To Find Peace...; story by Susan Gater Leia recieved the shock of a lifetime on the forest moon of Endor. What will it take for her to find peace? All the usual stuff applies. These characters aren't mine. I'm just playing with them. They are the property of George Lucas and/or his companies. No infringement is intended. No money is being made from my efforts. Some situations portrayed here are mine. Some aren't. Those that aren't are the property of Lucasfilm, the estate of Brian Daley, or possibly NPR. This story may be freely distributed as long as this disclaimer is in place. It may not be posted on the Web or Usenet without the written permission of the author, me. This story is dedicated to Stacy Galler. She made me do it! Merry Christmas, girl. Susan Gater 1996 ******************************************************* The voice was deep, familiar. She knew it from somewhere, but she couldn't place it. She thought furiously. It was so difficult. She remembered the drugs, the needle. Her head swam. Still, the voice came at her, relentless. "Tell us where the plans are or lives will be lost, and it will be your fault." Should she? No. She couldn't remember. "No!" "Yes! Your fault! Tell us where the tapes are or all those Rebel deaths will be your fault!" She couldn't think. She wanted to sleep. "Please...leave me alone..." "Your father commands you to tell us!" "Father...father?" Her father. She loved her father. He wanted her to tell this man where the tapes were hidden. That had been the plan. Hide the tapes, get them to Father. But that voice! It STOP wasn't right. "Yes. He orders you to tell us! Don't you want to obey him? Don't you wish to please your father?" "Yes. Yes!" Please Father. That was all she wanted. This was what he wanted. She would tell this man where the tapes were. He would tell Father. Then she could sleep. She looked up, prepared to tell. She would please Father. She saw him. Black, cold armor, the skull-like mask. She heard him. Even, labored breathing, the voice. The voice! No! She wouldn't tell him! That would not please Father! Father. Wait. *He* was her father! No. No! She tried to run, tried to move. She couldn't. The voice continued. "Listen to my voice. You are now in great pain...excruciating pain." It was true. Every part of her hurt terribly. She put her hands to her head. It wouldn't stop. "Please..." "Pain! A universe of it! Your world is nothing but pain." Her mind was reeling. Her body writhed with the pain. *He* caused this, her own father. He could stop it. "Make it stop!" she cried. But she knew he wouldn't. She knew... "Tell me what I wish to know!" His voice was terrifying. She couldn't take anymore. "Help me!" "Tell me what I wish to know. Where are the plans?" She couldn't breathe. "I can't! Can't tell!" "Your skin is afire." It happened. She could feel it. She could smell her flesh burning. She screamed. "You're burning...your nerve endings are in flames. Your flesh is being torn apart." Her hands felt white-hot. Her legs felt as if they were being ripped from her body. Every move was sheer agony. Her face begged her not to move it, not to scream. Her throat was raw. Each breath was a horrible, painful task. "Make it stop! Please, make it stop!" He would not back down. "I will when you've told me where the Death Star plans are." "Wo-won't!" She would rather die an awful death at this evil man's hand than give him what he wanted. "Quickly; your death is near! Your body is in agony, and you can hardly breathe!" His voice was close. He was looming over her. She tried to strike out at him. Her body screamed with pain. Her hand struck something and she cried out. It was excruciating. She would die soon. Killed by her own father. He hated her. She hated him. How could he do this to her? "Please..." He pressed on. "You're dying in torment. Where are the Death Star plans? Where is the Rebel Fortress?" She was crying now, the salty tears adding to her pain. She knew her skin had long since burned off, and now her raw flesh was burning. It was unimaginable. She sobbed uncontrollably. This was what had spawned her. This was the thing from which she had come. She was a part of him. Of his evil. She hated him. She hated him righteously. She hated herself for coming from him. She wanted to die. She spoke one last time, filling her voice with all the anger that was inside her. It came out a desperate whisper. "I...won't tell!" "You must!" He shook her. She writhed in pain and cried out. He shook her again. She heard her name. "Leia!" The pain burst around her. She screamed. Suddenly, the pain was gone, but she was still being shaken. Her hand struck out. It hit something. Someone. The shaking stopped. She opened her eyes. It was dark. She was in her bed. No, not her bed, a different bed. Harder. Smaller. Where was she? She sat up. Sweat ran down her face, mingling with shed tears. Her body ached. The bed moved, as weight on the other end shifted. Then she heard the breathing. Not like before. Softer, more natural. Someone was there. Her throat still felt raw. She whispered, "Who's there?" She tried to sound threatening, but she sounded like a frightened child instead. "Leia, do you want to talk about it?" It was Han. Realization swept over her. She was on the Falcon. They were headed somewhere, she couldn't remember. The call had come in while they were still orbiting Bakura. She was in Han's bunk. It had all been a dream! A dream! No. Tonight it had been a dream. Those things had actually happened. She had been tortured, and by her own--no. She realized this truth as well, but she couldn't bring herself to admit it. Not now. Not after the horror she had just relived. But it was true. The man who had killed her family, tortured Han, tortured her on the Death Star and continued to torture her in her dreams was...her father. Warm arms wrapped around her, embraced her. She realized she was sobbing again. Han rocked her gently, stroked her hair. He had figured as much. Leia had nightmares. Terrifying ones, from what he had just witnessed. She had probably had them since before he met her. And if they had ever let up, the news she had received on Endor had brought them all back. He didn't know how to help her deal with this. She had to get over it, had to realize that who her father was didn't change who she was. But he also knew that the pain she had suffered at Vader's hand would never be completely swept away. She needed time to work through this, but what was he to do during this time? He loved her; he wanted to help her. "You're safe, Leia. I'm here." It was all he could think to say. "I hate this," she whimpered between sobs. "I know you do, sweetheart, but it was just a dream. No one can hurt you here." Leia pulled away from him angrily. She had been hurt. The pain in the dream had been just as real as the pain the drugs had induced the first time. "You don't understand," she cried. He had to admit, he didn't. "I understand that you're upset, and that I want to help you, but every time I try to do that lately we end up in a fight. I hate that. I'm on your side here, Leia, just tell me what you want me to do." Leia sighed. Here she was, lashing out at Han again for something that had nothing to do with him. Except that he had to deal with her while she dealt with it. She wanted to tell him about everything: her torture on the Death Star, how she relived it with startling detail in her sleep, the horror of realizing that, because of her newfound heritage, she could become as evil as Vader had been. But something stopped her. Was it pride? No, she could swallow her pride to tell Han anything. No, saying these things out loud was just too painful. It made them more real, somehow. The truth was she didn't know what she wanted Han to do. She didn't know what she wanted anyone to do. But, she knew, this dark, confusing mood was a product of the nightmare. In the daylight she thought she had her emotions on the subject under control. She would feel better in the morning. She knew that. What she didn't know was how she would make it until then. "It's not your fault, Han, I know that. Do you think you can put up with me?" He laughed at that. "Sure." Hell, she wasn't half as psychotic as most of the women he'd met, and they hadn't been through half of what Leia had. "Lie back, roll over." "What?" Han chuckled again. He found her shoulders in the dark and gently pushed her onto the pillow. "Lie back, roll over. Trust me." He nudged her onto her stomach. "What are you doing?" Leia asked suspiciously. Han said nothing, but started to rub her back, kneading away the tension caused by Vader's nocturnal attack. It felt wonderful. How did Han seem to know what she needed when she herself didn't have a clue? It was too dark to see him, so she imagined his face as he sat over her, the muscles tensing in his arms as his fingers worked on her aching muscles, his eyes as... In five minutes she was fast asleep. * * * The lights in the cabin came on a 0800, just as Han had programmed them to long ago. Almost as long ago, he had gotten into the habit of pulling a pillow over his head and ignoring them. This morning was no different. Leia woke when the room brightened and watched Han's morning ritual. She smiled to herself and whispered, "I kept you up too much last night. Sleep." She rose and made her way to the galley. She knew not to expect too much from the food stores aboard the Falcon, but she did find, stuffed in the back corner of a sliding compartment, a packet for a hot morning beverage. As she warmed some water, she mused on the events of the night before. She closed her eyes and tried to recall the terror that had gripped her in the night. She had been right; daytime, no matter how artificial, made the dark confusion of her nightmares seem small and ineffectual. Reason took over. Vader was dead; he couldn't hurt her or anyone else ever again. Not even in her dreams. She was doing that to herself, and she had to figure out a way to stop it. But that was the catch. Short of memory wipes and deep hypnosis, neither of which appealed to her one little bit, she knew of no way a person could stop nightmares. Unless, of course, she could convince her subconscience to listen to reason. That would take a lot of time. "Would you like to talk about it?" This time, it was Luke. Leia was startled from her reverie, but was not quite shocked to find Luke watching her, leaning against a bulkhead. "Is that some kind of standard issue comment?" "What?" Luke didn't understand. "Never mind. No, I don't really want to "talk about it". Anyway, you should still be resting. You've been through a lot." "You had a nightmare," Luke said. It wasn't a question. "Tell me, Luke, does nothing that happens to me escape you? Because if not, I'm going to have to be a lot more careful around here." Luke smiled wanly. He looked at his sister, still dressed in a sleeping shift, her long hair flowing down her back. Barefoot. Maybe...Nah. He realized his grin had widened, shut it down completely. The signal that the water had sufficiently warmed saved Luke from answering. Leia poured water into a cup and started to empty the packet, then stopped and looked at Luke. "You want some?" She gestured to the cup. "Sure, if there's enough." He watched as Leia got another cup and went back to pouring. "I think you have a lot of unresolved--" Leia put up her hand. "Wait." She turned to look at him. "You didn't answer my question. I have a right to know." Luke looked down. He had to put this just right. "Look, if I wanted to, I could know everything you felt all the time. Especially in such close quarters. But I don't. I respect you too much. If you send a feeling to me, I'll feel it. If not, then I won't. But I woke up from a dead sleep last night to feel you in the grip of more terror than I've ever experienced. I couldn't help it. I couldn't shut it out. It upset me, and while you say you don't want to talk about it, I need to. And, I think, you do, too" Leia sighed. She picked up both cups and handed one to Luke. "Come on, let's sit down." She led him out into the passenger area and sat down at the gaming table. Luke sat a quarter of the way around from her. He was surprised when she started talking without any prompting. "I relived the interrogation I experienced on the Death Star. Only, in the dream, I knew he was my father, which added a whole new dimension to my horror and pain. He hurt me worse than anyone ever has, and I hate him for it." She said it to her cup, not to him. She said it evenly, without feeling, as if she just wanted to get it out onto the table and over with. Luke let out a long breath. "Leia, I--" Leia looked at him sharply. "I'm not finished." She continued her commentary to her cup. "I know that Vader is dead. I know he can't hurt me anymore. I know that Vader was just the evil incarnation of our father, and that Anakin Skywalker was and is a good man. I know these things, Luke, but face it, anytime you ever had to face Vader, you had some way of fighting back. Even if you didn't win, you could fight. I couldn't. He could do anything he wanted to me, and he did. I couldn't stop him. I was totally helpless. And if he'd known I was his daughter, he would have killed me. And probably with much more flair than he would have reserved for some precocious princess who stole his precious plans." She spit the last few words with sarcastic venom. Luke resisted the urge to smile at her alliteration. Leia continued, but looked directly at Luke as she did so. "I have a feeling, Luke, that you and I are going to look at this differently for a long time, maybe our entire lives. Most of the time, I'm okay with it. As okay as I can be. But sometimes, my mind takes over, and I can't stop it either. I just have to deal with it. I guess you're just going to have to deal with it, too." Then she smiled. "Or you're just going to have to get far away from me." Luke didn't return the smile. "You still hate him." If Leia hadn't expected Luke not to understand, she might have been flabbergasted by his statement. "Of course I still hate him. He was a monster. And he hasn't been gone long enough for those memories to fade. He may never be." "You can't forgive him? You know he turned his back to that part of himself." "I'm sure he feels a lot better about himself now. I don't." Luke shook his head. "And you call that being "okay"?" It was Leia's turn to shake her head. "Look, we can argue about this if you want, but is that going to make you feel any better? You're the one who wanted to talk about it, not me. Yes, I'm "okay", and if you don't like what I consider "okay", then that's your problem. I can't forgive him, but I'm not particularly angry anymore, either. Take what you can get." She got up and walked back to the galley. She found a red kabba root and a knife and started chopping. The conversation had made her feel worse, not better. She didn't want to defend herself to Luke. She knew ignoring the facts wouldn't make them go away, but she could almost be happy as long as she didn't have to analyze things too much. She was deep in thought when the knife slipped. It sliced into the edge of her finger. "Stang," she muttered under her breath as she turned to run water over the cut. It smarted, but it wasn't serious. But it was the last straw. As she cleaned the wound, her hands started to shake. She couldn't stop. She felt her eyes well up. She gripped the edge of the basin. She sank to the floor, her legs unable to hold her anymore. Emotions she had never let herself feel came rushing at her. She knew someday they would catch up with her, and Vader's death had made time and space for them. Four years. Four years of pain and death and destruction. Four years of waiting to mourn one death until she could prevent the next one. And the next one. From the core of her very being, the sobs rose. She wouldn't stop it, she needed this. She cried. She cried for herself. She cried for every person who had perished with Alderaan. She cried for her father, her *real* father, Bail Organa. She cried for the soldiers who had died in battle. She cried for innocents killed in purges. She cried for Han. She cried for Luke. She cried for the little girl she had never gotten the chance to be. She cried. Luke stared at his own cup when Leia left. Was he wrong? He didn't think so. Maybe since he had been there, had witnessed their father's conversion, he could more easily forgive him. Maybe his life-long search for a connection to his father made him more ready to embrace the good and dismiss the evil. Leia didn't have that void within herself. She had a father, one who loved her very much. She wasn't searching. Of course, Vader had taken that father away from her. Luke sank back in his chair. He had forgiven Anakin completely in order to fill the hole within him where his father should be. Leia couldn't forgive Anakin because he had created the hole where her father had once been. Yes, he had been wrong. Without warning, a wall of despair rose around him. It came from Leia. Luke rushed into the galley to find Leia lying on the floor sobbing, blood running from her finger. He grabbed a medpack, cleaned and wrapped the cut. Then he put his hands on her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "You've carried this with you for far too long," he whispered into her hair. Luke stayed with her. He wouldn't try to stop her. She would stop when she was finished. It would take a long time to cleanse her soul. An hour later Leia lay quietly on the floor, Luke still sitting beside her. She sat up and pushed wet strands of hair off her face. Her eyes were red and puffy, her face flushed and wet. She looked like a child. Luke smiled at her. He spread his arms and she fell into them, hugging him fiercely. "We have each other and more friends than we can count. We're very, very lucky." He sent the thought to her. She pulled away and smiled at him. "That's a neat trick. I like it." They both laughed a little. "If the ship will cooperate, I'm going to take a very long, very hot shower. See if you can find something to eat, would you? I'm famished." With that she rose and made her way to the "fresher. Luke stared after her. She certainly was an amazing woman. * * * Luke was no gourmet, but his Aunt Beru had forced him to help with meals often enough that he could easily make his way around a kitchen as uncomplicated as the galley on the Millennium Falcon. He was just starting to cook the kabba root when Han walked across the galley and sat on the opposite counter. "Let me guess. You made it worse." Luke smiled to himself. Dealing with Han would be a more delicate task than dealing with Leia had been. He was fiercely protective of her. "I don't know yet." Han pointed to the galley floor. "Yeah, well, you can bet she's never been as upset as she was in here." So, he had heard. And seen, apparently. "That wasn't about what I said to her. She needed that. That was about everything she's carried around with her since she left Alderaan. She'll probably feel a lot better now." Han considered this, shrugged. "Look, I'm only concerned about one thing with you--that you're going to impose your view of this whole situation onto her, when you've had totally different experiences, and make her feel like hell unless she sees things your way. She has to see her own way through this, come to her own conclusions. None of us can do that for her." Luke grinned and shook his head. "You know, I came to that same conclusion about an hour ago. Sounds like you were way ahead of me. She's lucky to have you." Han waved that comment away. "Yeah, well, I do my fair share of makin' things worse. It's tough." "Nah, it's not so tough. Our only job is to love her. How tough is that?" Luke smiled and went back to his kabba root. "Not tough at all, kid. Not tough at all." Han slipped down off the counter, picked up a jar next to Luke. "What in the hell are you cooking, anyway?" "She said she wanted breakfast when she got out of the shower. But I couldn't find any actual food, so I had to settle for what you had, instead." "Nice. I'll leave you to it, then. I'm gonna go see if I can find the Wook, he's probably hidin' out someplace until all us humans get our gear together." Han turned and strode from the galley. The more Luke thought about what Han had said, the more wrong he thought he had been earlier. Maybe it was because Han could look at the situation from the outside. Maybe it was because Han's thoughts were rarely clouded by the philosophical. Whatever the reason, Han somehow knew exactly what Luke had inadvertently been trying to do since Endor. Make Leia see his view. Not only see it, but adopt it as her own. Why had he done that? Because he felt good about their father and he wanted Leia to feel good about him, too. Well, she would. He wouldn't give up on that. She just had to find her own way to do so. She needed time. He would give it to her. If the subject came up again, it would be her doing, not his. He would take his own advice and just love her. By the time Luke had finished cooking and everyone had gathered to eat, it was lunch, not breakfast, he was serving. Chewie had appeared first. In an attempt to stay out of everyone's overemotional way, he had steered clear of the galley. Wookiees ate as soon as they woke up. It was a rule. By this time, Chewie was a very hungry, very grumpy Wookiee. Han was close behind, having followed Chewie back after assuring him the coast was clear. Soon, Leia emerged looking refreshed. She had changed into a clean jumpsuit and arranged her hair into a topknot with a single braid hanging down her back. She smiled as she saw Luke finishing his kitchen duties. He looked like the farm boy again. It was amazing, really, how quickly he could switch from serious Jedi to gawky kid. Over the meal, Han described the repairs that Chewie had discovered were needed. The battle over Bakura had caused some minor damage to a few systems. Han liked to devote the downtime caused by hyperspace travel to repairs. He was used to it, anyway. The Falcon always needed repairs. Luke cleaned up the galley after lunch, but was not allowed to help with the Falcon. "You've been up and around too much already. If you don't get some rest, you'll never be a hundred percent. Stars know what we'll find when we get where we're going. Now, I order you to get some sleep." Han smiled crookedly. He liked his new rank more and more all the time. Luke gave him a mock salute. "Yessir." He didn't feel tired, but he wasn't in the mood for any more arguing today. Besides, he knew Han was right. If he thought about it, he could still feel the raw spots in his lungs. Better let those heal. He retreated to his cabin. Leia had the unenviable task of fine tuning the sensor array. She knew she wasn't really qualified for the work, but Han had explained it, and it was involved enough to keep her thoughts from wandering. She welcomed the diversion. The diversion of Han, however, leaning over her in the small space as he taught her which relay was which, was almost too diverting. "Later," she thought to herself, "later." * * * Before Leia realized it, several hours had passed. Her stomach was growling again and she was beginning to nod off. She decided that, if she continued working on the sensor array, she would do more harm than good. And she wasn't particularly convinced of the good she had been doing in the first place. She replaced the tools she had been using and headed back to Han's cabin. A nap, she decided, would do wonders. She hadn't slept well the night before, and this morning had been exhausting. She found the bunk as Han had left it--total disarray. She smoothed the sheets, fluffed the pillows and, after stopping only to pull off her boots, climbed in. She wondered just how many of the afternoon's planned repairs had been actually needed, and how many were Han's attempt to keep everyone busy so they wouldn't argue. Or, in her case, cry anymore. She knew Han hated to see her cry, hated to feel helpless in the face of her pain. She smiled at the thought of Han's conniving. Suddenly, her field of vision was completely filled by an eerie glow. It slowly grew in intensity and blurry shapes appeared. It seemed to take a long time for the image to come into focus, but when it did, Leia knew exactly what she was seeing. It was the image of her father, Anakin Skywalker, just as he had appeared to her on Bakura. He was wearing the same brown robe, smiling the same broad smile. He was even standing in front of the same real-time mural. His lips were moving, but she couldn't hear him. She strained her ears and the sound of his voice became clear. "Leia, do not fear me. I am forgiven, but there is much that I wish to atone for. I must clear your heart and your mind of anger. Anger is the dark side." He looked at her lovingly. "I don't think I am angry. It's just...it's just that you hurt me so badly and took so much away from me. I can't just forget that." She wanted him to understand her, to see that, though he may have repented, he had spent her entire life as something horrible. He wanted to be let off easy. Well, she wasn't being let off easy, why should he? "There is no justifying...my actions. Yet your brother saved me from darkness. You must believe me." "Fine. But you can't just ignore the atrocities. You can't deny all the pain and suffering you caused, and you can't make up for it. You're dead! Why should I listen to you now?" She was so tired of talking about this. She just wanted him to go away and leave her in peace. Wearily she asked,"Will you please go?" "Wait. I am no longer the man that you feared. Can you not see me as a stranger, not an old enemy?" What? This sounded familiar. He had said that before. _Can you not see me as a stranger?_ What was going on? She felt a hand on her shoulder. Lips brushed her skin. "Dreamin'?" Han's voice was soft. "I guess so." "Not bad, I hope." He was kissing his way up her arm. "No, just...interesting." She opened her eyes, turned to face him. The lights were very dim; his face was in shadows. He leaned over her and kissed her, softly and longingly. His hands traveled along her body and started to pull at her jumpsuit. Clasps came undone and the garment fell away. Han's mouth moved from hers and found her neck, his lips moving as though he intended to taste every inch of her. His hands caressed her lovingly, each touch feeding the fire that engulfed her. Leia groaned softly. Yes. This was what she wanted. Han. The feel of him. The scent of him. All of him. * * * The lights in the cabin came on promptly at 0800. Leia opened her eyes in time to watch Han pull his pillow over his face. She laughed to herself. This was a very cute habit. She would enjoy this immensely. Leia stared at Han's softly snoring form and realized that she had slept soundly the entire night. It surprised her that, after such an emotional day, the dreams had left her alone. If Han were awake, he would say that he and his ministrations had been the cause. She smiled at that thought. Well, honestly, it probably hadn't hurt. Then Leia remembered the dream she had been having when Han had come to bed. Anakin Skywalker had spoken to her. He had once again tried to gain her forgiveness. Had it been a dream or a vision? Maybe she would ask Luke about it. _Can you not see me as a stranger?_ The phrase repeated in her mind. She shook her head as if to clear it. Anakin had said those same words to her on Bakura. She remembered now. In fact, everything he had said to her last night he had also said to her on Bakura. So, it had been a dream, not a vision after all. She had reenacted the conversation, only her responses had been different. Leia considered this, tried to decide how she had answered him differently last night. Not very, she decided. Was she just being stubborn? Was he right? Was she? No, somewhere there had to be a middle ground, some way of looking at this that she could feel good about. _Can you not see me as a stranger?_ At the time, this had seemed like an absurd thing for Anakin Skywalker to say. Of course, he was a stranger. He was a human being, not the black masked machine she had known and feared. But he was a stranger she had known very well. Too well. On the other hand, he wasn't Vader at all. The evil had truly left him. But did that mean she could, in good faith, forgive this nice man for all the terrible, awful things the monster had done? Differing perspectives were slamming around in her mind. She was actually starting to fear some kind of emotional breakdown. Nice man. Monster. Monster. Nice man. _Can you not see me as a stranger?_ Leia sat straight up in the bunk, her eyes wide open. She leapt out of bed, hastily pulled on her jumpsuit, and ran out of the cabin. She ran the short distance to Luke's cabin and palmed the door open. She ran to Luke, who was still sleeping, and grabbed his shoulders. "Luke, I don't have to forgive Vader! Ever! I don't have to forgive him!" Luke was instantly wide awake. He rubbed his face and looked at his sister. Renegade hairs were sticking out of her braid. Her rumpled jumpsuit was barely fastened around her body. She was smiling hugely. She looked either slightly insane or completely relieved, he couldn't quite decide which. "What are you talking about?" "I don't have to forgive Vader! Vader wasn't our father!" she cried. She was very excited. "Whoa, calm down." He waited for her to take a couple of breaths before he continued. "What do you mean, Vader wasn't our father?" "Luke, I'm telling you that I've figured all of this out. And while maybe it should have all been clear to me from the beginning, it wasn't. Not completely, anyway." She sat down on the floor beside his bunk and smiled up at him. "I met our father on Bakura. I had never met him before in my life. He was a stranger. I see that now. He was a good man. Darth Vader was never our father. He was someone else entirely. Someone who got exactly what he deserved: death. He was the same Darth Vader I've hated for years, not this new "Darth Vader, my father" I've created in my mind. Anakin Skywalker, a completely different person, was our father. And I only have to forgive Anakin Skywalker for one thing. Being weak. He was weak and fell to the dark side and ceased to exist. I can forgive him for that. I have." She positively beamed. Luke smiled back at her. While he had never broken it down quite so simply in his own mind, this was what he had always known. Would it have helped her if he had broken it down for her? Or was this some clarification she had to come to on her own? He would never know, but it didn't matter. He slid down off his bunk and joined her on the floor. He spread his arms and, once again, she fell into them, hugging him fiercely. Luke smiled. Everything would be fine. Just fine. *******FIN*******