CHAPTER 6:
Luke Skywalker walked into Kenobi's home, went straight to the bedroom and opened the window. Although the house was adequately sealed, a light dusting of sand covered the windowsill and side table. Tatooine nights could get cold—were usually cold—but the breeze flowing into the room felt good to him. He stood at the window, closed his eyes, and savored the wind's light touch. When Leia was staying with him, she preferred the window closed. But that was not surprising; she didn't grow up on this desolate planet and wasn't used to the crisp nights. Luke smiled at the thought of her. She was happy—he could feel the giddiness inside her through her fatigue—and Luke was delighted that she finally could find joy again. He had never seen her so carefree before. Of course, he met her after the destruction of Alderaan where she lost all of her family and friends, her whole world, and everything she knew. It made him feel good that she had not lost the capacity for elation.
But despite her happiness, despite their victory over Jabba the Hutt today, Luke felt a sense of sorrow. Was it the loss of Leia? With Han's return, her time will be occupied with him. No, that wasn't it. Luke's romantic feelings for her died long ago. Maybe it was never romantic love at all. He felt a deep connection with her. She was his confidant, his most trusted friend. His soul. But he did not have romantic feelings for her in the least. He could not explain his love for her, his connection. All that he knew was that it ran deep inside him.
And although Han's return would take up more of Leia's attention. Luke felt no jealousy in the least. He was as just as overjoyed over Han's return as Leia. He missed Solo as much as Leia did, and things did not feel right in his life without the Han in it. Over the last six months, the Jedi mourned the loss of his friend and blamed himself because it was his un-Jedi like impulsiveness to try to save the smuggler and Leia from a hazy fate that even Yoda could not predict that brought on Leia's and Han's dire fate and his need to be rescued by Leia and Chewie. Would Han have been frozen in carbonite had Luke not come? As many times he replayed the senario with different actions on his part, Luke had no answer to that question. Han and Leia endured Vader's torture to lure Luke to Cloud City, but it was unlikely they would have been killed if Luke did not come as he once thought. They were too valuable to the Dark Lord. And too valuable to Luke. Vader knew that. He could easily read Luke's emotions before Luke was trained by Yoda when the aspiring Jedi crossed paths with the Dark Lord over the three years before Hoth. And even after Yoda trained him, a rash and impetuous Luke had no control of his emotions when he battled Vader on Cloud City.
Did he now? Or would he reveal his weakness to his enemy as easily as he did on Cloud City?
The Jedi sat down on the bed. His attachment to Han and Leia could be used against him by Darth Vader or the Emperor. Vader had already exploited Luke's feelings for his friends once. Han used to tell Luke that attachments were a liability; caring required responsibility. Love made it easier for enemies to strike you. Attachments were not only dangerous for Jedi. Of course, it would be easy to force a Jedi to the Dark Side if a Sith Lord were to use a Jedi's attachments against him. Luke failed the test the first time; he couldn't fail the next time if his path crossed Vader's or the Emperor's. He had better control of his emotions for Leia and Han now. He was able to detach when he needed to. He proved that when he confronted Jabba. But could he pass if he were to battle Darth Vader again?
Luke looked down at his right hand where the wires and permametal bones in his prosthetic limb were exposed from being shot on Jabba's pleasure barge. He moved his fingers and opened and closed his fists as he watched the inner workings of his hand. He was fascinated and repulsed at the same time. No one had seemed to notice it at dinner, or if they did they said nothing. He expected Leia would have caught the "wound" on the back of his hand, but she was wrapped up in Han.
Skywalker went over to his belongings and pulled out his black leather gloves. He dropped the left one and pulled the right one over his prosthetic hand. He then lay down the bed and stared at his black-gloved hand. He open and closed his fist, turned his hand this way and that, thinking about the wires and permametal bones.
He's more machine now than man, twisted and evil.
Was Ben right when he spoke those words about Luke's father? The iniquitous Sith Lord, Darth Vader, his father. Not the brilliant pilot and great man Ben had first told him inside this very house. If it was true, Ben lied to him.
It cannot be true. Vader could not be his father. But as that thought came to him, the Jedi's stomach churned. He could deny it all he wanted, but he was certain Vader told him the truth: Luke Skywalker was the son of Darth Vader, the epitome of evil. He had Vader's blood running through him. Did that mean he was destined to become like his father?
Luke did believe, however, that his father was once the man whom Kenobi claimed him to be, a brilliant pilot, a great man, and Ben's friend. Luke could feel that much was true. Vader had to be good at one time in his life. Maybe his father was redeemable? The Jedi did not know.
Skywalker stared at the sand-smooth ceiling looking for images in the imperfections and dents as he tried to put his roots out of his mind. He would soon return to Dagobath, and Yoda would have the answers Luke needed. Luke closed his eyes and replayed the day's victories. He had the skills of a Jedi, but was he a Jedi? Skywalker did not know. He still had to finish his training with Yoda.
Luke pushed such thoughts away, and his mind traveled to seeing Han for the first time, pushed out the image of Leia as Jabba's slave, their victory over Jabba, and savored the meal he share with his friends. How his friends laughed and talked, ate and drank as if there was nothing wrong in the universe. Within moments, Luke fell fast asleep.
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Leia Organa fought against consciousness. She was warm and cozy lying on her side and entangled in the fluffy comforter in Han Solo's bed. She slept well, heavy, and through the entire night, something she had not done in years. Something she had not done since before Alderaan. It was not as if she had forgotten the destruction of Alderaan or the loss of her beloved father. That would always remain with her, and their memories still tugged at her heart daily. There was no getting back Alderaan, her father, or her old life. They had been taken away forever.
Leia had thought Han had been taken from her forever, but he was given back to her. He was with her now.
Leia rolled over onto her back and stretched her hand out next to her. That side of the bed was empty and cold. Her heart leapt into her throat and dropped into her stomach; Han was not there. Was this another cruel dream? Had she just had the most elaborately detailed and realistic nightmare she ever had? Or was it lasting effects of that purple fizzy drink that Jabba made his lackeys pour down her throat? Did she just hallucinate Jabba's palace, the battle, the chain digging into the Hutt's fat neck? Was she hallucinating now?
Leia sat up, grabbed the pillow next to hers, pressed it against her face, and inhaled. There was a hint of Han, but the scent of her shampoo overpowered his smell. She leaned against the bulkhead and brought her knees to her chest and her respiration began to speed up.
Slow breaths, the princess reminded herself, inhaling and exhaling deeply and as slow as possible.
Leia felt dizzy and disoriented. She wanted to find Chewie, to find comfort in his arms, but she could not move. She was frozen where she was. The door of Han's cabin was closed, increasing her anxiety. She felt trapped as if she were back in the cell on the Death Star. Maybe that was where she was, back on the Death Star being tortured by Darth Vader. Were the last three years and how many months just a method Vader used to torture her? Leia felt as if she were going crazy. With her hope seeping away, she felt disoriented and close to breaking. She closed her eyes as she fought to hold back her tears. She would not cry.
Then the door slid open, and Leia dared to open her large brown eyes. Han was standing in the doorway with a tray in his hands.
"Hey, Sweetheart," Han greeted her. Then he noticed the tears caught in her lashes. He crossed the room, placed the tray on the side table next to the bed, and sat down in front of her. "What's wrong?"
Unable to speak, Leia shook her head and gazed at him from behind the pillow that she still held to her face. Han scooted closer to her, ran his hand along her cheek, and pushed locks of her hair behind her ear.
"Come on, you can tell me."
You can tell Luke, is that who you can tell? Han's words while she lay paralyzed lying on the gritty floor enduring intense pain at Jabba's palace. What did he do after he said that, walk away?
"Leia…." Solo took her face into his hands. "Please."
His hands were warm against her chin, her cheeks. When he spoke those words when she was paralyzed and at Jabba's mercy, Han didn't touch her; he walked away. She lowered the pillow and put her hand over his to assure herself that he was more than a hallucination. She sighed. He was no hallucination; Han was here with her.
"Bad dream," she whispered.
"Alderaan?" Han leaned in and peered into her large brown eyes.
Leia nodded.
Come 'ere." Solo took her arms and gently pulled her towards him.
The princess walked on her knees across the bed, threw her arms around him when Han let go of her arms, and buried her head in his chest. He embraced her with one hand cradling the back of her head. No longer able to hold back, she allowed her tears to flow, soaking Han's shirt. He held her like this until she calmed down. When she finally was able to control her emotions, Leia slowly pulled back and kept her eyes averted as if she was ashamed.
"Sorry."
It may have been Han whom she lost control of her emotions. It wasn't the first time or the third or fourth—she had cried in front of him during their trip to Bespin—but it had been so long that Leia was not used to breaking down like this.
"No need to be sorry."
She slowly raised her eyes to him. "It wasn't Alderaan," she whispered.
Han cupped her chin and erased the traces of her tears on her cheeks with his thumb. "What was it?"
You can tell Luke, is that who you can tell?
Leia wanted to tell him; she didn't want him to walk away from her. Would the real Han walk away from her? He never had in the past, only when they were arguing, not when she was this upset. The princess inhaled. Although she it would be difficult and she did not want to burden Han to know he was the reason she was upset, she chose to tell him anyway. "I thought I was back on the Death Star, and the last three years, yesterday were just a way Vader was torturing me."
"Thought or dreamt?"
The princess's eyes shifted from his. "Thought." She shook her head. "I think it's just residuals from whatever Jabba made me drink." She expelled a breath. "When I woke up…you weren't here. I thought…"
Han pulled her back into his embrace, and rested his head on the top of hers. "I'm sorry. You looked so peaceful, and you were so deep asleep. I've never seen you sleep so deeply. I didn't want to wake you." He let her go, reached over to the tray, and grabbed one of the cups. "Here, I brought you some kaffe."
"Did Chewie make it?" Leia asked as she looked into the cup and wrinkled her nose.
"I made it."
"Good. Chewie makes the kaffe too weak and watery." She took a sip from the steaming cup.
Han chuckled. "I remember." He then twisted around and grabbed a bowl off of the tray. "I made you something to eat."
Leia smiled as she studied the muesli, her favorite thing to eat. Han scooped up a spoonful and slipped it into her mouth. She closed her eyes and savored the taste. She hadn't eaten muesli since before Cloud City, since before Han was taken from her.
When she opened her large brown eyes, the princess found Han smiling at her. He scooped some into his mouth before giving her another spoonful.
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Luke Skywalker walked into the Millennium Falcon's and tentatively stepped into cockpit donning his X-Wing pilot suit. Inside the cockpit Han Solo was prepping the ship for takeoff. The smuggler was worried that the sandstorm damaged the delicate workings of the temperamental freighter, and he were testing the systems. When they heard Luke come in, he turned to look at kid who was no longer a kid.
"Are you sure you don't want to ditch your X-wing and come with us?" Han asked.
"I can't. I have unfinished business to take care of."
Han waited for more of an explanation from Luke, but the Jedi did not elaborate.
"Shine it off," Han pushed.
Luke smiled a smile tinged with a touch of shame and adverted his secretive blue eyes. "I can't. But I'll meet up with you all at the rendezvous point."
Leia walked into the cockpit. Her face, arms, and clothes were smudge with grease, and a light layer of sand stuck to the grease. "I got most of the sand out of engine. Should run fine."
Han smiled at her. He could tell she rubbed her nose because the tip of it had a spot of grease. He left that spot alone and tried to remove a grease stain from her cheek. "Chewie and Lando still on top?"
"Yeah."
"What about the droids?"
"Threepio's a little frustrated—"
"A little?"
"Okay, a lot. I think I caught a few curse words come out of his mouth. The Falcon's being temperamental, but I think Artoo has it under control."
"That's reassuring," Han quipped.
Leia then noticed Luke in his orange jumpsuit and her face lost all its levity. Han noticed how her face fell when her large brown eyes fell upon Luke.
"We can't change your mind?"
"I'm sorry, Leia, but you know I have to do this." Luke raised his eyes to hers. "If I didn't have to I would come with you"
"Do you want us to go with you?" Han asked. "Darth Vader's still after you, and I don't think he'll stop until he finds you."
"Thanks," Luke smiled at Han. "But this is something I gotta do on my own."
Han put his hands on his hips, pressed his lips together, and nodded.
Leia stepped toward Luke and kissed his cheek. "Well, hurry. The Alliance should be assembled by now."
"I promise I'll make it back in time." Luke took her hand with his gloved one.
Leia looked down at their entwined hands. Her breath caught in her throat, and she paled.
Embrace your anger. Remember it. Use it. Darth Vader's words to her while she was lying on the floor of the palace at Jabba's mercy before the Dark Lord took her hand in his black gloved one.
You're strong. You've always been strong. Luke's words as she looked up to see Vader morphed into Luke, Luke's hand black-gloved Like Vader's.
The Jedi noticed her reaction and her fear ran through him as if it were a lost ghost walking through his body. It chilled him, and Luke had a flash of her vision. It caught him by surprised, and his own fear manifested in his chest, the fear of falling to the Dark Side and becoming like his father. Did Leia foresee the future? Would he succumb to the Emperor's desires?
The princess was intoxicated with the elixir Jabba the Hutt gave her when she had that vision. Perhaps it was just a hallucination. She told him that she hallucinated but didn't elaborate on what she saw. Perhaps her mind was making associations…but he wasn't wearing the glove until last night, long after her ordeal at Jabba's hands.
Luke had never given it much thought about how Leia sensed him when he called as he hung from the weather antenna under Cloud City. He had much bigger thoughts in his head, like Darth Vader being his father, his Jedi training, and the mistakes he made when he went after Han and Leia despite Yoda and Ben Kenobi's warnings.
Skywalker always had a special connection to the princess that was established almost instantly the he walked into her cell on the Death Star. He always chalked it up to their "adventure" on the monstrous space station as they escaped, the rescue Luke poorly planned rescue that Leia finished. That experience not only bonded him to Leia, but to Han too, but with Leia….How could she sense him calling to her?
Through the Force, of course. But was it just on Luke's part? Would he have been able to contact Han in the same manner? Or was she Force sensitive? Did she sense his relations to Darth Vader? Or was it only because of their unique connection that had grown deeper since then?
"I got shot when fighting off Jabba's thugs," Luke explained to push those thoughts out of his head. She just had an hallucination. "I thought I'd freak out people less if they couldn't see the wires and permametal bones in my prosthetic."
"Definitely," Han said just to say something. He noticed the odd behavior between the two and was starting to feel uncomfortable.
"Well, I should get going," Luke reluctantly announced. If he hadn't promised Yoda that he would return, he would have gladly ditched his X-Wing (thought the Alliance might have not been too happy about that) and traveled to the rendezvous point with his friends.
Luke put out his hand to Han, and Han took it and pulled him into an embrace, held him for a moment, and then pulled back without releasing Luke's hand. "Make sure you make it back in one piece. Contact us if you run into any trouble."
"I will." Luke let go of Han's hand.
Then the Jedi turned to Leia. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and leaning forward to match her petite height, he wrapped his around her waist. He pulled her close, and she closed her large brown eyes. This would be the first time they would be parted for a length of time. She was so used to having him with her, and she felt lost just thinking about his absence.
It pained Luke, too, to think of their separation, but he had to fulfill his promise to Yoda. Luke closed his large blue eyes and took in the feel of her, the comfort Leia provided for him. He did not know how long he would be gone, but he suspected longer than a few weeks. He might not even make it back to the Alliance as he promised Leia, but he couldn't tell her that.
Han looked on at the pair feeling uneasy. Solo had been gone a long time—which he still had trouble understanding—and Chewie told him that Luke and Leia had spent a lot of time together while he was gone when she wasn't fulfilling her duties to the Alliance, running smuggling jobs for the rebels with the Wookie, or hanging out with Chewie himself.
But Leia had left the Alliance for him. Was that out of guilt? Her sense of duty to her friends? She had a strong sense of loyalty.
Leia pulled back and Luke kissed her forehead. "Take care," he told her. "And take care of Han."
"I will," Leia answered in all seriousness though Luke was joking.
Han raised an eyebrow at Luke. "She needs more carin' for than me. If I remember right, Her Worshipfulness has a knack on getting herself into trouble."
"I do not, you nerf herder!"
"You need her," Luke softly spoke as he looked Han into Han's hazel eyes, "like she needs you."
"Yeah, yeah." Han waved his hand then maneuvered the conversation away from such seriousness. Don't you have somewhere to go?"
Luke laughed. "I'll see you soon. Tell Chewie and Lando bye for me."
"We will."
Luke walked backwards out of the cockpit, first taking in Han and then Leia as if it were the last time he would see them. He turned and went to collect Artoo for their journey to Dagobath.
Han and Leia remained silent in the cockpit. Han looked upon Leia while she stared at the cockpit doorway where Luke just left.
He frowned. "We should get goin' ourselves." He pulled out his comlink and called Lando and Chewie in.
"I do not understand why those computers must fight with each other constantly," Threepio complained as he entered the cockpit.
"You better not have upset them," Han gave the droid a meaningful look.
"I didn't, Captain Solo. I am a protocol droid and have been programmed with the utmost amount of patience."
Han and Leia exchanged looks. Threepio patient?
Chewbacca and Lando came in. "We've cleared most of the sand," Lando reported. "We should be good to go."
Chewie garfuawed.
Outside the windshield of the cockpit, Han watched Luke's X-Wing disturb the sand and lift off the ground. He then took his rightful place: his pilot's seat. Chewie squeezed past Lando and Leia and took up the co-pilot's seat. Leia programmed in the coordinates of the rendezvous point from the navigator's seat while Lando took the seat across from Leia and strapped himself in. Threepio stayed standing behind the seats.
"We're good to go."
"I can't wait to get back," Threepio's shrilly voice announced.
"There's nothin' wrong with the hyper drive, is there?" Han shot a look at Lando.
"It's running perfectly fine." Lando gave him a nervous smile.
Han glared at Lando for a moment more before turning his attention to the controls of the Falcon. The ship roared to life, lifted off the ground, and picked up speed as it headed towards open space. Han smiled. This was something he missed, something that gave him a sense of time past. It did feel like a long time since he flew her. He couldn't help but do some fancy flying though no one pursued them—much to Threepio's dismay.
Leia leaned forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. "If you're done having fun—"
"Yeah, yeah." Han straightened out the ship. "Ready for light speed, Chewie?"
Chewbacca roared.
"Okay, punch it."
Solo half expected the ship to whine and remain at sub-light speed, but the Millennium Falcon smoothly jumped forward, and soon the stars were streaking by, casting a blue hue on its occupants.