Mind Tricks
by Corellian Blue
(first published 2003, revised 2016, 2020)
Warnings: mental health issues
X
The tea had cooled in the mug. Leia winced at the bitter taste as she sipped from it, but it wasn't enough to distract her from the datapad. For the past hour, she had been sitting at the dejarik game table as she studied her notes, trying to make sense of what had happened to Han—what she had done to Han—earlier in the night.
She could understand how she had managed to cure his headache. Although inexperienced in the ways of the Force, it had been natural for her to want to relieve his pain. But it was mystifying as to what had cured his impotence.
It was more than mystifying. Much more. Her tears had been testimony to how she'd been affected by the love they had shared; it had overwhelmed her. Not only had she been sexually satisfied, making love with Han had provided her with an emotional fulfilment and release that she had not experienced for ten long months.
After they had made love, Han had hungrily eaten the food he had previously left untouched, and then they had made love again in their cabin. He had been like a new man—or the man she had known and loved on Bespin.
They had shared a water 'fresher after the lovemaking, before falling asleep wrapped around each other. Leia had slept soundly until Han's body heat had become too intense for her and she had slipped from his arms.
Awake, it had been difficult to calm her mind and return to sleep. The night had turned out so differently to what she had expected. She had to understand what had happened to him, if she had played any part. Hoping the answer might lie in the medical information she had compiled on the datapad, she had dressed in one of Han's shirt and gone out to sit in the main hold.
The more Leia read, the more engrossed she became. If Han had a chemical imbalance, then his dopamine and serotonin levels may have been affected. As his sexual response towards her had happened quickly, and only after she had entered his mind, Leia knew she had been responsible.
She wondered if she had transferred her own memories of making love with him and if that had finally sparked his desire. She was leaning towards this theory until she discovered that serotonin was concentrated in the hypothalamus, and the hypothalamus was the control centre for, amongst other things, the sex drive. If she had inadvertently helped increase his serotonin levels, perhaps she stimulated the hypothalamus and aroused him sexually. It was dangerously thrilling to imagine that she might be able to give him pleasure this way, and she eager to further explore her abilities.
Leia's musings came careening to an abrupt halt. She had been aware of the Force—burbling away in the background along with the Falcon's environmental systems, a constant flow of life—but had been startled from her study by a gap that had appeared in the Force. It reminded her of what she had experienced at the site of Vader's pyre.
She looked up from the datapad and came face-to-face with the same young man she had seen in the clearing and who had later appeared outside earlier in the evening.
The young man stood on the other side of the hold and he smiled at her as their eyes met. For a moment, Leia thought he was real—a living, breathing sentient—until she reminded herself that the young man had no corporeal substance, a flickering, glowing image. He was a vision, like the other times he had appeared. Leia wondered what link she had to him that compelled this vision to re-appear and haunt her.
The young man's gaze broke from hers, and he glanced around at the bulkheads and the tech station as he moved towards her, his face showing genuine interest and then his nose screwed up in obvious disgust at the state of the Falcon.
The vision was interacting with his surroundings. This was no Force-image from the past or future. This was a spirit.
The pulse throbbed in Leia's throat as the ghost came to a halt in front of the game table, gave her a nervous smile.
"You remind me of her," he said softly. "And not just physically. I should have realised it long ago. But perhaps it was just as well I didn't."
Leia swallowed.
This is Vader, she reasoned, trying to calm her racing heart and repress the urge to rush as far away as she could. Vader before he became Vader. And I remind him of my mother.
Even though her mother had died in childbirth, Leia had vague memories of her. She had never questioned how she managed to have images and feelings of a woman she never knew, a woman who had never held her. But Leia had been intrinsically connected to her mother. Here now was another link to that woman; she shared memories with this man.
Leia studied the apparition of the sharp-featured Jedi. Luke had told her about the visions he'd had of Obi-Wan Kenobi, so she wasn't that a Force-user as powerful as Vader would continue to live in the Force after his death and materialise in whatever guise he wished.
It was curious that he had chosen to appear as a young man. His intent was to appear less of a threat, to make things easier for her. And damn him if it wasn't working. Leia found herself thinking of him by his original name, not Darth Vader but the name Luke had told her about: Anakin Skywalker. Father…
"Leia?"
The sound of Han's voice momentarily startled her. Han was walking up the ring corridor towards her, naked, his hair sleep-tousled and awry. Out of the corner of her eye, Leia saw Anakin Skywalker's ghost shimmer, then disappear.
Han scuffed a hand through his hair. "What are you doin' out here?"
His mood had changed again. She could tell just by looking at him. If she had done something to help him, it wasn't permanent. Her anger towards Vader resurfaced, rumbling and boiling in her veins.
"I couldn't sleep," she explained, rising to meet him. "I didn't want to wake you. Thought I'd catch up on some work."
"Oh."
She stopped in front of him, raised her hand to his temple and pushed her fingers through his hair. "How's your head? Headache hasn't come back?"
His eyes sparked, as if she had confirmed something to him that he had been unsure about.
"I feel good."
Leia smiled at his reply, but only took it to mean the headache hadn't re-appeared.
"Why don't you go back to bed," she suggested. "I'll be there shortly." She wanted to finish her research and come up with a plan to about how to further help him. And if Vader materialised again, she intended finding out what he wanted and tell him a thing or two.
Han averted his eyes and mumbled, "Do you have the drofic?"
Leia removed her hand from his hair, trying to keep the delight from her face while at the same time hoping he would lift his gaze to hers. "They're in the pocket of the shirt I wore yesterday. I think I left it on your desk."
He nodded, then looked up at her from beneath his brows, the corner of his mouth twitching guiltily.
Leia took his hand in hers. "Go back to bed. I'll bring you some water."
He unsuccessfully tried to lift his mouth into a smile. "Thanks."
She kissed his cheek and let him go, taking her time to admire the departing view as he padded back down the corridor to their cabin. Relief and exhilaration hit her once he was out of sight. She hated seeing him so out of sorts with himself. With him back on the medication, it would at least provide him with some respite and hopefully make him receptive to other more permanent therapies.
When she brought him a mug of water, he was sitting on the edge of the bunk, staring at the desk. He wasn't holding the drofic packet, so she assumed he'd been hesitant about getting them from her shirt. He came out of his daze as she entered the cabin. Without saying a word, she retrieved the medication from her shirt, handed him a capsule and the mug. He shut his eyes, obediently swallowed the drug and the water and with eyes closed, sat there and waited. Leia took the mug from him and set it on the desk, silently waiting with him.
A few minutes later, Han opened his eyes. The change in him was not as palpable as she'd previously noticed, and she assumed the drug hadn't quite kicked in yet. His lopsided grin wasn't working properly either, but he tried it anyway.
"Did we make love last night?" Han softly asked her.
To his surprise, Leia leaned down and kissed him gently on the mouth. She pulled back, kissed the tip of his nose and smiled.
"You bet we did," she replied. "Twice."
His grin wavered. "And…?"
"And it was fantastic," she assured him. "And you weren't even on the medication."
A trace of discomfort crossed his face, but the long-forgotten Solo confidence surfaced. "Well, what did you expect?"
Leia fondly laughed. "From you, Sweetheart, nothing less."
Chuckling with her, Han placed his palm on the side of her face and drew her down to briefly kiss her again. She touched his hair as they parted, realised she would rather cuddle up with him and enjoy his mood then continue studying her datapad. And receiving late night visits from ghosts.
"Why don't you lay back and get some rest," she told him, reinforcing her suggestion with subtle encouragement through the Force. She prodded the idea to him that he was tired. "I'll pack up and be back in a moment."
Han yawned, lifting his head up so the underside of his chin was visible. The moment she saw the flaking patch of synthflesh, Leia knew how his injury had been caused. Her previous vision was correct. Han had burnt himself on the muzzle of his blaster. He'd been trying to kill himself.
If she hadn't been researching psychological disorders, she might have reacted the way she had previously: with revulsion and denial. She now knew that some sufferers of post-traumatic stress resorted to suicide; attempting to kill himself though horrific was, sadly, not unusual.
Leia pieced together the images and feelings from the different visions she'd experienced and worked out what had happened. Han had gone to the clearing to see the remains of Vader. His anger had tripped off a barrage of blaster fire towards the pyre, then he'd turned the weapon back on himself. The heat from the muzzle had burnt his skin, but that was extent of injury.
Leia wanted to know why he hadn't succeeded. He'd pulled the trigger—she'd seen that much through the Force. Something had stopped him. Or saved him.
Her need to wrap him in her embrace became imperative, to hold him and protect him, to right the wrongs of the past. At the same time, spikes of black hatred pierced her heart. Hatred towards the being who had driven Han to despair.
Vader. My father.
Han stretched out on the bunk, propping his head back on this on the pillows as if he didn't have a care in the galaxy. The obvious change in his demeanour quelled the hatred boiling within Leia. The drofic was working.
More request than instruction, Han told her, "Don't be long, Princess."
Leia kissed his cheek and promised, "I won't."