One more chapter after this one. Enjoy.

I'm a little surprised to wake up at all.

As I return to consciousness, I'm increasingly aware of the fact that I'm in a bed at MedCenter. It's familiar to me, the sounds of medds and meddroids hurrying around, calls coming over the announcer comm, the clicking of machines and hum of bacta tanks. I open my eyes to find everything stark and white, and the fact I'm in a private room this time means they expect me to be here for awhile.

I know better than to sit up. That's something you learn once, the hard way, and never try again–do not sit up upon waking after a drug overdose, because your head will pound so badly that you'll wish you were dead instead. Besides, the achiness throughout the rest of my body is more than enough.

Eyes wide, trying to relax on my pillow because it will make things easier in the long run, I look around. I'm hooked up to more than one machine, a tiny heart rate monitor on my left wrist beeping as my veins pulse, a tube connecting my arm to an IV, probably to keep me hydrated and to attempt to get my weight up, the latter of which never works. I sigh, wondering how long I'll be here and what I'm supposed to do now. My talk with Han is still fresh in my mind, a little hazy from the drugs but there, and it has changed everything for me. It hasn't given me a single answer, and instead has raised more questions...but what he said, about love, maybe that could give me a little hope.

I sigh again, straining my ears to hear the sound of a business-like female voice speaking with a low and concerned male voice outside my room. I can't make out any of it, but the man sounds like Han...and feels like Han, too. He's watching out for me, I think with a small smile.

The door opens, and in walks a medd aid who I remember from the other times I've been here, a heavy human woman in her late forties, outspoken and nosey, I remember with annoyance. "Good to see you again, Mister Skywalker," she says with ironic cheerfulness. I can see Han over her shoulder looking very relieved to see me awake.

I don't answer the medd. Instead, I ask, "How long was I out?"

Looking at a data pad, she answers, "Oh, about seventeen hours, this time. That's a record for you–you're usually out the door as soon as you're anywhere near stabilized. You really outdid yourself this time, though. There was about half an hour there that we didn't think you'd make it."

Though that was what I had planned on, the thought frightens me, partly out of fear for my own well-being, partly because I put Han through that. "Am I going to be okay?"

"You'll live. I'd really start worrying about what this is doing to your body, though. We can only regenerate your liver so far." She shakes her head. "I really think we should start turning you down when you come here because of drugs. Enough is enough." She sets a datapad on my bedside table. "Sign it this time, Mister Skywalker. Do yourself a favor."

I shake my head, jaw set in defiance. "No. No, I'm not going."

She sighs in resignation. "Okay. But just in case you change your mind..."

She leaves, and Han meets my eyes from the doorway. He looks tired and messy, and he's probably been up all night and all day. He closes the door behind himself and sits in a chair by my bedside. I reach hesitantly for his hand, which he gives. "I'm glad you're here," I say softly after a long moment.

He half smiles that crooked grin and says, "They couldn't keep me away, junior."

I manage a smile in return.

"You had me scared there, for awhile. It took them a long time to stabilize you and even after that, they didn't know if you'd wake up...but you did. How you feel?"

"You don't want to know." I see the fatigue in his eyes and feel responsible, so I say, "Gods, Han...I'm sorry."

"Yeah...so'm I."

I blink. "For what?"

He shrugs. "Everything."

"None of this is your fault...that's why I can talk to you." Easier than I have ever been able to talk to anybody. Maybe if I had talked to Han back when I learned everything, maybe I could have put it into perspective, dealt with it better. I'm not sure how much better he could have made things, but anything would be better than what I've become. I purposely overdosed on painkillers, spice and alcohol, for hell's sake–I, Luke Skywalker, pure angelic farmboy turned Jedi, a boy who once believed fairy tales as fact and thought that love could conquer all. But maybe it could still conquer some things. Like this old grudge, for example. "Han...I don't want there to be any hard feelings between us anymore."

"Me, neither."

It's like a weight has been lifted off my chest. "Then...I guess there aren't."

"'Course not." A brilliant smile spreads on his face, and I ask with a confused look to explain it. "I'm a father," he announces.

The baby? Leia... Something in me brightens, and I say, "When?"

"This morning. She went into labor last night while I was at your place, and I didn't even tell her what was going on. I think she knew somehow. Between the two of you, I was up all night." He doesn't sound bothered by it at all.

"How are they," I ask, letting myself feel concern and love for them, because what else do I have, now? "Leia and the baby?"

"Fine." His smile grows once more, and I think I might be seeing a younger Han, a Han who was never touched by the hardships of the Galaxy. "Damn, kid–why didn't you tell me it felt like this?"

I smile weakly in return, but had I the energy it would be the sort of bright smile I only get when thinking of Ben and Anikin. "Fatherhood? Isn't it incredible?"

He nods, still smiling boyishly as Han could.

I remember Ben's birth, how scared and awed I was, how I thought I might die of nervousness. But it was all worth it when I held him in my arms for the first time and looked into his dark eyes. I showed him off to Han soon afterwards. "I'm a father, Han," I'd said proudly, my voice trembling with emotions unfathomable to an eighteen-year-old farmboy. "This is Ben Skywalker."

"What's her name?" I ask, surprised at my own excitement.

"Mylia Solo," Han replies, obviously as proud as can be. "She's gorgeous."

"And you and Leia," I begin carefully, not sure if I should be asking. "Are you okay?"

He hesitates, looking deep into my eyes with that soft look in his, his smile fading. "Yeah. I mean, I think I'll always love her, you know? And I'm gonna be around for the baby–we're still raising her together. And you and Leia and the kids are the only family I got besides Chewie's anyway, so...me and her will always be friends, I think."

It wasn't the answer I was hoping for. I want Han to tell me that my existence has not hurt his life in any way, that he and Leia will live happily ever after. It would give me stability, something to hold onto if I am to be a part of this family. I used to want Han to suffer for hurting me, but he and Leia suffering though a divorce no longer seems fitting. Partly because Han seems to think it will make a difference in my life. I shake my head. "Han, don't do this because of me. Leia and I can't be together–"

"Why not?" he asks evenly.

I can't believe what I'm hearing. I almost sit up, then I remember my condition. "You know why not!"

"Yeah...but think about it. No one knows, and it's nothing that hasn't happened before–I mean, you have kids together. And it'll make you both happy, and then you can be with her and the boys. Who would you be hurting?"

I open my mouth to protest.

Han cuts me off. "Yeah, okay. Me. A little. But I'll deal with it, 'cause we're broke up no matter what. Fate played a fucking horrible trick on you both, and I say, don't let it mess with you anymore. You two were perfect together–there's no reason you shouldn't be again."

Again, I have to resist the urge to sit up. "There is a very good reason! Han, even if no one else knew, even if we weren't hurting anyone...she and I would still know. I couldn't live like that. Part of me wants to, and it probably always will...but I can't. I just can't."

My eyes grow wider with wonder when I realize what I just said. I was handed Leia, a life spent in love and happiness with her and our children, on a silver platter, and I turned it down. I passed the test. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, and shut my eyes in relief. Maybe I'm not sick. "I just can't," I repeat, just to hear myself say it.

He nods, clearly a bit relieved. "That's up to you–both of you. But I'll always be here for you two no matter what. You got that, kid? I'm not gonna judge you."

I smile and squeeze his hand. "Thank you. You don't know what it's like to be alone with all of these thoughts and feelings..."

"No, but I see what it does to you. And I can see the kid I used to know in your eyes, even when you're high or depressed. He's still there, and you can get him back. Me and Leia are gonna help you."

"What if I don't want him back?" I growl.

He raises an eyebrow. "You're just scared, Luke. You got nothing to be scared of."

"Anikin..."

"Anikin's fine. He's the last thing you gotta be scared of."

I like to hear that. I think I need it drummed into my head again and again until I think it's okay to believe it–because it's what I want to believe with all my heart. But what about Anikin... "Han–do the boys know about me? Why I'm here?"

He nods. "Yeah. I sat them down today and explained the whole thing."

I panic. "What'd you say!"

"That you were really sick 'cause of spice and it might take you awhile to get better."

I nod. That's not so bad. After all, he's a good father, contrary to all predictions I would have made. And it makes things easier to be open about it. "And what did they think?"

"They just want you to get better. We all do."

My eyes drift to the datapad. I must be out of my mind with withdrawal, because I actually consider it. If I get better, I can spend time with my boys, and try to work things out with Leia, and be the friend Han wants me to be, the friend he deserves. It's what I've wanted to want all along, but I didn't dare. I was afraid of getting hurt and hurting them. I couldn't do it.

No. I shake my head. I still can't. I can't... I want spice so badly, to chase away the fear, but there's no way I'm getting it here, so I instead I take deep breaths and stick it out. There's no other choice.

But I think of Anikin's blue eyes, staring up at me in misdirected wonder and admiration. I don't want it to be misdirected...

"Han, could you hand me that datapad? The one on the table?"

He picks it up and looks at it. "What is it?"

"A form I have to sign to consent to going into rehab. Every time I'm in here, they ask me to sign it and I always say no."

His eyes light up hopefully, but the rest of his face shows that he's still wary. "Are you gonna, this time?"

I take a deep breath, and nod.