a/n: Starts out in the last 15 minutes of RotJ...This will be Chapter 1 when I get out of the AO3 queue ahhh
In the beginning it was quiet, from a certain point of view. Anakin Skywalker's pyre roared like ravenous beast, Endor's sky flared and sang with fireworks and burning men, while treetop bonfires drew packs of increasingly rowdy Alliance pilots. But as Luke Skywalker stood vigil for his father, so close that his skin flushed and his eyes burned, something relaxed inside of him, a buzzing knot in his mind that he had not noticed until it was still.
Then the last of the logs cracked and fell, and the fire died, smothered under it's own weight.
*
The Ewok village was full of a different kind of noise. Luke stood just out of sight for a time and let it's over it's over we won we won wash over him. It wasn't true, exactly, but it meant room to breathe, and another day alive.
It would take some getting used to. Luke had stepped into that shuttle knowing that his father's death mask was probably the last thing he would ever see.
I will not turn. And you will be forced to kill me.
If that is your destiny...
His right hand clenched involuntarily. The light and laughter in front of him faded and he was, once again, hiding – waiting - in the shadows of the throne room, Palpatine curled up on his throne, leering at the spectacle, Vader prowling at the edges of his mind, looking for -
There.
No -
...Perhaps she will.
-the smell of burnt metal - blood roaring in his ears – is that Father screaming - leialeiaLeiaLeia LEIA -
They felt each other before he was ready. He'd been pulling his thoughts together – pushing it away - spinning a story for the Alliance when the spark on the edge of himself that he'd given to her roared to life and Leia – his sister – broke out of the crowd and threw herself into his arms.
She saw and she knew, and she clung to him all the same. He pulled her as close as he dared, as if her arms could hold him together. Then she let Han haul him into a noisy hug, laughing all the while, her relief and love blazing like a comet in the Force.
And it was quiet.
* The following weeks were a study in vaguely organized chaos. News of the ‘disaster at Endor’ had spread fast. The surviving half of the Imperial fleet limped back to Coruscant, by way of the Kuat drive yards, only to be engulfed in all-out war with the Core systems, Corellia leading the charge.
Luke, sitting cross-legged on the floor in the observation bubble on Home One, shuddered as wave after wave of rage buffeted his mind. Decades of rage, to be exact, over a Republic-turned-Empire that had promised a thousand years of peace and delivered two Death Stars and billions of dead.
Blood in the water – a good time to strike.
Luke shuddered, stood, and headed for the mess hall.
*
“I’m glad there’s no body,” Leia said suddenly, curled up on the sofa, surrounded by a datapads, her head on Han’s shoulder. Her husband – husband – drew her closer, looking away from the holocast of some Moff hanging from the ramparts of the Imperial Palace, a crude replica of Vader’s helmet strapped to his head.
Han thought about Cloud City, the rack, and Jabba’s Palace.
“Yeah, me too,” he said. He laid his hand protectively on Leia’s swollen abdomen.
*
0232…Kriffing Sith Hells… Gilad Pellaeon set down his umpteenth mug of caf on top of the pile of datapads balanced precariously on his desk. He stood slowly, mindful of his leg, and moved to the holoprojecter.
The first thing he’d done after moving into Palpatine’s office was deactivate the ‘magnify’ setting.
“Your report, Captain?” he prompted tiredly. The slight man – no, boy, they’re all boys now - controlled his flinch better than his adjutant. Barely.
Pellaeon stood tall, ignoring the urge to reach for his cane.
“Admir – Your Excellency, a ship from the – the New Empire is hailing us.” The boy flushed, and squared his shoulders, daring a moment of eye contact. The fog cleared from Pellaeon’s mind, replaced by raw anger.
He’d commissioned this one a month ago.
“…And?”
“They want to discuss terms. Of our surrender. Sir.”
“What have they got?”
“Five Impstar Twos, three squadrons of Ties. And – I’m not sure sir, but it’s shaped like a giant disk with a sphere in the middle, and it’s been throwing these…things without bio signatures–“
Pellaeon smiled wolfishly. The boy paled.
“Open a two-way comm channel to the mothership and stabilize front deflectors,” said Pellaeon. He paused. “Upload software package Outbound to Death Squadron, authorization code Three Prime. Maintain distance and give them three passes. Oh, and Captain?” His smile broadened.
“Tell them to go kriff themselves.”
*
“It’s a boy!”
Luke’s smile lit up the cockpit. Leia slowly relaxed her grip on his hand and slumped against the Falcon’s nav console.
“…Sure you don’t want me to cut the cord with my lightsaber?” he asked, staring at the tiny hand wrapped around his thumb. He reached out with the Force and dimmed the lights, barely having to think about it. His nephew’s eyes were stinging, and he was making is opinion of the situation very, very clear.
“Maybe the next one,” said Leia. She was bone-weary, and her head was fuzzy, but she couldn’t stop smiling. Neither could Luke, even as he fished around in the med kit for appropriate baby care and cleaning implements. Joy swelled in their hearts, almost painful in its intensity.
Luke cut the cord and wiped down his squalling, red-faced nephew as quickly as he could. The sterile wipes in the med kit started to freeze seconds after he used them, so he was less thorough than he’d have liked.
He cleaned Leia up even faster, wanting to ease the thread of discomfort he sensed, even in the flood of joy. Then he stood and settled her back into the copilot’s chair, cradling her and her son with the Force until he could scoot the pilot’s seat close enough to lay her legs across his lap. He fussed with an old blanket he’d found in one of the smuggling compartments before their frantic rush to the cockpit, and bundled Leia and her son up before ducking under it himself, his breath fogging in the air.
Leia snuggled closer. The baby’s cries slowly tapered off into a low, curious burble, and then a sharp sneeze.
“Must be the Wookie hair…” she said.
“And here I was going to ask you what that smell was.”
“I think this is Chewie’s night shirt.”
“Really? Wait…” Leia snickered. The baby burped.
“Luke?”
“Hmm?”
“When we get back to Naboo, remind me to remind Han about the hyperdrive...”
“You mean, again?”
“…And the life support system…”
“Well, it’s technically the primary electrical bus that failed – “
“Life support, Luke.”
“At least we have air - ”
“In the cockpit..."
“…Leia, please try to stay awake. Leia?”
There were Jedi techniques for maintaining homeostasis in extreme environmental conditions. Luke, however, had only practiced on himself.
He couldn’t risk it.
So he reached out with the Force. The Falcon groaned in protest as he re-routed electrical power to the cabin. He breathed in, pulled energy from the circuits, twisting it in and around itself, just a little nudge of encouragement, molding it into a more useful form. His head buzzed and his lungs burned. But it wasn't enough.
All right then.
He reached for the coil of fear and snared the dissipating heat. Metal hissed and bubbled, melting into slag as he tore it from the pathetically outdated circuits. He breathed out, and wreathed his family in heat. He pulled Leia closer.
They’d be all right.
a/n: Nope, they haven't named Ben yet! My head canon is that Han and Leia just couldn't agree, so Luke cast the deciding vote
FILL(1/???) Blood in the Water
In the beginning it was quiet, from a certain point of view. Anakin Skywalker's pyre roared like ravenous beast, Endor's sky flared and sang with fireworks and burning men, while treetop bonfires drew packs of increasingly rowdy Alliance pilots. But as Luke Skywalker stood vigil for his father, so close that his skin flushed and his eyes burned, something relaxed inside of him, a buzzing knot in his mind that he had not noticed until it was still.
Then the last of the logs cracked and fell, and the fire died, smothered under it's own weight.
*
The Ewok village was full of a different kind of noise. Luke stood just out of sight for a time and let it's over it's over we won we won wash over him. It wasn't true, exactly, but it meant room to breathe, and another day alive.
It would take some getting used to. Luke had stepped into that shuttle knowing that his father's death mask was probably the last thing he would ever see.
I will not turn. And you will be forced to kill me.
If that is your destiny...
His right hand clenched involuntarily. The light and laughter in front of him faded and he was, once again, hiding – waiting - in the shadows of the throne room, Palpatine curled up on his throne, leering at the spectacle, Vader prowling at the edges of his mind, looking for -
There.
No -
...Perhaps she will.
-the smell of burnt metal - blood roaring in his ears – is that Father screaming - leialeiaLeiaLeia LEIA -
They felt each other before he was ready. He'd been pulling his thoughts together – pushing it away - spinning a story for the Alliance when the spark on the edge of himself that he'd given to her roared to life and Leia – his sister – broke out of the crowd and threw herself into his arms.
She saw and she knew, and she clung to him all the same. He pulled her as close as he dared, as if her arms could hold him together. Then she let Han haul him into a noisy hug, laughing all the while, her relief and love blazing like a comet in the Force.
And it was quiet.
*
The following weeks were a study in vaguely organized chaos. News of the ‘disaster at Endor’ had spread fast. The surviving half of the Imperial fleet limped back to Coruscant, by way of the Kuat drive yards, only to be engulfed in all-out war with the Core systems, Corellia leading the charge.
Luke, sitting cross-legged on the floor in the observation bubble on Home One, shuddered as wave after wave of rage buffeted his mind. Decades of rage, to be exact, over a Republic-turned-Empire that had promised a thousand years of peace and delivered two Death Stars and billions of dead.
Blood in the water – a good time to strike.
Luke shuddered, stood, and headed for the mess hall.
*
“I’m glad there’s no body,” Leia said suddenly, curled up on the sofa, surrounded by a datapads, her head on Han’s shoulder. Her husband – husband – drew her closer, looking away from the holocast of some Moff hanging from the ramparts of the Imperial Palace, a crude replica of Vader’s helmet strapped to his head.
Han thought about Cloud City, the rack, and Jabba’s Palace.
“Yeah, me too,” he said. He laid his hand protectively on Leia’s swollen abdomen.
*
0232…Kriffing Sith Hells…
Gilad Pellaeon set down his umpteenth mug of caf on top of the pile of datapads balanced precariously on his desk. He stood slowly, mindful of his leg, and moved to the holoprojecter.
The first thing he’d done after moving into Palpatine’s office was deactivate the ‘magnify’ setting.
“Your report, Captain?” he prompted tiredly. The slight man – no, boy, they’re all boys now - controlled his flinch better than his adjutant. Barely.
Pellaeon stood tall, ignoring the urge to reach for his cane.
“Admir – Your Excellency, a ship from the – the New Empire is hailing us.” The boy flushed, and squared his shoulders, daring a moment of eye contact. The fog cleared from Pellaeon’s mind, replaced by raw anger.
He’d commissioned this one a month ago.
“…And?”
“They want to discuss terms. Of our surrender. Sir.”
“What have they got?”
“Five Impstar Twos, three squadrons of Ties. And – I’m not sure sir, but it’s shaped like a giant disk with a sphere in the middle, and it’s been throwing these…things without bio signatures–“
Pellaeon smiled wolfishly. The boy paled.
“Open a two-way comm channel to the mothership and stabilize front deflectors,” said Pellaeon. He paused. “Upload software package Outbound to Death Squadron, authorization code Three Prime. Maintain distance and give them three passes. Oh, and Captain?” His smile broadened.
“Tell them to go kriff themselves.”
*
“It’s a boy!”
Luke’s smile lit up the cockpit. Leia slowly relaxed her grip on his hand and slumped against the Falcon’s nav console.
“…Sure you don’t want me to cut the cord with my lightsaber?” he asked, staring at the tiny hand wrapped around his thumb. He reached out with the Force and dimmed the lights, barely having to think about it. His nephew’s eyes were stinging, and he was making is opinion of the situation very, very clear.
“Maybe the next one,” said Leia. She was bone-weary, and her head was fuzzy, but she couldn’t stop smiling. Neither could Luke, even as he fished around in the med kit for appropriate baby care and cleaning implements. Joy swelled in their hearts, almost painful in its intensity.
Luke cut the cord and wiped down his squalling, red-faced nephew as quickly as he could. The sterile wipes in the med kit started to freeze seconds after he used them, so he was less thorough than he’d have liked.
He cleaned Leia up even faster, wanting to ease the thread of discomfort he sensed, even in the flood of joy. Then he stood and settled her back into the copilot’s chair, cradling her and her son with the Force until he could scoot the pilot’s seat close enough to lay her legs across his lap. He fussed with an old blanket he’d found in one of the smuggling compartments before their frantic rush to the cockpit, and bundled Leia and her son up before ducking under it himself, his breath fogging in the air.
Leia snuggled closer. The baby’s cries slowly tapered off into a low, curious burble, and then a sharp sneeze.
“Must be the Wookie hair…” she said.
“And here I was going to ask you what that smell was.”
“I think this is Chewie’s night shirt.”
“Really? Wait…” Leia snickered. The baby burped.
“Luke?”
“Hmm?”
“When we get back to Naboo, remind me to remind Han about the hyperdrive...”
“You mean, again?”
“…And the life support system…”
“Well, it’s technically the primary electrical bus that failed – “
“Life support, Luke.”
“At least we have air - ”
“In the cockpit..."
“…Leia, please try to stay awake. Leia?”
There were Jedi techniques for maintaining homeostasis in extreme environmental conditions. Luke, however, had only practiced on himself.
He couldn’t risk it.
So he reached out with the Force. The Falcon groaned in protest as he re-routed electrical power to the cabin. He breathed in, pulled energy from the circuits, twisting it in and around itself, just a little nudge of encouragement, molding it into a more useful form. His head buzzed and his lungs burned. But it wasn't enough.
All right then.
He reached for the coil of fear and snared the dissipating heat. Metal hissed and bubbled, melting into slag as he tore it from the pathetically outdated circuits. He breathed out, and wreathed his family in heat. He pulled Leia closer.
They’d be all right.
a/n: Nope, they haven't named Ben yet! My head canon is that Han and Leia just couldn't agree, so Luke cast the deciding vote