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Neither says anything; Han simply does as he’s told and holds her.
Luke never reappears.
Han waits for something: for her to explain what drove Luke away, for her to start crying. He doesn’t expect the latter; Leia doesn’t cry in front of others if she can help it.
Leia simply shivers against the cold; against whatever plagues her.
He wishes there was something he could say, he wishes he could understand.
Both Leia and Luke were uncharacteristically cheerful when they left Tatooine. Han saw straight through the bullshit, but was still too disoriented and relieved to be alive to ask what happened. Various members of the Alliance he spoke with agree: the months he was… gone were the worst yet for the Rebels.
A bad year that probably pushed Leia closer to Luke, forgetting him, Han thinks morosely. He knows it’s wrong, but he thinks it anyway. She came for him, and if anything, Luke’s mysterious disappearance is more of a severance rather than a union.
Han is mad at the kid for doing this to them – doing this to her. They were supposed to take down the damned Empire once and for all, together.
He has to snap out of it.
Rain falls lightly, making soft chatter on the countless leaves above them. Leia makes no indication of moving, so neither does Han. He squints above them into the tree line.
“Last time I saw precipitation was that blizzard back on Hoth.”
Everything was simpler then or so he tells himself. He valued his own skin above loyalty to the Alliance (but he stuck his neck out for the kid); his only real enemy was the bounty on his head. Teasing a princess mercilessly was easier than having to admit that he actually cared – no, loved her very, very deeply.
Hoth was a bitter loss, but he hopes the reminder of a time when they were still all together brings Leia back; lightens her load.
She pulls back, with an odd look on her face. She is not going to talk about weather on Hoth.
Her voice wavers uncharacteristically when she finally speaks, “Luke’s going to fight Vader again.”
Han’s not sure he heard her correctly. Luke quietly explained the mechanical hand and said no more. It certainly is reason enough for Leia to be mad at him – scared for him.
Before he thinks what he is saying, indignant questions burst out, “Again?! Jedi or not, is he really that crazy for a death wish?”
It’s the worst thing he could say.
She gnaws at her bottom lip and blink furiously; fighting another wave of tears. (Or she could actually be crying – drops of rain come through the canopy and fall on her face.)
In the faint light, he can also see Leia looks like she’s getting ready to say something else.
Han’s seen the look on her face often enough to know when she’s holding back. Insults about his ship, annoyance at his mocking, pleas for him to put more effort into the Alliance: she diplomatically holds back, except for when she doesn’t and all hell breaks loose.
Instead, she swallows hard. She’s shrinking away; he reaches out and catches her in his arms again. Even if she’s discovered she doesn’t love him the way the she thought she did, he still loves her and won’t see her like this, not ever.
(A younger Han would have berated him for going soft. The older Han would tell him to fuck off.)
They stand still together; he can feel the pace of her heartbeat calm. It beats a louder tattoo in his ears than the rain all around them. He feels her chest expand and collapse as she inhales a large, steadying, breath.
She speaks softly into his chest, “We should get some sleep. Have to keep our heads together for the attack tomorrow.”
It is warning more to herself than to him, but he is grateful to hear it. Luke abandoning them the night before does not bode well, whatever supposed good taking Vader out will do for the Alliance.
They lie awake for what feels like hours on the cot they share. Han is sure he won’t fall asleep, but he finds himself waking just as the sun starts to creep up and filter through the cracks in the hut.
Leia is already awake; braiding and twisting her hair tightly up. (It’s a sight he could get used to.) Her eyes speak only of clear determination. She does not look tired.
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Later, Leia will remember the best part of the night as when Luke comes back. His safe return warms her more than the blazing bonfires around them. He looks at once completely exhausted and completely happy.
She takes it his mission was a success, what he meant to do, he did. It is good enough for her. She will not push what happed, not tonight, any night but tonight.
“It is for his sake, not yours,” she tells herself over and over again.
Her whole body tingles, numbing her limbs. She recognizes it as happiness; something she hasn’t felt or genuinely reveled in for years. Her thoughts constantly go back to her father; how desperately she wishes he could be there, to see this phase of his life’s work done.
She will indulge and bask in tonight, amid the cheers and whoops of joy, the music, the elevated feelings of those around her. (She thinks she might even understand the Force a little bit better now.)
The Empire is gone, but the Republic is not back.
Everyone speaks to everyone, circling around the celebration with expressions of relief and congratulations for jobs well done. It is not until later that Leia finds herself next to Luke.
Very quietly, “There’s something you need to see.”
She knows what it is and she does not want to see. He cannot intrude on their night.
“No, Luke. Tomorrow – please?” she pleads.
She immediately regrets it as his face falls. She grabs his hand, as a gesture of goodwill.
Luke’s dealt with the truth by himself for a year she’s had it for a day. She would argue he’s had longer to come to terms with it, but she feels ill thinking that he’s been alone for so long.
She squeezes his hand in her own.
“Okay, I’ll come. Just –”
She cuts herself short when Han approaches them. Although the party is still going strong, he’s noticed their obvious lack of enthusiasm. She drops Luke’s hand looks down at her feet as though they’re extremely interesting.
“What’s going on, aren’t you two having any fun? It should feel pretty good that some wonder siblings just led the Rebel Alliance to resounding victory.”
His usual teasing tone is there; an attempt to break their somber moods. It’s not going to work today. He’s also speaking quite loudly.
“Would you keep it down? We don’t need everyone to hear,” she hisses.
All mockery dropped, “Really what’s going on?”
Leia shoots Luke a pleading look, but Luke says what she doesn’t want him to anyway. (When did it become this easy to read each other? Had they always been this way?)
“He might as well come with us; he’s going to find out sooner or later.”
Leia feels her body stiffen, seizing up in blind terror, every fiber of her being protesting. He can’t know, no one can know.
“Why do I feel like I should have a bad feeling about this?” Han asks.
More bitterly than she expects, “Because you should.”
Now Luke takes up her hand for a reassuring squeeze.
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The celebration is miles away and the forest is deafeningly silent.
The clearing is not much brighter than the thick forest they’d tramped through, but the stars lend enough light for Leia’s eyes to adjust. Out of the darkness, a smoldering pyre emerges. On top of it rests the remains of a body and a familiar profile.
In the moment, she is at a loss for words. She doesn’t even know what to think.
Han, however, is not.
“What the hell?! Did you do this Luke? Kill him and then send him off with full honors?!” He scoffs angrily and then grabs Leia’s wrist, turning to leave, but she is rooted.
Luke’s tone is defensive, “I didn’t kill him.” He amends it, more remorseful, “At least not intentionally.”
Then it is as though the words cannot come out fast enough. “He wanted you to know that I was right, Leia; that our father was still there and I saved him. The Emperor tried to kill me, but then it was like the last of Vader slipped away and he saved me, even though it killed him.”
(That was all it took to bring him back?)
Beside her, Han stands open-mouthed. She breaks out of his hold and moves towards the pyre.
There is a sharp pain in her chest; it’s just the blaster wound from earlier.
Tears form in her eyes; it’s just the faint remaining clouds of smoke irritating them.
She doesn’t know what to do, what to say, so she simply screams, screams as she has never before.
Everything comes out with it. She sees the sad, tragic face of their mother, wrecked by what the father of her children became. She sees her parents and everything they did to protect her – their fears as much for hiding the Alliance as for hiding her from the monster all parents warned their children about.
How can one run from the monster if half your blood is theirs?
Everyone she’s ever loved was taken away by whoever lived in that armor.
Deep, wracking sobs come out as they never have before. She feels herself collapsing to her knees, unable to bear her weight any longer.
She is only dimly aware when Luke wraps his arms around her, his voice shaking slightly.
“Hey, Anakin Skywalker was our father, not Vader. We have to remember that. We don’t know who he was, but we know he wasn’t Vader.”
So faintly, Leia’s not even sure she hears herself, “Is that it? Is that enough?”
Sadly, but with the certainty she’s come to expect from him, “Yes. He was our father and his last words were about us. He loved us, in the end.”
Leia continues to cry and cling to her brother, unsure of what else to do.
They are orphans; separated and reunited by the same forces.
Han, almost forgotten, crouches next to them, weaving his fingers in Leia’s hair, kissing one of her tear-streaked cheeks.
“You two have a lot of explaining to do, but Leia – neither of us is planning on leaving you. You’ll be okay; you’ll be more than okay. You don’t settle for less.”
No one says anything after that. Slowly, Leia’s sobs lessen. Safely cocooned in both Luke and Han’s presences, she senses a third, unfamiliar one.
She doesn’t know him, but he’s not going to leave her either.
They stay put until the dawn comes to the forest.