Slight trigger warning: Padmé wonders if Luke is stalking her in a sexually-intentioned way. But it is quickly resolved. Just so you know!

OOO

"Are you stalking me?" Padmé spoke coldly. She stood rigidly at the edge of the room, as though prepped to take flight from it. Tonight, she wasn't dressed so fancifully as usual: a mere flight jacket and jeans, with her sandy hair plaited down her back. If I hadn't known her presence so well, I might not have known her for a moment, so nondescript did she look out of the usual grandeur of her attire.

"What? No. Of course not," I sputtered. Did she really think so much of herself? But—then again—she was a core world princess. Maybe she did have a few stalkers…

And then again, I suddenly realized how this situation looked from her point of view: she kept running (often alone) into a thirty-something man almost two decades her senior. Now, I'd invaded what seemed to be her sacred space in the palace.

That looked terrible. Creepy. Repulsive.

I said, "Stang. I'm sorry. This must feel really weird."

She didn't answer that one. "I am going to call security," she decided.

"Fine," I replied with a sigh, deflated. As feared, she clearly loathed me now. But Leia would get me out of any trouble—with the guards, anyway.

"For what it's worth," I ventured, "I didn't know you'd be here. I thought I could be alone. But then I found this room. It's quite remarkable," I added. "Who engineered—?"

The gruff reply? "I did." She said nothing further, setting off to go get the guards with their hallibards to cross over me and take me to the dungeons, no doubt.

Did the Alderaan palace have dungeons…?

"I did." I took in the space again, with its modified droids, improved lamp disks, and device that shifted the paper books around so that you could always easily access the one you wanted. Padmé. A brilliant engineer.

Did anyone know so? I'd sure never heard Han or Leia mention it. Clearly, she felt like keeping parts of herself from her parents—maybe from everyone.

Especially from me, now, her supposed sexually creepy stalker. Man, but I was really winning with my niece lately. I needed to start thinking of how my actions looked to her, with no knowledge of the fact that I was her blood relation.

OOO

An hour later, I was freed from any charges and explanations had been accepted, Padmé stiffly saying we must forget about it all, but for show Leia had me leaving the palace for a while. We spoke quietly, in hushed tones, at the palace edge, hoping no bugs could pick up our voices. The topic remained the same as earlier: measures for Padmé's protection.

I pled, "Leia, please be reasonable about this."

"I am being reasonable. Both Han and I are. You're the one who won't listen… "

No. In my opinion they were the ones who wouldn't listen. And their daughter could pay the price. But I wasn't Padmé's parent; I was just Whitesun to her, the lord she loathed. "Alright," I conceded. "I'll go. I can't fight you both on this. But please… think about what I said. Think about the options I offered. And be careful." On Coruscant.

"We will."

Which? They'd think about it or they'd be careful on Coruscant? It felt like too much to hope for both.

Tenuously, Leia ventured, "Luke… you know… I do love you, right?"

Love. An attachment. "Sure, I do."

Hurt flashed across my sister's face. "No need to say it back," she murmured.

"It's not like that." If she'd had any training, she would know.

Leia simply shrugged. But she did accept my hug. In her ear, I promised, "The Andors and I are looking around for potential bases and they're looking up a few allies. I should head back to Tatooine for a while after that. But I'm sure either I or they will let you know of the developments. Alright?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." I kissed her forehead. "I'll see you soon. Please think about what I said. We've got options here. Han can be involved, too."

In retrospect, I should have realized our silent listener. I should have known. Always, an eavesdropper heard the most unfortunate conversations—and the most unfortunate parts of conversations, so that things might be highly misconstrued from what they'd heard.

I should have known.

But at the time, I didn't. I was so focused on Leia that I didn't notice the other presence at all. And so I had no idea what was coming my way in time. None at all.

OOO

A few weeks later, once I finally got home from helping the Andors gather potential allies in secret and searching for a possible base, I checked my holomail. On doing so, my heart leapt. Immediately, I clicked on the 'mail from the hoped-for sender, then realized I shouldn't have done that. So I decided to leave it for a few days.

After weakening two hours later, I sat down before the computer and scanned the contents of the message. Having decided to reply to Biggs after all during a particularly perilous day in which K2-SO and I nearly got blasted by unfriendly smugglers occupying a remote planet, I'd written back and said he shouldn't worry about his former 'mail. We all did embarrassing stuff from time to time. Forget about it; I forgave him.

And Biggs wrote back with a hope and happiness that warmed me even as a twinge of guilt pierced me. Nothing about this was wrong, I reminded myself. Communicating with old friends… that was fine. Compassionate. Jedi-like.

Dear Luke, wrote Biggs.

Your understanding and the grace you extend me is more than I would have dreamed possible. Truly, you restore much of my lost faith in sentient nature. You always did. Thank you. That's all I'll say, and move on, so as to keep things from getting more awkward than they already were.

As you might have realized, I ended up not taking that promised leave to good old Tatooine after all, given everything related to Galen Erso's death. And I guess that's a bit of news: it looks like I might be promoted. It's all pretty hush-hush right now, so I won't tell you something for fear of embarrassing myself when it doesn't come to pass after all. But I hope I can tell you if it does happen.

Anyway, I'm hoping to take leave in a few months after things are more stable and, perhaps, my promotion in. (See how I'm trying to impress you? But I guess that's failing given my former conduct—which I did promise not to mention again in this. I just remember how you used to kind of hero-worship me and sometimes I wish you were still so impressed by me…)

Point being, maybe I'll see you then.

Regards,

Biggs

Maybe I'll see you then. No. That was no good. No good at all. Not because I necessarily minded seeing Biggs again, but because I needed to mind. I was a rebel, now, and he an Imperial. Such disparate dualities couldn't coexist for very long.

Galen Erso's assurances that the Death Star had remained unchanged gave much faith to the copy of the plans we now held, with its flaw in the reactor shaft that would implode the whole of the station. It seemed very much like Sidious, always so overconfident in all things. And why not? Why should the weapon be compromised in any way? The galaxy was his; the galaxy was Vader's; the galaxy was the Tarkins'.

All us others were mere… citizens, if that ever counted for much. And in my experience, it didn't. Who was there to represent us? No senate. Certainly few in the Imperial hierarchy. We were considered scum, the subservient of the Empire.

But soon… the Sith and the Imperials would learn differently. The strength of the fledgling resistance to the Empire would be revealed like a sword drawn from its scabbard, imploding the Death Star and lighting the fire of rebellion with it. And I couldn't be making nice with my Imperial enemies in the mix. Biggs was my enemy, and dangerous to me and to the rebellion for many reasons.

He couldn't be anything else but a somewhat friendly acquaintance.

I didn't reply to the 'mail. Instead, I got to work.

Ignite the spark. I thought. Light the fire. We now had a dozen allies. It was a small number, piddly, even, but it was a place to begin. And more would come in time. I believed that.

I had so much hope.

OOO

END OF PART I