Author's Note: I was going to save this chapter for a few days, but everyone seems panicked about what's going to happen next. So here's the next one. Oh, and by the way, there's still a little more after this, too.

Chapter 23

Spice, plus the little alcohol left in my system after my nausea spell, plus most of the rest of the pain killers...

And I can hardly stay awake anymore.

I lay on the couch, more relaxed than I've ever been in my life, wondering if I should try to swallow the rest of the pills, just to be safe. If I wake up again, I'll have let another chance pass me by, and I'll never forgive myself.

No. It will be fine. I don't want to have to reach for them. I can hardly move now, anyway–too weak. To beautifully weak. Like I'm about to sleep better than I ever have in my life. I guess I am.

And then it starts. It always does, this time and the other three times I've tried to overdose. I get scared. When I fall asleep, I think, I'm not going to wake up again. Never again. I will be lost to darkness and unconsciousness for who knows how long? It seems that Obi-Wan was granted some sort of spiritual eternal life, but what am I to expect?

Peace, I remind myself. No more worry, or pain, or guilt, or memories. It will be gone. I'll be finished.

But my eyes are wide open, staring at the disconnected comm unit. No, I insist to myself. You are not calling meddcenter. You're really doing it this time.

One time a medd told me that I didn't really want to die. If I did, I would have done it a long time ago, and not been so hesitant in my methods. I would have jumped off a building, or put a blaster in my mouth. But overdosing gives me the opportunity I need to change my mind.

If I were feeling stronger, I would laugh. That's ridicules. This is what I have wanted for a long time. The only reason I couldn't do it is that I've somehow lost all of my courage. But today I'll keep my resolve.

The darkness starts to take me, the familiar black warmth of drug-induced unconsciousness. I sigh gently, welcoming it, trying to pretend as if I'm just falling asleep. I close my eyes and shift a little on the couch, not because being comfortable will help, but because I want this to be as easy and gentle as possible, the opposite of my life.

But it hasn't been all bad, has it? Memories of the Revolution come to me, memories of good times, mostly with Han and Leia. I remember the celebration after the battle of Yavin, the night I found Leia upset over the baby she didn't tell me about until later. It was the first time I got drunk–I was so sick–and I finally feel asleep curled up in the booth at the holochess table on the Falcon. Han and Chewie found me there and carried me to a bunk, and I woke up still sick and very confused in the morning. I think it was then that I realized that Han had some natural tendency to take care of me. When he shot the TIE fighter off my back at the first Death Star, it wasn't because of a sense of duty, or because of loyalty. It was because I was a kid who he just needed to look out for somehow. He put me to bed that night, and made me breakfast in the morning. I loved him as much as I ever loved Leia, though it was different, of course. And look at how we treated each other tonight. What happened to us?

And now I'm going to die with a cut on my lip from his fist. And he's going to hear about my death with a black eye of my own doing. I force my eyes open.

I can't die with us hating each other like this. I said goodbye to Leia. Maybe I should apologize to Han.

I drag myself off of the couch, feeling like I'm led moving through water. I sit on the floor before the comm and reconnect the wires. I can hardly reach the controls from the floor, but I know I can't stand. I barely manage to punch in Han and Leia's signal, but it happens at long last. I slump against the wall and wait for an answer, praying it is Han who picks up.

Finally, a groggy and disgruntled deep voice answers, "What?"

"It's Luke," I reply with some effort. Stay awake, I order myself. Just a little while longer. "I'm sorry to wake you up...I just needed to talk to you."

He sighs tiredly. "Okay. About tonight? Kid, I didn't mean to get so outta hand–"

"It doesn't matter now," I say impatiently. He doesn't know how urgent this situation is. I can't waste any time. "Han..." I want to tell him what he's meant to me, but the words don't come. I think of the time he put me to bed, and when he took care of me all night on Hoth after the Wampa attack, and last month when he stayed over all night, which does seem suspiciously as if he had been keeping an eye on me out of concern. If only I could have him by my side, watching over me now. I ask him on a whim, because I know that otherwise when we end the transmission, it will be silent and lonely until my time comes, and I don't want that. "Will you come over? Please?"

"What–right now?"

"Yeah."

"Why? You okay?"

If I tell him what I've done, it will scare him, and he'll come running. "Because I don't want to die alone."

Shocked silence, then an urgent, "What'd you do, Luke?"

"I..." I laugh helplessly. "I took these painkillers...a lot of them...with some spice and alcohol."

I hear rustling on the other end. He's getting dressed and he sounds terrified. "How much is a lot? Keep talking, kid."

"Um...I dunno. Almost half one of those regular-sized bottles."

"And how much do you weigh?"

I hesitate.

"Luke! Talk so you can stay awake while I'm on my way over there!"

"I was thinking! Around fifty kilos, I think. Maybe a little more."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

"Fuck. I don't know how you didn't drop dead instantly." Silence. Then, I hear a click and I assume he's switching the signal to a portable comm. "Still there?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"Keep talking so I know you're awake."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Anything!"

"Han, calm down. It's okay. This is what I want. I just don't want to be alone."

"I know, I know."

I blink my eyes open yet again as a thought occurs to me. "Did you call meddcenter? Because if you did I swear I'll jump out of my window right now."

"Kid, I've been on the comm with you the whole time. How could I of called meddcenter? Don't worry–I'm coming over alone." I hear the repulser lifts and engine of that black speeder engaged, and Han coaxes me again to keep talking. But the darkness begins to take me, and I lose the sound of his voice shouting my name.

I'm reawoken by a loud crash after what must have only been a few minutes. I can barely open my eyes, but I finally figure out that the crash was the sound of Han breaking my door down. He rushes to my side, calling my name. I whisper his in return. "Dammit, Luke," he says gently. "When you stopped talking, I thought..."

"I'm still here," I whisper. "Barely."

He takes me in his arms–he seems to have no trouble carrying me at all, but then, I must weigh half of what he does. He lays me on the couch and kneels at my side, shaking his head. "Why'd you do it? It's not because of today–"

"No. Nothing like that, nothing to do with you. It's just...everything."

No. I should tell him the truth.

"All right. It's mostly Leia. It is Leia. You saw me kiss her, Han. I don't deserve to live. Feelings like this aren't right..."

A bemused expression appears on his face. "You're killing yourself because you're still in love with Leia? Luke, I knew that all along. Anyone who saw you two together would be able to tell."

I furrow my brow. "And...you were all right with me being around?"

He shakes his head again. "You don't get it. Kid, me and Leia are getting a divorce."

My eyes open wider in panic and surprise. "Why?"

He shrugs helplessly. "The official reason is 'cause we fight all the time. Which we do, but if that was all it was, we could still make it work."

"Then what's the real reason?"

He says it as if it's obvious. "You."

Great. One more thing. "Me?"

"Yeah. She never talks about it, but I know where her heart is. Never left you."

I swoon for a moment, nearly losing my fragile grip on consciousness, but I wake up again when Han shouts my name. Forcing my eyes open again, I ask, "And your baby?"

Another shrug. "Last stitch to save the marriage," he says as if it's a question. "We're glad we're having a kid...it's just the still being married part we're having trouble with."

"This is all my fault..."

"No, it's not. More'n half the things you blame yourself for had nothing to do with you. We filed way before I found you that night because we weren't happy. It's just not official yet."

I sigh tiredly, fighting to keep my eyes open. "Han, I'm dying. Give it a rest. What does this matter? Why are you telling me all this?"

"'Cause you're not gonna die."

Fuck. "What'd you do?"

"Called meddcenter."

"But you were on the comm with me the whole time–"

"Ever heard of an emergency text-based comm?"

"But you promised! I trusted you."

"You really think I'm gonna keep a promise to watch my little brother die and not do anything about it? Don't you know what you mean to me?"

Of course I do. So maybe I should say so. I might not get another chance. "You love me," I state, bemused. "I'll never understand this, first Vader, then Leia, now you. How can all of you love me after what I've done?"

He shrugs. "Love's not like that, Luke. It's deeper'n that. It doesn't just go away. And I wouldn't want it to."

"I love you, too," I whisper, taking his hand and holding it as I slip in and out of consciousness.

I'm awake enough to notice when the medds arrive and put me on a stretcher. Han's by my side in the skiff on the way over.

And then it's all darkness.