Chapter Text
It took a few days before Luke could find the time and the equipment to saw down the pipe for the lighsaber’s outer casing, piecing as much of it together as he could with what he had so far in his few spare moments.
He told himself it would look better when he had the rest, but seeing how much work there was left to do was getting disheartening.
Luke was fiddling with one of the fuse coils a few weeks later, his lap covered in dust and tiny flakes of metal from filing the ends down to the right size, staring blankly at the empty radar when his com pinged.
“Still nothing to report up here--”
“Find me when you're done with your shift,” Leia said.
There was something in her tone that made Luke pause, setting the coil and the file down in front of him.
“What is it?”
“I’ll explain later,” she said, and the connection went dead before Luke could press it any further.
Luke felt frozen in place, only remembering to lower his hand and put the com away once his arm started to get tired.
There were so many reasons for Leia to call him in the middle of a shift that were less important--and more likely--than the one thing he couldn't get his mind off of, but that didn’t make it any easier to stop thinking about it.
He almost wished the radars had been busy enough to warrant not being the only one in the surveillance tower right then.
The seconds dragged on intolerably slowly, and Luke was this close to hitting his head against the wall just to pass the time once the end of his shift rolled along, bolting from the surveillance tower the moment his relief came up.
“Leia,” Luke said into the com’s receiver, clearing his throat against the frantic tone in his voice. “Leia, where are you?”
It was an agonizing few seconds before her voice came through. “Briefing room.”
This base was smaller than on Hoth, and it only took a couple minutes to get there, but his heart was pounding by the time he opened the door.
“What's--?” He stopped when he saw Lando, standing a couple feet from Leia, his expression tight and strained. “Is it him?”
They both nodded.
“Where?”
“Tatooine, we think,” Leia said, and Luke felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. “We’re sending an undercover team to find out for sure.”
It took a second for Luke to put a response together, sifting through the million things rushing through his head at once. “When do we go?”
Leia frowned and glanced over at Lando. “When we hear back from the undercover team.”
“Why do we need--?”
“Word is, he’s at Jabba’s,” Lando said, “and we can’t exactly go in there guns-blazing without confirmation.”
“The crew’s being sent out right now,” Leia said. “We should know in a few days.”
“A few days?”
“He’s been frozen for months, Luke, he’s not going anywhere,” she said. “They can’t go straight there without giving away our position.”
Luke tried not to think about how that last part seemed to be directed at him.
“So what do we do?”
Leia sighed and shoved her hands deep in her pockets. “We can plan once we know exactly where he is.”
“What do we do now?”
“We wait,” Leia said. “I know you aren't the best at that, but do try not to run off again before we have a plan.”
Luke frowned, but the jab went right over him as soon as he thought back to his partially finished lightsaber, sitting in pieces back in his room.
“I still--I have to--oh, hell.” Luke groaned and squeezed the heels of his palms against his temples. “I--”
“The lightsaber?” Lando asked, and Luke nodded. “You've still got a few days, let’s see what we can do. Leia, are you--?”
Leia nodded. “Keep your coms handy.”
Luke had to consciously keep himself from running when he left with Lando for his room. His mind was racing over what he had finished so far, what he still had to do, what he still had to get, and Lando had to walk a little faster to keep up with him.
Luke went straight for the small table laid out with the pieces of his lightsaber, touching over each one and comparing it for the thousandth time to the sketch, even though he’d already crossed off everything he had.
He’d been wracking his brain since he got back from Rattatak with Lando, desperate for something to jump out at him as something he could find on base, but without much success.
“What do you still need to find?”
“Um.” Luke handed him the paper, rubbing the back of his neck while he stared down at the mess on the table. “Anything not crossed out.”
“I don't know what half of these are.”
“Most of it was never in production except for lightsabers.” Luke let out a frustrated sigh. “And I have no idea--” He stopped, eyes wide, clapping his hands down on the table hard enough that the smaller pieces shook. “Oh.”
Lando's eyebrow quirked upwards. “What?”
“Tatooine,” Luke said breathlessly, spinning around to face Lando. “We have to go to Tatooine.”
“I don’t think Leia would--”
“No, I mean, we have to go to Tatooine for Han, right, that's--oh, this is perfect.”
“Can’t tell if that's sarcastic or not.”
“No! No, this is good, this is.” Luke stopped himself and took a deep breath. “I need to make a stop once we get there. I think I know where to get the rest of this.”
“Where’s that?”
“Obi-Wan--Ben--did Leia--?”
Lando nodded.
“He was living there for years, he had my--the lightsaber he gave to me, he had it there that whole time.”
“And you think he’d have materials for another one.”
Luke hesitated, and then he shrugged, glancing back at the pieces on the table. “I have to hope so. If it’s anywhere, it’d be there.”
Lando nodded slowly and followed Luke’s eyes to the table. “What do you need to do before then?”
“Not much. It’ll be easier to put everything together once I have it all.” Luke nodded to himself and looked from the lightsaber pieces to Lando. “I think I'm ready.”
“Well.” Lando shrugged and gestured vaguely around Luke’s torso, and then at his shoes.
“‘Well’ what?”
“You don’t look like much of a Jedi in fatigues.”
“But I’ll have--
“Gotta have the look, too. You might as well be any other rebel with a lightsaber, like this.”
“I guess.” Luke frowned and looked down at his clothes, tugging at the front of his shirt. “Maybe there’s something at Obi-Wan’s old place?”
Lando shook his head. “Don’t think so. It’s been too long.”
“I don’t know where else to get anything that doesn't look like this.”
Lando hummed, looking Luke up-and-down before holding his hand up a few inches above his head. “You know how to sew at all?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Good.” Lando nodded to himself, holding one of Luke’s arms out to the side before letting it drop again. “Okay. I think we can find something.”
“Where?”
“Han’s old stuff, mostly.”
“Do you think he'd mind?”
“Certainly not right now.”
They found a pair of boots easy enough, stuffing the toes with tissues until they mostly fit, and a shirt that smelled like dust; the rest didn't come quite so quickly.
“That man,” Lando grumbled, digging through the contents of one of the overhead storage compartments, dumped out onto the bed, “does not know how to organize.”
Luke rocked on the balls of his feet to see if he’d filled the boots enough. “He does not.”
“Do you think--” Lando started, holding up a pair of pants before dropping it again with a huff when he got it in better lighting. “Blue’s not going to work.”
“Why not? It looks pretty dark, if you're not looking too close.”
“Oh, bless your heart.” Lando stood up to open up the next compartment. “You’ll be able to tell, trust me.”
Luke shrugged and pulled off the boots, tucking them in the corner by the door to go help Lando. “What about those?”
“Let’s see…” It took a minute for Lando to pry the pants free from the rest of the junk and old clothes crammed into the compartment. “If you can take off the stripe, I think you're good. These look too small for him anyway.”
Luke nodded and tossed the pants over his shoulder. “Is that everything?”
“Oh, no.” Lando started pulling out anything that looked like fabric to drop onto the bed. “There’s still that...I’ve seen the old holograms, they all had--the Jedi--there was that...it wasn't a vest, but.” He held his hands up by his shoulders, crossing them down over his chest. “Like that.”
“Oh! Yeah.”
“And a cape,” Lando said.
“Seriously?”
“Serious as a heart attack. It's part of the look. Dramatic effect, and all. Why else do you think Darth Vader looks like that?”
Luke huffed a laugh, holding the pants up close to his face to get a better look at the stripe sewn down the side. “Where would we get the fabric? Or any sewing supplies, really.”
“That I’m not so sure about,” Lando said, “but there might be a box in here with some thread, at least.”
“Really?”
“When you only wear the same two outfits, you want to know how to patch them up.” Lando stood up on his toes to look at the back of the compartment. “He still dress like that?”
It hadn't really occurred to him before--it wasn't like he had been spoiled for choice, until he’d left Tatooine--but Han didn't seem to have much variety either.
“Yeah, actually.”
“Then he’ll have something.” Lando gestured behind him towards a crate in the far corner. “Try in there.”
Luke nodded and put the pants down on the bed. It took some prying to get the lid off of the crate, stuffed so full of junk that a couple used blaster cartridges toppled off the top as soon as they weren't being held down.
“I think this is just trash.”
Lando looked over his shoulder to Luke and the crate. “He just doesn't know how to get rid of anything, give it a shot.”
Luke poked through the crate, precariously stacking as much as he could against the side. He’d made his way mostly to the bottom when he swore under his breath, nicking the side of his finger on a pair of scissors.
“That’s something,” he mumbled to himself, setting them aside.
Luke yanked an old sweater free, holey and fraying; he couldn't help hesitating, squeezing the thick knit between his fingers before leaning over to carefully set it down on the bed.
Luke took a deep breath and squeezed his hands together for a second, shaking his head to himself before continuing through the crate.
He had to start a second pile of stuff by the time he found a small tin box, dented and rusty at the corners.
“This, maybe?”
Lando glanced over and shrugged, piling everything they weren't using back into the overhead compartment. “Could be.”
The top was almost rusted shut, and Luke’s fingertips were sore by the time he managed to get it open, its contents almost spilling out from the rough yank that finally got it.
“You were right,” Luke said, carefully poking through the box to avoid the needles haphazardly stuck through scraps of fabric, bent pins scattered along the bottom.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Lando shut the compartment and stepped down, straightening out his shirt. “That thing got a seam ripper in there?”
“There's, um, this,” Luke said, holding out a small piece of plastic with a curved, sharp bit of metal at the end.
“That’s it.” Lando looked around the room, tapping his thumb against his lip. “You know where he keeps extra blankets?”
Luke thought for a second before pointing to one of the drawers under the bed. “That one, I think.”
Lando pulled it open, holding fistfuls of fabric up to the pants until he found one dark enough to match. “This should be good for that...vest...thing,” he said, holding it out for Luke to take.
Luke nodded and draped it over his shoulder, pinching the ends between his fingers. “I don’t think this’ll be big enough for that and a cape.”
“No, I don't think so.” Lando dug through the drawer one last time before pushing it shut. “You’ll need another one for that, but someone's gotta have another blanket here somewhere.”
Luke folded it over a couple times, pinching it again to see how thick it was. “That’s gonna get so hot. No one even really wears black there.”
“You don't have to keep it on the whole time.” Lando took the shirt and the pants from the bed, handing them to Luke before looking around to see if he'd missed anything. “If you get started with that, I’ll try to track down that blanket.”
Luke nodded and picked up the box of sewing supplies, and he tucked the sweater in between the blanket and the pants when it seemed like Lando wasn't looking.
Back in his room, Luke’s fingers itched to keep working on his lightsaber, even though there was nothing left for him to do until he had the rest of the materials; he pushed everything aside, forcing himself to ignore it while he started on Han’s old clothes.
The strips of fabric came off the side of the pants easily with the seam ripper--he might have to take that one, he decided, he really could have used one of those fixing his own clothes back on Tatooine--hemming the shirt sleeves until they didn't hang down to his fingers.
The pants took a little longer to take in, his legs scratched up from pins by the time they were mostly done; he flopped back onto his bed with a sigh, cracking his knuckles and trying to stretch out the ache in his back from leaning over for so long to pin the seams.
Luke had almost managed to will himself upright to find his pants again when there was a knock against the door.
“Luke, you in there?”
“Yeah.”
Lando pointedly looked away when he came in; Luke almost toppled off the bed reaching for his pants, tripping a little over the ends when he pulled them back on.
“Sorry, I was--the pants are done--what’s up?”
“This should be big enough for the cape.” Lando handed him a folded up blanket tucked under his arm, and then what smelled like a steamed bun wrapped in a couple napkins. “And this is because you missed dinner.”
“I really--thank you, so much--how long has it been?”
“Few hours,” Lando said, walking over to the table to look down at where Luke had left the shirt and scraps of thread. “How’s this coming along?”
Luke groaned and rubbed at his eyes, aching from staring so closely at dark thread on dark fabric for so long.
“The shirt and the pants are done.”
“Mm.” Lando paused. “And this?”
Luke looked over to where he was pointing at the messy sketches on the back of the paper where he'd drawn the lightsaber.
“I haven’t started that yet.”
Lando held up the paper in front of Luke, squinting between Luke and the paper. “What if you made it shorter?”
Luke came over to take a look and shrugged; he’d drawn it as best he could from memory, trying to get it as close to Obi-wan’s robes as possible.
“It looks a little old fashioned,” Lando said, tracing his finger up from the bottom of the sketch to a bit below Luke’s hip. “Like that, maybe. Easier to get around in, too.”
Luke looked down at himself, tapping his fingers along his hips where Lando had pointed on the sketch. “That's a good idea.”
Luke looked over to the table, scattered with scissors and spools of thread, but Lando nudged him back in the direction of the bed before he could even try to start again.
“You need a break, it looks like your eyes are about to fall out.”
“I don't know how long this will--”
“I can get the cutting started, eat.”
Luke frowned, only going back to the bed when Lando sat down in the one chair by the table.
“You don’t have to--”
“I know,” Lando said. “It’s been a while.”
Luke took a bite out of the bun; he hadn't realized how hungry he was until he started eating. “Been a while since what?”
Lando leaned over to draw something else on the paper, glancing from the sketch to the blanket and back again. “Haven’t had the free time to make anything new.” He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Wouldn't have thought I’d be doing it now, but there it is.”
“You made your own clothes?”
“You really think I could get this stuff off the rack?”
Luke grinned, wiping over his mouth with the back of his natural hand. “Guess not.”
“Could go for a pattern, though,” Lando mumbled to himself, tapping the pencil against his chin.
“Mmph--” Luke swallowed and cleared his throat before setting the bun down and going back to the table. “I got it.”
Lando handed him the pencil and scooted the chair over so Luke didn’t have to lean so much. It only took a minute to draw what the pieces would look like, but Luke had to be careful not to tear the paper, already covered in indents from how tightly he had to hold the pencil with his right hand to keep his lines straight.
“Does that look right?”
“Perfect. Now eat.”
Lando had to move everything from the table to the chair to have room to lay out the blanket, glancing over at Luke every so often to gauge how long to cut the pieces. He didn't quite manage to stifle a yawn when Lando finally dropped the scissors to the table.
“Just gotta put it all together. Not now,” he said when Luke stood up, rubbing at his eyes again. “Plenty of time in the morning when you won’t look like you're about to keel over.”
“I’m on surveillance in the morning, I don't…”
“Not anymore.” Lando folded up the fabric pieces and tucked them at the back of the table, balling up the scraps left over from the blanket. “Leia said you're off while we wait for word about Han. Can't have you leaving in the middle of a shift if we have to go.”
“Oh.” Luke flopped back onto the bed with a deep sigh. “You've got no idea how glad I am to hear that.”
“That boring?”
“Big time.” Luke yawned again and rubbed the heel of his palm against his forehead. “I think that radar’s permanently burned into my retinas.”
“I don't doubt it.” Lando stopped by the bed for a second on his way to the door. “One of us will get you if there's any news.”
Luke nodded, chewing at the inside of his cheek while he watched Lando leave. “Thank you.”
“Don't mention it.”
“Thank you,” Luke said again, a little more insistently, and he couldn't help smiling back at the grin Lando shot him before he closed the door behind him.
Luke didn't move for a second, staring at the door until he took a deep breath and stood up again to change into sleeping clothes.
He had to force his eyes away from the fabric on the table, reminding himself that he was this tired, and he would only be giving himself more work to do if he tried to push through it and messed something up, he really did just need to sleep.
It didn’t keep him from tossing and turning for what felt like hours before he finally fell asleep, and his dreams felt cold and dark and just a little like Han.
It was dark when Luke shot upright just before he fell from Cloud City.
His shirt was damp with sweat, his throat too tight to catch his breath. His head still spun with the sensation of falling even with his hands gripping at the sheets, and he swung his legs over the side of the bed, leaning most of his weight on the floor until he managed to stop hyperventilating.
His hands shook, his whole body quaking and shivering, and he could still hear Darth Vader’s voice in his head as clearly as if he was in the room.
No.
Luke squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.
I am--
“Shut up,” Luke said through grit teeth, clamping his hands over his ears, leaning forward until his head was between his knees. “Shut up, shut up.”
Luke held the heels of his palms against his temples until his head started to hurt.
He pulled in a shaky breath and forced himself upright, squinting against the dark; he could still hear his heartbeat rushing in his ears as he looked over everything in the room--the door is there, the bed is here, there's the table--reminding himself he was still in his room until he could fully believe it.
His eyes lingered on the black fabric on the table, a darker shadow against the rest, and the last few words he tried so hard to ignore clanged around his skull.
I am your father.
Luke shook his head; he had to force his hand down when it was a few inches from his forehead, pushing back the impulse to hit the heel of his palm against his head, as if it could force that voice away, lingering behind his eyes like a migraine.
It had been almost easy to push that memory to the very back of his mind before, bouncing from one task to another; all his focus had gone to his hand and the panic to get back to Dagobah, and then worrying about Han, and then worrying about getting Han, filled in with the day-to-day business of being on base, too much happening all at once to even find the time to think about what Darth Vader had said to him.
It was a lie, he told himself, any time the thought crept past everything else on his mind; it had to be. It just didn't make sense.
It couldn't make sense.
He looked at the black fabric again, and he thought about what Lando had said, back at the hospital; Yoda had told him to stay, leave Han and Leia to die, and he left, and then they didn't.
He thought about Yoda insisting he couldn't be trained, too much like his father.
He thought about the way Owen and Beru didn't have a single image of his father, on hologram or paper or anything else, steadfastly avoiding or changing the subject to give him as little information as possible.
They would have had to lie.
He wanted to tell himself that couldn't possibly be the case, they couldn't have lied to him like that, all of them, and for so long, but.
He couldn't shake the disturbing certainty that came whenever he replayed those words in his head.
Luke took a deep breath; there was only one person alive who could tell him for sure, and he'd firmly avoided thinking about it, putting all his energy into figuring out how to get a new lightsaber, how to get Han back, refusing to think about the responsibility he had left behind.
He had to get back to Dagobah.
Luke hadn’t been able to get back to sleep, staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours before pushing himself out of bed with a groan to start pinning; anything to keep him busy, anything to think about but that.
He really could have done with a second set of hands, the fabric bunching awkwardly from having to bend over to do it himself; but Lando had already done so much, and Leia would be so busy, he told himself he would try again in a few minutes.
A few minutes passed, and Luke was absently poking a pin along the fingertips of his right hand, and then his left, frowning to himself at the way it felt more like a tingle than a pinprick on his right.
He really was about to get up that time, he told himself, when he heard a knock at the door, startling him enough he almost dropped the pin.
“Come in.”
“Didn't see you at breakfast,” Lando said, closing the door behind him. “Leia was about to come down, but she had to run.” He paused. “How’s that going?”
“Well…” Luke looked down at himself and tugged at the lumpy fabric going down his front. “It’s going.”
Lando tilted his head and gave Luke a once-over. “Stand up.”
Luke pushed himself up out of the chair, trying to smooth out the fabric.
“No, leave it, just stand straight.”
Luke dropped his arms at his sides.
“Looks like you got it pretty close…” Lando said, pulling a few of the pins out of the side and holding them between his teeth while he tugged the fabric around.
Lando mumbled something Luke didn't quite catch, but he waited until there weren’t any pins in his mouth before asking him to repeat himself.
“Pinning things on yourself never works as well as you want it to.” Lando pulled at the fabric on Luke's shoulders, and he had to hold back a shiver when he smoothed his hands down Luke's sides. “Still didn't do half bad, though.”
Luke had to try not to stare while Lando finished pinning, his eyes narrowed slightly, that crease appearing again between his eyebrows.
He quickly looked away when Lando stood up straight, but it didn’t seem like he'd managed it in time, Lando’s unflinchingly warm eye contact pulling him right back in.
“Got the belt piece?”
“Oh.” Luke reached behind himself to grab the next strip of fabric from the table. “That one?”
“Mmhm. Arms up.”
Luke held his arms out to the side while Lando wrapped the fabric around his waist, standing back to get a better look before adjusting it another couple times. Luke bit his lip at the way Lando's hands hesitated at his hips before smoothing the belt out, stepping back again with a nod.
“Could do with an iron, but I think we got it.”
“It looks good.” Luke looked down at himself and shimmied his hips a little. “I don't know if anyone's gonna have that, though.”
“Put it up in the shower with the water as hot as it goes.”
“Does that really work?”
“It’ll do in a pinch. Hang on.” Lando put his hand on Luke's waist, leaning over to reach for something else on the table; he was so close Luke could smell his soap. “Almost forgot that last piece.”
Luke ducked his head so Lando could loop a longer strip of fabric over his shoulders, smoothing it over his chest and leaning in again to get a couple pins to hold it in place at the bottom.
“Keep those shoulders straight.”
Luke took a deep breath, willing away the flush he could feel creeping up his cheeks when Lando reached around to smooth the fabric down at the back; he couldn't hold down another shiver when Lando's fingers brushed against the back of his neck.
“You look perfect.”
Luke couldn’t get his mouth to work in time to say anything.
“It'll probably look better when you're not in pajamas, though.”
“Oh--” Luke looked down at his legs, only just then remembering he hadn't changed before getting started.
Lando's expression was so warm when he looked back up, and when had they gotten so close--?
He couldn't tell which of them leaned in first, pushing up on the balls of his feet to meet Lando halfway.
That guilt that had felt so overwhelming at the hospital, crammed as far into the back of his mind as he could get it, came creeping back the longer he kissed Lando, however hard he tried to push it back down; he couldn’t think past what Leia had said about putting everyone in danger by running off, bringing Lando even when he had said it was a bad idea, the persistent itch of the fact that he couldn't know he had made things any better by leaving Dagobah for Han and Leia, however much he tried to convince himself he had. And Darth Vader...
“I can’t,” he whispered before he'd really thought it.
Lando nodded and took a small step back, dropping his hand from Luke's waist a second later.
“I’m sorry--”
“No, I understand,” Lando said. “With Han coming back--”
“What? No, that's not--that's not what this is at all.” Luke clenched his hands until his left palm stung from his fingernails digging into his skin; another layer of guilt stacked itself on top of the rest.
He scrambled for the words to try to explain, still trying to sort it out himself, but Lando just looked at him expectantly, that hint of a frown making his chest ache.
“I can’t just…” Luke took a deep breath. “I can’t just dress up like a Jedi when everyone needs me to be one.”
Lando's eyebrow twitched. “No one said you aren't.”
“But I'm not, or at least not acting like it, I should never...” Luke cut himself off and looked away. “I shouldn’t have brought you with me to--to Rattatak, I shouldn't have gone at all, I need to be more--”
“I offered,” Lando pointed out.
“But you said it was a bad idea first, and I didn’t listen, and I wouldn't have even gone if someone else had offered because I wanted you there and then you almost got captured, or.” Luke trailed off like his mouth wouldn't let him say the words or killed. “I put you in danger because I wanted you there, and everyone else here too, I can’t let that happen again.”
Neither of them said anything for a minute; Luke couldn't read his expression until Lando nodded again, rubbing at the back of his head.
“I'm.” Luke reached for Lando's other hand, loosely looping their fingers together before dropping it a second later. “I'm sorry.”
“You've got a lot on your plate.” Lando caught Luke's hand in a quick squeeze before shoving his hands in his pockets. “I get that.”
Lando let out a slow breath and stepped back towards the door, glancing around the room before putting his hand on the switch to open it, not quite pressing down yet.
“Got everything you need to finish this up?”
Luke nodded; he didn't realize he was biting the inside of his cheek again until he tasted copper.
“If this really has nothing to do with Han--”
“It doesn't.”
Lando nodded and hit the switch for the door. “Just make sure he knows that.”
Lando hesitated in the doorway for a second before Luke managed an “Okay,” and then Luke couldn't get his body to move from that spot once the door closed again and he was alone.
The next two days passed in a haze; Luke barely left his room, his fingers aching and stiff from the seemingly endless tiny stitches it took to put the last pieces together, scratches on his sides from where he'd forgotten to take out a couple pins.
Luke cracked his knuckles on his left hand, but it just felt sore when he tried on his right.
He was almost finished with the cape, halfway done hemming the hood when his door slid open without a knock.
“We need to go,” Leia said, breathing heavy like she’d been running.
Luke's hands froze with the needle halfway through the fabric. “Is it him?”
Leia nodded. “I’ve been trying to reach you, is your com not--?” She cut herself off and shook her head. “Meet me in the hangar.”
She left without closing the door.
“Oh,” Luke said to himself. “Oh, shit, shit shit shit.”
He had to tell himself to ignore the pins he heard clattering to the ground when he stood up, cutting off the thread between his teeth so he could stuff the cape and the rest of the finished clothes into the backpack he'd left by the table.
He threw in the pieces for his lightsaber, and then took them out again to count them, making sure he hadn't missed anything; he bolted for the door in his socks before remembering to pull Han’s old boots on, giving the room a last quick once-over.
He broke into a run as soon as the door slid closed behind him.
He only slowed down once he reached the hangar, catching his breath while he looked around for Leia and Lando.
He saw Chewie first, on his way up the loading ramp to the Falcon with a large crate in his hands.
“Hey!” Luke shouted, rushing over to meet him. “Where is everyone?”
Chewie jerked his head towards the inside of the Falcon.
Lando was already gearing up the engines when Luke got to the cockpit, Leia in the copilot seat, following his instructions on what to press on her side.
“Is that everything?” Leia asked without looking behind her.
Chewie grunted that it was, setting the crate down with a heavy thunk.
“What's that?” Luke asked.
“Disguises, mostly,” Leia said, standing up so Lando and Chewie could finish the takeoff. “Can’t go in there looking like this.”
“So he is at Jabba’s?”
Leia nodded with a grimace, sitting back behind Lando.
Luke hesitated for a second before taking the seat next to her. “What's the plan?”
“We,” Leia said, gesturing from Lando to Chewie and back to herself, “try to buy him out first. He's still in the carbonite, and it doesn't look like we can get to him any other way, with where he’s reportedly being kept, but this is a Hutt, so.” She shrugged. “Money could be the way to go. Then we threaten to blow him up, if that doesn't work.”
Luke’s eyebrows twitched upwards.
“And if that doesn't work,” Leia said, “is where you come in.”
Luke was jostled against the back of the seat when the ship lurched into the air, tucking his backpack between his feet.
“What do I do?”
“If we can’t get Han back ourselves, we've probably been captured. We have the insurance of being valuable enough to the Empire that he probably wouldn't kill us without trying to get something out of it first.”
“Probably,” Luke mumbled.
Leia ignored it. “And in that case, you get us out.”
“How?”
“You're a Jedi,” Leia said. “No one knows where the hell you’ve been. If a Jedi shows up out of the blue, that already packs a pretty good punch.”
“That's what the whole look is for,” Lando said.
Luke had to tear his eyes away from the back of Lando's head. “What about--?”
“We’re dropping you off first, so you can finish the lightsaber,” Leia said.
“How will I know if you need me to get you?”
“This shouldn't take too long, if everything goes as we’re hoping it will,” she said. “If we haven’t gotten ahold of you by the time you make it to Jabba’s, then you know.”
Luke nodded, wringing his hands in his lap. “I have to…I have to practice,” he said, almost tripping over the backpack when he stumbled out of the chair to leave the cockpit.
“Practice what?” Leia shouted after him.
“What I’m gonna say,” Luke shouted back.
Leia didn’t have time to warn him before he almost crashed into C-3PO and R2D2, startling him back a step.
“Hello, Master Luke--”
“Hey, Threepio, Artoo.” Luke turned to face Leia and pointedly tilted his shoulder towards the droids.
“We figured you'd need some help,” Leia said. She hesitated like there was something else she had to say, but she didn’t say it, glancing briefly at C-3PO. “I think I left something in there, I’ll come with you.”
“I didn’t even--”
Leia shot him a look, and Luke stopped.
Leia stood up to lead him out of the cockpit, looking behind them once they'd made it a little ways down the hallway.
“You're probably going to need a bargaining chip,” she said quietly. “Like, if they don't accept them as a trade, then you'll have to...use that training of yours.”
“What?” Luke hissed, and Leia had to gesture for him to keep his voice down. “We can’t just give them to--”
“We won’t, Jabba probably won’t even accept them as a trade,” she said. “You just can't go in guns-blazing like you didn't even consider a nonviolent option.”
“Are we considering it?”
Leia frowned. “We’re not actually giving him the droids. They have enough information to put the entire resistance at risk if they falls into the wrong hands.”
“Then why put them in the wrong hands?”
“Temporarily,” Leia emphasized. “To buy you some time. Can you please just trust me on this?”
Luke took a deep breath and looked back down the hallway towards the cockpit. “Does Threepio know?”
“You know he'd give it away if he did.”
“And Artoo?”
“I don't think so.”
Luke bit back a groan, but Leia’s stare was unwavering until he said, “Alright.” He took a step down the hall before stopping again with a wince, gesturing towards the cockpit. “I did actually forget something.”
Leia rolled her eyes and walked back to the cockpit with Luke, grabbing the backpack from the floor and heading out again before anyone could say anything.
He hung up his borrowed and makeshift clothes wherever there was space in the bathroom, draped across the sink and over the rod by the shower. The water setting was so rarely used that the knob for it stuck tight, stiff enough Luke was worried he might break it before it finally spurted on. The side of his hair got wet before he managed to turn it as hot as it would go, closing the door to keep the steam in.
The mirror was just as smudged as he remembered it being; he had to ignore the tightness in his chest, and thoughts of those mornings with Han, squinting through the fog on the mirror to see any marks on his neck, the thought that he might never have that again.
He couldn’t have that again, he reminded himself, not if he did everything he could to keep his own target off of Han’s back.
Or Lando's.
He took a deep breath and shook some of the wetness out of his hair, and he forced his face into a smooth, blank expression, straightening his shoulders and imagining himself all in black.
Luke still hadn't come back to the cockpit by the time they were getting ready to land soon; Lando looked to Chewie, standing up to go find Luke when Chewie gave him a nod.
The bathroom door was propped open just enough to let some of the steam out, and Lando paused with his hand a few inches from the wall.
“I would advise you to--no, that's no good…”
Lando rapped his knuckles against the door, and Luke jumped, turning around to face him.
“We’re almost there, you should get changed.”
“Oh--” Luke turned again and pushed his sleeve up to turn the water off without getting it wet. “Your shower idea worked pretty well.”
“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve,” Lando said, peering in to look at the fabric, mostly smooth and just a bit damp from being in the steam for so long. “How’s that speech going?”
Luke huffed a laugh, pulling the cape down and looking over the rest. “Could be worse, I think.”
Lando nodded; it looked like he had something else to say, and Luke waited, but nothing came except, “Come back in when you're ready.”
He quickly stripped out of his clothes, buttoning the new shirt with one hand while he pulled the pants up to his hips with the other; he had to roll them up at the bottom so they didn't feel bunched in the boots.
The cape felt a little silly to put on, if he was being honest with himself, over-dramatic and gaudy; Lando had been right, though, and when he looped it around his shoulders, he could almost see the Jedi everyone was expecting him to be.
Luke took a deep breath and forced his expression smooth, clearing his throat and looking in the foggy mirror one last time.
“I’d warn you not to underestimate my powers.”
Luke wrinkled his nose, unsure if it was a little much, but the ship rumbled noisily from the resistance of hitting the atmosphere, and he decided it would have to do.
He had managed to fit most of the pieces for his new lightsaber into his pockets, leaving only the outer casing to clip to his belt, and he already felt like he'd gotten back a missing piece of himself with the weight of it against his hip.
He had to steady himself against the wall when the ship lurched as it hit the ground, making his way back to the cockpit once it had settled.
The air in the room felt heavy, anxiety buzzing between the four of them as soon as Luke stepped in.
“There's that Jedi,” Lando said, looking over his shoulder to Luke. “Now you really look the part.”
Luke smiled, but Lando's didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Luke turned to R2D2 and C-3PO and gestured behind him towards the hall. “Should we--?”
“Hang on,” Lando said, standing up and patting down his pockets before looking around to find a blaster. “If you have any problems on the way.” Lando put the blaster in Luke's hand, but he didn't pull away just yet, leaning in a bit to murmur, “Found you that new grip.”
“Thank you,” Luke said quietly; he didn't realize he was staring until Leia cleared her throat, and he pulled his hand back, tucking the blaster into his belt.
“Keep your com handy,” she said.
Luke nodded and took a deep breath, willing down the tight feeling in his chest. “I’ll see you guys soon.”
“Good luck.”
“You too.”
Luke hesitated for a second, and then he stepped out into the hall.
One of them lowered the loading ramp before he and the droids got to it, and the heat hit him like a wall, dry air stinging familiarly in his nose while he walked down. He walked a few steps away, turning back to watch the Falcon take off again.
He had to squint against the sand it kicked up, holding his breath until it died down enough for the dust to settle.
“Alright…” Luke said to himself, looking around to try to get his bearings. He could see the old hut not too far off, a pale lump nestled in between sand dunes, and he might have missed it if he hadn't been looking. “This way.”
He hummed and nodded every so often while C-3PO chattered away, R2D2 beeping in response. He couldn’t focus on anything he said if he tried, distracted by the unsettling feeling of a home that didn't feel like home anymore, like it was too small now compared to everywhere else he’d been.
He cautiously reached out to make sure they were still alone until they made it to the hut, and he couldn't tell if the fact that they did was more unsettling than if they had run into some trouble.
Luke looked around them with his hand on the door, even though he hadn't felt anyone nearby, and it pushed open with a creak.
The hut was eerily quiet and still, like the sand absorbed any sound it might encounter; he hadn't expected it to look so untouched, the thick layer of sandy dust covering everything in sight the only indicator of how much time had passed since anyone had last been there.
Nothing had moved since his time with Obi-Wan before they left with Han and Chewie; the box that had previously held his old lightsaber was in the same place it had been when he left, still on the floor by the short table.
Luke hadn’t fully registered the sharp pull in his insides until he was already walking towards it.
“Is there anything I can assist with, Master Luke?”
“Just Luke,” he reminded, carefully lifting the top off of the box. “But thank you, I think I've--”
He cut himself off, staring down into the contents of the box. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for while he dug through it until his fingers brushed against something hard and smooth, wrapped loosely in a bit of cloth that still wasn't enough to cover the faint thrum he felt in his fingertips.
Luke wasn't sure what he was feeling when he held it delicately in his palm; he unwrapped the cloth to reveal the crystal, letting off a dim green glow that felt so warm contrasted against the coolness of the crystal itself.
It felt whole, and it felt right, and Luke held his hand close to his chest.
He'd felt something similar when he first held the other lightsaber, wrapped up in excitement before it was broken through by anger and fear and a different sort of determination to get off-planet than he’d had before. He hadn't connected that feeling of wholeness to the lightsaber--or the crystal--until he had the new crystal in his hands; he remembered what Yoda had said, about Jedha and Ilum and the expeditions to the ice caves, the way a crystal would match itself to its user, his insistence that Luke would always be at a disadvantage for not having found his own.
He didn't have much of a frame of reference, but it felt too right, warming in his hand, for him to think it was anything less than a match.
“You've found a kyber crystal?” C-3PO asked, shock clear in his voice. “Here?”
“That’s what I was hoping for,” Luke said, carefully rolling the crystal over in his palm.
“I didn’t want to be discouraging earlier, but it was incredibly improbable for you to--”
“But not impossible,” Luke interrupted quietly, wrapping the cloth back around the crystal to set it down on the low table next to him. He pulled the crumpled sketch of his lightsaber from his pocket, smoothing it out on his thigh. He held it up with one hand while he poked through the box with the other, skimming the last few notes that weren't crossed out, and if he’d found the crystal, surely Obi-Wan would have the rest too…
The table was stacked with bits of metal by the time he got through the box, unfamiliar aside from seeing them when Yoda had him take apart and reassemble his lightsaber.
He didn't have anything to cross off what he had found, and he had to look over the list a couple times, comparing it to the mess on the table, before he realized something was still missing.
“Shit,” he mumbled to himself, stiffly standing up and looking around the hut. It had always been too sparse to feel like much of a home, almost empty aside from what Obi-wan had needed.
It would almost be easier to know where to start looking, he thought, if the place had been more of a mess.
“Is there anything you need, M--Luke?” C-3PO asked, still standing by the door.
“Yes, actually,” Luke said, going over to show him the sketch, pointing at the thin, tight coils holding the crystal in place. “If you happen to see something like that…?”
“I will keep my eyes out.”
Luke went back over to the table and pocketed the crystal before looking anywhere else. There was nothing underneath it, no other mysterious boxes for him to look through; he knew they couldn’t have been there for long, but every second without being able to put the lightsaber together just felt like more and more time before he could get Han back, and what if he was too late--
Luke shook his head to himself and took a deep breath.
Stress without action wouldn't get him anywhere.
He touched the crystal through his pocket, breathing in slow and even until the anxious pounding in his chest died down, easing his mind clearer on each exhale.
He closed his eyes and pictured the coils as clearly as he could remember them, narrowly missing the box by the table when he took a step to the side; he didn't stop until the toe of his boot hit the adjacent wall.
Luke opened his eyes and frowned at the small window. He had figured it would be a longshot, finding those last pieces like this, but if that pull was leading him outside they could be anywhere…
He looked down at the windowsill with a huff before looking out through the glass again, lined with stones and.
He paused.
He looked at the windowsill again.
“Why would he ever…” Luke mumbled to himself, picking up the two coils from either end of the windowsill. It would have been so easy to miss if he didn’t know what they looked like from the first lightsaber, left with the rocks like nothing but a couple pointless decorations.
The lightsaber wouldn’t work without them, and Luke realized that was probably exactly why they were left there, as overlookable as they were necessary.
“I found them,” Luke said, holding up the coils for C-3PO to see. He craned his neck a bit to look out the window, squinting against the brightness of the lowering suns. “We should get going.”
“But, s--Luke, your lightsaber--”
“There's a cave on the way,” Luke said, stuffing his pockets with the last pieces. That backpack would have been nice. “If they do need us, it won't take as long to get to Jabba’s from there.”
Luke couldn't help checking his com every few minutes on their way to the cave, forcing his breathing steady against the mounting anxiety of they should have called by now, they need you, hurry up hurry up hurry up.
He didn't last long in the cape, draping it over his arm and swiping the back of his free hand over his forehead. He’d almost forgotten the way the air would sting in his sinuses from all the dust, with the cold burn of the air on Hoth and the damp softness in his lungs on Yavin 4; he tried not to think too much about how nice it had been to have such easy access to running water.
It would be cooler in the cave, he reminded himself, and he didn't have time to stop, even if it would have done any good in the blistering suns, his and the droids’ shadows the only shade he could see.
The yellowy beige of all the sand felt endless, and Luke had to look behind them every so often to check their footsteps to make sure they were still going in a straight line.
The deep shadow in the rock face was the only indicator of the cave being anything but another dune, and Luke might have run for it if the sand didn't make every step heavier, like it was sucking his boots to the ground.
Luke took a deep breath and forced one foot in front of the other.
He leaned back against the wall of the cave as soon as he got to it, pressing as much of himself as he could against the rough rock, cool from being out of the suns. He waited until he couldn’t hear his heartbeat in his ears anymore before pushing himself forward, wiping at a smudge of dust on his pants before looking around for a space to work.
C-3PO stayed by the opening to the cave, anxiously looking out despite Luke's repeated reassurances on the way there that they were alone.
Luke decided it would be easier to let him than convince him that this was the safe part.
He looped the cape back around his shoulders when there was nowhere to put it, laying out the lightsaber pieces on a lump of stone jutting out from the wall. He saved the crystal for last, running his fingers over the edges, and after a moment of hesitation he took out his com, too, just in case.
He looked down at the pieces and rearranged them, and then rearranged them again, and then he got to work.
It was like putting together a puzzle he’d done a thousand times before, going largely by the muscle memory left behind from all those times Yoda had had him take apart and reassemble his first lightsaber. He had to close his eyes and go by feel to snap the crystal into place, pushing it in and twisting until it was nested snugly in the outer casing; he was almost certain he could feel it thrumming when he set the tight coils inside, pressing lightly against the sides of the crystal.
The only thing left on the slab jutting out from the cave wall was his com; he rolled the lightsaber from one hand to the other, running the fingers of his right hand over the ridges on the handle, grippier than the first so it still felt comfortingly sturdy through the dull sensation in his palm.
It felt right.
He gripped it in his right hand, his thumb hovering over the switch to turn it on.
He took a deep breath before letting himself press it, and his eyes went wide at the bright, sharp green shooting out from the handle.
His hand felt fine; he wiggled his fingers around the handle, checking his grip and the feeling of the synthetic skin, no different than usual, none of the stiff numbness like that time with the blaster.
He couldn't help staring for a few seconds before hitting the button again.
He looked down at the com while he snapped the lightsaber back onto his belt, willing it to crackle with Leia or Lando telling him to get back to the Falcon, they had Han, but nothing came.
He took a deep breath and wiped the dust off his hands, turning to the entrance of the cave.
“Artoo, I need you to record a message for me.”
Luke sent the droids ahead of him, with promises that he would catch up, he just needed Jabba to have time to make a decision, to let the flattery and the thinly veiled threat stew for a while.
He doubted Jabba would take the trade, like Leia had said; he knew it would go more smoothly for himself and Leia and Lando if he did, but Luke couldn’t help worrying that he would, that they wouldn't be able to get the droids back, that they could even be destroyed before he got there.
Jabba had easier access to droids than anyone else on Tatooine.
The trade might not be good enough.
Luke repeated his practiced lines in his head to try to ignore the thought of it. The anxiety that if the trade might not be enough, then he might not be either, made itself harder to ignore the longer he was alone, trekking towards the huge, ominous block of Jabba’s Palace, a dark gouge in the monotonous beige of the sand dunes surrounding it.
Luke didn't let himself stop until he’d made it to the doors. They were so tall he couldn't see where the top of the door met the rest of the wall when he craned his neck, squinting against the suns before flipping his hood up and taking the last few steps to the doors.
A camera poked out from the wall, moving jerkily to focus on him, and Luke was sure he could see a lens expand and retract before moving a few inches closer.
“I’d like to request an audience with Jabba.”