They're floating along some stretch of galaxy, and Leia's thoughts burn hot and entrenched with her unspoken fears. They lost Han because of their mistakes, and she could have lost Luke too.
He's there with her now, gazing at the cold, dead stars billions of miles away.
Luke says nothing, but untangles their fingers and holds up one of Leia's hands. He feels like bare, soft skin—not his new, cybernetic hand, which Luke barely acknowledges but has not allowed her to touch. Leia does not push him, for either his words about Vader or for the permission when it may push him away from her.
His lips brush moist against the knuckles of Leia's fingers, one-by-one, pulling her attention.
Their eyes meet, and Luke smiles. A warm, pulsing sensation comes between them, and she realizes it's him. Luke inside of the Force, reaching out to her, comforting her, immersing her fear with love and belief.
She never imagined such a thing, and Leia's mouth upturns in silence.
The first I love you came from her, sort of on accident.
It knocks the oxygen right out of Leia, as he staggers backwards in the corridor, as Luke's wide, blue eyes gleam. It's not crying, but it's a step below it. From then on, they can't stop touching.
Leia knows it's not professional, but sometimes it feels better when he grasps her elbow during an argument with one of the officers, or when she's absently running a hand over Luke's shoulder while he's tensed.
I love you is murmur-soft, and Luke nods as he repeats it, his chin resting to Leia's shoulder.
He hugs her from behind, while no one else is around, fitting like a missing piece. His broad, strong chest, Luke's embrace to her waist, and he's too sweet. Luke tickles her right side and jokes with her, blowing a raspberry under Leia's jaw and making her squirm and laugh so hard that it's dizzying.
Luke's teeth nibble, purposeful, leaving tiny, red marks along the column of her neck. Leia's knees go weak, and she leans back against him, tilting her head, shutting her eyes. He holds her up like she weighs nothing.
It's a moment Leia warns herself against succumbing to.
They get Han back, safe and whole, but Luke says this time he must leave. To fulfill a promise.
What promise? she longs to ask, but the impulse dries up, brittles away as quickly as the sand-scorching winds of the Tatooine storm engulfing them. Leia's throat turns rock-hard, clenching, her tongue heavy.
Luke kisses her farewell, aiming for her cheek and she makes her split-second decision. Their lips collide gently. He makes a low, surprised noise as Leia's arms hook to his neck, yanking him bodily closer. Luke echoes against her, his breathes reverberating and falling into Leia's opening mouth, sucking in deep.
She's kissed him before, and not only once. Leia recognizes the look of want in his expression when Luke stares at her out of the corners of his eyes, or when they speak. He wants her, but in so many ways.
Luke muffles out a giggle and then presses several, lighthearted kisses against Leia's forehead.
And he'll need to wait.
Leia will wait until he returns, too.
Others whisper anyway.
They're brother and sister, Luke tells her. Twins.
Which explains why she needs him, every sweaty, aching inch of him. Luke makes love like he's untried, too careful and too slow, and Leia takes control when it's not enough. She rides on top of him, digging fingernails into Luke's shoulders, hollering out, grinning when his cock floods inside her, Luke moaning and whimpering.
It's the earliest mornings when Luke's hands wander over her torso, over her breasts, and he hums contently against Leia's earlobe. "Don't get up," Luke says urgently, still half-asleep, when she begins to roll over.
"We have new recruits," she whispers. Leia rolls back over to him, combing a hand through the dark golden curlicues scattered across Luke's sternum. "And I have a job to do…"
Luke's mouth lands to her collarbone, and then over her left breast, messily kissing over Leia's nipple. The arousal and sensitivity trickles down her lower stomach, flushing her cheeks, flushing everything.
He smiles mischievously, feeling her quiver in his arms.
"In a minute…"
She's never been fond of the idea of getting pregnant a second time.
Carrying her son for nine months, as much as Leia adored him, had been a strain on her health while working as a politician and revolutionary—not to mention on her back.
But, the medical tests do not lie.
Han knows it's not his. He knows what Leia feels towards her brother, and has never offered any animosity or hostile emotions. Their marriage was not what either of them wanted in the end, and it ended peacefully.
Luke rolls his eyes at their best friend's overly teasing remarks, about Han teaching him to be the best dad.
Despite it, she can feel Luke's joy and excitement, his doubts, as the news fully hit him. She's pregnant with his child, and Luke expresses his conflicted mindset—what may result—before accepting the inevitability.
He wants their child, as much as Leia does.
All medical scans turn out normal, and she's under close monitoring as the final weeks of her pregnancy roll in. Luke cradles her belly in his hands, nuzzling and giving beard-scratchy kisses to Leia's navel.
"I'm never going to leave you," he promises, and Leia's unsure of who it's meant for.
The worst memories she has are the days Leia felt powerless.
Luke's been training her to control the Force, to extend her abilities. He told Leia she read surface thoughts and feelings, if focused enough. But, Leia can always read him—whether because of a blood-relation or not.
She can feel his pain, when he's not prepared for it.
During one of the missions, Wedge Antilles carries Luke in, as the other man thrashes and screams himself raw, bleeding heavily from the leg. They're calling it Devaronian blood-poison, and he's deeply under the throes of the most excruciating pain imaginable.
So much so that the med-droids can't pull him out of it.
A harshened, thrumming agitation—Luke's fear—squeezes her insides, and Leia finds herself unable to calm down. She screams as well in the medcenter, demanding answers and shoving Han, her rage blowing up.
The more Luke's screams heighten, the more Leia fights.
She finds herself being held down, shrieking animalistically, nearly clawing her way off the examination table. Han's voice drops reassuringly, as a nearby human medic sedates her, as Leia quiets down unwillingly, gasping out weakened, heartbroken sobs.
He survived. No one was sure what would have happened if Luke didn't.
Luke Skywalker disappeared.
(He swore he wouldn't leave again.)
Leia felt only grief, not anger, not betrayal.
Rey brings him home after several months of visiting the island, to their new center of operations. He tracks in his dirty Jedi robes, and Luke's beard is overgrown.
He kisses like a boy—like the boy Leia always knew.
Leia clutches onto him, afraid, dreading the moment she must let him go. She breathes him in like it's precious, kissing his mouth over and over until Luke tightens his hug, pressing their foreheads together.
"She found me, Leia," he mumbles, his voice aged, gravelly.
"I know." Leia cups his face, smoothing his wrinkles gently, wiping Luke's tears. He's weathered like a storm has battered him, his tanned skin feeling as hard as leather, his body trembling. "Our daughter found us."
"Who had her… all the time?"
A twinge of his astonishment melds into the Force-connection, and Leia shakes her head. "That's something I'm going to find out," she says with unmistakable grimness. "Does Rey know?"
"Soon," Leia promises him, tangling their fingers together. Her human and Luke's exposed cybernetics.
Luke says nothing at first, meeting their eyes, and then he smiles.
Star Wars isn't mine. I DISCUSSED PART OF THIS STORY WITH A FRIEND SO THEY'LL GET THE DEDICATION. Any thoughts/comments are very appreciated! :)