I never could see Leia again, as well as the cause for me reconnecting my comm, wanting, suddenly, to speak to her.

Five days since I heard her voice for the first time in seven years, two days since I reconnected my comm, she still hasn't called. Pacing my apartment anxiously, like a wild animal in a cage, I smoke all but the last of my spice, trembling in anticipation. I decide to call her myself–I can take this wondering and waiting no longer. There are so many things that need to be said. I must make her understand that I did not leave her out of malice or spite. I owe her that much–an explanation beyond the angry and confused farewell I slapped her with before abandoning her. I owe her at least that much.

I call the Imperial Palace in a daze, unbelieving my own bravery and incitive–it is no longer in my character to do anything of the sort–and ask to be connected to President Organa-Solo's private line. The refuse promptly, as I knew they would, for security reasons. "Please," I say, trying to sound legitimate and desperate at once, "She'll want to talk to me. This is her ex-husband, Commander Luke Skywalker."

It's been forever since I've heard a title before my name, and it sounds strange even to me. But the comm operator believes me and requests an answer from Leia. I wait.

"Luke?" Her voice comes like a question that one will not like the answer to, but also like happy tears, like a sunshower.

My own voice trembles, and I resolve, for the time being, to be civil, to not make her cry this time. "Hi...Leia...."

After a stunned silence, during which the comm operator disconnects her own line, Leia speaks, reproachfulness in her tone, as well as some irony. "Why are you calling me? I thought you wanted me to stay away from you."

I did, didn't I? It's probably for the best that she does, too–we can't do anything anymore except hurt each other. Why had I called? "I...I wanted to say I was sorry."

"For what?" She won't be taking any nonsense from me; that I can tell. I had been sincere in my lame attempt at an apology, but she doesn't know it. She does know, however, as well as I do, that I can play with her emotions like a human taunts a cabbit with a piece of string. But that awareness gives her an advantage, and she'll have none of my games this time. "For yelling at me the other day, or for...walking out on me?"

But if I can taunt her, she can infuriate me. I shake my head to myself, biting my tongue against the anger that rises so easily. "You know perfectly well that I had to leave, Leia."

Her voice changes, becoming again the hopeful voice of the girl she'd been, but the accusations are still in her tone. "We could have dealt with it together, Luke. I needed help getting through it all–the shock, the anger, not to mention the war and my pregnancy. We could have helped each other. You gave up."

"I know." I do. It seems to be the only thing I can ever trust myself to do since I left her. I light a spice-stick against the fading high. "I know I did. But there are times when there's nothing else you can do. Fate was always against us. So I said fuck fate and–"

"Hid. You hid, Luke."

I don't answer. My silence is my sanctuary.

"You could have at least had the decency to file our divorce in person," she adds, her intent to stab me back.

"I couldn't see you," I reply sullenly. "I thought you'd understand."

"I understood. But I still think it was cold. And imagine trying to explain it all to Ben. If Han hadn't been with us, I don't know what I would have–"

"Han," I interrupt her bitterly. "Right. Speaking of cold, Leia, how long after our divorce was official did you wait until you agreed to marry Han? Was it the same day or did you wait a whole week–"

She snaps, "Did you call to apologize, or to do more damage?"

I swallow, leaning back on the couch. "It hurt me, Leia," I say softly.

She matches my tone. "I know."

Neither of us speak for a long, deep moment. I almost, out of uncomfort, tell her that I should go. But I don't. That would somehow take more strength than I have at the moment. Instead, I ask, "How are you, Leia?" I need to know, need to make sure that she isn't as I am, while a darker part of me almost hopes that she's unhappy so that she can share my fate.

"I...." She hesitates, as if wondering herself. "I was fine until Han told me he'd seen you. I'm...I'm expecting a baby."

"I know. I read about it." I hear the scorn in my voice, and I know that congratulations, in way of making up for it, will sound too false, so instead I ask, "When are you due?"

"In about two months. Oh-six, twenty-four."

"Right near Ben's birthday, then."

She pauses before answering, perhaps surprised by my remembering. "Yes."

There is something I'd always almost wanted to know, almost not. Something that I'd never endeavored to find out, but something makes me ask it now. "When's Anikin's birthday?"

She pauses again, thrown by my seeming concern over the son I'd never met. "Ten, fifteen."

I don't answer. There's nothing to say.

She sounds so sorrowful when she adds, "He looks a lot like you."

"I know...I've seen his picture." Indeed I have, in holos and at the newsstand–images of Leia, Han, and my boys, together. I turn away from my son's accusing blue eyes every time, eyes that seem to know so much, to see down to my very soul. I've thought about buying one of the holos of one event or another to watch him, to see if he acts as angelic and strangely wise as he looks, or if the look in his eyes is an illusion, and that maybe deep down he is as twisted as his origin. I don't want to ask her, but I have to know. "Is he...is he okay?"

"What?"

"I mean...because you and I are...."

"Oh!" She understands suddenly, answers the question in a hurry, no more wanting to talk about it than I do. "Oh. Yes. He's fine. He and Ben are both completely normal. They're smart and healthy. You'd never know."

I sigh with relief. "Good." My hand trembles as I hold the spice stick and I put it in the ashtray before I have a chance to drop it. I clasp my hands tightly together and press them between my knees, willing the shivering to stop. But it's not the drugs this time–it's nerves.

"Luke...?"

She hesitates at first, as if she knows she is asking too much, and that her favor will not be granted. "Ben...found out that Han saw you. He won't stop talking about you. He can't understand why you won't se him."

I shake my head frantically, though she cannot see, panicking. "No. No way. I'm not the kind of person you want around your children, Leia."

Her way with words is evident as she understates my situation. "I know you're having some...problems. But if you could just stop by...."

"No. No...I couldn't. I can't ever come back–"

"Then why did you call me?"

I take a deep breath, agreeing silently that it seems like a plea for attention. I don't know what had possessed me to do it. It was just one of those times that if you didn't act you'd die of sheer anticipation. But there is more, and I know it. I say, before I fully realize what the words mean, "I...I just had to hear your voice." I blink, thrown by my own sincerity, and I feel a part of my soul momentarily warm, a part that had been dead since I left her.

After either a shocked or touched pause, she says, gently, "Do you need anything, Luke? Are you okay?"

I smile at the absurdity of the question, and perhaps a little at her concern. "No...I'm not okay. But I don't need anything."

"Promise me you'll think about visiting Ben. You don't have to promise to come, but please don't say no. Not until you've had time to think about it. It would mean so much to him."

I remember being ten, hating my uncle and dreaming of a perfect father that didn't exist. I would have given my soul to spend one hour with my father no matter if he was perfect or not, just because it was he. I could give Ben an hour, I could put my past aside for an hour. It wouldn't be easy, but it would mean a lot to him, and that I could relate to. Besides, my solitude wasn't getting any easier, and the move I'd made in calling Leia, I knew now, was maybe one small part of a bigger leap of faith I would have to make. I was to the point that I either had to make peace, or I might as well kill myself now, because that was where I was heading. I was deceptively easy, suddenly, to say yes after hiding so long. "I'll come," I say, still unsure, adding, "If you think it's a good idea."