Story Challenge #22: 23rd April 2004
You have 10 minutes. Begin: "Underneath..." [Again, I got carried away and forgot about the time limit...]

After-effects
A SW fic by Morgan D.

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Underneath that soft skin, one wouldn't find flesh and bones, but metal, wires and electronic components working in a frenzy to mimic the movements, appearance and temperature of the lost limb. If Leia couldn't stop thinking about it as she held the prosthetic hand between hers, how could she expect Luke to forget it?

"An illusion will only work for you if you're willing to be deluded," the young man whispered, startling her.

"What?"

"It's something Han told me a couple of years ago. He was chiding me for falling for a trick that... well... Long story," he finished bluntly, looking a bit embarrassed. Apparently not a story he would want to tell her any time soon.

"What made you remember it now?" she asked, hoping it wasn't her thoughts that brought forth the memory. Since that strange experience in Bespin, when she heard Luke's voice calling in her mind and instantly realised where and how much in pain he was, Leia felt this powerful... connection to the Jedi apprentice. Their thoughts seemed to run continuously in sync now, and often one would voice what the other had been silently contemplating.

And the weirdest part of it was that she didn't find it disturbing at all. It felt astonishingly natural, like something she had lived with for her entire life.

"I don't know," Luke sighed. "Guess I just miss him."

She leaned against him on the crude couch — in reality, a bunch of equipment crates covered with a thick quilt and old pillows —, resting her head on his shoulder. Missing seemed like a very inappropriate word to describe her feelings. She missed her slippers when she had to walk around in tight boots, she missed drinking kaff when she woke up too late for breakfast, she missed going to the theatre after all those years as a fugitive from Imperial Law. Those were nothing like the agony of not having Han around her, not knowing how he was or if she would ever get to see him again.

And Leia didn't need any special connection to Luke to know that, despite his choice of words, he was feeling just as awful.

They hadn't talked about it yet. She hadn't told Luke about what happened between her and Han after Hoth, and Luke had never mentioned his own feelings towards the Corellian smuggler to her. She wondered if Luke believed she hadn't noticed. She wondered how Han could have possibly failed to see it.

Those secrets would make themselves known eventually, one way or another. Her conscience kept nagging her, insisting that an honest conversation might at least mitigate the pain a little, while brusque revelations would only worsen the situation. But although Luke had already been cleared from the medical centre and Too-Onebee seemed confident that the young pilot would fully recover in no time, Leia felt his condition still required careful attention. The signs of depression were all there, even if he made a clear effort to disguise it, for her sake. Not at all a good time to discuss the fate of their love triangle.

So, in a sudden impulse, she had talked Luke into bunking with her until it was time to go after Han, so she could watch over him. He wasn't that hard to convince, particularly after Wes Janson, a nice fellow with the bad habit of talking too much, told him that Wedge, Luke's usual roommate, was still sore about the way Luke had left right after the battle from Hoth to pursue his training, not warning any of the Rogues or saying goodbye.

From her part, Leia was relieved that Chewbacca was somewhere out there with Lando, as she didn't want to have to explain to the Wookiee that she was not, in fact, cheating on Han. She shared the one bed in her quarters with Luke, but they simply lay side by side, not touching. They talked about nothings, or simply enjoyed the comfortable silence between them, until they dozed off. Inevitably, nightmares would rouse him in the middle of the night, drowning him in fearful shivers, cold sweat and desperate tears, and she would hug him, holding his head against her bosom until he fell asleep once more. Morning would always find them lying apart again.

Some nights, Luke would talk in his sleep. Calling for his father, for General Kenobi. For her. But mostly for Han.

She had never mentioned it to Luke.

"Leia... You have met the Emperor, haven't you?"

"Yes, a few times, while I was in the Senate. He's not known for being sociable. My father said he used to be different before the New Order, though."

"What do you think of him?" At Leia's surprise, he elaborated. "I know what you think of the ruling under his name. I'm asking your opinion of the man himself."

It was an unexpected question, as the general belief in the Rebel Alliance was that Palpatine was little more than an ornamental piece of the Imperial structure. An opportunist that, benefited by the growing decay of the Republic, had seized the chance to rise to the top in the political arena, but who once there had traded actual power — and the work it entailed — for the irresponsible comforts of power, delegating true authority to his aides, supporters, lackeys and flunkeys. A puppet manipulated by the Imperial Governors and his most prestigious servant, Lord Darth Vader, and kept sated, happy and isolated in his proverbial tower in Coruscant. Hardly a real concern for the Rebellion.

Or so everyone else seemed to think. "Palpatine is the slimiest character I've ever come across in the political environment," she said earnestly.

"Slimy?" Luke chuckled. "Princess, you've been around Han for too long. What a thing to say about His Imperial Highness."

"Nah, Han would call him His Impertinent Sliminess," Leia grinned. "And I'd give every credit I possess to be there to see it."

They shared a conspiratorial smile that quickly turned into longing sighs and the urgent need to avoid each other's eyes.

"What does one have to do to deserve being called 'slimy' in the political environment?" Luke asked, noticeably trying to stick to safer topics.

"Some will say that you can't survive in politics without at least a certain degree of sliminess," she grimaced. "But Palpatine... It disturbed me that he always looked so sincere, so honourable and so genuinely concerned about any subject you could question him about. Many of the former senators that oppose the New Order believe Palpatine is kept grossly misinformed about the actual state of things; that he does try to settle the problems that pass through the screening, and that it's the bureaucrats who prevent his best-meant projects from being implemented."

"A good, just, candid man who just happens to be surrounded by devious people?" Luke muttered.

"There are those who think that way," Leia nodded. "They claim that he really had the galaxy's best interests in mind when he accepted the nomination for Supreme Chancellor and later declared himself Emperor. Drastic times demanding drastic measures. They believe he honestly planned to restore authority to the Senate eventually."

Luke arched an eyebrow. "Must have been hard to keep that belief after the Senate was closed down for good."

"Never underestimate one's willingness to be deluded," Leia growled.

A brief spasm shook her friend's hand, almost snatching it from her grasp. Too-Onebee had warned her that some cramps and tremors were to be expected, until Luke's nervous system became fully accustomed to the implant. She glanced at her chrono worriedly. It was still too soon for his next dose of medications.

"It doesn't seem like you were very impressed by Palpatine's frankness, honour and good intentions," he commented.

"Not a bit."

"Why not?"

"Gut feeling, mostly," she admitted. "He feels phoney, if that makes any sense to you."

Luke stared at the ceiling with a sarcastic lopsided smile worthy of Han Solo. "Believe me, it does."

"My father used to say Palpatine was much more intelligent and dangerous than people can imagine," Leia remembered. "He constantly urged me to never let down my guard around him. But I guess the clearest sign for me is Vader."

The young man closed his eyes tight. "Why?"

Leia massaged his palm and wrist, trying to get him to relax. "I can understand why the Governors would be interested in using the figure of the Emperor to hide their schemes and corruption. But Vader? I don't know... He's always struck me as someone too independent and headstrong to put up with a man like Tarkin ordering him around, let alone a weak Emperor. I'd have expected him to turn the spotlight to himself."

"So why hasn't he overthrown the Emperor and claimed the throne?"

"Good question. I'm afraid I don't have the answer."

"I'm afraid I do."

The Princess shifted on the seat to stare at his face. "Luke?"

"Your father was right."

"You think so?"

"I know so. The Emperor is a Sith Lord." His chin hardened, his hand tensed. "Like Vader. Stronger than Vader."

A chill of dread ran through Leia's spine, wings of shadow crossing her vision, sounds of billowing mantles roaring in her ears. Her mind pulled her back to an evening in the Imperial Palace, six years before, when she had accidentally stumbled on Palpatine in an infrequently used corridor and found him wearing not one of the impeccably elegant pieces of his rich wardrobe, but a thick black cassock with a heavy hood concealing most of his face. There had been nothing wrong in it, really; the building had been turned into his home, and certainly a man had the right to wear whatever he wanted in his home. But for some reason the image had stuck in her head, as if she had caught him doing something much more horrible than strolling around in homey clothes.

"Are you sure?" Leia forced herself to ask. "I've never heard anything of the kind. Not even rumours."

"I suppose he's very careful about who gets to learn his little secret. Who would dare to betray a Sith's confidence anyway?" Luke shook his head. "I suspect not even the Governors know. It's easier for the Emperor to manipulate them if they don't know what he's capable of."

"Easier when they're willing to be deluded," she whispered. "They want to believe they have everything under control, when in fact..."

"...it's very much the other way around," Luke finished for her. "Some of them must have hoped to take Palpatine's place, Leia. The kind of greed that moves those people isn't hindered by common sense. But what chance do they have against a man who can sense other people's intentions, foresee attacks before they come and plant seeds of mistrust in their allies' minds? What better way to discreetly defend yourself than by throwing your enemies against each other?"

"But you've never met him. How do you know all this?" Belatedly, Leia realised the wording of her question already implied that she accepted his opinion as fact.

"From things Ben told me," he said, unfamiliar bitterness sharpening his tone as he mentioned that name. "Things I've learned more recently. And things Vader said to me in Cloud City. And from my dreams."

She believed him. She had long since learned not to doubt him on things like that. But while his statement indicated that capturing or killing the Emperor would be so much more than a symbolic victory — something Headquarters should definitely be notified of —, it also pointed to Luke himself as the only witness they would be able to question about it. And Leia trembled at the mere idea of dragging Luke to be interrogated in his present state. She would have to ponder cautiously about what to do with that information.

When had things become so complicated? Topics of conversation with Luke used to concentrate on travelling, piloting, spaceships, speeders, droids, non-human beings and customs, exotic creatures, the Force and the weather — incredible how the latter could be the most fascinating subject when you were talking to a boy that hadn't seen rain for the first two decades of his life! Luke had been the person Leia would look for when she wanted to escape the worries over politics and war strategies. What an irony now...

But she knew very well when things had got complicated. It was when Lando entered that cell in Cloud City and said, about Vader, 'He doesn't want you at all. He's after somebody called Skywalker.'

"What do they want from you, Luke?"

Darkening blond hair fell over paling blue eyes. "I'm the loose cannon everyone is hoping to turn against their enemy. Vader wants me to join him in an alliance against the Emperor. Together we'd be powerful enough to defeat him in combat and take his place, or so Vader thinks."

Luke and Vader... allies? Unthinkable. Laughable. Stars would turn into soap bubbles before that happened, she was sure of it.

"The Emperor..." Luke continued. "At first I thought he wanted me dead, pure and simple. He wouldn't want to lose the upper hand in the balance of power. On the other hand, I doubt he doesn't suspect Vader's plans. If he's half as clever, opportunistic and manipulative as I think he is, he'll just throw Vader and me against each other, so either he forces Vader to destroy his potential weapon, or he gets rid of Vader and turns me into his new minion."

Luke replacing Vader? More ludicrous impossibilities. This couldn't be serious.

"And Obi-Wan wants me to be his weapon against Vader," the young man concluded, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. "That's what he's trained me for. What his plans for the Emperor are... I don't know and I'm not sure I want to find out."

The assertion surprised Leia to no end. Not because of Luke's use of the present tense — he often did that when talking about his late teacher —, but at the mere idea of listing General Kenobi in the same category as Vader and an even more dangerous Sith Lord. "You've changed, Luke."

She bit her lip then, realising that her comment might be taken in a wrong, reproachful way.

But the young man only shrugged. "Han always says idealists like me will either die young or grow into more knowledgeable cynics. I wonder if he's placed any bets in my case."

For a moment, Leia was glad that Han wasn't there. He wouldn't have stood seeing Luke like this, broken and embittered, hiding his suffering behind wan humour.

Idealists turn into cynics when the ideals they've fought for turn out to be nothing but mirages, she thought, feeling her mouth dry. Illusions. Deceptions. Lies they had passionately wished to be true.

Pieces of the puzzle lay before Leia. Some seemed to be missing, but others slowly started to connect and find their places. And Leia did not like the image forming in her mind at all.

General Obi-Wan Kenobi... what have you done to my Luke?

She had more than once witnessed Han warning Luke against what the Corellian considered to be 'exaggerated laudation of a sly, tricky old man', and every time she had sided with Luke, defending the honour of her father's friend. Could Han have been right all along?

Something had happened to Luke in Cloud City. Maybe something even worse than having his hand cut off.

Something he would not, or could not tell her.

He's been betrayed. He's alone. And now I took Han away from him.

The prosthetic hand curved gently around her fingers, caressing them with the utmost tenderness. When he turned to face her, she heard herself gasping at the maelstrom of emotions exploding in his eyes. "I will bring Han back to you, Leia," he promised her. "You have my word."

Her first thought, shocked and remorseful, was, He knows.

The second was the haunting realisation that her dearest friend was dying inside.

She opened her mouth to comfort him, to promise to back away and leave Han with him, to suggest sharing, to pledge her love for him and reject Han... to utter whatever she could come up with, no matter how insincere, to heal that bleeding heart.

"Thank you," she said instead, holding him close.

They were both crying.

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