Remain in Light – Chapter 4: Leia by Erin Darroch

Chapter 4: Leia

Part 1: Leia and Maz
"You know the truth, Leia," said Maz Kanata conversationally, peering up at Leia Organa from her seat near the vacant control station. "I can see it in your eyes."

With some consternation, Leia glanced down at the diminutive orange-skinned creature who had turned up in the wake of Han and Finn's departure. The remark came out of nowhere and was apropos of nothing. It was typical of Maz, but it deepened Leia's frown. Ignoring the comment, she watched the telemetry display in front of her, trying to focus on the task at hand. Around them, the Resistance base buzzed with the voices and movements of strategists, aides, technicians and pilots. They were in the process of packing up the base for their next move, engaged in the endless work of thwarting the machinations of the First Order. Now was not the time for a chat. Maz seemed to take the hint, and remained silent for the moment.

Maz was only passing through. She'd made it clear on arrival that she was only using the Resistance base as a brief stopping place to regroup with some of her core people, many of whom were also linked to the movement. After the destruction of her castle on Takodana, her home for the past one-hundred years, Maz was on the move again.

Leia never knew what to make of Maz. She was an old friend of Han's and, by extension, an old friend of Leia's. She was an inveterate pirate, ancient by any measure, and strong in the ways of the Force. She was also a steadfast ally in the work of the Resistance against the burgeoning threat of the First Order, and Leia liked her. None of that meant that Leia understood her, though. On the contrary, Kanata's commentary was often obscure to the point of being opaque.

In this case, however, Leia could guess at the "truth" that Maz was referring to, and she didn't want to discuss it. She could not discuss it. She was using all of her considerable powers of self-control to keep her thoughts from straying to the edge of that abyss. The unspeakable act that had ended Han's life was a horror that she could not hold in her mind for even an instant without feeling violently ill. In the short time that had passed since that devastating moment, she'd forced her psyche into lockdown, ruthlessly crushing every thought that strayed in that direction. She would not think of it, let alone speak of it. And least of all with Maz, who maintained a gentle philosophical detachment from the vagaries of human lives, creatures whose entire life spans were a mere fraction of her own one thousand years.

As long as Leia didn't think of what had happened, she could keep her bitter memories at bay, and get on with the deadly business of destroying Snoke. It was the only thing that mattered to her now, the only thing that kept her on her feet. And when that job was done, Leia promised herself, she would grieve. She would never stop grieving. Perhaps she would take a ship to a planet beyond the Outer Rim, find a cave by a sea and wait out the rest of her days in meditation on the lonely ruin that was her life. But until that time, her place was here, doing the only thing she knew how to do, the only thing still in her power.

"I have something important to tell you," Maz said suddenly. "It cannot wait."

At the looming possibility of an unwanted conversation with Maz, Leia's control wavered. The black hole at her centre threatened to swallow everything, to absorb the last ragged particles of her soul. She looked away from the telemetry display to fix Maz with a fathomless, pleading gaze.

Please.

The little alien blinked at her. Her eyes were every bit as disconcerting as her conversational skills, Leia thought. Many times in the past, in meetings between herself and Han where Maz had been present, Leia had been acutely aware of the woman's goggle-eyed gaze on them. Her wise eyes always roamed ceaselessly back and forth between them, as if absorbed in a fascinating and entertaining story that only she could read. Now, as Leia watched, Maz reached up and twisted her goggles, rotating the lenses and squinting. She appeared to be waiting for an invitation to continue. She wasn't going to get one.

"Maz," Leia said, in as steady a tone as she could muster, "I cannot discuss it. Not now."

"Oh, that," Maz said, gesturing dismissively with a knowing smile. "I think that will resolve itself in due course. It is an opportunity for you, and I do not wish to interfere with it. And perhaps it is not my place, either, to tell you what I am going to tell you. I may be rebuked for it one day," she mused, her eyes shifting to a faraway gaze. After a moment, she looked at Leia again and gave a curt nod. "But that is not now, and Han is not here."

Leia blanched, but Maz continued without pause. "Soon, I will be departing from this sector, and I do not plan to return, not for some time. I cannot always understand the futures I see, but I think you must know before I go."

Leia's mind whirred in confusion. Never returning? Seeing the future? Divulging a secret that was not hers to tell? Maz's air of mystery was growing tiresome and vexatious. Leia felt her anger rising at her ally's casual shrugs, her matter-of-fact tone, her air of detachment.

"Know what, exactly?" She turned away from the display now and braced one hand on the smooth, curved edge of the command board. Giving the small creature her full attention, she planted a fist on her hip and waited. "What must I know?"

Maz smiled a peculiar smile. "Han brought a girl to see me. A girl from Jakku."

Leia nodded impatiently. "Yes, he told me about her. The one taken by—," she paused, choking on the name. She drew a deep breath. "The one taken from Takodana."

"Yes, the one who was taken by your son." Maz was ruthless, or oblivious, or both.

Leia glared with rage and misery at the wizened creature, feeling her heart slamming against her ribs, her pulse pounding in her head. Her throat constricted painfully, and she gripped the edge of the command board to stop herself swaying. Maz nodded up at her, sitting serenely in her chair. The diminutive alien looked as if she were merely passing the time of day, chatting about the weather. Breathless with pain and unwilling to engage for a moment longer in the conversation, Leia turned on her booted heel and stalked away.

Muttering a mixture of Alderaani and Corellian curses, she made her way with purpose across the noisy, crowded command centre to a quiet area that was reserved for her private use. This would be the last area to be dismantled, and she would be among the last to leave. As soon as the X-wing squadron returned from its mission, they would organise the remaining transports and depart within a few days.

She tried not to think of the Millennium Falcon, nor of Chewbacca, who was also on his way to rejoin them. The thought of watching Chewie walk down that ramp without Han was too much to bear. The idea of speaking to him, of hearing the tale of what had happened on Starkiller Base, left her feeling sick. Her control was slipping. Agonized and angry, she ripped off her cropped jacket and flung it onto the long bench that bordered the workspace, then covered her face with trembling hands.

-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-

"What did Han tell you about her?"

Leia jumped, startled out of her distress by the silent reappearance of Maz Kanata at her elbow. A terrible impulse overtook her then, and she put her hand on the compact blaster she wore at her waist. For an instant, she battled with her better nature. All she wanted in that moment was to drive Kanata from her presence, to shut her up. But Maz was a friend, and a strong ally. On a deeper level, Leia knew that—whatever her purpose in persisting with the conversation—Maz meant her no harm. Leia settled for glaring down her nose at the old pirate, as she tried to calm her own breathing.

Maz looked unperturbed, but ever-so-slightly apologetic. "I am sorry, Leia," she said, in a gentler tone. "But I think you should know who she is before you make any more decisions."

"What do you mean 'who she is'?" Leia snapped, taking her hand off her blaster. She paced away from Maz in agitation, then turned to face her, crossing her arms. "She's no one. Han said she was a scavenger who came across Poe's droid and the information in it, and she was trying to get it back to us."

Leia felt bewildered and deeply saddened to be talking about Han at all. She wanted to keep him inside, to keep his name behind her lips until the dark of night when she could be alone with her ghosts. She was furious with Maz for pursuing her, and she wasn't in the mood to speculate about the girl from Jakku.

Maz paused, adjusting her goggles slightly as she examined Leia's face.

"She 'came across the droid', did she?" Maz cocked her small head to one side and wrinkled up her wizened face. "And how did she come to leave the planet?"

Leia hesitated, not understanding Maz's eagerness, or the significance of the connection she was trying to draw between this anonymous girl and herself. Someone was bound to come across a roaming droid and pick it up. Valuable tech like that would never go unclaimed for long. They'd been fortunate that it was someone who was willing to try to get the droid back to the Resistance. Leia shuddered to think of what would have happened if the information about Luke's location had been intercepted by the First Order. She'd already resolved that the girl would be honoured for her brave actions and—if she'd survived the destruction of Starkiller Base—she'd be appropriately rewarded. But that was as far as Leia had thought about the scavenger, and she remained mystified by Maz's apparent excitement.

"Leia, how did the girl leave the planet?" Maz repeated insistently.

Okay, fine. Just get to the point.

With a heavy sigh, Leia said, "She stole the Falcon..."

"Yes!" Maz said, as if that explained everything. "She took the Millennium Falcon. Han's own ship—stolen from him how many years ago?—that just happened to be docked there, unsecured, in her village. And the girl just happened to fly that ship right past Han himself, who just happened to be in orbit above Jakku at that moment. What an interesting coincidence, don't you think?"

"It was a coincidence," Leia said, thoroughly perplexed. "What else would it be?"

"There are coincidences, and then there are coincidences," Maz said with a knowing smile. "And Han's meeting with that girl was something else entirely."

Nonplussed, Leia considered what Han had said to her about the scavenger before he left. Had she missed something important? Had he mentioned anything about recognising the girl from somewhere else? Trying to replay their conversations in her mind only brought on a powerful and debilitating sense of grief and loss. Their shared devastation had been at the centre of practically every conversation for the past several years, and the subject of their last meeting was too sore. She hadn't said the things she wanted to say. She hadn't heard the things she wanted to hear. And now there was nothing more to be done about it.

With a violent shake of her head, she turned her back to Maz and gazed out at the bustling command centre . She resolved to say no more, but simply to wait for Maz to speak. Clearly the provocative creature had a story to tell and she was determined to tell it. The sooner Leia allowed her to do so, the sooner it would be over. All around them, the work of dismantling the non-essential interior structures continued. Leia watched the activity in silence, and tried to recover her self-control.

Of course it was a coincidence that Han happened to be making a deal above the planet where his old freighter was sitting. He was always making deals—sometimes for himself, but just as often for Leia's benefit. Even when he'd been absent from her side, he'd found ways to support the work of the Resistance, frequently passing information and resources to her through Maz Kanata herself. And Leia knew that Han had used every opportunity to try to find out what had happened to the Falcon. He and Chewie had criss-crossed the galaxy searching for that ship. And of course he'd grabbed the freighter with a tractor beam—because he'd recognised it and he wanted it back! Not because he somehow knew who or what was on board. To suggest that it was for any other reason was absurd.

The timing had been remarkable, she mused. That much was true. But Han had always been lucky that way.

Leia supposed it was a bit strange, perhaps, that the girl who'd found Poe's missing droid—the droid that held vital information about the location of Luke Skywalker—would happen to pick that particular ship to steal, linked as it was to Luke himself. The scavenger couldn't have known that, though, surely? How could she? Her choice of transport was simply the result of an unusual concurrence of events; there was no other explanation.

But it was interesting, also, that the girl had been pursued by a battalion of the First Order, a battalion whose attack had been commanded by—.

Leia stopped thinking, feeling the cold hand of fate on the back of her neck.

The coincidences were eerily reminiscent of those that had brought her own lost twin, the brother she'd never known, to the door of her detention cell on the first Death Star. Luke's interception of Artoo—the droid dispatched by Leia herself—had been as unlikely as the string of circumstances Maz wanted her to consider now. Leia felt her stomach lurch as she thought about who had abducted the girl from Jakku.

Why, Ben? Why did you take her?

Slowly, Leia turned her head to look at the diminutive creature who was eyeing her with great interest.

Maz graced her with a gentle smile. "Search your feelings, Leia."

"I don't know what you mean," Leia breathed, her voice scarcely above a whisper. "I don't know who she is."

"You do know," Maz said with certainty. "You just won't allow yourself to believe that it might be true. You should not have abandoned your training in the ways of the Force."

At that, Leia blinked and turned her face away from Maz's enquiring gaze. Those words conjured more thoughts of her brother, lost to her again, and the Jedi academy he'd established all those years ago. Leia squeezed her eyes shut in anguish, deliberately recalling for the first time in many years the day she and Han had ferried their two children there and handed them over to Luke's care. Her chest constricted to the point where each breath was merely a shallow gasp. The abyss beckoned.

Maz was speaking. A faint echo of her words reached Leia's ears; a rich voice full of wisdom and promise. "Leia, listen to me. Hope is not lost today. It is found."

Something stirred within her. A memory—long buried—of a sweetly rounded face, a girlish giggle, dark hair and hazel eyes just like her father's. Leia felt a fluttering awareness of a tender connection that had been brutally severed and cauterised long ago. Panicking, she quelled it with all her might. She could not bear to open herself, to reach out again, to grope around in the emptiness where there was nothing left but a longing so deep, a sorrow so profound, she could no longer articulate it, even to herself.

"Let it in, Leia."

"No!" Leia rasped, and pivoted on her heel to glare at Maz. Her voice was raw and shaking. "That's enough. I don't know what sort of game you're playing Maz, but this is cruel. I want you to leave."

Maz seemed completely unfazed by Leia's outburst.

"Listen to me, Leia. Your daughter is alive," she said with a luminous smile. She spread her arms wide and looked up at the stars. Her voice was filled with awe. "And somehow, in all this vast galaxy, she found her father. Or he found her! Is that not a wondrous thing? Is that not the most marvellous thing?" The wizened creature beamed at Leia and waited.

Leia was shaking her head, mute with an emotion she could not identify. Wordlessly, she extended a forestalling hand in Maz's direction.

Stop.

"Han recognised her, Leia, but he would not allow himself to believe it. He brought her to me because he was too afraid to raise your hopes. Are you afraid? Will you also turn away from such knowledge?"

"No," Leia murmured, her lips almost too numb to speak. She retracted her hand and wrapped her arms around her quaking torso. Her skin felt drenched in cold sweat. Her voice was ragged. "I would know."

"How could you know?" Maz said, piercingly, stepping closer to peer up into Leia's face. "You turned away from hope to spare yourself pain. You sealed yourself off from the one thing that could have—."

"Han would have told me," Leia interrupted sharply, her voice hoarse with fresh grief and rage.

She would not be rebuked by this creature for curtailing her interaction with the Force. She'd tried—she'd spent long, agonizing, futile years trying—to use the Force to find her daughter, to no avail. And when she thought back over the course of her life, she couldn't see any good reason to continue an active association with it. Thinking of Alderaan, of her parents—both biological and adopted—and her brother, of her children and her husband, Leia wondered what that mysterious power had ever done for her but cause her misery, and wreck her life, over and over again.

Maz pursed her thin lips and tilted her head, conceding the point. "Yes, Han would have told you if he'd been certain of it. Yes, of course. But he had only begun to suspect," Maz told her. "And although he was more convinced by the time he and I parted company, I suppose he was hoping to produce some proof—or at least to free her from imprisonment—before he said anything to you. After all, how much worse would it have been for you to learn of Breha's survival only after she'd been lost again? Probably, he hoped to bring her home."

Leia's world tilted, and a wave of dizziness overtook her. She took a stumbling step to the bench and sat down, clamping her arms around her middle.

Breha.

The name was so strange in her mind. So cherished, but so painful, even now, fourteen long years after she'd been taken from Luke's training academy. Taken and—appallingly—dumped on the desert planet of Jakku to fend for herself, Leia realised with horror. Her whole body was shaking, her breathing erratic. The rational part of her brain identified the symptoms of shock. The unknown fate of their young daughter had haunted her dreams more than any other loss she'd suffered, and that was saying something. Even the destruction of Alderaan and the recent obliteration of the entire Hosnian star system—brutal acts of war—were easier to accept than the thought of five-year-old Breha, so lively and sweet, taken to parts unknown, to suffer alone, in ways that Leia couldn't bear to imagine.

Maz approached and stood beside her, at eye level now that Leia was seated. "This is the girl whose fate is in motion, Leia. This girl, your daughter, is on her way here. She is coming home to you. Reach out to her. You will see."

Leia covered her own aching throat with one icy hand. "Maz, please. Please stop. I can't—"

"Leia, reach out!"

Finally, the command was too compelling to resist, the desire to know the truth was too strong.

Leia closed her eyes, shutting out the lights and noise of the busy command centre, and reached tentatively into that strange dimension. She was trembling uncontrollably, her whole body quaking with fear and hope in equal measure. She cast her senses wide, conscious that all of her crushed hopes had revived in an instant—and that she was risking what little self-control she had left by opening herself to that loss all over again. In the next instant, her groping mind connected with the distinct, familiar energy she recognised as her precious daughter.

There you are!

A sobbing gasp escaped Leia's throat and her eyes flew open in wonder, even as her senses filled with awareness of that spark she'd felt extinguished fourteen years ago and had never been able to sense again. She stared at Maz, heedless of the hot tears spilling down her cheeks. "She is alive."

Maz was smiling gently at her, nodding her orange-skinned head.

"That's right. And I believe she'll be here soon." Maz gave Leia's arm a pat, then straightened her coat and jammed her tiny hands into her pockets, looking gratified. "Now I must depart. If Han is angry with me for discussing this with you, tell him I am sorry."

Leia stared at her, uncomprehending.

But Han is—

She couldn't complete the thought.

Maz shook her head and shrugged. "You should trust the Force, Leia. Trust your feelings. And resume your training."

Stunned, Leia watched as the diminutive creature turned and disappeared into the bustling crowd.

Part 2: Leia and Rey

In the deepest hour of the night, after only an hour or two of sleep, Leia arose from her lonely bed and tiptoed from her sleeping quarters. Boots in hand, she passed through the ship's small lounge, pausing for a moment next to the pilot's relief bunk to look down at her daughter's sleeping face.

Breha.

Rey, she corrected herself with an inward smile. The name suited her, and she'd given it to herself; it was hers. And somehow the change of name made it easier for Leia to draw a line between her sorrow over the daughter who'd been lost, and her joy over the one who had returned.

Rey, in repose, was the most stunningly beautiful sight Leia could remember seeing. The amber lights from the nearby console limned her smooth features in gold, and cast a shimmer on her dark hair. They'd talked long into the night, until they had both been drained of tears and overtaken by exhaustion. Scanning Rey's young face, Leia's heart swelled with an emotion that only yesterday morning had seemed too remote ever to be reached again. The aching joy she felt was deeply bittersweet. Han had gone to Starkiller Base with fading hopes of bringing their son home, and although he'd failed in that effort, and the loss was bitter beyond bearing, he'd somehow managed to send their precious daughter home instead.

Leaving Rey in peace, Leia made her way out to the landing field where she stopped to pull her boots on. Straightening, she looked up at the distant, twinkling stars, then around her at the mostly deserted landscape. At this hour, only a few essential personnel could be seen moving around, setting things in place for the coming eventful days. Soon there would be a brief memorial ceremony for those they'd lost, a chance to say a final goodbye to the heroes who had sacrificed themselves to make a difference in their fight against the First Order. Han would be among those honoured, of course; his contributions to their long fight were among the most significant and abiding. Leia's heart clenched in grief.

The Millennium Falcon squatted at the far edge of the field where Chewbacca had set it down, a darker shadow against the deep blue-black of the pre-dawn sky. Walking towards it across the near-deserted landing area, she passed the place where she'd welcomed Rey the day before. Her knotted heart expanded again, swelling with love and wonder at the stunning turn of events. She thought of Maz's words to her about Han and his intuitions about Rey. Had he known? Maz seemed to think so. The suggestion gave Leia a small measure of comfort, but she wished with all her heart that they could have celebrated her homecoming together.

Continuing her solitary procession towards the Falcon, Leia looked for any signs of Chewbacca's presence on board. Her anxious anticipation of her daughter's return yesterday had been underpinned by a growing dread of seeing her friend—Han's most steadfast companion—walking down the ramp alone. Chewie, more than anyone else in the galaxy, would share her devastation, and she was afraid of what would happen when they looked into each other's eyes.

She needn't have worried, however. Chewbacca seemed to share her dread, busying himself at first with looking after the injured boy, Finn, and avoiding her gaze. As soon as the boy was in the care of the medics, the Wookiee had exchanged a few words with Rey, slung a bulging pack and his bowcaster over his shoulder and disappeared into the nearby woods. His avoidance pained Leia, but she understood it completely. They would speak soon, she knew, but only when they both could bear it.

The Falcon's access control panel gave her pause, while she considered the fact that the codes had likely been changed many times over the years, as the stolen freighter changed hands from one thief to the next. But she knew Han, and she wasn't surprised when the sequence she entered produced the metallic thunk and hydraulic hiss that portended the lowering of the boarding ramp.

Hesitantly, at first, and then with increasing determination, she stepped up the sloping surface and into the curving corridor. The familiar smells flooded her senses first; of grease and rust, burnt metal and damp Wookiee. Stepping to the right and around the bend, she bypassed the corridor leading to the cockpit and entered the lounge area. Her swimming eyes took in the sight of the curved seat around the dejarik table, where she'd sat so many times for meals and conversations with Han and Chewie on their long journeys together.

She blinked to clear her vision and scanned the space, taking in the alterations that the interim owners had made since she'd last seen the main hold. There had been a few minor modifications, but Chewbacca's extended bunk was unchanged. Moving with increasing trepidation into the curving corridor beyond, she came to the galley kitchen bordering the area at the back of the ship that had been their private space together. Beyond it, she could see the sleeping quarters and the bunk that Han had further modified to make room for her to sleep beside him.

Stepping hesitantly into the room, her aching heart flooded with memories; of the long, fateful trip to Bespin so many years ago, when she'd finally allowed herself to love and to be loved; of lying curled up in that bunk with Han, exploring and enjoying each other, revelling in the intimacy of their profound connection; making love and making plans. She heard the echo of passionate arguments that had made the corridors ring with their shouting, and passionate reconciliations that had soothed them into contented silence.

And what has become of all our passion, Han?

What do we have to show for it?

"Leia?"

Rey's voice echoed down the passageway from the main hold, and jolted Leia out of her reverie. She realised with a start that her face was wet with tears. She hadn't cried so much in years. Scrubbing at her stinging eyes, she cleared her throat and called out.

"I'm here."

Rey's footsteps echoed on the deck plates as she made her way to the rear of the ship. Leia met her in the galley kitchen, her shoulders straightened and her face composed. It was such a strange confusion of emotions that touched her heart when Rey rounded the corner and gave her a tentative smile. The profound sense of loneliness she felt, wandering around Han's empty ship without him, contrasted sharply to the bounding sense of joy she felt at seeing their daughter in this space.

For a fleeting moment, Leia recalled the sturdy, dark-haired toddler who had dogged Han's heels at every step. As soon as she could walk, she'd been right behind him, trekking tirelessly in his wake as he worked, continually getting in the way as she "helped" Han keep the old freighter in shape. By the age of four, she'd already begun to show a keen interest in flying—and Han had already begun to teach her the basics. He'd been uncharacteristically patient with her endless questions, clearly more in his element with their daughter's predilections than with their son's. Rey had been extremely fond of Chewbacca, too, and he of her. With a natural talent for languages, she'd picked up an understanding of Shyriiwook with ease, even attempting a faint imitation of it that made Chewie roar with amusement.

Looking at Rey now, Leia smiled at the recollection of those long-ago times, and reached for her daughter. Rey moved with alacrity into her embrace, wrapping her arms around Leia's shoulders and resting her cheek against Leia's head. She was nearly as tall as Han, Leia realised, tightening her grip around Rey's slender frame. After a moment, Rey pulled back and met her gaze.

"I heard you leaving," Rey said, an anxious question behind her eyes. "I thought—well, I hope you don't mind me following you here."

"Not at all," Leia said, reassuringly. She placed a loving hand along the girl's soft cheek and gave her a warm smile. "I'm glad you're here. I was just..." She trailed off, not sure what she was doing.

Trying to say goodbye.

Rey seemed to understand without being told. Her bright hazel eyes filled with tears and her grip on Leia's arm tightened. Before she could speak, Leia gave herself a little shake and took a step back.

"Come on. Show me what you remember about this old hunk of junk."

They made their way to the cockpit, pausing together at the threshold to gaze for a moment at the empty chairs.

"I used to sneak on board all the time," Rey confessed softly. "Unkar Plutt would have scalped me if he ever found out, but I was careful. It was so familiar, somehow. It felt like home." She turned a shining gaze on Leia and smiled tremulously. "And now I know why."

Leia swallowed hard and nodded. "You spent a lot of time here. We all did."

She flinched inwardly at the last memory of her family in this crowded cockpit; Chewie in the co-pilot's seat with young Rey on his lap, gruffly answering her curious questions, and batting playfully at her small hands to keep her from touching anything too important; lanky, silent Ben slumped in the seat behind; Leia in her customary position behind Han, and Han with his hands on the controls, taking them down through the atmosphere to the planet below where Luke waited to receive his new initiates. The memory of that trip made her shudder, considering its consequences.

Rey brushed against her shoulder as she moved through the entrance, angling for Chewbacca's chair. Leia stopped her with a touch and directed her to the captain's seat, then moved into the co-pilot position herself. They settled back and sat for a moment in silence, lost in their private thoughts. Leia gazed vacantly at the winking lights on the slumbering console and at their reflections in the transparent enclosure. Maz's departing words resonated in her mind.

You should trust the Force, Leia.

During her childhood on Alderaan, and throughout her service in the Imperial Senate, Leia had used the Force naturally, without really knowing what she was doing. She now understood that her gift for diplomacy, and her ability to read people—to sense their true feelings, to detect lies or ulterior motives—were ways in which the Force showed itself in her, and those skills had served her well over the years. Luke had also pointed out that her capacity to withstand torture—such as she'd endured aboard the first Death Star at their father's hands—was also likely a manifestation of her abilities, along with her resistance to being mind-controlled or manipulated through the Force. In the years following the Battle of Endor, she'd undertaken training with Luke, feeling a certain responsibility to learn to use the power effectively and to guard against its potential for misuse, if only to protect herself and her family.

The thought of her family brought a rush of confused emotions flooding into Leia's heart. She glanced over at the young woman reclining in Han's chair, and felt some of her inner turmoil easing. This one treasure, at least, had been restored to her. And as much as she enjoyed gazing at Rey and having her physically close, Leia was also profoundly grateful for the fact that she could once again sense her daughter's presence in the Force. Although she'd long ago mastered the skills that she considered most useful—telepathy, telekinesis, meditation and some aspects of mind control—she'd appreciated most of all the ability to sense her loved ones in that invisible dimension, wherever they'd roamed in the galaxy. And it was the inexplicable loss of the power to sense her daughter that had been particularly agonizing in the aftermath of Ben's betrayal. Her daughter's presence in the Force had simply vanished on that day, and neither Luke nor Leia had been able to conjure her again.

Since those dark days, Leia had grown deeply wary of the Force, and increasingly bitter at its uselessness in helping her to save her own family. She'd subsequently spent many years trying to avoid thinking about it, repulsed now by the many negative associations it held for her: the corruption of her father; the death of her mother; the isolation of her brother and, most of all, the devastating loss of both son and daughter. So many lives—billions of them—had been lost in the wretched, futile struggle for power and control.

And now Han is gone, too.

That harsh reality brought with it the same plunging horror it always did, every time the knowledge invaded her thoughts. Maz's words seemed to have unhinged her capacity for self-control, and she was struggling to regain it. She gave a little shake of her head, trying to quell the intense grief she felt over losing Han, and the pain of knowing that their own son had struck the killing blow. It was simply too much to bear, and she felt her grip on her emotions beginning to slip.

Trust your feelings.

The silent command gnawed at her like a Mynock chewing on power cables. Why had Maz's last words disturbed her so? Not just the admonition to open herself to the Force, but something else. Something about the way she spoke of Han, as if he were still alive, and as if Leia should know that.

How could you know? You turned away from hope to spare yourself pain. You sealed yourself off from the one thing...

Leia sighed and closed her eyes, finally giving in to the persistent internal exhortation. In the companionable silence of the Falcon's cockpit, with their daughter at her side, she allowed herself to think about Han, to picture him clearly, without permitting grief or regret to cloud her mind. A quiet recollection crept in as she opened herself to it. In the fading aftermath of that sickening moment when she'd been overwhelmed by Ben's obscene triumph, his foul gratification, there had been a flicker of something else: the distant and fading—but very distinct—essence of Han Solo.

She had immediately and bitterly dismissed it as wishful thinking, especially when she was unable to reproduce the sense of connection later on. And the return of Chewbacca without his partner, coupled with the long and painful conversation she'd had with Rey last night, had extinguished all hope. The facts were bare. Chewie had witnessed it, as had Rey. And Finn, too, although she'd not yet heard his account of it. Not only had Han suffered a lightsaber wound to the chest, he'd then fallen away into the depths, and the entire station had crumbled to dust shortly thereafter. There could be no doubt. And yet...

Trust your feelings.

With another frustrated shake of her head, Leia looked over at Rey again. The girl had drawn her feet up into the chair, wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin. She was now gazing at the brightening sky beyond the cockpit enclosure, deep in thought, with a serene expression on her face.

For an instant, Leia considered asking her about her use of the Force and her power to communicate through it. Leia had gathered from their long conversation that the considerable power Rey had displayed as a child had not diminished; in fact, it seemed to have grown, even without cultivation or guidance. Leia considered telling her about Maz's words and seeking her input, but thought better of it. Planting that suggestion—that Han might be alive—would be extremely unkind after what Rey had just been through.

With a deep sigh, she allowed her head to rock back against the tall seat cushion and closed her eyes. With Maz's command ringing in her ears, she tried again to reach out to him.

I'm here.

The silence stretched into eternity. Outside the cockpit enclosure, dawn was breaking.

Can you hear me?

The answering flicker flared for a moment, and then faded as the sun rose over the horizon.

Leia opened her eyes.

Note: In the original version of this story, I named their lost daughter "Jaina" (for lack of any other suitable options that occurred to me at the time). But on reflection it makes much more sense to me that, if she were named after anyone, it would be Leia's beloved adopted mother. There's also the matter of the similarity in sound between "Breha" (which I would pronounce "bray-ah") and the name Rey, which also makes more sense. So, I've changed it throughout.