Note: Again some death-wish warnings.

OOO

Lord Vader –

I write this to formally tender my resignation as your Admiral and as a member of the Imperial fleet. Unfortunately, due to personal circumstances, I find myself no longer able to serve.

Thank you for the opportunity.

Sincerely,

Biggs Darklighter

OOO

Biggs never pushed me. But I knew he, in fact, disagreed with me: he still believed in hope. I repeatedly told him hope was a lie, whenever I saw that, Do you really want to stay here and not rebel anymore when the Death Star can be destroyed and we can get revenge on those bastards and witches? look in his eyes.

"We've got no money, Biggs. We've got a few pathetic, beat-up X-wings and everyone terrified to participate—when they already were—against a kriffing Empire with a trillion ships and brainwashed citizens the planets over. Let it go. It's done. It's over," I hurled at him one evening at dinner about a month after the Stone Needle.

He pushed the food around on his plate for a few minutes. Then, quietly, he said, "Got it."

"Stang," I uttered, raking my hands over my face. I'd been so temperamental lately. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

He took my hand. "I know you didn't. I'll stop."

"Thank you," I whispered.

He stroked my cheek. "Don't worry, baby. I'm not mad. I'll even show you how not mad I am after dinner."

I blushed. "Promise?"

"Promise."
Weirdly enough, few on Tatooine had so much as blinked an eye at Biggs and me. For all the fears he'd once harbored and all the knowledge that acknowledgement of my sexuality might bring down a heavy toll on my head… virtually nothing happened. In fact, the first comment we even got was four weeks in. Biggs and I came to Anchorhead to get some new power convertors, and we held hands. Old Jira, who sold cut-rate meat we all knew was Bantha but pretended to believe was actually fine nerf, said, "Bout time!" and a chorus of good-natured chuckles and winks went our way. Biggs had shrugged at me lightly. I'd shrugged back, feeling better than I had in weeks for that one moment.

Then we'd gone on through our business, holding hands throughout. And we were pretty much accepted after that.

It was wonderful. I knew people always talked about how great being in a relationship was, but I'd always figured they had been captivated by the brain chemistry or something. But no. It was sweet. Beyond sweet. Biggs's love was a balm to my sundered heart. While I was not okay, and knew I never would be "okay," it was still wonderful to be cherished—physically, mentally, and emotionally. I felt complete in a way I never had before. But not even that was as sweet as getting to cherish Biggs back, finally getting to let loose all the love I'd held within my heart for him for so long. Tell him how proud I was of him for turning away from the darkness of the Empire. Live entirely in the moment with him, unthinking of yesterday or tomorrow or anything.

Mostly. But Mustafar still haunted my nightmares. Accusing Padmés—Amidala and Solo alike—came into my dreams and said that I could have saved them, I should have saved them, that it was all my fault… But Biggs's arms were there to comfort me—and his lips. I was not whole. I would never be whole. But neither was I entirely broken anymore, either.

Then, one night, about two months after Mustafar, someone came to the door. I sucked in a breath on seeing him—because I hardly recognized him. Shock pummeled me. It was like all the oxygen had been stolen from the air for a moment.

Sure, throughout six months of us attempting rebellion and him pushing against us, Han had aged. Such could only be expected under such stress. But the man I saw… he seemed like a ghost. Han's hair, formerly almost completely brown with sparse threads of snowy hairs, had gone entirely white. The fine lines around his mouth and eyes had turned to veritable wrinkles. And he no longer stood tall, but slightly stooped.

His pride had been extinguished.

I managed to find only one word: "Han…"

"Luke."

The Wookie appeared behind him then, looking less worse for the wear, but still a bit older than I remembered. Chewbacca. He must have left his family on Kashyyk.

Two guesses why.

"Hey, Chewie," I managed.

The Wookie gave me a large, wooly hug. I buried my face in his fur, hoping to stave off the tears rising up inside me. Hoping to at least hide them.

Later, Han and I sat in what currently qualified as the living room. Biggs had been redecorating, and so the space currently housed only one pathetic chair and had a huge tarp over half the space.

Han ventured, "So—you like guys?"

"Uhm… yes."

"Never liked me, right?"

What did admitting these things matter anymore? "I did think you were cute. But it was clear Leia had laid her claim. Soon enough, I was content being friends with you."

This last made his attempt at one of his old cocky smiles fall flat. "Luke… I never shoulda said what I did. That's what I came to say—I never shoulda said it… or hit you, or…"

"You were right about everything. I failed. I failed Padmé, and all of you." Yoda. Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon. Ahsoka. Mother… I'd failed them all.

But the old man simply shook his head. "Nah, you didn't. You did more than any one man ever coulda done. And I forgot it. That you are a man. Even you couldn't save the whole galaxy before breakfast, kid."

"I made you a promise to protect them. And I didn't keep it."

"You tried to keep it. An' that's all… that's all I ever coulda asked, Luke. All… all Leia… or Cess ever coulda—" His voice broke.

I'd been wanting to ask, but now I had my answer. "She's no better, is she?"

"We tried everythin'. Nothin' helped. Most of it… just made her go into fits for days. She doesn't let anybody except droids touch her. Screams in her sleep all night long. Doesn't know me, or Leia. But it's the worst when she gets peaceful, cause then she stares right past yah, and yah've got no idea what she's seein', but yah know it ain't you. Had to put her in another room, cause she tried to throw herself off the other's balcony one night…" He went on, every bit as broken as his daughter. Maybe more. She didn't understand that she'd gone mad, whereas those of us remaining had to cope with the reality.

Or not cope.

Because then the ultimate blow was lowered. "Leia and I divorced, Luke."

It was like I hadn't spoken for hours. Days. My voice was hoarse, like I'd not used it for ages. "What?"

"You'll see it in the HoloNet tomorrow, or the day after. Soon enough. After Cess—and the baby went—there was just… nothin' left. And I couldn't stay. Not my baby. My baby girl…"

Han. Leia. Divorced. No longer together. It was a blow, but acted merely as one more to the now-numb body. So then—why? Why was Han here? Really just to apologize to me—?

"Vader," I realized.

Han's gaze flared with fire.

"You're going to try and kill him. Aren't you? That's why you're really here. You're saying goodbye." Like I did to you before I almost jumped.

Han said nothing.

Then, "He put her in her mind, Luke, and locked her there forever. My girl. His granddaughter. Cause of a name. I read your letter." I'd written a letter on flimsiplast explaining all the details of what Biggs and I together had learned, then sent it via Andor. "If he had any mercy, he woulda killed her right off."

"You can't kill him, Han," I told him. "You'll fail. And then everyone will pay the price."

"I hope they do. I hope the Death Star does take 'em. It'll be quick, and over for all've us. It'd be better if we were all dead."

I felt the cool wind of the Stone Needle. Saw the long drop below. Experienced the dizzying sensation of heady need to find oblivion, and find it fast.

And I knew what I must do. "You aren't going to kill him, Han."

"Try an' stop me."

"I am going to kill him," I said. "I'm going to go and kill what took over my father. For Padmé—both of them. And for Leia. And for the baby."

And then, it would be done.

OOO

"Let me come with you," said Biggs. This was after a soft conversation, one without accusation. One in which he took one look at me and said simply, "You're going to kill your father, aren't you?" and I'd said, "Yes."

"You can't," I replied. "This… is my task. It's what Yoda and Obi-Wan wanted. I need to be the one to go, alone. You can't come on this, Biggs. It's my path to follow alone."

My love said nothing after that. He merely kissed me, intensely but tenderly, then went back in the house. The suns were setting. Han had allowed me the right, so long as I promised to let him know once the job was done.

Han was headed to Jabba. Right back where he began. Apparently he planned to get a job smuggling again. He hadn't said so, but I knew he could never face returning to Alderaan. He couldn't face anything except returning to the life he'd once known, now that this life had crumbled to dust and ashes. So he went to Jabba.

Whereas I was going to Daiyu.

OOO

Only one chapter left! What are your thoughts?