Archive: SWA-L, WWOMB
Category: POV
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. I own this story, but I make
no money from it, and I intend no copyright infringement.
Pairing: H/Le, Lu/W
Rating: PG
Summary: Leia's relationship with Luke develops.
***Hoth***
I kissed him to annoy Han. Nothing made me happier than annoying Han, though I would have died rather than admit it--or admit why. And then I left the room, missing the chance to savor Han's annoyance, because kidding Luke was...
Wrong, somehow. It disturbed me and frightened me. It was like kissing myself, or trying to bed Mon Mothma, or...
Han followed me out into the corridors, continuing the argument. I replied as I was supposed to, but I was distracted. I kept tasting the inside of my mouth, looking for whatever flavor it was that told me I never, ever, wanted to kiss Luke like that again.
As Han and I argued, Wedge Antilles brushed past us. "Still at it?" he asked Han, with a knowing grin, and Han shrugged. I touched my tongue to my lower lip, still looking for that strange taste of wrongness, and watched as Wedge went into the hospital room.
***Bespin***
Vader wanted Luke. I didn't know why--since Vader had hated me so long, why was he ignoring me now? Why was he so focussed on Luke? I wasn't even sure Luke had made it off of Hoth.
No. I was sure. I would have known it if he had died. But I didn't know where he was, or why Vader thought torturing Han would bring him here.
And then Han was frozen in carbonite, and Luke was there, and I couldn't help him--until I heard him calling for me.
Impossible. But there it was. "Leia. Hear me. Leia."
We turned the Falcon around and found him, wounded and exhausted, below the City. I helped him to a bunk and wrapped his arm in a medicuff.
And again, I kissed him. Softly. The wrongness was still there. This time, I knew I was in love with Han, and tried to shrug the feeling off as just that--I wasn't in love with Luke. Simple.
But I knew that wasn't it. I tasted my lips again, and the wrongness was there, unnamed but present.
Kissing Luke was like kissing myself.
I shuddered and tried not to think about it.
On the medical frigate, he put his arm around me, but that was...fine. Natural. Friendly. Why that was fine and kissing him was not, I didn't know.
We stood there and watched the Falcon take off, and then I heard a voice behind us.
"Luke!"
He turned, his arm dropping from my shoulders, and smiled. "Wedge! How are you?"
Wedge came forward and clasped Luke's hand--his real hand--firmly. "You've been gone for ages. We thought you'd been killed getting off of Hoth." He looked over at me. "Princess. Good to see you, too."
I felt like I was being dismissed, and so I left.
"I went to the Dagobah system," I heard Luke say as the door closed behind me.
***Tatooine***
Luke had a plan, but he was quiet about it. I didn't trust plans I didn't know about, and came up with one of my own. Threepio and Artoo had already left when Chewie met us at the rendezvous point and told us what the situation was at Jabba's palace.
Luke and I argued about it for hours, but eventually he let me go. He even haggled with the dealers in Mos Eisley for the equipment and armor I needed.
He'd been a changed man since Bespin. Or maybe before that. Maybe Dagobah had been the real change. He would do things that I didn't understand, or he'd know things he couldn't know. His reflexes, always fast, had gotten faster, and he was...silent for huge stretches of time. I'd go to talk to him, and find him kneeling in the center of the quarters he shared with Wedge, and he would raise his head slowly, his eyes heavy-lidded and blank. He never really saw me at those times, and he would listen to me, but would not answer.
And he rarely smiled anymore. Sometimes I could coax a shy grin out of him by telling him funny stories about my childhood, and sometimes the old smile was back, wide and sunny. Mostly around Wedge, I noticed, and I started to wonder about them. They'd roomed together, off and on, since the Battle of Yavin, and were at least as close as he and Han. Good friends and colleagues, I'd always thought, but now I wondered.
My plan went horribly wrong in Jabba's palace, and then Luke was there and he fought beautifully. It was the first time I realized just how deadly an opponent he had become. The courageous boy with excellent aim and a knack for piloting had become...something else. A Jedi Knight, burned away to his essence, as bright as the blade he held in his hand.
And yet, when his hand settled firmly on my bare hip, holding me close to him, the old feeling of wrongness settled over me. When he let me go on the skiff, I had never been more relieved.
And then he was gone, back to Dagobah, and I was too busy to think about it. When we reached the fleet, Wedge met us. "Where's Luke?"
"He went back to the Dagobah system," I answered.
"Will he be back?"
"I don't know."
***Endor***
He's my brother. I meant it when I said I'd always known, because I had. That's what the taste of wrongness was, that evasive, secret flavor in his mouth.
Luke Skywalker, son of Vader--and I was Vader's daughter. That was bitter knowledge, but I survived it. I had to.
The battle was long, and hard, and when it was over...I felt my father die. And I felt Luke survive, felt him returning to us, and Han loved me.
End of story.
Only it wasn't. Most of the Alliance pilots stayed with the fleet, but Lando came down with the Falcon, and Wedge and several other Rogue Squadron pilots turned up later. They celebrated with all of us, but it was obvious they were waiting for Luke. "Have you seen Rogue Leader?" one of them asked me, his eyes worried.
"He'll be back soon," I said, and was rewarded with a grin.
Luke did show up, eventually, and the first thing he did was smile at me. I hadn't see him smile like that for far too long. He moved around the room, talking to everyone, and I saw Wedge pull him close and whisper in his ear.
I shrugged it off. So what if he and Wedge were keeping company? He was my brother--why was I so jealous? I couldn't kiss him, couldn't be his lover. So why did I resent Wedge?
I'd wanted Luke my entire childhood. He was the missing piece of myself, and I didn't want to share him.
He was sharing me with Han, but I didn't want to share him.
Selfish and petty, but true.
Across the room, I saw Wedge kiss him, and Rogue Squadron started applauding.
I remembered how Wedge made him smile, during those six long months of silence.
And I let go of my jealousy. Let him go. Let him love, as he let me love.
He was, after all, still my brother. That was part of him no one else could claim, and I could live with that.