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"Where's Han?"

The roar of collapsing masonry and boom of a subterranean explosion swallowed up Luke Skywalker's shout. The rough, dry irritation in his throat from the dust-clogged air robbed his words of their urgency.

Wedge Antilles threw him a quizzical glance, his shoulders rising in an apologetic shrug. Luke moved closer and cupped a hand around his friend's ear. "Where's Han?" he repeated. "We need to get clear!"

Wedge frowned and peered through the chaos surrounding them. Gestured for Luke to listen closely. "Not seen him since he gave the order to split. Said he was waiting for Marcosi then he'd follow us out."

Luke gave Wedge's arm a squeeze of gratitude and sprinted towards the raised hatch of the troop carrier.

Marcosi wasn't difficult to find. The lieutenant was sitting on a flight bench, his cracked helmet beside him and a med-droid in attendance. A deep gash ran from the center of his forehead to his left temple. Blood from it had trickled down and pooled on the collar of his combat jacket. It wasn't the worst of his injuries. Luke could see the unnatural distortion of Marcosi's right wrist and the stomach-turning gleam of protruding bone.

He moved over and crouched down beside the bench, conscious of a growing uneasiness inside him. Marcosi gave him a bleary glance, groggy from a cocktail of shock and pain-relieving drugs. Luke touched his hand to the lieutenant's uninjured arm. "How're you doing?"

"M'kay." The words came out slurred and cut through with pain that the drugs hadn't fully alleviated.

"I'm looking for Han. Have you seen him?"

The question earned him a blank stare of incomprehension. Marcosi's mind seemed elsewhere, no doubt an attempt to disassociate himself from the horror of his shattered wrist. Luke forced a note of false calm into his voice, and tried again. "Have you seen General Solo?"

The bewilderment faded in Marcosi's eyes, overlaid by a flicker of concern. "He brought me out. I hit my head. Guess I was out cold 'cause the next thing I knew General Solo was telling the 2-1B to look after me."

"Then what? Where'd he go?"

The apprehension in Marcosi's eyes deepened and Luke took a deep breath to quell the anxiety that was threatening to erode his composure further.

"It was because of Derin, Commander. He said he'd found something. He was gonna check it out. I told him to leave it but he wouldn't listen."

Vance Derin. The youthful face of the ensign floated into Luke's mind. He'd only been with them a month but his eagerness to volunteer and wide-eyed enthusiasm had touched a nerve in Luke. He'd been like that once. Before events had diverted his life and ground his innocence to dust. Luke scanned the faces of the transport's other occupants. Derin wasn't amongst them.

"Was Derin still inside?"

Marcosi nodded, grimacing at the painful price exacted by the movement. "In the East Basement. I told General Solo. He went back for him. Someone tried to stop him but he kept on going. Thought he'd be out by now–"

Luke didn't wait to hear the rest. As he rounded the hull of the troop carrier snatches of barked orders filtered through the all-encompassing din. The transport was about to leave, and not before time. He stole a swift glance upwards. Counted four X-wings heading for safety. Wedge's wasn't one of them.

Clouds of pulverized mortar from the collapsing spires were filling the air, obscuring his vision and lining his throat. He ducked down beside a still-intact wall, taking temporary shelter from the worst of the noise and debris, and thumbed on his comlink.

"Artoo – take the ship up now! Get it out of the area and wait 'til you hear from me." He cut into the droid's predictable protest with an exasperated shake of his head. "Just do it!" He severed the communication then opened up a new channel to Chewbacca, hoping he was still on standby alert in the Palace's landing pads.

"No time to explain. Just get to the Falcon and get out of here! Han and I'll join you as soon as we can."

Chewbacca's furious reply was lost as the huge wall of the South Walkway began its inevitable disintegration. Massive chunks of stone tumbled in rapid succession, burying the ceremonial entrance in a matter of moments. Watching it, Luke experienced a moment of total immobility, as though everything in his body had switched off simultaneously. It lasted for the space of a few heart-beats before he sprang up, shouting into the comlink one last time. "We stand a better chance with you alive!" He had no idea if Chewie had heard him but he wasn't going to hang around to find out.

The East Entrance was still clear, but cracks in the carved pillars on either side of the doorway threatened impending collapse. The walkway beneath Luke's feet had buckled, leaving twisted hummocks of stone across the once-smooth ramp. Through the thickening haze they looked alive, like strange parasitical growths. He ran through them unerringly, a part of his mind conscious that a broken leg would probably mean the difference in getting out of here alive or not getting out at all. It would be ironic to have survived the ending planned for them by the departed Imperials, only to lose it due to a moment of carelessness. But with the way the mission was going, that might be a matter of course.

The lighting system had been the first thing to shut down and had plunged the inner chambers into impenetrable darkness. It had been a warning of imminent disaster, but the landing party had kept on going, made over-confident by the ease in which they'd gained access to the old Imperial Palace. Those remnants of the Empire still secreted on Coruscant had defended the building throughout the weeks it had taken to defeat them, keeping an upper hand until the very final battle. Then it had been unexpectedly simple. The Imperials had simply left them to it. Chosen to cut their losses and disappear.

Gratified by the seeming avoidance of a heavy loss of life, the Rebel Alliance had sent three teams in to explore and secure the palace building. They'd had hopes of discovering major hauls of archives, technology, and even weapons. But the Imperials had cleaned up well. That the retreat had been planned, probably from the beginning, became obvious, as the further inside the Alliance teams entered, the harder it was to get out unscathed.

Advancing along the stone-lined corridors with glow-lamps attached to their helmets, the sudden darkness had been an unexpected inconvenience. When the first of the blasts started, it was very nearly a trap. Whether the imperials had misunderstood the inherent strength of the structure they'd sought to bring down, or they'd not had access to sufficient explosives, hardly mattered. What mattered was that it allowed the Alliance to evacuate the building and avoid a catastrophe.

The Alliance may have avoided a loss of life, but it had irrevocably lost the building. The Imperials had made sure of that. Blast after blast had rocked the foundations. Even now, the teams had no way of knowing if the explosions were over, or if more were still to come. All the Palace had left was ever-shortening time. And all Luke could do was to make sure he – along with Han and Vance Derin – were back outside before that time expired.

The East Basement was no longer the dark, shadowy labyrinth they'd entered just a couple of short hours ago. Daylight streamed down through massive cracks in the ceiling that seemed to travel upwards through the building, all the way to the leaning towers that would soon fall, ready to crush everything below.

Through the dappled patches of shadow and light, Luke spotted Vance Derin. He was seated, motionless, his back against the sharp ridges of the carved paneling, but he seemed oblivious to any discomfort. With his arms wrapped around his drawn-up knees, the ensign stared off into the distance. He gave no visible indication that he'd heard Luke's approach.

Luke touched him on the shoulder. "Vance."

"It was my fault. I'm sorry."

The emotionless monotone of Derin's words made Luke's breath hitch. And there was that sharp grip of fear again, twisting inside him for the seconds it took to override it. "Are you hurt?"

"No."

"General Solo...?" The words died in Luke's throat, even though he told himself that fearing the question was pointless. It made no difference to the answer.

Derin still hadn't looked at him, but now he moved for the first time. Just a mere twist of his head, his gaze traveling to the far corner of the chamber.

Running across, Luke felt an artificial numbness descend over him, easing the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was all he could manage for now. Some bogus protection from the pain of what he might find. All he needed to do was to open his mind and he'd know for sure. Han's presence would be there in the Force. Or it would be missing.

The numbness broke as Luke reached the corner and shone his glow-torch into the shadowy recess. A stairwell led down into deeper darkness. He took the steps several at a time, ignoring the near miss-step as his customary agility deserted him along with the false calm.

At the base of the steps lay a tumbled mass of stone from the shattered wall that edged the recess. A thick durasteel door stood partially open, prevented from sliding shut by chunks of toppled masonry that had spilled into the adjoining room. Half in and half out of the doorway, barely visible in the deep shadow, an arm protruded from the rubble.

In the few moments it took Luke to sink to the ground beside the doorway, the sharpest of memories flooded his mind. Ben, on the Falcon, his face a mask of shock and grief ... as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror ...

The huge shockwave in the Force had made Ben stumble and reach out for support. It was impossible to compare annihilation of that magnitude to the death of an individual, but Han was so much more than a presence in the Force to Luke. And he'd felt the agonies of torture inflicted on Han in Cloud City. Surely he'd have felt something this time if Han had...?

The truth of that hit him at the same time as he allowed the Force to confirm it. He reached out to touch Han's wrist. Beneath his fingers were warmth and reassurance, and the steady, strong thrum of a pulse that made a mockery of the chaotic rhythm of Luke's own heart. It was an affirmation of something Luke had already known. That he could face almost anything by brushing danger aside, but he couldn't eradicate fear at the prospect of Han's death.

Luke knelt for a few seconds longer and closed his eyes, letting the awareness flow through him, bridging the void that had threatened to claim him if he'd descended the steps to face a different reality. Han's existence had wound itself into Luke's consciousness slowly and inexorably. It had started from the day they'd met, but Luke hadn't understood that at first. Nor had he realized the extent of it until Vader had wrenched the knowledge from him with a vision of violence that ended in the cold, unfathomable limbo of Han's carbonite prison. Put simply, Luke couldn't feel complete without Han, and his death would've felt like losing a vital, irreplaceable part of his own self.

He opened his eyes to allow practicality to take over, swinging his glow-torch around in an assessing arc. In some ways, Luke could see that Han had been lucky. Although rubble from the wall above had struck Han down, most of the larger blocks lay around him. If he'd fallen just a few inches closer to the steps, he'd have been buried alive. Or worse.

In other respects, Han hadn't been so lucky. He lay on his side, one leg drawn up towards his chest and the other extended, but his foot was trapped beneath the weight of an ornamental coping stone that had fallen from the wall above. A blackened trail of blood snaked down Han's cheek from a jagged gash that ran from the top of his forehead to his temple, resembling the injury Luke had seen on Marcosi.

In Luke's head, the voices of Alliance medics rang out, their strict admonitions to leave well alone in the case of unknown injuries. Luke had learned the lessons well enough, but he wondered how many of those well-meaning directives were put into practice in reality. In Luke's experience there'd never been the luxury of time or safety to wait for a skilled assessment, and now was no different. But this was Han, and the warnings gave him momentary pause. If he was going to take risks with Han's life, he needed to stay focused, and to think before he acted. Something he'd never excelled at.

The control panel next to the entrance was dark and inactive, the mechanism immobilized when the basement's power supply was destroyed. But the door itself was a safety one, designed to close mechanically a given time after power loss. Made from thick, triple-core durasteel, it was capable of crushing anyone caught between it and the doorframe. The wreckage from the wall above was keeping the door open, and Luke would have to make sure it stayed that way.

He set his glow-torch down, adjusted the beam on his helmet's lamp, and began removing the rubble that lay around Han, repositioning the blocks against the open door. He worked quickly, the ache of muscles in his arms and back a subtle rebuke that told him he needed to concentrate his mind and make proper use of the Force. But his thoughts were too full of Han, and of time running out, and of the crumbling, shattered structure that was close to keeping them there forever. And amongst the collision of images that filled Luke's head, he remembered Vance Derin, still unmoving in the chamber above and gripped by immobilizing guilt over what he thought he'd done.

"Vance!" he called out, injecting his voice with an urgency that he hoped would carry across the chamber. The appeal must have infiltrated the defensive screen of misery that surrounded Derin, because moments later the ensign appeared at the top of the steps.

"Commander Skywalker, I–" Derin broke off, staring down at Han. His words were full of a shocked disbelief, as though it had never occurred to him that Han might be anything other than dead. "He's...?"

"Alive? Yes."

"But I checked!" Beneath the incredulity in Derin's voice was an undertone of self-recrimination. "I'd never have left him if I thought–"

Luke cut-off Derin's explanation. "It's okay."

"I should've done something!" Derin began to move down the stairs, only slightly more cautiously than Luke had descended just minutes before.

"No! Don't come down! It's not safe."

"Let me help," Derin implored. "It's my fault he–"

Luke interrupted him again. "Vance! Just listen to me please!" There was no time now for discussions on blame or feelings of guilt. "The whole building's about to collapse. If that happens none of us will get out. I need you to leave now, as quickly as you can."

Derin stared at him for a few seconds, then shook his head slowly. "I'm not leaving without you and General Solo."

"You have to!" Luke urged. "Wedge is still out there. He doesn't know where we are. You need to tell him–"

"No! I know what you're trying to do. It's nothing to do with Commander Antilles! You're just trying to save my life. I won't go by myself."

The ensign's words had an edge of stubborn finality that was uncomfortably familiar to Luke. Once again he saw his younger self, heedless of personal danger and resolute over what he felt was right. Vance Derin would no more want to leave than Luke would have wanted to, but there were potentially more lives at risk than the three of them. Wedge would refuse to leave the Palace without them, and unless someone confronted him with the facts, both he and Chewie would organize a recovery party that might never get to leave either.

"It's not just your life – there'll be others too! I need you to find Wedge and stop him coming back in with a rescue team."

"But he'll–"

"Tell him I need him to trust me. It'll be safer to wait until the building's stabilized, then if we're still in here he can sort out a search party."

"The only way this place is gonna stabilize is if–" Derin's voice caught with sudden understanding. "You already know you won't make it before the Palace collapses..."

"The only thing I know for sure is that you need to go right now!"

"Then let me stay and help General Solo and you go and find Commander Antilles! He's more likely to listen to you."

Luke gave a small smile, though he doubted if Derin could see that in the gloom. "No, I'd say he's more likely to listen to you. And I'm staying with Han." He turned towards the doorway and the half-cleared rubble. "I need to carry on," he said, without looking back at Derin. "I'll be in touch when I get a chance, so keep your comlink handy. Don't let Wedge or Chewie do anything before you hear from me."

Vance Derin stood there for a second or two longer, then with a muttered "Yes Commander", Luke heard him turn and head back into the main chamber, his rapid footsteps leaving fading echoes as he retreated.

Luke had cleared most of the rubble by now, leaving Han lying on a clear expanse of floor. But there was still the entrapping coping stone. He gritted his teeth and tried to shift it manually. An ominous cracking sound came from the stairwell wall and Luke released his grip with a sharp curse. He'd barely loosened the stone, but its movement broke through the shield of unconsciousness enveloping Han. His eyelids flickered partially open and he regarded Luke through eyes groggy with confusion.

"Whatcha do to me?"

"Nothing," Luke said. The smile that broke out across his face owed as much to the release of tension as it did to acute relief. "The wall got there first."

Han made a token effort to raise his head, but let it subside with a grunt of pain. He surveyed his surroundings from beneath half-lowered lids, his gaze coming to rest on the coping stone covering his foot. "What happened?"

"Part of the wall collapsed. It must've knocked you out. You were nearly buried under it."

"What wall?"

"The stairwell one, going down to the storeroom. I don't know what you were doing–"

"On the base?" Han interrupted, his tone confused.

Luke frowned, additional worries tempering his new-found relief. "No – this is the Imperial Palace."

Han closed his eyes and rubbed at his face with a hand. "We've been in and out of the damn place for weeks. Guess I lost track..." He opened his eyes and looked at Luke, alarm simmering beneath his stare. "The Imps are gonna find us any moment now."

Luke kept his voice even, smoothing over his increasing apprehension. "No they won't. They've gone. Two days ago."

Han stared at him, bemusement visibly battling disbelief. "What're you talkin' about? Chewie 'n I just brought back what was left of 15th Squad."

"That was three days ago Han! Everything changed after that. We turned it round." He made to move, but Han's grip on his arm held him there.

"This is crazy. We were losing, and now you're tellin' me they cleared out?"

"Yes," Luke confirmed. "But they left us a parting gift. You don't remember?"

"I gotta clear my head." The strain of attempted recollection dulled Han's voice and etched itself across his face. When he spoke again, the uncertainty in his voice was matched by a new frustration. "Can't seem to think straight. Why's it so dark?"

"The imperials rigged everywhere. Detonite charges. They took the power sources out, so there's no lighting." Luke reached for Han's helmet, lying where it had landed when falling masonry must have knocked it from Han's head. He noted the broken chin strap. Like so much of their cobbled-together equipment, the helmet had failed when it was most needed. "We should–"

"Wait!" Han interrupted. "There's somethin'..." He paused, a deep frown furrowing his brow. "I think... was there someone with me? I dunno why..."

"Vance Derin. You came back in here to find him."

Han's brow cleared a little, but the confusion remained. "Derin? That crazy kid? What happened to him?"

"He's okay – he's not hurt. He should be out of the building by now. I sent him to find Wedge."

"Ha! Impressive you got him to leave."

"It wasn't easy," Luke admitted, puzzled by the amusement in Han's voice.

"I'll bet."

"I'd have been the same, Han. He was shaken up. Feels to blame for you being here. I told him he had to find Wedge to stop him coming in after us. No point anyone else getting buried alive."

"You mean the rest of the wall's gonna collapse?"

"A bit more than the wall. Remember those explosives I mentioned? They weren't just designed to cut the lights. The whole Palace is about to fall."

"You're kidding, huh?"

The grinding, crunching sound of shifting masonry made Luke's answer redundant. Luke glanced up, squinting against the light that flooded through a new, gaping hole in the exterior wall. "There's not much time."

"Maybe we oughta leave as well. But you're missing the point about Derin."

"What point?" Luke gripped Han's shoulder, holding him down as Han made an attempt to sit up. "Don't try to move."

"Gonna be tricky gettin' out then."

"Your foot's trapped and I don't know if you've got any other injuries."

"I'll have a helluva lot more if I stay here." Han scrutinized the unstable remains of the stairwell wall. "Can't you get that thing off me?"

"I've tried, but... there's a problem."

"Yeah, like it's crushin' my foot." Han twisted his head to look at the coping stone. "If it's too heavy why don't you just levitate it off or something?"

"It's not the weight that's a problem." Luke ran his glow-torch along the wall, confirming his earlier suspicions. The stone lay at an angle, one end pinning down Han's lower leg and the other end resting against the wall. Partially hidden beneath the fallen stone, a wide crack ran the length of the wall. "I think it's propping up the whole wall. If I move it, the entire thing's gonna come down on top of us."

"So we either wait for the wall to fall and get flattened, or you move the stone and we get flattened sooner. Unless you've got a plan."

Luke cast him a quick grin. "Of course I've got a plan!"

"Feel like sharin' it?"

"I will, just as soon as I know how badly you're hurt."

"I could make a wild guess and say my foot's broken."

"Can you move all your fingers?" Luke asked. "On both hands? Can you move your left arm?" As he spoke, Luke ran his hands carefully down Han's sides, checking for anything obviously untoward. "Can you move your toes on your other leg? Does it hurt anywhere else?"

"What is this – a med training camp?"

"Just do it Han!"

"Yeah, I can wriggle my toes. And yeah, it hurts everywhere else, but not enough to keep me lying here waitin' to get crushed. And before you ask, sure, I can move my head but I'm tryin' not to 'cause it feels like I've been head-butted by a Hutt." Han reached out suddenly and took a grip of Luke's jaw, angling Luke's face until he was looking him square in the eyes. "And you're in focus too," Han said. "But then you always have been. S'ppose that's why I've got such a problem." He released Luke's jaw abruptly and let his arm fall to the ground.

Luke gave small shake of his head, puzzled. "What?"

Han's only answer was a noncommittal grunt. "So what's the plan?" he asked.

Luke glanced back up the stairwell before turning back to Han. "It's too dangerous to try getting up the steps. It'll take too long and I can't move you that far and hold the wall at the same time. We'll have to get into the storeroom. Looks like the walls are reinforced with something, so it might not collapse any time soon."

"Okay. Then what?"

"I'll reassess the situation."

"Uh huh. You mean you don't know."

Luke gave him a wry smile. "Basically. We'll have to take it one step at a time."

"Or hop, in my case."

Luke's smile widened fractionally, before fading. "When that stone comes off your foot, you know it's–"

"Gonna hurt like crap," Han finished. "I kinda worked that one out. Just tell me what you want me to do."

"Nothing for the moment. Unless you want to cross your fingers. I'm gonna lift the stone and hold the wall in place. Then I'll get us into the storeroom somehow, and I'll have to be quick about it. I don't know how long I'll be able to hold the wall for..."

"Got it."

"Are you ready then? I don't think we should spend too much longer talking about this."

"So just get on with it."

Studying Han carefully for a few moments, Luke watched him tense, waiting, but he also noted the flicker of pain that crossed Han's face and the brief clench of a fist before his fingers uncurled in readiness.

Masking his uneasiness, Luke placed his glow-torch onto the step above, angling it to give the best illumination possible. He turned his attention to the wall, narrowing his focus to clear his mind of distractions. He was still conscious of Han, his friend's tension and discomfort pressing on his senses like a continuous, dull ache. And he could still feel the cavernous room above them, with its gaping holes and widening cracks. He held onto both to keep himself grounded, whilst reaching out to the wall, allowing it to fill his mind until he could visualize every block and every joint that held the unstable structure together.

Massive chunks of stone and the sheer combined weight of them seemed to bear down on his mind and body, with all the crushing momentum of a landslide. Luke closed his eyes against the strain. Size matters not...

And then it was simply Luke and the wall, bound together in the contradiction that was the tranquil tumultuousness of the Force. There was no more effort and no more struggle. There was simply the energy that filled and flowed through every part of Luke and through every other thing in existence.

Opening his eyes again, Luke raised a hand and let the Force bind together the crumbling structure, holding it safe and still. He directed his gaze towards the coping stone, letting it rise slowly and carefully, freeing Han's foot.

Luke registered Han's grunt of shock, imagining the wash of agony that would be coursing through Han's leg, but he kept his own emotions at bay, his muscles tightening in physical readiness. Han's labored breaths were like spikes of energy, each one a reminder to do this properly.

His focus still on the wall, aware that his concentration was the only thing keeping them alive, Luke lowered his hand slowly. Gripping Han firmly beneath his armpits, Luke hauled him bodily into the storeroom.

The moment he stepped back out, his fingers closing round the glow-torch he'd left on the steps, Luke recognized his faltering hold on the wall.

"Get back in here!" Han's shout was muffled, barked through gritted teeth and shot through with urgency. Luke, propelled by instinct, had flung himself back into the security of the storeroom before Han could finish his sentence.

In the seconds it took Luke to get to his feet again, he'd established a number of things. One, was that Han was far too close to the gaping doorway. Another was that the glow-torch Luke still clasped in his hand had, inexplicably, dimmed down to almost nothing. And there was something strange about the storeroom. Not quite a familiarity, but more a reminder of something he'd felt before, if only he could recall what that was.

There was no time to think further. His senses were still attuned to the stairwell wall, and he saw it as if in slow motion as it began to give way. First, it started to sag, the weight of the top-stones forcing the center of the wall outwards and downwards. The crack that the coping stone had rested against widened and bulged, toppling the blocks above it, and they bounced down the steps, sending up small clouds of dusty mortar and lethal slivers of rock.

Luke stood there, barely a meter inside the doorway, using his upheld hand to channel the Force. He deflected the blocks and let them come to a standstill in a chaotic heap that blocked the doorway. They formed a barrier that both protected them and imprisoned them, but it was the best Luke could manage through his encroaching exhaustion.

He lowered his arm, flexing his fingers to ease the tremor of fatigue, and stood there for a moment in silence. It was a pause he still needed, to allow his surroundings to come back into focus and to let the other reality settle around him. It was disconcerting and comforting at the same time, but day by day the divide that separated such intensive use of the Force from the peaceful existence of it in his everyday life was becoming less distinct. He wondered if the dip of tiredness that he'd come to expect would also disappear one day.

He turned round in the near-dark, the only available light now coming from his helmet's attached lamp and the muted daylight filtering in through small gaps in the filled doorway. He stepped over to Han, sinking to the floor beside him. "How're you doing?"

Han's grin was far too close to a grimace. "I've been better." He shifted his position slightly, the grimace taking the upper hand. "Pretty impressive display you put on there."

"Except I've managed to barricade us in here. We'd better hope the roof holds up."

"It will. If we can't get outta here at least we've got a nice steel-lined tomb."

Luke tugged his helmet off, directing the beam of its lamp outwards, studying the storeroom. The reinforcements he thought he'd seen were much more than that. The walls and ceiling seemed to be made entirely of durasteel, lined with a white, powdery coating that had partially crumbled away.

"Don't worry, we'll get out. We need to know what's going on with the rest of the building before we try anything else though."

"Won't be a lot of good gettin' out if the whole place comes down on top of us," Han agreed.

Han was making an effort to keep his voice even, but Luke could hear the tightness in his words. Inspecting his foot was going to be no fun for Han, but Luke needed to establish the extent of the injury. He'd heard the horror stories of complications from crush injuries, and their situation was bad enough already without adding anything else to the mix.

A quick survey of the room revealed very little. Some sort of fixed cabinet stood towards the back wall, beside which sat a steel trunk. It was empty, but heavy and sturdy, moveable through a combination of brute strength and judicious use of the Force. Luke propelled it across the floor towards Han.

"Can you sit up?"

Han nodded, directing his energy into movement rather than a spoken reply. Luke wrapped an arm around Han's back and helped him maneuver so his back was against the trunk. He moved the beam of his lamp slowly across the injured foot.

"So what's the damage?"

Luke frowned. "I can't tell through your boot."

"Take it off then."

"It might be better to leave it alone."

"Trust me, it won't. And we need to see it."

"I don't know Han..."

"Come on, I can handle it. We've both had worse."

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

Han reached into his service belt and pulled out a compact utility knife, its blade folded neatly and innocuously inside the body of the tool. He snapped it open, the savage glint of durasteel catching the light from the lamp. "Here." He tossed it into the air.

The knife dipped and spiraled on its downward route towards Han's leg. Luke caught it deftly by the handle, his grin a counteraction to his exclamation of exasperation.

"Okay," he said. "But don't say I didn't warn you." He unclipped the small medpac attached to his belt and opened it up, though what he could hope to achieve with it was anyone's guess. Because FX droids accompanied them on most military missions involving transports, individuals didn't carry more than the absolute basics. What he had was only slightly better than nothing.

Han didn't make a sound as Luke cut through his boot, even when Luke reached the sole's instep, sticky with the blackness of congealing blood. Pulling away the remains of the boot caused additional bleeding, but not enough to obscure the damage. Luke could see that, once again, Han had been relatively lucky. The coping stone had fallen at an angle, most of the weight taken by the stairwell wall. What remained had broken a bone or two, but the rest of the foot looked relatively intact, and there was no ominous swelling. The bleeding came from a gash inflicted by a broken metatarsal, its jagged, fractured edge visible through flesh. The wound was ugly and nasty, but it worried Luke less than the injuries he couldn't see. Like the crack on the head that had rendered Han unconscious and given him partial amnesia.

"Are you gonna tell me anything?" Han's voice had a lightness he almost certainly didn't feel, if the pallor of his face was anything to go by.

"It's good, up to a point."

"Good, huh?"

"You've got some broken bones, but you won't need the prosthetics lab."

Han shrugged. "Wouldn't care if I did."

Luke held his gaze for a few moments, some indefinable emotion sliding across the rawness of memory. "You don't need to say things like that to me." He kept his tone as light as possible

The ghost of a smile quirked at Han's lips. "I know. But I'm tryin' not to put both feet in my mouth. Something I'm good at – or so people say."

Luke returned Han's smile. "You could probably only manage one foot right now."

There was a moment's pause. "And the rest of it?" Han asked.

"The rest of what?"

"You look worried. That means there's a problem."

"Other than being stuck in a basement with several million tons of stone about to fall on top of us?"

"Yeah, other than that."

"No. I mean, I don't know... You need a 2-1B to check you over."

"You've already done that," Han pointed out. "But if you wanna do it more thoroughly, don't hold back."

"Now I know for sure you've bumped your head, if you're agreeing to any kind of examination." Luke injected a note of amusement into his voice, but its purpose was mainly to mask his own confusion. There'd been an undercurrent of challenge in Han's remark and the oddness of it made Luke study Han's face for a clue to its origin. Han sat with his head against the metal trunk, eyes closed. His expression gave nothing away bar the effort of coping with injury and pain. He was also holding himself too still, which told Luke more about the pain in Han's head than any words ever could.

Luke got to his feet and with one swift movement, pulled his tunic off over his head. The steel walls of the storeroom gave an illusion of coolness, but the temperature was rising in steady increments. Already, the sleeveless vest Luke wore beneath his tunic was damp with perspiration.

"You think it's hot in here?"

Han had opened his eyes, watching Luke. His question held a note of incredulity that brought Luke back down to a squat beside him. He touched a hand briefly to Han's forehead, clammy with cooling sweat. "Yeah, it's getting warm. You feel like you've been in a chiller though." It was one more symptom to add to Luke's uneasiness, and he knew he needed to work quickly to get them out. He held out his tunic. "I'm going to bind your foot, and there's not enough stuff in these kits to do it properly."

Luke tore the tunic into long strips. That, together with the bacta pads from both their medpacs, would have to be enough.

"You might wanna grit your teeth," he instructed. "This'll sting." The tiny spray canisters in each kit held a topical anesthetic in a bacta solution that would ease local pain. Despite that, he felt Han wince when he held the bacta pads against the wound, binding them to Han's foot as firmly as he dared, avoiding the jagged edge of bone. "That's the best I can do for now," he said, tying a final knot. The dressing took the place of a splint, as well as giving a degree of protective cushioning, but it was barely adequate as a longer-term solution.

"Feels better," Han said, his effort to appear lighthearted far too strained to be convincing. "Y'know, there's a coupla shots in my medpac. The ones with the red caps..."

Luke frowned. "I know. I've got the same in mine. It's just... I don't think it's a good idea."

"What – you think it'll be more character-building to grin 'n bear it?"

"I wouldn't expect you to grin," Luke said.

"You're way too kind."

"Seriously though, they're not just pain shots are they? They're sedatives. Strong ones too."

"Well it ain't like I'm gonna be goin' anywhere in a hurry."

"But you need to stay awake. You've got a head injury, and I'm not taking any chances."

"So keep talkin' to me and I'll keep talkin' back. That oughta work."

"I might not be here to do that." Luke rifled through the contents of his medpac, finding a slim, wrapped package that held a standard issue, low-grade pain wafer. "This'll help – don't expect it to make a huge difference though."

Han grasped the wafer and placed it on his tongue, where it would melt in an instant. "You goin' somewhere then?" he asked.

"I'm going to take a look around first, see what our options are. There must be another way out." Luke applied the same bacta spray along the gash to Han's head, using the tip of a finger to wipe away excess that threatened to drip into Han's eye.

"Not a chance," Han grunted. "This is a secure vault. One way in and one way out. Or no way out now, if we're gonna be accurate."

"If you're right I'll just have to move all that stone," Luke said, gesturing in the direction of the blocked doorway. "But first we need to get hold of Chewie and Wedge. D'you wanna do that that while I check the place out?" He grabbed his helmet, adjusted the angle of the glow-lamp, and set off towards the back wall of the chamber.

It turned out that Han was right. The construction of the room was seamless, the only exception being the doorway they'd come through a short time before. The walls were solid durasteel, but with the odd powdery lining he'd noticed earlier on. It appeared faintly iridescent in the lamplight. He reached out and ran a hand down the coating. It left a glittery, dusty coating on his palm, unlike anything he'd encountered before.

"Gonna have to use your comlink," Han called out. "Mine's not working – must've broken it."

Luke walked back over to Han, activating his comlink at the same time. It gave off a dull, useless crackle.

"Same noise mine's making," Han noted. "Too much of a coincidence for 'em both to be broken."

"Interference then?"

"Could be." Han's voice was thoughtful. "Do these walls look kinda odd to you?"

"It's this stuff." Luke held out his hand. Han took it, pulled it closer to his face and examined Luke's palm. He let out a low whistle of recognition.

"Only ever seen this once before. As far as communications go, we're screwed."

"Why, what is it?"

"Dianorthite. Very rare. Makes cortosis ore seem like nerf fodder. And costs more per square inch than you or I'll see in a lifetime."

"The Emperor wouldn't have lost any sleep over the cost," Luke said. "What's it for?"

"It gives off an energy shield. Blocks communications, disrupts electrical equipment, that sorta thing. No way our comlinks are gonna work anywhere in here."

"Maybe that explains why my glow-torch cut out," Luke added. "I thought I'd knocked it, but it's probably this stuff."

"Sounds about right. So I guess all we've got left for light is what's stored in the cell of your helmet lamp. And it's gonna get very dark in here pretty soon."

"And now we've got no way of letting anyone know we're okay. We'd better hope they don't start looking for us when they don't hear from us, 'cause I don't think this place is anywhere near stable yet."

"Wedge ain't gonna sit around waiting to hear from us, and Chewie's probably out there right now with a tunnel-borer."

"That's what worries me. If I could just get out somehow–" Luke broke off as Han grabbed the hand he'd relinquished a few moments ago. "What?"

Han tugged on Luke's hand. "C'mere."

Luke knelt down beside Han. "What is it?"

"Did you touch the wall with your other hand?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"Good. Don't. We've gotta get this off." He scrubbed at Luke's palm with a leftover scrap of Luke's torn tunic, working methodically to remove every trace of the crystalline deposit.

Luke watched him, torn between not wanting to move, and wanting to snatch his hand away for fear of what he might reveal. Because there was something inexplicably intimate about Han's actions, despite the fact that Han's intentions were clearly pragmatic. Luke thought it might've been the way Han was gripping his hand. There was a care and thoughtfulness there that seemed to go beyond mere practicality. And there was the tiniest brush of Han's thumb against Luke's wrist. It had to have been accidental, but somehow, unaccountably, all Luke's senses were telling him otherwise.

But before he could begin to make sense of the moment, Han had released his hand, dropping the scrap of tunic to the floor with a muttered "That's got rid of it," and Luke was pulling himself up from his knees and walking towards the doorway, ostensibly to reexamine their only exit.

The warning came to Luke several seconds before it became audible. It shivered across his skin like a chill breeze, making him step backwards, away from the barricaded doorway.

"Han..." He let his voice trail away to be replaced by a distant, low rumble like the sound of an approaching storm. The air in the room seemed to ripple, pushed aside by a tremor that shifted to beneath Luke's feet, a subtle vibration that passed through his body and into the walls of the vault.

"It's collapsing." Luke hadn't needed to say it, but the words broke out anyway. He locked eyes with Han, snatching a moment of mutual shock and uncertainty. There was nothing to do but wait it out. Impossible to predict whether the reinforced walls of the vault would withstand the weight of tons of falling stone.

As Luke dropped down beside Han he caught a flutter of urgency behind Han's eyes, caught it again in Han's ensuing words.

"Luke! Ain't the right time, but–"

Whatever it was that Han had wanted to tell him was lost, swept away by the onslaught of noise and bone-jarring shake of the vault, as ancient walls fell inwards and walkways cracked and crumbled above them. The sounds of destruction drove out all thought and feeling, leaving nothing but resignation to the relentless, thunderous pounding, until the last towers of the Imperial Palace lost their grip on the sky, subsiding with a roar that rent the air and left an eerie silence in its place.

It took a few moments for the odd quiet to register, but when it did, Luke drew a breath, like the first time in ages, the strange metallic taste of the air overlain by something so familiar yet so unexpected. Han, closer than he ought to be, the scent of his hair vying with blood and sweat and awareness of too-tangled limbs. Through pure instinct, both he and Han had attempted to protect each other – heedless as always of their own safety. Curled up close together, arms wrapped protectively around each other, they'd done the only thing possible in the circumstances. If the vault walls had given way, they'd have been crushed regardless, but the lack of logic to their actions made no difference.

Beside him, Han shifted, pulling apart just far enough to meet Luke's gaze, his expression echoing the stunned amazement and disbelief that Luke felt at simply being alive. But in mere moments that expression fled, replaced by an intent stillness that made Luke's breath halt for the second time. Han's eyes held Luke's, and the moment expanded, once more startlingly intimate and heavy with a meaning that Luke hardly dared to define. And he came close to forgetting, in that stretched out silence, just how badly Han was injured, and just how near to death they'd both been. Still were, if he was honest about it, and with that thought came common sense and the cool wash of reality.

He forced words through dry lips, breaking the hold the moment seemed to have over them both. "You okay?" His voice sounded strange, too loud in the total quiet, yet simultaneously deadened by the sheer weight of all that lay above them in ruins.

"Terrific," Han muttered. He sounded almost like his usual self, and could've fooled Luke had there not been that slight hesitation before his reply.

"Maybe coulda done without all that noise," Han continued. He extricated himself fully from Luke's protective grip, and hauled himself, slowly, into a sitting position. Luke followed suit, noticing that the steel trunk had moved a good three meters away from them. Together they surveyed the vault, which – against all odds – appeared intact.

"Can you believe this place?" Han said. "We should be dead by now – flatter than a coupla holofoils! Gotta be more than durasteel in those walls."

Luke nodded. "And don't forget the dianorthite. Makes you wonder what the Emperor was keeping in here." He recalled Marcosi's words to him in the troop carrier. It was because of Derin ... said he'd found something...

Concern for Han had overridden Luke's puzzlement over what Han had been doing by the storeroom, but now, with a few moments to think, the incongruity of it occurred to him. Especially in view of the fact that Vance Derin hadn't been trapped in the rubble too. So it couldn't have been a case of Han trying to rescue Derin.

"Han?"

"Uh huh?"

"It was Marcosi who told me you were here. He'd been knocked unconscious. Said you got him to safety, then went back into the building after Vance."

Han hesitated, frowning. "Marcosi? The guy from Corulag?

"Yeah. He'd tried to persuade Vance to evacuate, but he refused. Said he'd found something."

Han rubbed the palm of his hand against his forehead. "Marcosi, huh? The last time I spoke to him was a coupla weeks ago, during that–" Han dropped his hand down abruptly. "Hey! I think I remember somethin'! Might be imagining it, or... Marcosi was on the floor, out cold. A nasty crack to the head..."

"You're not imaging that!" Luke tried to keep his voice even, but the sharp relief broke through despite his efforts. It was just another glimmer of memory for Han, but it was a further step in the right direction. "D'you remember anything else?"

Han 's forehead creased into a frown, and his hand returned to his head, the tips of his fingers exploring the gash, thick and sticky with congealed blood and bacta spray. "Nah – it was just a flash. One second I saw Marcosi on the floor, the next second it's just one big blank."

Luke tried from another angle. "You knew Derin had been here too. There was something about this room. Something important enough for Derin to refuse to leave."

Han's frown deepened. "I know he was with me. Must've been in here..." He raised his eyes to Luke's, and Luke saw another flash of recollection chase across his face. "No! That ain't right!" He gestured in the direction of the doorway. "He was here with me. But he was in the chamber above and I was down here. I yelled at him to stay back."

"Because the wall was starting to collapse?"

"Not the wall," Han said, slowly. "I don't remember anythin' about the wall. It was the detonation tape. I put it on the door. Told him to get clear."

Luke peered over at the door in the deepening gloom. There'd been no signs of forced entry, either with thermal detonation tape or anything else. It made total sense that Han would be confused, and in his mind the much larger detonations set off by their infiltration of the palace's lower levels had somehow become something else entirely–"

"Not that door," Han said, as if he'd noted the direction of Luke's gaze and accurately guessed the progression of his thoughts. He shifted around, grunting with effort, and looked towards the back of the vault. "The cabinet door."

Luke stared over at the cabinet in question, but it was too dark to see it clearly. He looked back at Han. "What's in it?"

Han met his gaze, but the light of recollection had vanished from Han's eyes, the return of confusion and the struggle to remember taking its place. "Beats me. Whatever it is, I hope it was worth gettin' buried alive for."

"Only one way to find out," Luke said, pulling himself to his feet.

The cabinet stood about Luke's height, freestanding but fastened securely to the floor with fused permabolts of durasteel. The upper walls were made from armored transparisteel, of the assassin-proof type similar to the sort the Alliance had installed in Luke's apartment. Its smooth, impervious surface was marred by a transparisteel hatch with a shattered seal, its edges lined with traces of charred thermal detonation tape. By rights, it shouldn't have worked, such was the secure nature of the cabinet. But whoever had constructed it hadn't bargained on Han's levels of ingenuity. Luke wasn't even going to try working out how Han had achieved access, but he clearly had. Because the cabinet chamber was empty, bar a single uplighter fixed to its floor. The uplighter, had it been working, would've illuminated whatever object was once held in the display clip above it.

"So what's there?" Han had twisted round to watch him, and Luke could hear the genuine curiosity beneath his words.

"Nothing. It's empty."

Han snorted. "How did I know you were gonna say that!"

"Because anything else would be too easy for us?" Luke said, amused despite the situation. "Looks like you went to a lot of trouble to get it out though. Maybe you should check your pockets?"

"I'm always tellin' you you're the brains."

"You're always telling me a lot of things – and that's not usually one of them."

After several moments of muttering, cursing and fumbling in his pockets, Han let out a short, aggravated sigh. "Well it ain't here, that's for sure."

Luke turned back to the cabinet, resting his palms on the casing, either side of the gaping hatch, and studied the chamber. There was something odd there. Nothing visible – just a tentative whisper of familiarity, reminiscent of what he'd felt when he'd first tumbled into the vault. Somewhere in the back of his mind there was a recognition waiting to surface. A thought that was trying to make itself heard. He closed his eyes and concentrated, but the feeling was elusive, and the harder he tried, the more it seemed to slip away. If he could just focus on that tiny flicker at the edge of his mind...

The Emperor. For a startling moment, Luke felt his presence, and it took all his rationality not to step back in shock. A mere second of memory, but the sheer malevolence and contained power it evoked were almost overwhelming. That Luke should have such a recollection now was understandable, yet it was also odd. Understandable, because this had been the Emperor's seat of power, and it made sense that the building itself would bring to mind its primary resident. Odd, because in all their previous battles over the Imperial-held Palace, Luke had never had a sense of Palpatine. He'd thought about him and mentioned him, seeing the grandeur with which the Emperor had surrounded himself, but only in passing. He'd never felt the brush of Palpatine's particular brand of evil. Never felt his skin crawl with remembrances of an encounter that was etched irrevocably in his mind and on his flesh.

The scars were there, deep in his mind and deep beneath his skin, where sometimes, the ache of electrical burns would jolt him awake from nightmares of pure, lancing agony, and violent, crackling flashes of blue. But they rarely disturbed his waking hours.

Luke took a deep breath, letting the Force dispel the phantom sensations that had arced across his skin and burned into his bones. He knew he'd been lucky, that day in the Death Star's throne room. Lucky that the Emperor, for his own vengeful satisfaction, had wanted to prolong Luke's death. The fact that he'd tortured him with slowly increasing intensity had given his father time to think. Time to see. Time to save him.

Luke opened his eyes and stared at the cabinet. Something had been inside. Something that had met a ferocious current of dark side lightning. Beyond that, Luke could sense nothing further, but he became aware of Han's voice, and the note of urgent query behind it.

"Luke! What's goin' on? Speak to me!"

Luke turned to face him. "Sorry. I don't know what happened there."

"I've been callin' you for five minutes now! It's like you disappeared on me!"

Luke gave him a distracted smile. "Well I'm back now. And I need to sort out a way to disappear for real."

"How – climb out with your bare hands?" Han's tone was derisive. "Just a few million tons of stone to move out the way."

"I wasn't thinking of going up," Luke said. "Down might be a better choice."

The light from Luke's helmet lamp caught the rush of realization on Han's face, and they stared at each for a few seconds through the gloom. "The cabinet..." Han said.

"It's got a separate power supply, and it has to be coming in through the floor."

"Might not be a wide enough conduit," Han countered.

"I think it was shielded and alarmed too. That's several cables. It's worth a try."

Luke unclipped his lightsaber and ignited it, filling the room with vivid green light.

"Hang on!" Han held up a hand. "Is that even gonna work? What if the dianorthite shorts it out?"

"There's none on the cabinet that I can see. And if the electro-magnetic field was gonna affect it, it would've done it by now."

Luke touched the luminous blade to the base of the cabinet, waiting until the durasteel turned red before plunging it into the now molten metal. It was a slow process, allowing the lightsaber to cut through the cabinet, leaving a trail of bubbling, glowing durasteel in its wake and filling the vault with acrid fumes that made both of them cough. Eventually, the blade completed the circuit and Luke stepped back, powering down the blade and surveying the damage.

"Careful," Han warned.

Luke didn't answer, but aimed a hard kick halfway up the height of the cabinet, well away from the oozing metal, now turning a duller, less fiery, red. The cabinet shifted but didn't tilt. By the third kick, the cabinet was unstable enough to fall, and it toppled over slowly, spattering tiny, sizzling lumps of solidifying durasteel across the vault floor. Luke peered inside the remains, shining his lamp across the ruined base. The power cables for the shield, alarm and light came in together – a thick, twisted rope rising up through a bolted grid. Luke used his lightsaber again to cut through the retainers, then kicked the grid aside.

The shaft below was dark and narrow, but a chill whisper of air against his outstretched palm told Luke it led somewhere.

"Well?" Han asked.

"It's about half the width of the Falcon's shield generator crawlway."

Han snorted. "The cables'll take up most of that!"

"I think it's possible."

"Yeah, possible if you're a glim worm."

"It's not like we've got many alternatives," Luke countered, mildly.

"I need to see it." Han grunted with the effort of attempted movement, and even in the near dark Luke could discern the grimace of pain that flashed across Han's face.

"Hang on!" Luke spent a few moments kicking aside jagged fragments of metal, the remnants of his destruction of the cabinet. Dragging Han across to enable him to see the conduit for himself was hardly going to help Han's injuries, but Han was Han, and he wasn't prepared to bypass a chance to give his input. Besides, Luke reasoned to himself, moving Han closer to a source of slightly fresher air was probably a reasonable idea.

Han raised his eyebrows when he craned his neck to inspect the conduit. "Gonna be tight."

"Yeah," Luke admitted.

"And the cables won't be so tightly twisted further down."

"I know."

"Might not be enough air in there either."

"Glad you're being so optimistic!" Luke retorted. "There won't be enough air in here if we stay much longer."

"Something's gettin' in, or we'd be suffocating by now. Could still happen of course." Luke could hear the grin beneath Han's words.

"But there's enough air for you to stay put while I go down there and find out where it ends up."

"What if it doesn't end up anywhere?"

"Everything ends up somewhere."

Han let out an amused huff of breath. "In my experience, that ain't always a good thing..."

Luke pushed a few more fragments of metal out of the way of the conduit and leaned down, trying to see as far as possible with the light from his helmet. The channel descended into impenetrable blackness – impossible to discern how deep it went or how wide it was beyond the few yards he could see. He felt something like a shiver at the base of his spine, and he blinked to dispel the darkness that felt momentarily all-enclosing.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay down there?" Han asked. All traces of amusement had vanished from his voice, but at least Han had seemingly accepted that it was their only real option. Neither of them were the type to sit and wait, especially if all they were waiting for was running out of air.

Luke pulled back from the conduit to find Han's gaze fixed on him. He knew exactly what Han was getting at. Claustrophobia was a strange and unpredictable thing. He could spend hours squeezed into the cockpit of his X-wing, alone and isolated in space, and feel no trace of anxiety. But during a mission just one month ago, the suffocating confines of Coruscant's underground crawlways had taught him that he wasn't immune to the sudden stirrings of panic. It had taken the combined efforts of Han, on the other end of a comlink, and the soothing strength of the Force to get him through the final crawlway. And the power conduit beneath his feet was much narrower than that. And there'd be no Han on the end of his comlink.

"I'll be fine." There was no alternative to be anything else. Luke reached for one of the loose shards of metal and dropped it down the hole, listening. There was no audible thud.

"If those cables weren't there, there'd be a lot more space to crawl through," Han pointed out. "Cutting 'em first's a risk though. If they fall to the bottom of the shaft they could block the exit."

"I know – I'm not gonna cut them. At least, not till I know where they go."

They both contemplated the entrance to the shaft for a few moments more. Luke knew that in any other circumstances they'd be having a fierce argument at this point over who should go down the conduit. It was testament to Han's common sense that he hadn't even suggested he should go instead. They needed to do whatever gave them the best chance and, Han's injuries aside, Luke, with his slighter build, was the obvious choice.

Luke sat back and scanned Han's face, looking for telltale signs that Han's condition was worsening. He looked pale, so far as it was possible to tell in the semi-darkness, and Luke's lamp caught the glitter of new beads of sweat across his brow. He was, once again, holding his head too still for Luke's liking. All those things were warning signs – that Han needed monitoring, that he was in more pain than he'd ever admit, that his condition could worsen very rapidly, and that Luke was powerless to be of much help. But all those things also made it more imperative that Luke find a way out.

Han, aware of Luke's scrutiny, rolled his eyes, but the gesture lacked conviction. "Before you say it, yeah, I'm gonna be okay here."

Luke moved across, touched a hand to Han's brow. In the increasing warmth of the vault, the chill of Han's skin was a shock, even though Luke had expected it. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he said, leaving all his fears unvoiced. Han would discern them anyway, including the one that had to be foremost in both their minds. That Luke might not make it back at all.

He fumbled in his medpac, pulled out the remaining pain wafers. "I'll leave these with you, and there'll be some in your pac. Just don't–"

"take the red shots," Han finished for him. "Yeah, you already said."

Luke hesitated. "I could give you a stim-shot..."

"If I need one, I can do that myself."

There was no need to discuss that further. They both knew Han was going to deteriorate. Far better to save the emergency supplies for the more challenging hours ahead.

Luke took one last look at Han's foot, running the beam of his helmet lamp across the makeshift binding. There'd been breakthrough bleeding, steady but not drastic.

"I'm leaving the lamp with you."

"You're gonna need it to see your way."

"There'll be nothing to see until I reach the end. I can use my lightsaber then." Luke's unspoken thought, that he'd prefer not to see the close confines of the tunnel in all its claustrophobic horribleness, hung in the air between them. He pressed the lamp into Han's hand. "Don't forget there're water capsules in the medpacs, too."

"Luke..."

"What?"

"Just... Nothing. Be careful."

Luke held Han's gaze, caught by intimations of things left unsaid. Just like before, it was startling in its intimacy. Also like before, Luke had the sense that, left untouched, the moment would pass. Like an opportunity left untaken. A chance for something, passed by without comment. But time was still running out, and the conduit beckoned. He made to pull away, but Han caught at his wrist before he could move.

"If we get outta here..."

"When, not if," Luke said, the words coming automatically.

Han acknowledged that with a slight smile. "When we get outta here... Maybe... we could start again?"

"Start again?"

"Yeah, 's what I said. But chances are you think we're doing fine."

Luke stared at him, because the words could have so many different meanings, not all of them making any sense. "We are doing fine," he said, picking his words with care. He gave Han a rueful grin. "Other than being stuck here."

"But we could be better."

"Better how?"

"Ask me when we get out, okay?"

"Han..."

"Later. You should go. Just, y'know... Stay focused."

Luke gave Han a short nod. "I will. See you later then," he said, amazed by how level he'd kept his voice.

The channel dropped straight down vertically, yet despite the discomfort, there was no danger of falling. He was too wedged in to do that, the thick rubberized casings of the cables providing necessary grip whilst partially blocking the way. It was a matter of inching his way along, trying to keep his breathing shallow in the poor air.

"You okay down there?"

Han's voice was muffled, and sounded too distant for comfort, but Luke suspected he'd moved only a few yards through the conduit. The confining space and insulating materials lining the channel deadened all sound. "Yeah," Luke called back. "Slow going!"

The effort of shouting took too much energy and too much of the available oxygen. The abrupt tightness in his chest was probably more paranoia than reality, but nevertheless it seemed to intensify the narrowness of the enclosing conduit, and he took a sharp gulp of air. He knew it was the wrong thing to do, but instinct had taken over from reason, and now he'd allowed the first stirrings of panic to take root. The darkness was all of a sudden more intense, and the press of the conduit wall more insistent. In front of him stretched a task that seemed all at once unachievable – to make it along a space barely the width of his body, for an unknown distance and to an unknowable destination. The passage might narrow further, or come to a point where it was simply impassable, and moving backwards was already impossible. But he had no choice but to keep going, for Han's sake as well as his own. He couldn't allow himself to think of the alternative.

Stay focused. Luke let Han's words play through his mind and he closed his eyes, embracing the voluntary darkness that blanketed him from reality. He concentrated on his breathing, slowing it down to a state where the pain in his chest began to fade. He drew on the Force, feeling it flow through him, calming and stabilizing, strengthening and energizing, helping to rid his mind of doubt.

He needed to stay rational, and he needed some sort of plan. He stretched out a hand and waited. He could still feel it, that slight brush of air against his palm, fractionally cooler than the air around him. It gave reassurance and something tangible to hold on to. Somehow, air was traveling into the conduit Luke was in, so the exit couldn't be completely blocked.

They'd spent months trying to wrest control of the Palace from the Emperor's personal guards and the remnants of Imperial forces who'd made their way there after the Emperor's death. Much of their campaign had been waged from Coruscant's underground, making use of the labyrinthine network of passages, crawlways and hidden complexes that lay deep beneath the Palaces' foundations. During that time, Luke had encountered several of the power generator caverns that fed the Palace complex, and had seen first-hand the web of conduits that snaked off from the generators, leading to either power substations or directly to the Palace rooms. He'd taken note of the steel grids that sealed the entrances to the conduits and, in all cases that he could recall, they'd been wide enough for human access, presumably to allow for necessary maintenance. Then, the entrances had been shielded and impassable, but now the shields were inactive, only structural barriers should remain.

His real battle was not physical, but with his own mind. To stop himself from imagining the horror of becoming trapped there. Being stuck for a minute was unthinkable. Hours and days just too terrible to contemplate. Buried alive and unable to move. Wishing the air supply would disappear and put an end to a living nightmare. Even the Force would be a burden, prolonging his life and driving him–

He cut off his thoughts abruptly, aware that he was doing it again. Letting his imagination take possession of his common-sense. The urge to rush was immense. His old impetuous self – throwing himself into getting clear with no heed to the consequences. Expending too much energy and needing too much oxygen. Allowing himself to fail because he hadn't listened to reason. His rational self knew that taking it slow and steady was the only way to get through this.

He reminded himself that once he opened his eyes, there'd be no difference in the depth of darkness, but still he did it slowly, as though his eyes would need to accustom themselves to a non-existent change. But the Force was all around him, and this time he'd refuse to forget that.

His progress was tortuous, inch by inch along the press of the conduit, using the cables to pull himself along. He knew that somewhere along the way, the channel had curved and levelled out, no longer diving downwards, the easing of pressure in his head a telling indicator. Without the rush of blood pounding in his ears, the undertaking seemed fractionally easier.

He distracted himself by thought – anything would've done, other than the reality of his position. But it was Han's last words to him that kept running through his mind.

Maybe we could start again...

But start again with what? Their friendship was solid, unshifting, like the bedrock of an ancient, stable world. No amount of starting again would ever change that. Nothing could erode the foundation of all they'd been through together, and all they'd meant to each other in the past few years.

It could be better...

Luke knew how it could be better for him. Believed he knew how Han could think that too, even though the idea of Han wanting that was astounding to him. But he couldn't dismiss all the alternative scenarios. That Han was thinking purely practically. That they needed to keep each other safer. Play by the rules and stay out of danger. Keep a wider berth of the med-suite and its too-familiar bacta tanks.

Or maybe Han was thinking of taking their safety even further. He might've been suggesting they leave the Alliance completely. Start again on an entirely new path. That they'd already given all anyone could be expected to give to a cause, however worthy or noble. But the Alliance was more than a cause to Luke, and, deep down, he knew it was for Han too. It had nothing to do with an uncertain future, because they had that aplenty, but Luke's certainty was that his path lay with the Alliance as much as with his Jedi inheritance, in whatever form that might take.

Han might even have been talking about Leia. That'd been the nearest they'd ever come to becoming unstuck. Han's off and on relationship and Luke's unbreakable closeness and loyalty to his sister. But Han and Leia hadn't been together that way for almost a year, and neither had ever expressed regret that things had ended. The three of them were as tightly-knit as ever in their ties of friendship, and the temporary rockiness they'd all stumbled across was long ago smoothed over.

There might not even be a reason for Han's words. He had a head injury. Partial amnesia. It could be shock, or pain, or confusion talking. Or a too close brush with death – one that they were far from clear of. The Force alone knew what Han would even recall of words said in a moment they knew could be their last.

Luke let himself reach for Han's presence in the Force. Doing this went beyond recognizing that feeling of completeness that he'd acknowledged earlier on. It went past the stage of sensing Han only in a manner of not feeling an absence. This was active. It was him reaching out and brushing the edges of Han's separate existence in the Force. He'd never sought this before, even though it came naturally to reach out to Leia. Unlike with Leia, there couldn't be a response, but it didn't matter. What mattered was the familiarity, the strength of mind, and the very real warmth that was the essence of his sense of Han. He couldn't reach for Han's voice at the end of a comlink, but he could reach for this.

It was the smallest touch. Like stroking a fingertip on a single strand of hair for the tiniest fraction of a second. Any more would feel invasive, but it was all Luke needed to keep going. He could feel the burn of strain in his arms and the warmth of blood on his thigh where some sharp, loose metal fragment in the conduit had torn his skin. But more than that, he could feel the chill of fresher air, and the prickle of drying sweat on his forehead. He was getting closer to the end.

The drop in the wiring channel surprised him when it came, because everywhere was still pitch dark. He slid into a trench, shockingly spacious after the confines of the conduit. He reached for his lightsaber and powered it up, illuminating a durasteel grille directly ahead, almost exactly as he'd hoped to find.

The Emperor had taken security seriously. The grille was permawelded to a thick frame, embedded some distance into the surrounding duracrete wall. It took time and effort to cut an exit through the crisscross bars, and as he edged through it, Luke could feel the singe of heat from the still-glowing metal. He emerged into a low-roofed chamber, the glowing blade of his saber revealing shadowy electrical substations and multiple grids guarding other conduits and maintenance crawlways.

He leant against the wall beside the destroyed grille and allowed himself a moment to take a breath. A real breath. The first for a length of time that had felt interminable. He let the relief course through his body, sweeping away all traces of the claustrophobia that had challenged him every agonizing inch of the conduit. He shook off the specter of his over-active imagination, which had tracked his every move and tormented him with thoughts of never finding a way out. Never getting back to Han. Neither of them ever again seeing daylight, or blue sky, or Leia, or Chewie.

Of course, he was hardly clear yet. He was still deep below the Palace, and so disoriented that he had no idea in which direction the conduit had run. His comlink was silent on his wrist, but as far as he knew he was free of the disruptive field of dianorthite. He thumbed it on – opening a channel direct to Chewie.

The barrage of noise that hit him made him jerk his arm away from his ear. Chewbacca's snarls and rasps made unintelligible by the sheer outpouring of feeling that obliterated the meaning of his words.

"Chewie! Sorry – hang on! Slow down a bit."

But Chewbacca, irascible enough on a normal day, was far too wound up to find a degree of calm. It was only after several roared questions, in which Luke caught only the odd word – 'Han' was repeated several times – that the Wookiee passed his comlink over to Wedge.

After Chewie, Wedge's voice on the faint connection was the epitome of tranquility, despite the barely suppressed relief and anxiety that underpinned his rapid questions and explanations.

"Where are you? // We've tried your comlinks a hundred times // We've been over the whole East Wing area for heat-signatures and found nothing! // Derin told us where he'd seen you last // Why's it taken you so long to contact us? // Wait!! Chewie's telling me we've got a heat source now!"

"We ended up in a shielded vault," Luke explained, trying to get a word in edgewise. "No communication possible and heat signatures wouldn't get through. But the up-side meant the vault didn't collapse. If we'd been anywhere else–"

Wedge interrupted again. "But there's only one heat source! Where's Han – isn't he with you? He's not...?" Wedge tailed off, lowering his voice until Luke could barely hear. A pointless exercise in the vicinity of a Wookiee's far-sharper-than-human hearing.

"He's okay, but he's injured," Luke said. "Please tell Chewie he's okay, I'm pretty sure he was trying to ask me that."

"Injured how?" Wedge asked, now calm and in control despite the new worry tempering his voice.

"A head injury, plus a crush injury to his foot. Steady blood loss. He's not gonna be able to climb or crawl out, so we've got to get him out some other way."

Luke could hear Chewbacca growling in the background – something about digging the place out all by himself if they didn't stop talking and start acting soon. Despite everything, Luke smiled to himself. Both he and Han were going to be in some serious trouble with Chewie when this was all over.

"I got out through a wiring conduit," Luke explained. "I'm in one of the sub-station chambers. No idea where, but there's no power. Looks like there might be a couple of access tunnels. I can cut through the doors, but if the tunnels have collapsed–"

"Hold on, we're checking your location now. Keep your com channel open so we confirm the heat source is you."

There was a short pause, during which Luke heard random snatches of conversation between Wedge, Chewie and someone who sounded a lot like Wes Janson.

"Got you!" Wedge's voice came back, with a ringing note of triumph. "You're in Sector 73. That's far enough away from the detonations that the tunnels are probably still sound."

"Any idea which one I should go for?" Luke asked, trying to damp down the impatience in his voice.

"Neither of them!" Wedge came back quickly. "Stay exactly where you are – we're coming down there. We've got the equipment to reach you much more quickly than you could get to us."

"If you have to crawl through the tunnels–"

"We won't. Those tunnels are made for vehicles. Imperial maintenance crews and equipment carriers. Gonna be a cinch."

"A tunnel borer would be useful then," Luke suggested. "No way can we reach Han back the way I came without something to widen the conduit."

"Can do. Signing off for the moment while I get stuff together this end. See you soon."

"I hope so," Luke muttered, into the now-silent comlink. He'd even entertained the idea of trying to widen the conduit himself, using just his lightsaber and bare hands. But the time it had taken to cut through the durasteel grid had warned him that he'd never make it back in time. Not before too much blood loss, and a possibly worsening head injury, took away all Han's chances of survival.

It took them close on five hours to reach Han. After Wedge and Chewie had arrived, complete with a fully-equipped maintenance truck, heavy digging equipment, an emergency med-unit and a team of six other rescuers including Wes Janson, they'd set up the tunnel borer and proceeded as rapidly as they could. But it'd been slow work. The instability of the collapsed debris made the task much more precarious, and the constant stopping, checking direction, and clearing away all added to the time required. They had to work small stretch by small stretch, because Luke had no idea if Han had stayed where Luke had left him, or had moved to some other part of the vault. They couldn't risk any sudden, inadvertent breakthrough of the vault floor, and the conduit route curved and twisted considerably more than Luke had realized when he'd made his earlier, laborious progress through it.

If it hadn't been for the safety lamps the rescue team had brought along, their supply of stored energy as plentiful as the light they threw out, it would've been totally dark in the vault. The helmet lamp Luke had left with Han had burned out completely, and no artificial light from Coruscant's night air had made its way through the rubble that had buried them inside several hours ago.

Emerging through the newly-bored tunnel, the beam of the safety lamp Luke carried picked out Han. He was lying, as Luke had first found him, on his side, his face in deep shadow. He'd moved away from the entrance to the conduit, probably on account of hearing the first noises of tunneling begin.

As Luke crouched down beside him, sheer fatigue and relief in equal measure made his breathing stutter. Once more, he closed his eyes to reach for calm, feeling the emotional and physical strain of the past hours begin to ease at last. Around Han were the remains of used water ampoules, and the packaging of a single stim shot. Despite the shot, exhaustion had finally overtaken Han, and it took Luke several heart-stopping moments to wake him.

"Sorry," Han muttered, his eyes squinting against the brightness of the light in the vault. "Wasn't s'pposed to fall asleep."

Luke smiled. "Doesn't matter."

"Thought you were never gonna get here."

"So did I."

Luke stepped aside to let the rescue team take over. It wasn't easy, maneuvering a repulsorcart down the bored-out tunnel, but as Luke followed on behind, he had time to reflect that at least the rescuers could stand and walk. The newly-emerging aches in what felt like every muscle in his body, was testament to just how physically taxing Luke's initial journey from the vault had been. He was glad of the maintenance truck left at the entrance to one of the tunnels, which took them all the way back to the surface.

Outside at last, breathing in genuinely fresh air, Luke surveyed his surroundings in silent shock. Because there was simply nothing left of the once grandiose and imposing structure that had been the Imperial Palace. Nothing but debris, almost as far as he could see. Huge chunks of masonry were everywhere, edging gaping holes and crushing beneath them carved balustrades and ornate archways. Piles of rubble lay stacked in places almost as high as the original towers. And the air was full of the sounds of shifting stone, as the unstable wreckage searched and deliberated on its final resting place.

Alliance personnel were keeping to the outskirts, their helmeted forms stepping cautiously around the edge of the ruins. Rapid, shouted commands and repeated answers echoed around the scene of destruction.

"Commander Skywalker!"

The call startled Luke from his contemplation and he spun round. Vance Derin was heading towards them, his face a sharp mask of relief. Dark circles beneath his eyes spoke of his sleepless vigil beside the rescue scene.

"Vance!" Luke said. "I'm glad you made it out. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Of course I'm fine. But what about you? What about General Solo?"

Luke smiled. "He's okay. They're transferring him to a transport and then they'll take him back to the base. He'll hate it, but the med-droids'll be onto him any moment now."

"I.. don't know how to explain. I wish it was enough just to say sorry, but I know–"

"Hey," Luke interrupted him. "It's okay. Things happen. We got out, and that's what matters. Thanks for heading out when I asked you to. It really was important to get to Wedge."

"He didn't listen to me though. Not really. Not about waiting. But we tried to get your heat signatures, and they weren't there. We thought you'd got away somewhere. If you weren't where I left you, and we didn't think you could be..." Derin, as though aware that he was babbling, tailed off.

"Don't worry about it now," Luke said. "I'll explain everything in the debriefing, but that won't be for a couple of days. Give everyone a chance to get some sleep, wind down a bit." He glanced across to the medical transport. "I'm gonna go find out if Han's on board now. Is there a ship to take you back to base?"

Derin nodded, and Luke touched his arm briefly. "Thanks – go and get some sleep."

"There's... something else," Derin said, just as Luke turned to go. "I should probably wait, but you must be wondering where it is."

"Wondering where what is?"

Derin frowned. "Did General Solo come round? Didn't he tell you what we found?"

"He's hit his head. He can't remember anything right now."

"Oh, then maybe I shouldn't–"

"Vance! I know you found something, but I don't know what it is. Have you got it?"

"Well, yes... General Solo told me to..." Derin reached into his inside jacket pocket, pulled out a slim metallic cylinder and passed it over to Luke. "Here."

The feeling was instantaneous. Once more, the arc of electrical current that seemed to spark against his fingers. Despite that, Luke closed his hand around the lightsaber's hilt. It was too small in his hand. Too short to be comfortable. But then, it hadn't been made for a human hand. Just for a fraction of a second, he could feel it. The familiarity. And he could feel the determination and the power. Could sense the battle. A battle that the Emperor had won.

"Commander?"

Luke focused on Vance Derin's worried face, and smiled quietly. He held the lightsaber up for a brief moment. "Thank you."

As Derin walked away to reunite with an Alliance ship, Luke turned back towards the medical transport. He held the lightsaber loosely in his palm. There were no more phantom sensations and no more moments of revelation, but Luke didn't need them. Yoda had fought the Emperor, and the Emperor had kept Yoda's lightsaber under lock and key, in a shielded, specially made vault where he expected it to remain. Something to gloat over. An exhibit, designed to illustrate the Emperor's belief in his victorious powers. Proof that he'd defeated Yoda and eliminated the Jedi. But the Emperor was dead now, and Yoda's lightsaber was once more in the hands of a Jedi.

The night sky of the Inner Core was hugely different to that of the Outer Rim, but no less fascinating to Luke. And despite the fact they hadn't been trapped that long below ground, the multitude of stars seemed more awe-inspiring than ever before. Gazing out at them now, from behind the armored transparisteel of his apartment's viewscreen, Luke wondered how many of the worlds out there held populations just sitting, waiting and wondering. Watching the skies for the next battle. Longing for freedom, or fearful of change. For some, the death of the Emperor had felt like the end, but really, it was just the beginning. Chaos was out there, deceptively hidden in the peace of the night sky.

The buzz of the door comm cut into Luke's thoughts and brought him to his feet. He tapped the button to open the door, the lateness of the hour never crossing his mind.

"Why are you never asleep?" Han asked, tossing a pair of battered and mismatched crutches onto Luke's bed. Rebellion-style crutches, to match the general decor.

"I could ask you the same thing! How are you even here? Did you escape?"

"The day a droid starts tellin' me what to do is the day I give the Falcon to Threepio as a gift."

"So you escaped," Luke repeated.

Han glowered. "I chose to leave the med-bay when the droids were otherwise occupied."

"They'll be looking for you. It upsets their programming when someone doesn't co-operate."

"I'll be extra-specially nice to 'em when I go back."

"They'll be thrilled," Luke said. He hooked a chair and pushed it across to Han, watching as Han hobbled his way round to the front and sat down. Luke studied him for a moment. He looked pale and tired, but considerably better than a few hours ago. The last time Luke had seen Han's foot it was encased in a transparent bacta bath, which had magnified and distorted the injuries to a degree that made them look incurable. The medical droids had now replaced the bath with a stasis boot, which Han would have to leave in place until the bones had knit strongly enough to bear his weight. It was cumbersome and awkward, but it meant Han's foot was safely on the mend.

"So how are you doing?"

"How am I doing?" Luke smiled. "I think that's my question to you!"

"You got a bit cut up and you're gonna be covered in bruises," Han pointed out.

"Those are nothing. How are you doing? I mean, seriously?"

"Better now I'm outta that place," Han admitted. He meant the medical wing. Neither of them did well there, in a sense. Too many memories. Too many close shaves.

"But I'm okay. Foot's fine – or it will be once I get this stupid thing off."

Luke cast his eyes around, located a stool beneath the tiny desk that edged a wall. "Here, put your foot up on this."

Han rolled his eyes, but complied nevertheless. "Y'know, you're as bad as Chewie. The furry oaf fusses round me like I'm gonna break in two if someone sneezes."

"Wait till you're all healed up! He's got a few choice remarks lined up for you. He wasn't very happy with either of us..."

"Yeah, I know," Han grinned. "He's only holdin' off on the shouting 'cause I've got a bad head."

"Speaking of which..."

"Gettin' better. But the med-droids are tellin' me I might never remember everything from those two days."

Luke frowned. "But they've checked you over properly? There's no risk of more memory disappearing?"

"I told ya, everything's fine. According to them, it's just one of those things. Either it'll all come back, or it won't."

"It was starting to come back down in the vault. You kept having sudden flashes of things that'd happened. Like finding Marcosi. Maybe that'll keep happening until you've filled in all the gaps?"

"Maybe, but I've had a lot more than sudden flashes since then. I'm guessing I've filled in most of the gaps already, 'n those that're left ain't worth worryin' over."

"It was just a straightforward assignment anyway – nothing remarkable. Until the explosions started..."

Han quirked a grin, clearly finding something amusing in Luke's words. "Might've seemed unremarkable to you."

"I'm talking about at first, before we got stuck in the vault."

"s'what I'm talkin' about too," Han replied. "Or are you tellin' me that finding a lightsaber ain't anything to get excited about?"

"Of course I'm not telling you that! I meant the assignment itself. All the little details that you might or might not remember. The rest of it, after you went back in to find Vance – that's another story altogether!" Luke scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Are you saying you remember most of that now?"

Han leaned back in the chair, flexing his shoulders as though easing an ache. "Uh huh," he nodded. "It's all pretty clear up until the stupid wall fell on top of me. The next thing I knew, you were there, and the rest... you already know all that."

Luke propped himself up against the small desk. "In that case you can tell me what you remember – because I don't get why Vance ended up with the lightsaber when it was you who got it out of the cabinet."

"That's easy – I threw it up to him. Told him to catch it, and he did."

"Why didn't you take it up the steps yourself? Get clear of the vault?"

"I wanted to check inside that cabinet again. See if there was anything else. I dunno... a clue or somethin'"

"A clue," Luke repeated, flatly.

"Yeah, y'know. Thought I might've missed something. Like who it might've belonged to?" Han shrugged. "I was in a hurry – the power supply to the room had just gone down. I knew the door was gonna seal itself shut in a few minutes."

"And had you missed anything?"

"Nah. Empty, just as you found it. I guess I was just heading out of there when the wall started to collapse. I think I remember Derin shouting something about that."

"I'll bet," Luke muttered.

"Hey, it all worked out in the end!"

"Only just."

Han's grin returned. "And Derin got his opportunity, though it probably didn't work out the way he wanted."

Luke shook his head, not for the first time bemused by Han's cryptic remarks. "What are you talking about? What opportunity?"

"Handing a lightsaber over to his hero. Ain't every day someone gets a chance like that."

"Han–" Luke started.

Ignoring Luke's warning tone, Han's grin widened. "An opportunity to get up close and personal to Luke Skywalker. I couldn't deprive him of that–"

"You're being ridiculous." Luke pushed off from the desk, the movement as clear a show of irritation as his words. The irritation was more at himself than with Han, because he'd allowed Han to press one of the few buttons that still triggered an adverse reaction, and Han knew it full well. The fact that Luke hated any reference to his unasked-for and unwanted celebrity status was something Han still, on occasion, took advantage of, and Luke hadn't fully got to grips with brushing it aside.

Han held his hands out in appeasement. "Hey, I don't mean it that way. But don't tell me you've never noticed the way he looks at you."

"He doesn't look at me in any way!"

Han raised his eyebrows. "If you say so."

"I do say so. Maybe he's intrigued by Jedi in general, but that's all it is."

"So you have noticed something then."

"No! Can we move on from this?"

"He knows it won't go anywhere. At least, he thinks he knows that..."

"You make it sound like you actually know something, rather than the fact you're making this up as you go along," Luke challenged.

"I do actually know something. That's because I had an interesting conversation with Derin while I was laying the detonation tapes."

"Really. You remember that then?"

Han grinned at Luke's acidic tone. "Pretty much word for word. I already knew Derin had a thing for you though. He kinda confirmed it by wanting to get the lightsaber."

Luke gave a sigh, not bothering to mask his frustration. "And you stirred it up, I suppose. What did you do? Tell him he might have a chance if he presented me with the lightsaber?"

"Nah, you've got it backwards. You see, Derin's a bit like you. He knows what he likes, but he's got a self-sacrificing streak a mile wide. He was doing it for you, 'n he was doing it for me. He wasn't doing it for himself." Han leaned forward to tug the stool a little closer, letting his foot in its stasis boot hang over the edge.

Luke watched him, casting his eyes over the small electronic display that flashed intermittently on the boot's instep, and considered Han's words. "Vance is the kind of person who'd do anything for anyone," he said. "I can see him finding the cabinet and wanting to get that lightsaber to me because he knew it'd mean more to me than it would to anyone else." He looked up, his breath catching a little under the scrutiny of Han's gaze. "I'm pretty sure that's all there was to it. So yes, a favor to me. I don't get why it'd be a favor to you though."

"Don't you? Even after the stuff I said?"

"What stuff?"

"The stuff you don't wanna ask me about 'cause you're thinkin' I either won't remember it, or I only said it because I'd hit my head."

"Head injuries can make you think and say strange things."

"Sure – and they can make you focus your mind on what's important."

"That too, I guess..." Luke said.

Han's grin returned. "I can tell we're gonna go the roundabout route with this."

"It's hard to choose a route when you've no idea where you're going."

Han huffed a short, amused breath. "I thought I was the one who was s'pposed to be confused!"

"Well you were, back in the vault!" Luke rejoined.

"Okay, I'll give you that." Han shifted in his chair again. "But we're talkin' about me losing a coupla days, out of several years of knowing you."

"And in those several years, you never said you'd like things to change."

Han shrugged. "Felt like things were changin' every day for me. I sure as hell didn't carry on as normal after I met you in Mos Eisley!"

"I don't think either of us did, but a lot of that was down to circumstances."

"You reckon?" Han asked, his tone just a little too casual. "You've come after me, what... how many times now?"

"I haven't been counting. You've done the same for me."

"And I'll keep on doing it if I have to. Whatever it takes."

"Whatever it takes... to do what?" Luke hesitated. "Because we're not just talking about rescuing each other, are we?"

"No," Han admitted. "At least, I'm not. 'xcept I'm guessin' it's always gonna figure with you. As long as you keep on gettin' into trouble, I'll keep on gettin' you out of it."

"Shouldn't that be the other way round? You were the one who got buried by a wall!"

"I've only got your word for that, 'cause I can't remember that bit," Han said, with an undisguised note of triumph.

Luke gave a quiet laugh. "But you remember me crawling through a wiring conduit."

"Yeah, I'll give you that one." The amusement on Han's face faded into seriousness, and he studied Luke in silence. "I know how rough that must've been," he said, eventually. "Chewie told me it would've been a helluva struggle to get through it."

"It was fine."

"No it wasn't. It was a nightmare, and we both know it. But you did it anyway, because you're unbelievable."

"I'm... not sure how to take that," Luke said, breaking the silence that had followed Han's words.

Han continued to watch him. "It means you amaze me." He grinned suddenly, lightening the moment again. "And it takes a lot to do that."

Luke smiled back at him, still slightly stunned by Han's vehemence. "I know."

"It got me thinking though," Han continued, "if there're any lengths you wouldn't go to, just to try 'n keep me safe."

Luke didn't answer straight away, but sat down on the corner of his bunk, just off to the side of Han's chair. He'd have preferred to stay standing. Perhaps to walk away, to look out of the window. Anything to give himself a bit of extra time. But Han, despite his frequent and light-hearted diversions from the course of their conversation, was trying to say something, and he wanted Luke to listen. Luke had already heard snatches of it, beneath the banter and the teasing. Something more serious. Something meaningful.

"You're important to me. You know that," he said.

Han nodded slowly, angling his head to look at Luke. "Yeah, I do. I didn't need you gettin' buried in a vault with me to tell me that. Or to risk your life crawling through a passage that you might never've made it out of. You literally put your life on the line. Ain't the first time Luke."

"I want to live as much as the next person," Luke insisted. "If there'd been any alternatives..."

"Sure, I get that. I really do."

"Then what are you trying to say? You've risked your life rescuing me! Remember Hoth?"

Han rubbed a hand over his face, drawing Luke's attention to the pallor that lingered there, the healing gash on his forehead still a deep, angry red. "I'm not trying to make a point here. We've both done some crazy stuff, 'n that ain't gonna change. I guess all I'm wonderin' is... what goes through your mind. Y'know, if you thought I was gonna die?"

Luke opened his mouth to remonstrate, then caught himself, allowing his impulsive words to stay unspoken. Whatever Han was seeking, Luke knew it wasn't an incredulous, knee-jerk response. He was asking for confirmation of something he already suspected.

"If you died..." Luke gave a slight shake of his head. He fastened his eyes once more on Han's injured foot in its healing boot. "I don't know how I'd deal with it," he admitted. "I only know I have to stop that happening." He lifted his gaze, and his eyes locked with Han's, going for total honesty. "So I don't allow myself to think about it. I just... I need you in my life, and I don't want to imagine being without you." He let himself smile, a small quirk of his lips. All his innermost thoughts, revealed in a simple sentence.

Han stared back at him, saying nothing for several seconds, but the expression in his eyes gave him away. That Han, beneath his self-assurance and his pointed remarks, was as uncertain and as edgy as Luke now was. "Derin said he didn't stand a chance with you, and he wasn't even going to try," he said eventually.

"What?" Luke frowned, bemused by the out-of-the-blue statement and sudden change of direction.

Han pushed the stool away, resting the boot on the floor. He twisted round in the chair until he was fully facing Luke. "Because of me. He said he knew how you felt about me." Han's hands returned to his head, rubbing again at the wound, and scrubbing at his hair, leaving it in a state of ruffled disorder. "I was teasin' him, tellin' him that once he had the lightsaber... He just came out with it. Said you'd never look at anyone else. I dunno where he got that idea–"

"He's right," Luke cut in, shocking both himself and Han, if the expression on Han's face was anything to go by. He took a breath, aiming for calm. There was no point now in hiding anything away. "It's always been you. I guess it always will be. I don't know how he guessed when you never managed it."

Han gave a small shake of his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts. "Too busy tryin' to work through my own problems." He gave a small, self-deprecating smile. "I guess I should've paid more attention. Took a wet-behind the-ears rookie to point me in the right direction."

"Except he didn't. Not really," Luke pointed out.

"Huh?"

"The stuff you said to me... about wanting things to change? You were still suffering from amnesia then. You didn't even remember the lightsaber!"

Han grinned openly. "You're right, I didn't." He reached out, took hold of Luke's hand. Somewhat bruised and battered, and covered with small scratches, the hand was a mess, and Han seemed to be studying it carefully. "So I guess that means I worked it out by myself."

"You worked something out. I'm not sure exactly what."

Han entwined the fingers of his hand with those of Luke's. Leaned forward and brushed a kiss against Luke's lips. "Fact is, I worked it out a long time ago. Deep down, it's always been about you. Just needed a kick up the ass to get round to sayin' something."

"Or a blow to the head," Luke said.

"Doesn't matter now, does it? We both made it out, you've got a new lightsaber to play with, 'n I've–"

"Got an angry Wookiee to contend with."

"I can handle Chewie, no problem."

"And the 2-1Bs?"

"I'm doing 'em a favor, keeping out of their way."

"I'm sure they'll see it like that."

Han rubbed his thumb against Luke's palm. "Well they ain't gonna find me here, are they?"

"I wouldn't put it past them. Especially if Chewie finds out you've disappeared."

"It's a good job you can stop him coming in then. Unless you want me to go?"

"No."

"No, you won't stop him, or no, you don't want me to go?"

Luke smiled and leaned in closer to Han. "No, I don't want you to go."

"Good, 'cause when I said we should start again I kinda meant straight away."

Luke reached up, a hand sliding into Han's hair. "You're supposed to be resting."

"They say a change is as good as a rest," Han murmured.

"Who's they?" Luke asked, but he didn't bother to wait for Han's answer. He pulled Han forwards and fastened his lips onto Han's, letting the outside world fade away.

Neither of them noticed the discreet, polite buzzing of the door comm, that could only have been made by the softly-spoken Alliance medical droids. And Han never noticed the much more strident, angry buzzing that followed it, that could only have been made by an irate Wookiee. Luke noticed it but he chose, recklessly, to ignore it.