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Everything is ash.
The Death Star, the second monstrosity to bear the name, rains down in ashes over this forested moon, the bits glittering as they burn up in the atmosphere like a ghoulish fireworks display to match the real rockets the other Rebels have been setting off overhead. Luke has no idea who brought those, but he suspects Lando is involved. Red and green match with the fiery gold of the dying embers of the space station. There's poetry inside that somewhere.
The bright bonfires the Ewoks set in their own celebrations, charring old Imperial gear to cook their feast, are smouldering to ash in the wee, dark hours before dawn. Some of the Alliance personnel are passed out or asleep beside them, enjoying the campfire camaraderie and the curious comfort of choking smoke. Others have found more pleasant company for the night. Many, especially the older ones who've fought this Rebellion with blood and ash of their own for as long as there's been a Rebellion, are already gathered on Home One to discuss their next steps. A few of the old-timers have returned to their own silent ships to sleep or to remember the friends and lovers who didn't survive to see this day.
His father is ash in the forest. A billion angry victims of the Empire, thousands of them on this moon alone, would have desecrated Darth Vader's corpse in repayment of all his wrongs against them. There are two bodies left in ashes on Tatooine that cry out for Luke to take his revenge, but Luke's need for retribution has been rendered to ash as well, burnt to nothingness by the flame of all he's suffered and all he's learned to his sorrow.
Everything he has ever loved is ash.
Their connection has grown stronger since he told her the truth. He doesn't have to turn to see Leia walk out to join him as she joined him on another bridge only yesterday. He can sense every movement she makes, every emotion that passes through her. He wonders if it was like this for all the Jedi, the ones who fell in love with others who had the gift. There are no Jedi left for him to ask, and if he could have formed the words in his mouth to ask Ben or Yoda, they would be ashes in his mouth now.
"It'll be dawn soon," Leia says, standing next to him. She hasn't slept. She enjoyed the party, and she attended the senior staff meeting by hologram, and she hasn't found a warm body for company tonight. Sometime very soon, they're both going to collapse.
She can read the horrors inside his soul as well as he can read hers. No one else has to see them, and not everyone curled beside a pile of embers is asleep. He says, "It'll be a slow morning. Most everyone will have a hangover. But I think we can get off-world by the end of the day. I imagine Mon Mothma will want to move on toward Coruscant next."
"I can't say," Leia says, and because she's good at her job and is a trusted senior member of the Council, she doesn't nod or give him any sign that of course he's right. It's the next logical step, the Emperor is gone and the Empire's last gasp needs to be eradicated as soon as they can get the fleet sobered up and flying. She won't say so to him.
"I'm not going." He finally looks at her, and it breaks his heart because Leia is, was, and will always be the most beautiful woman, hell, the most beautiful person Luke has ever known. He should have realized from the moment he saw her holographic plea that even then she was meant for a better life with someone just as amazing. When he met her, he gave Leia her life. He had nothing else to offer her. Now he cannot even offer her that. All his dreams, all their past together, all is burnt and crumbled to dust because of what they know now. But she's so beautiful, inside her fierce heart and outside where she's watching him with a frown, and it hurts.
"We'll have to split the fleet. You can have your choice of assignments. There's so much left to do."
He shakes his head. "I'm not going with the fleet. I'm finished."
She doesn't ask why. She can feel the ache rolling off him. He lost their father right as he saved his soul. He's had to destroy so many lives during his time with the Rebellion, saving more yes, but that isn't the point. And he's lost her forever, the one bright beacon that's pulled him past terror after terror, the one hope that has lit his way through the torched remnants of his life.
"I understand."
He turns away from her, not able to look at her now. "I have the shuttle I took from the Death Star. I'll leave the X-Wing for another pilot. I imagine this is the best recruitment drive the Alliance will ever see. I left a few things on the Falcon. I can drop by to grab them as soon as Chewie's awake." He went by the old homestead while they were on Tatooine, before they tracked down Han. The main part of the house was gone, but the neighbors had already come and taken what was left unscorched. He knocked on their doors when he was home. Now, Luke has a holocube with a few images of Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen, a few others of himself as a child with them, and the treasured wedding picture of his grandmother and grandfather. He even showed Leia after he returned to the ship, so pleased to have this small piece of home.
"You're leaving today?"
"I think it's for the best."
"I don't. I think you should recover first. You've been through a lot, Luke. Rest. Let yourself heal."
He holds out his metal hand, catching her eye. She knows what the price was then, and she knows what he's paid since. "That's what I intend to do."
She leaves him there without another word, her emotions closed off to him.
Dawn breaks past the trees, shooting red fingers in tiny pricks that penetrate the deep forest. It will be hours before sunlight stretches overhead, but the light will be here soon, and he has much to do. He eats a quick meal from the cold leftovers of last night's massive party, and he reports in to his previous commanding officer because they all knew Han might be a General these days, but he has the command ability of a damp sock.
The officer hasn't slept either. "You're not the first resignation I've seen in the last twelve hours. Best of luck, and may the Force be with you."
Then it's to the Millennium Falcon. His cabin is occupied, but the occupants are asleep and Luke can move like smoke when he has the need. He gathers his few clothes, his holocube, and the few trinkets and gifts that have survived all the hurried evacuations. His whole life can fit into a sack, and not a large sack at that.
Han is snoring in his own cabin. Luke considers waking him. It's cruel to leave unannounced, and Han means more to him than that. He goes to Han's bunk, crouching down beside his head, then presses his lips against Han's temple.
Han's eyes crack open. "Hey, kid."
"Good morning."
"Is it morning already?"
"Not really but I'm shipping out now. I don't know how long I'll be gone. I promise I'll be back to see you when I can."
Han smiles. He's still mostly asleep. "You better." He closes his eyes again and is snoring in half a minute.
Chewbacca gets a hug, which hurts Luke's sore ribs. "Take care of them." Chewie ruffles his hair and informs Luke that's his job, and he tells Luke to stay safe.
He's left his stolen shuttle in the clearing. Smoke rises from the remains of the pyre. Luke spends a few minutes checking the embers are doused, the remains spread, the scorched but still distinctive helmet buried under a few spadefuls of welcoming dirt. He washes his hands in the spring that bubbles at one side of the clearing. He's free now.
Without a backwards glance, he boards the shuttle. Startled, he pauses on the entrance ramp. The emotional wall Leia placed between them a few hours ago drops, and she's standing there. She's wearing a simple flight suit, and her hair is coiled neatly into a bun. She has one bag, not much bigger than his, stowed in the cargo section where he can see.
"Well?" she asks, tapping her foot. "Are you finally ready?"
"Leia?"
"Put your stuff in the hold," she says, turning to the small cockpit. "You didn't have a course set yet. I've charted three to choose from, but if you had another in mind, we can compute it." She sits in the copilot's chair, pulling the navicomp towards her. As soon as Luke has stepped all the way aboard, she presses the button to close the hatch. He stows his possessions and accepts the pilot's seat. He rests his hands in his lap.
"What are you doing?"
"I told you. I'm charting our course. Where do you want to go?"
"Our?"
Leia makes a face. It's that slight pout she gets when she's annoyed with him. "I had to hand in my resignation, turn over my duties, pack, say my goodbyes, and I was still here before you. I'm coming with you, Luke. Don't argue."
He leans back in the seat. Leia is the one person he needs space from right now. "You belong with the Rebellion. I belong about three thousand light years away from you."
"The Rebellion won and we belong right next to each other, like we should have always been together."
And that's the hard piece, the reason for all the rest. "I can't stand staying with you now, Leia. I love you. You know that." He sits forward, turning his seat to face her. "But I am your brother."
Leia turns her chair to face him back. "No one else alive knows that, and they don't ever have to know." She takes his hand. The touch shocks him, and soothes him. He could never get enough of touching her, from a simple hand clasp to the full press of their bodies skin to skin. "You want to leave? Fine. But I'm coming with you no matter where you go. So choose somewhere nice."
She's staying. The horrible clench that's been squeezing his heart ever since Dagobah eases at last. He drops his eyes to the charts she's pulled up. Somewhere nice. Somewhere they can be together. Somewhere no one knows or cares about their past.
He points to the third one. Leia nods and sets the course.
The sun rises through the treetops as their shuttle's engines fire. The ship lifts off, rising from the ashes of their history into a new life together.