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I probably shouldn't have written fic. But I did.
In my nonexistent spare time, I sat down to write my own version of the Leia's Choice Of Name fic - there are a lot of them, and they all seem to come to the same (perfectly reasonable) conclusion, so I thought I'd do one that ended up at a slightly different place (which I also think is reasonable!), which should be a short one-shot. However, my attention pretty much immediately drifted beyond that, as it does, and what I ended up writing was neither short, specifically to do with Leia's name, or a one-shot. But it is about Han-Leia-Luke, Luke-Leia-Anakin, Luke and Anakin, Luke and Leia being similar (and a little uncanny), agency, choices made before and after ROTJ, Force-ghosts, multiple perspectives, ROTJ!Leia =/= ESB!Leia, my dislike of Tatooine Ghost, and various other things I find personally satisfying to write about.
More concisely: SW (mostly) post-ROTJ headcanon idfic!
title: only to shine (1/2)
verse: canon-compliant; meant to fit with The Quality of Mercy but stands on its own
Leia knew that Luke wasn't exactly like her, and Han wasn't exactly her opposite. Yet, in an odd way, it felt like it. It felt like Han was always reaching across a chasm of difference, like Luke was always reflecting some part of Leia back at herself. A missing part, now and then, but she couldn't remember a time when she hadn't felt as if something were missing—not just lost, but painfully torn away.
Han, she realized, was different not only because he was different, but because he was separate. There was something right about that, about them, about two distinct people choosing each other. With Luke—it wasn't wrong to love him, of course, just . . . a little narcissistic.
In the months that followed, Leia and Han could hardly pass each other in the same hall without snarling. She thoroughly enjoyed it, though she’d never have said so. Meanwhile, she and Luke grew closer, the easy affinity between them deepening. They fussed over each other, shouted at Han in unison, practiced shooting, and talked very seriously (if not always soberly) about fashion. Occasionally they finished each other’s sentences when Luke’s voice trailed off into uncertainty, or Leia’s broke off in frustration.
They understood each other. That was why she had no qualms about kissing him. Luke wouldn’t -- he didn’t -- he’d understand what it meant, and more importantly, what it didn’t mean.
They couldn’t quite wrap their minds around Han. He didn’t believe in the Rebellion and constantly risked his life for it; he muttered about leaving any day now, but never did. Leia, in her more self-aware moments, knew that she liked having him around, scoundrel or not. She dreaded his inevitable departure, even as her stomach twisted at the thought of losing Luke again. Again? Well, losing him at all.
That was the choice facing her. Nothing like the jokes and wagers made about the Rebellion’s own holodrama -- she and Luke pretended they didn’t know about them; Han just laughed and bet on himself -- but a choice between one loss or the other. She knew she would have to choose, eventually. Just not yet.
In the end, though, she didn’t -- not really. She’d accepted that she loved Han, and she’d never had any trouble accepting her love for Luke: there was no danger in it. Then Han was a wall hanging and Luke was a cyborg (not that it mattered, except to him), and then they rescued Han, and then she and Luke were siblings.
She should have been shocked, Leia supposed. How often had she carelessly kissed him, thinking nothing of it beyond comfort or luck or taunting Han? Yet as soon as the words my sister passed his lips, she guessed the truth. I think I’ve always known, she said. She didn’t mean it literally, of course. But she’d seen herself in him, felt something clicking into place, binding them together before she ever heard his voice in her mind.
They were brother and sister. Twins. It had to be twins, they had the same birthday -- they’d celebrated themselves every Empire Day since they turned nineteen. And she’d been right to fear losing him again: somebody had torn him away, taken him from her -- Leia felt a flash of rage at the thought and suppressed it. It was for the best. She didn’t have to lose anyone now. Not by any choice of her own.
Later, after the fireworks died away, her mind went back to Han’s stunned face -- far more stunned than hers or Luke’s had been. They’d known what they felt, even if they had no word but love for it. She would have chosen Han. Instead there was no loss, and no choice.
No choice. And not because of any clever solution she or Luke had found, but because Anakin Skywalker had sired the both of them.
It wasn’t that she didn’t feel happy. She was happy: relieved that they were siblings and Han had taken it so well after those first few moments, thrilled that the Emperor was dead and Luke was alive, and that she shared in their power, pleased even that she could now, properly, name everything in her own mind: lovers, friends, twins. She liked all of it. It was just --
She liked making choices, too.
#
Han had known for years that there was something between Luke and Leia that he had no part in. Not an affair; he'd have recognized that, and the kid's own aunt couldn’t have mothered him as relentlessly as Leia did. Not exactly friends, either. But something.
He didn't waste a lot of time thinking about it. Luke was his best friend, and Leia was -- Leia. It would all work out somehow. Vaguely, he figured they’d just stay the way they were: Luke prattling on about peace and harmony until he decided it was the will of the Force that he start crushing windpipes and amputating limbs, Leia blasting everything in sight, and Han keeping everyone from getting killed on other people’s crusades.
The knight and the princess and the pirate. It seemed about right to him.
Then Leia turned out to be Luke’s sister, and suddenly everything made sense. They weren’t connected at the hip in some bizarre and depressingly chaste threesome, they were family. And a damn sight better than his own had ever been.
He didn’t say much when they told him everything. They weren’t just brother and sister, they said, but twins -- which should have been obvious, but somehow wasn’t. Leia seemed older. Or Luke did. Or something. But he’d always gotten them hilariously drunk on the same day, and he couldn’t tell their voices apart when they screamed at him, so that made sense too, even if they didn’t look much alike. Something about the eyes, though.
The jokes, he thought, all but made themselves, but he took one look at their pale faces and kept his mouth shut. Then they told him that Vader was their father, and had died saving Luke from the Emperor.
Not much to say to that. He was glad Vader was dead, and the way he’d gone -- well, it was probably the only decent thing he’d ever done. Not the sort of thing you told a man’s kids, though. And he had less reason to remember Vader well than most, but he figured that watching your father give his life for yours had to make things more complicated, even if it was Darth Vader.
Han’s father wouldn’t have died for him. Or given up a mildly interesting hobby, if it'd come down to that.
“Well,” managed Han, after mentally discarding so your mother--? and it doesn’t make a difference and must be hellish. “Good for him. But it doesn’t . . . you’re not anything like him, anyway.”
“Jabba might not agree,” Leia said, her voice very even. Luke, absently rubbing his wrist, looked proud and then guilty.
“Well, not anything that matters,” said Han. “What are you going to tell people?”
For the first time that day, they seemed to fall out of tandem with each other, Leia looking away uncomfortably and Luke frowning down at his boots. It was unusual enough that Han, slightly disconcerted, almost wondered how the “psychic twins separated at birth” explanation had never occurred to him.
“I’d prefer not to hide our relationship,” said Leia. “Luke’s my brother, not some illicit lover.”
Thank the Force, Han thought.
“It’s just that . . . I resigned my position so that I’d be free to fight for the Rebellion as I see fit,” she said, still avoiding Luke’s eyes. “But I don’t -- if people start thinking of me as Vader’s daughter, I won’t have a career to go back to.” Without warning, she swung around to face her brother. “Luke, you understand?”
He lifted his eyes. “Yes. It’s different for me. I don’t answer to anyone now, not really.”
“Wait,” said Han. “What are you two going on about? What does telling people you’re brother and sister have to do with Vader?”
They gave him blank stares.
“Han,” said Luke, his tone managing to suggest that Han was either mad or drunk, “he’s my father. Leia is my twin sister. It’s not that big a leap.”
“I had my loyalty questioned just because he occasionally supported my measures in the Senate,” Leia added. “They were over slavery.”
“Well, yeah,” said Han. “That’s politicians for you. Other politicians, I mean. Than you. But Luke’s father is General Skywalker, hero of the Clone Wars, as far as anyone knows. Does anyone know about his, uh, career change?”
“No,” Leia said. “But there are already rumours that the Emperor and Vader escaped the destruction of the Death Star. We don’t want them spreading further.”
“I’m reporting to the High Command in an hour,” said Luke. He checked his chronometer. “Actually, forty minutes.”
“You don’t have to tell them everything.”
Luke smiled. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
“I mean. You get down to it, the Emperor got distracted electrocuting you, yeah? And Vader took advantage of it and strangled him or something, but got fried.”
“Well, Father threw him down a reactor shaft,” said Luke. “But essentially, yes.”
“Tell ’em that, then. Nothing about it says that he’s your father, just that he wanted the old bastard dead. And half the Empire did, nothing too hard to believe about that. Hell, maybe Vader did hate him.”
“Oh, he did -- he wanted me to help him overthrow the Emperor,” Luke said. “Not enough to die for it, though.”
“You don’t have to mention that part,” said Han.
Leia was studying her brother with the same distant, almost unfocused expression she’d worn after the battle.
“It’s up to you,” she said, just as Luke told her,
“It’s your choice, Leia.”
They all laughed. Then Leia said, “Both of us, then. But you should get ready. Go, and we’ll decide when you get back.”
Luke gave her a sharp look, then smiled and walked towards his own quarters. Han grinned at her.
“You’re the oldest, right?”
Leia grinned. “We don’t know. We know hardly anything. But -- ” her brow furrowed -- “I think he is, actually.”
Han decided he didn’t want to ask. “So, what did you need to tell me that you didn’t want him hearing?”
“He knows what I’m going to say.” She took a deep breath. “I won’t say it doesn’t matter, that I’ve got Vader’s blood in my veins. I -- I can’t stop thinking about it.” Leia glanced down at her arms, then folded them tightly under her breasts. “The thing is, though, Vader is far more Luke’s father than mine. My father, my real father, died with Alderaan. Besides, Vader didn’t throw the Empire at us looking for me. He didn’t die for me. But it’s different for Luke. There was … a tie there. Like there is between him and me.”
Not entirely sure what she was heading at, Han remembered Luke’s fit of panic on the Tyridium. “So when he was muttering about endangering the mission -- ”
Leia nodded. “Vader could sense him. But he could sense Vader, too. Not just his presence, but his -- personality, I suppose. He could tell that Vader wasn’t . . . that he cared for him.” Her lips pressed together. “After a fashion. I didn’t believe it then, but Luke was so convinced that there was something to be saved, and -- we know what happened.”
Han remembered the sparks arcing over his chest in Cloud City, and felt a flash of satisfaction that Vader had died by electricity. His throat dried.
“It doesn’t make up for everything,” he said. “I’m not saying his last ten minutes weren’t heroic, but . . . Leia, he tortured you too. You know this doesn’t make up for that.”
She closed her eyes. “I know.” Then she opened them again, her gaze fierce. “It’s not about that. Knowing that he died for Luke and brought down the Emperor isn’t going to make people forget everything else. I haven’t forgotten. Luke hasn’t forgotten. This isn’t about clearing the datapad, it’s about acknowledging a sacrifice, by which we have gained an enormous advantage, and made entirely for Luke’s sake. He’s alive, and the Emperor dead, because his father loved him. He’s going to want it acknowledged.”
“I still can’t believe he’d choose Vader over you,” said Han. Leia only shook her head.
“It’s not that simple, Han.”
#
When Luke walked into his quarters, he found a ghost sprawled across one of his chairs, reading one of his (duller) holobooks. Man and book emitted the same pale blue glow--a shade lighter than Obi-Wan always had.
The ghost glanced up and smiled. He looked very young, perhaps a year or two older than Luke, and nothing like the old man from last night. Luke still knew him instantly.
“Father?”
“Hello, Luke,” Anakin said, setting the book down. “I assumed it would be distracting to see me while you were talking to Solo and your sister, so I waited here.”
“I . . .” Luke abruptly realized he was, to all appearances, standing before an open door talking to thin air. He switched the door shut. “Yes. Leia . . . she would be --”
“She can’t see me. A certain degree of cooperation is required,” said Anakin. “Obi-Wan didn’t tell you?”
Luke sank into a chair, scarcely able to credit that he was actually sitting in his room, having a perfectly civil conversation with his father. His dead father. “Obi-Wan’s a little stingy with information,” he said.
Anakin’s eyes narrowed. For a moment, he looked very much Darth Vader, for all that Luke had no idea what expressions he’d worn behind the mask. Then he smiled again, a little ruefully. “I suppose I’m not in a position to hold grudges.”
Luke bit back a chuckle. Yoda, after all, had insisted that clinging to grudges was a kind of attachment, and led to the Dark Side.
“Yoda thinks everything leads to the Dark Side,” said Anakin. “Or did. It seems to have gone missing at the moment. Well. You wanted to speak to me?”
“I did?”
“We’re not supposed to appear where we aren’t needed,” Anakin said, in a disinterested voice that left Luke less than convinced of his adherence to spectral regulations. “I certainly hope you did.”
“Well, I’m glad to see you,” Luke said honestly. “We never really got to talk.”
Anakin looked at him for a moment, then glanced away and sat up straight. “That is . . . a remarkably generous way of putting it. How is your hand?”
Luke swallowed. “All right. It’s stronger than my real one was -- I forget every now and then, but I haven’t hurt anyone. I did get it repaired after we rescued Han, and they calibrated it a bit better then.”
They both looked at the gloved hand.
“Good,” said Anakin, his voice a bit thick. He frowned. “The Rebellion doesn’t have proper synthetics?”
Luke flushed. “They do. It looks very . . . convincing. I just -- ” He flexed the hand, knowing that neither of them would be able to avoid thinking of the last time he’d done so. “It’s a reminder.”
“Ah.” Anakin’s eyes drifted around the room. “And your sister? How is she?”
The awkwardness all but pervading the room seemed to go up a notch.
“Leia’s --” He gestured vaguely. “She’s Leia. Han and I practically had to drag her to see a medical droid -- she got shot in the battle. Nothing serious, but . . . you know. Leia.”
“Yes, I know her,” said Anakin. “I assume she is aware of the truth?”
Luke nodded. “As of yesterday. It’s -- she has to deal with it in her own time. And it’s different for her. I didn’t know you, and I’d effectively resigned anyway. Leia just left the command and enlisted.” He bit his lip. “I don’t know how long she’ll stand answering to people, but I’m sure Senator Mothma and the others would welcome her back. She’s always been the image of the Rebellion, I think.”
Anakin flickered slightly, and when he looked up, he was different again, neither the old man nor the young one. Perhaps forty.
“Not always,” he said, “as she was an Imperial Senator, but certainly since Tarkin destroyed Alderaan.”
“I forgot she was a spy.” Luke checked the time and got to his feet, rummaging around his drawers for a comb. He didn’t have much time left, and -- perhaps he had wanted to ask him something. But it was easier to say without looking at him. “If she does go back to leading the Rebellion . . . it’ll be easier for her if they don’t know about you.”
“Possible, you mean,” Anakin said sharply. “Why under the suns would anyone know about her connection to me?”
Unsurprisingly, he didn’t appear in the mirror. Luke kept his eyes fixed on his reflection and ran the comb through his hair. It was really a very unfortunate haircut. “There’s a rumour that you and the Emperor evacuated with the other Imperials.”
“Ah. An imposter could rally the Empire around him,” Anakin said, apprehending immediately. “I would be particularly easy to impersonate. Still, you can simply assure them that I murdered the Emperor while he was distracted with you, and died shortly thereafter. There is no need to bring your sister into it.”
“We’re considering that,” said Luke, turning to face him, “but Leia’s determined that the sacrifices that brought us victory should be acknowledged. All of them. I don’t know. I mean, I agree, but . . . she’s spent her entire life hiding things and being hidden. She deserves better. And I -- ”
“There’s no need to make me a martyr for your Rebellion. I didn’t die for them. I did it for you and your sister.” Anakin hesitated, then added, “Besides, it’s not quite the sacrifice that it would be for someone else. I am a Jedi, and as Obi-Wan once put it, now more powerful than I could ever have imagined.”
Luke blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“I dreamed my whole life of conquering death,” Anakin said. “And now, we -- Qui-Gon and Yoda and Obi-Wan and I -- have found the path to immortality.” He was dimmer now, a little fuzzy around the edges, but his laugh was loud and clear. “Luke, do you think I care if the galaxy despises Darth Vader slightly less than they do at the moment?”
#
“You’re saying that Vader killed the Emperor?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Luke.
Behind him, Han cleared his throat.
“I, uh, have reason to believe that he’s been plotting against him for some time,” Luke said. “On Cloud City, he offered me -- he suggested that we both kill him and take over the Empire.”
Mon Mothma blinked several times. “You didn’t mention this in your report at the time.”
“He was still recovering,” said Leia. “His mind wasn’t perfectly clear, and obviously he refused the offer.” She glanced pointedly at his hand. “Still, taking it into consideration, I don’t find it difficult to believe that Vader may very well have loathed the Emperor.”
Several of the generals shifted. “Enough to die killing him?” asked Madine.
“Apparently,” Leia said.
Locking her hands behind her back, Mothma paced back and forth. “Let me see if I understand correctly. As a former Jedi, Vader was able to sense your presence, so you left to avoid further endangering the mission. You deliberately got yourself captured by the Empire for the purpose of distracting Emperor Palpatine and Lord Vader. You received yet another chance to co-rule the galaxy, this time from the Emperor, who offered you Vader’s position, in his presence.”
Han, Luke, and Leia glanced at each other.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Luke.
“You rejected the offer and the Emperor attempted to torture you to death by shooting lightning out of his fingertips. Vader took advantage of the opportunity and threw him down a nearby reactor shaft, but was himself electrocuted, which sufficiently damaged his life-support that he, too, died.”
“That’s right.”
“Are you capable of the same technique?” said Admiral Ackbar. “With the lightning?”
Luke shuddered. “No. For which I’m grateful.”
“Luke and Leia went to the med-bay together,” Han interjected. “His nerve damage should be on record.”
“Thank you, General Solo,” said Mothma dryly. “In fact, incredible though the story may be, I see no reason to doubt it. Vader has always been a loose cannon, and the fact that Palpatine was Force-sensitive explains . . . rather more than it doesn’t.”
“It must have taken Vader some time to die,” Madine said.
“Yes,” Luke said. “A few minutes.”
“Did he say anything of importance?”
Luke hesitated. “He wanted me to tell Leia what had happened. I think he respected her, in his way.”
Beside him, Leia stiffened. But her voice was very sweet when she said, “It’s possible. You may remember how often he supported me in the Senate.”
“I do,” said Mothma. “Well, thank you for your time, Jedi Skywalker. Will you be remaining with us?”
“I’m afraid not. There are things I have to do back home. After that -- ” Luke spread his hands -- “I’m not sure exactly what I’ll be doing, but I’m a Jedi now. I have no business fighting a war, even a war nearly won. I’m sorry.”
Mothma looked thoughtful. “Jedi of the Old Republic were generals in the war.”
“I’m not a Jedi of the Old Republic,” said Luke.
More concisely: SW (mostly) post-ROTJ headcanon idfic!
title: only to shine (1/2)
verse: canon-compliant; meant to fit with The Quality of Mercy but stands on its own
Leia knew that Luke wasn't exactly like her, and Han wasn't exactly her opposite. Yet, in an odd way, it felt like it. It felt like Han was always reaching across a chasm of difference, like Luke was always reflecting some part of Leia back at herself. A missing part, now and then, but she couldn't remember a time when she hadn't felt as if something were missing—not just lost, but painfully torn away.
Han, she realized, was different not only because he was different, but because he was separate. There was something right about that, about them, about two distinct people choosing each other. With Luke—it wasn't wrong to love him, of course, just . . . a little narcissistic.
In the months that followed, Leia and Han could hardly pass each other in the same hall without snarling. She thoroughly enjoyed it, though she’d never have said so. Meanwhile, she and Luke grew closer, the easy affinity between them deepening. They fussed over each other, shouted at Han in unison, practiced shooting, and talked very seriously (if not always soberly) about fashion. Occasionally they finished each other’s sentences when Luke’s voice trailed off into uncertainty, or Leia’s broke off in frustration.
They understood each other. That was why she had no qualms about kissing him. Luke wouldn’t -- he didn’t -- he’d understand what it meant, and more importantly, what it didn’t mean.
They couldn’t quite wrap their minds around Han. He didn’t believe in the Rebellion and constantly risked his life for it; he muttered about leaving any day now, but never did. Leia, in her more self-aware moments, knew that she liked having him around, scoundrel or not. She dreaded his inevitable departure, even as her stomach twisted at the thought of losing Luke again. Again? Well, losing him at all.
That was the choice facing her. Nothing like the jokes and wagers made about the Rebellion’s own holodrama -- she and Luke pretended they didn’t know about them; Han just laughed and bet on himself -- but a choice between one loss or the other. She knew she would have to choose, eventually. Just not yet.
In the end, though, she didn’t -- not really. She’d accepted that she loved Han, and she’d never had any trouble accepting her love for Luke: there was no danger in it. Then Han was a wall hanging and Luke was a cyborg (not that it mattered, except to him), and then they rescued Han, and then she and Luke were siblings.
She should have been shocked, Leia supposed. How often had she carelessly kissed him, thinking nothing of it beyond comfort or luck or taunting Han? Yet as soon as the words my sister passed his lips, she guessed the truth. I think I’ve always known, she said. She didn’t mean it literally, of course. But she’d seen herself in him, felt something clicking into place, binding them together before she ever heard his voice in her mind.
They were brother and sister. Twins. It had to be twins, they had the same birthday -- they’d celebrated themselves every Empire Day since they turned nineteen. And she’d been right to fear losing him again: somebody had torn him away, taken him from her -- Leia felt a flash of rage at the thought and suppressed it. It was for the best. She didn’t have to lose anyone now. Not by any choice of her own.
Later, after the fireworks died away, her mind went back to Han’s stunned face -- far more stunned than hers or Luke’s had been. They’d known what they felt, even if they had no word but love for it. She would have chosen Han. Instead there was no loss, and no choice.
No choice. And not because of any clever solution she or Luke had found, but because Anakin Skywalker had sired the both of them.
It wasn’t that she didn’t feel happy. She was happy: relieved that they were siblings and Han had taken it so well after those first few moments, thrilled that the Emperor was dead and Luke was alive, and that she shared in their power, pleased even that she could now, properly, name everything in her own mind: lovers, friends, twins. She liked all of it. It was just --
She liked making choices, too.
#
Han had known for years that there was something between Luke and Leia that he had no part in. Not an affair; he'd have recognized that, and the kid's own aunt couldn’t have mothered him as relentlessly as Leia did. Not exactly friends, either. But something.
He didn't waste a lot of time thinking about it. Luke was his best friend, and Leia was -- Leia. It would all work out somehow. Vaguely, he figured they’d just stay the way they were: Luke prattling on about peace and harmony until he decided it was the will of the Force that he start crushing windpipes and amputating limbs, Leia blasting everything in sight, and Han keeping everyone from getting killed on other people’s crusades.
The knight and the princess and the pirate. It seemed about right to him.
Then Leia turned out to be Luke’s sister, and suddenly everything made sense. They weren’t connected at the hip in some bizarre and depressingly chaste threesome, they were family. And a damn sight better than his own had ever been.
He didn’t say much when they told him everything. They weren’t just brother and sister, they said, but twins -- which should have been obvious, but somehow wasn’t. Leia seemed older. Or Luke did. Or something. But he’d always gotten them hilariously drunk on the same day, and he couldn’t tell their voices apart when they screamed at him, so that made sense too, even if they didn’t look much alike. Something about the eyes, though.
The jokes, he thought, all but made themselves, but he took one look at their pale faces and kept his mouth shut. Then they told him that Vader was their father, and had died saving Luke from the Emperor.
Not much to say to that. He was glad Vader was dead, and the way he’d gone -- well, it was probably the only decent thing he’d ever done. Not the sort of thing you told a man’s kids, though. And he had less reason to remember Vader well than most, but he figured that watching your father give his life for yours had to make things more complicated, even if it was Darth Vader.
Han’s father wouldn’t have died for him. Or given up a mildly interesting hobby, if it'd come down to that.
“Well,” managed Han, after mentally discarding so your mother--? and it doesn’t make a difference and must be hellish. “Good for him. But it doesn’t . . . you’re not anything like him, anyway.”
“Jabba might not agree,” Leia said, her voice very even. Luke, absently rubbing his wrist, looked proud and then guilty.
“Well, not anything that matters,” said Han. “What are you going to tell people?”
For the first time that day, they seemed to fall out of tandem with each other, Leia looking away uncomfortably and Luke frowning down at his boots. It was unusual enough that Han, slightly disconcerted, almost wondered how the “psychic twins separated at birth” explanation had never occurred to him.
“I’d prefer not to hide our relationship,” said Leia. “Luke’s my brother, not some illicit lover.”
Thank the Force, Han thought.
“It’s just that . . . I resigned my position so that I’d be free to fight for the Rebellion as I see fit,” she said, still avoiding Luke’s eyes. “But I don’t -- if people start thinking of me as Vader’s daughter, I won’t have a career to go back to.” Without warning, she swung around to face her brother. “Luke, you understand?”
He lifted his eyes. “Yes. It’s different for me. I don’t answer to anyone now, not really.”
“Wait,” said Han. “What are you two going on about? What does telling people you’re brother and sister have to do with Vader?”
They gave him blank stares.
“Han,” said Luke, his tone managing to suggest that Han was either mad or drunk, “he’s my father. Leia is my twin sister. It’s not that big a leap.”
“I had my loyalty questioned just because he occasionally supported my measures in the Senate,” Leia added. “They were over slavery.”
“Well, yeah,” said Han. “That’s politicians for you. Other politicians, I mean. Than you. But Luke’s father is General Skywalker, hero of the Clone Wars, as far as anyone knows. Does anyone know about his, uh, career change?”
“No,” Leia said. “But there are already rumours that the Emperor and Vader escaped the destruction of the Death Star. We don’t want them spreading further.”
“I’m reporting to the High Command in an hour,” said Luke. He checked his chronometer. “Actually, forty minutes.”
“You don’t have to tell them everything.”
Luke smiled. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
“I mean. You get down to it, the Emperor got distracted electrocuting you, yeah? And Vader took advantage of it and strangled him or something, but got fried.”
“Well, Father threw him down a reactor shaft,” said Luke. “But essentially, yes.”
“Tell ’em that, then. Nothing about it says that he’s your father, just that he wanted the old bastard dead. And half the Empire did, nothing too hard to believe about that. Hell, maybe Vader did hate him.”
“Oh, he did -- he wanted me to help him overthrow the Emperor,” Luke said. “Not enough to die for it, though.”
“You don’t have to mention that part,” said Han.
Leia was studying her brother with the same distant, almost unfocused expression she’d worn after the battle.
“It’s up to you,” she said, just as Luke told her,
“It’s your choice, Leia.”
They all laughed. Then Leia said, “Both of us, then. But you should get ready. Go, and we’ll decide when you get back.”
Luke gave her a sharp look, then smiled and walked towards his own quarters. Han grinned at her.
“You’re the oldest, right?”
Leia grinned. “We don’t know. We know hardly anything. But -- ” her brow furrowed -- “I think he is, actually.”
Han decided he didn’t want to ask. “So, what did you need to tell me that you didn’t want him hearing?”
“He knows what I’m going to say.” She took a deep breath. “I won’t say it doesn’t matter, that I’ve got Vader’s blood in my veins. I -- I can’t stop thinking about it.” Leia glanced down at her arms, then folded them tightly under her breasts. “The thing is, though, Vader is far more Luke’s father than mine. My father, my real father, died with Alderaan. Besides, Vader didn’t throw the Empire at us looking for me. He didn’t die for me. But it’s different for Luke. There was … a tie there. Like there is between him and me.”
Not entirely sure what she was heading at, Han remembered Luke’s fit of panic on the Tyridium. “So when he was muttering about endangering the mission -- ”
Leia nodded. “Vader could sense him. But he could sense Vader, too. Not just his presence, but his -- personality, I suppose. He could tell that Vader wasn’t . . . that he cared for him.” Her lips pressed together. “After a fashion. I didn’t believe it then, but Luke was so convinced that there was something to be saved, and -- we know what happened.”
Han remembered the sparks arcing over his chest in Cloud City, and felt a flash of satisfaction that Vader had died by electricity. His throat dried.
“It doesn’t make up for everything,” he said. “I’m not saying his last ten minutes weren’t heroic, but . . . Leia, he tortured you too. You know this doesn’t make up for that.”
She closed her eyes. “I know.” Then she opened them again, her gaze fierce. “It’s not about that. Knowing that he died for Luke and brought down the Emperor isn’t going to make people forget everything else. I haven’t forgotten. Luke hasn’t forgotten. This isn’t about clearing the datapad, it’s about acknowledging a sacrifice, by which we have gained an enormous advantage, and made entirely for Luke’s sake. He’s alive, and the Emperor dead, because his father loved him. He’s going to want it acknowledged.”
“I still can’t believe he’d choose Vader over you,” said Han. Leia only shook her head.
“It’s not that simple, Han.”
#
When Luke walked into his quarters, he found a ghost sprawled across one of his chairs, reading one of his (duller) holobooks. Man and book emitted the same pale blue glow--a shade lighter than Obi-Wan always had.
The ghost glanced up and smiled. He looked very young, perhaps a year or two older than Luke, and nothing like the old man from last night. Luke still knew him instantly.
“Father?”
“Hello, Luke,” Anakin said, setting the book down. “I assumed it would be distracting to see me while you were talking to Solo and your sister, so I waited here.”
“I . . .” Luke abruptly realized he was, to all appearances, standing before an open door talking to thin air. He switched the door shut. “Yes. Leia . . . she would be --”
“She can’t see me. A certain degree of cooperation is required,” said Anakin. “Obi-Wan didn’t tell you?”
Luke sank into a chair, scarcely able to credit that he was actually sitting in his room, having a perfectly civil conversation with his father. His dead father. “Obi-Wan’s a little stingy with information,” he said.
Anakin’s eyes narrowed. For a moment, he looked very much Darth Vader, for all that Luke had no idea what expressions he’d worn behind the mask. Then he smiled again, a little ruefully. “I suppose I’m not in a position to hold grudges.”
Luke bit back a chuckle. Yoda, after all, had insisted that clinging to grudges was a kind of attachment, and led to the Dark Side.
“Yoda thinks everything leads to the Dark Side,” said Anakin. “Or did. It seems to have gone missing at the moment. Well. You wanted to speak to me?”
“I did?”
“We’re not supposed to appear where we aren’t needed,” Anakin said, in a disinterested voice that left Luke less than convinced of his adherence to spectral regulations. “I certainly hope you did.”
“Well, I’m glad to see you,” Luke said honestly. “We never really got to talk.”
Anakin looked at him for a moment, then glanced away and sat up straight. “That is . . . a remarkably generous way of putting it. How is your hand?”
Luke swallowed. “All right. It’s stronger than my real one was -- I forget every now and then, but I haven’t hurt anyone. I did get it repaired after we rescued Han, and they calibrated it a bit better then.”
They both looked at the gloved hand.
“Good,” said Anakin, his voice a bit thick. He frowned. “The Rebellion doesn’t have proper synthetics?”
Luke flushed. “They do. It looks very . . . convincing. I just -- ” He flexed the hand, knowing that neither of them would be able to avoid thinking of the last time he’d done so. “It’s a reminder.”
“Ah.” Anakin’s eyes drifted around the room. “And your sister? How is she?”
The awkwardness all but pervading the room seemed to go up a notch.
“Leia’s --” He gestured vaguely. “She’s Leia. Han and I practically had to drag her to see a medical droid -- she got shot in the battle. Nothing serious, but . . . you know. Leia.”
“Yes, I know her,” said Anakin. “I assume she is aware of the truth?”
Luke nodded. “As of yesterday. It’s -- she has to deal with it in her own time. And it’s different for her. I didn’t know you, and I’d effectively resigned anyway. Leia just left the command and enlisted.” He bit his lip. “I don’t know how long she’ll stand answering to people, but I’m sure Senator Mothma and the others would welcome her back. She’s always been the image of the Rebellion, I think.”
Anakin flickered slightly, and when he looked up, he was different again, neither the old man nor the young one. Perhaps forty.
“Not always,” he said, “as she was an Imperial Senator, but certainly since Tarkin destroyed Alderaan.”
“I forgot she was a spy.” Luke checked the time and got to his feet, rummaging around his drawers for a comb. He didn’t have much time left, and -- perhaps he had wanted to ask him something. But it was easier to say without looking at him. “If she does go back to leading the Rebellion . . . it’ll be easier for her if they don’t know about you.”
“Possible, you mean,” Anakin said sharply. “Why under the suns would anyone know about her connection to me?”
Unsurprisingly, he didn’t appear in the mirror. Luke kept his eyes fixed on his reflection and ran the comb through his hair. It was really a very unfortunate haircut. “There’s a rumour that you and the Emperor evacuated with the other Imperials.”
“Ah. An imposter could rally the Empire around him,” Anakin said, apprehending immediately. “I would be particularly easy to impersonate. Still, you can simply assure them that I murdered the Emperor while he was distracted with you, and died shortly thereafter. There is no need to bring your sister into it.”
“We’re considering that,” said Luke, turning to face him, “but Leia’s determined that the sacrifices that brought us victory should be acknowledged. All of them. I don’t know. I mean, I agree, but . . . she’s spent her entire life hiding things and being hidden. She deserves better. And I -- ”
“There’s no need to make me a martyr for your Rebellion. I didn’t die for them. I did it for you and your sister.” Anakin hesitated, then added, “Besides, it’s not quite the sacrifice that it would be for someone else. I am a Jedi, and as Obi-Wan once put it, now more powerful than I could ever have imagined.”
Luke blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“I dreamed my whole life of conquering death,” Anakin said. “And now, we -- Qui-Gon and Yoda and Obi-Wan and I -- have found the path to immortality.” He was dimmer now, a little fuzzy around the edges, but his laugh was loud and clear. “Luke, do you think I care if the galaxy despises Darth Vader slightly less than they do at the moment?”
#
“You’re saying that Vader killed the Emperor?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Luke.
Behind him, Han cleared his throat.
“I, uh, have reason to believe that he’s been plotting against him for some time,” Luke said. “On Cloud City, he offered me -- he suggested that we both kill him and take over the Empire.”
Mon Mothma blinked several times. “You didn’t mention this in your report at the time.”
“He was still recovering,” said Leia. “His mind wasn’t perfectly clear, and obviously he refused the offer.” She glanced pointedly at his hand. “Still, taking it into consideration, I don’t find it difficult to believe that Vader may very well have loathed the Emperor.”
Several of the generals shifted. “Enough to die killing him?” asked Madine.
“Apparently,” Leia said.
Locking her hands behind her back, Mothma paced back and forth. “Let me see if I understand correctly. As a former Jedi, Vader was able to sense your presence, so you left to avoid further endangering the mission. You deliberately got yourself captured by the Empire for the purpose of distracting Emperor Palpatine and Lord Vader. You received yet another chance to co-rule the galaxy, this time from the Emperor, who offered you Vader’s position, in his presence.”
Han, Luke, and Leia glanced at each other.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Luke.
“You rejected the offer and the Emperor attempted to torture you to death by shooting lightning out of his fingertips. Vader took advantage of the opportunity and threw him down a nearby reactor shaft, but was himself electrocuted, which sufficiently damaged his life-support that he, too, died.”
“That’s right.”
“Are you capable of the same technique?” said Admiral Ackbar. “With the lightning?”
Luke shuddered. “No. For which I’m grateful.”
“Luke and Leia went to the med-bay together,” Han interjected. “His nerve damage should be on record.”
“Thank you, General Solo,” said Mothma dryly. “In fact, incredible though the story may be, I see no reason to doubt it. Vader has always been a loose cannon, and the fact that Palpatine was Force-sensitive explains . . . rather more than it doesn’t.”
“It must have taken Vader some time to die,” Madine said.
“Yes,” Luke said. “A few minutes.”
“Did he say anything of importance?”
Luke hesitated. “He wanted me to tell Leia what had happened. I think he respected her, in his way.”
Beside him, Leia stiffened. But her voice was very sweet when she said, “It’s possible. You may remember how often he supported me in the Senate.”
“I do,” said Mothma. “Well, thank you for your time, Jedi Skywalker. Will you be remaining with us?”
“I’m afraid not. There are things I have to do back home. After that -- ” Luke spread his hands -- “I’m not sure exactly what I’ll be doing, but I’m a Jedi now. I have no business fighting a war, even a war nearly won. I’m sorry.”
Mothma looked thoughtful. “Jedi of the Old Republic were generals in the war.”
“I’m not a Jedi of the Old Republic,” said Luke.