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It starts like this:
“Fuck,” says the man, staring at Bail and Leia. He looks at his Wookie companion, who shrugs eloquently. The man repeats, “Fuck.”
“Do we know you?” asks Bail, his hand tightening on Leia’s shoulder.
“I’m-- I’m with the Rebellion,” says the man, glancing around them. He rattles off a code used to identify undercover agents of the Rebellion. “You’re Bail Organa, aren’t you? And-- and his daughter?”
“--yes,” says Bail.
“And it’s Leia,” adds Leia, annoyed. “For your information.”
The man is distracted, watching the crowd flow around them. “It isn’t safe here. Fuck.” He closes his eyes, glances up, then refocuses on them. “Okay, you guys need to come to my ship, right now. We can figure the rest out later.”
“We’re not going anywhere without your name, at least,” says Bail. He barely has any idea where they are, but he knows something isn’t right -- there’s no stormtroopers in the crowd, no mention of Imperials in the conversations around them. The year isn’t even a number he recognizes. “How do we know we can trust you?”
The man raises his eyebrow. “My name’s Han Solo,” he says. “My friend’s name is Chewbacca. And-- you don’t know you can trust us. But we’re as good as you’re going to get.”
“Oh, kriff,” says Solo, grimacing. “Chewie, you see this guy?”
The Wookie makes a sound of acknowledgement. Bail, standing behind their seats in the rather cramped cockpit, leans forward. “What’s going on?”
“A local leader,” says Solo, glancing back at him as he flicks a switch on the ceiling. “Thinks he runs the place and’s willing to put his money where his mouth is. He’ll want our cargo.”
“What is your cargo?” asks Leia, nudging Bail to the side so she can see the displays better. “You said it was for the Rebellion?”
The Wookie says something. “Computer chips,” Solo translates. “Vital for setting up new command centers. This needs to be a hundred parsecs from here in eighteen hours or... well, bad things will happen. Chewie, tell me we don’t have to do what I think we do.”
Chewbacca leans his head to the side, eloquently. Solo sighs.
“Can’t you outrun him?” asks Bail. “You haven’t stopped telling us about your piloting skills since we got onboard.”
“Yeah, yeah,” says Solo, waving a hand. “Normally I would, but--” He glances back at them again, and Bail sees real concern in his eyes. “Look, I don’t get paid enough to figure out the mechanics of time travel, but I figure getting one of the royal family of Alderaan hurt while they’re in the future would probably be bad.”
“We can handle ourselves,” says Leia, defensive.
Solo’s half-distracted “I know you can, Princess,” is surprisingly sincere. “But if you get hurt, it’s gonna be on my head, so let us deal with this in our own way.” He glances back from the displays to Bail and Leia. “I need you two to step outside so he doesn’t see you. If we get boarded, Chewie will go back and hide you in one of the compartments, okay?”
The ease with which Solo refers to his smuggler’s hold puts Bail on edge. The fact that Solo’s ship is outfitted like a smuggler’s makes sense, he rationalizes, as he steers Leia out of the cockpit. In the Emperor’s galaxy, the Rebellion has to do plenty of things that no one finds ideal.
Now if only he could believe that’s all that’s going on here.
The doors to the cockpit swish closed behind them. Immediately, Leia presses her ear against it to hear what’s going on inside. He considers telling her not to, but Solo still hasn’t proven himself trustworthy to Bail, and the more information they have the better.
Her eyes widen as he mirrors her position, and then they crinkle at the corners as she giggles silently at the ridiculousness of it. He grins back at her, turning his attention to what’s happening inside.
“--know who I am?” an unfamiliar voice is saying.
“No, I don’t, and frankly I don’t care,” says Solo. “You’ve stopped a cargo ship of the New Republic, carrying supplies vital to its continued growth, and that, my friend, is against the law.”
Bail frowns at the mention of a New Republic. The language of the law is strange in Solo’s mouth, but he says the name without hesitation. Surely, the Emperor would never allow this.
Does that mean--
“The New Republic doesn’t have the same power on the Outer Rim as it does in Coruscant,” their adversary says. “Besides, it’s only illegal to stop ships marked with the insignia of your precious Republic. You expect me to believe that a smuggler’s ship is on this ‘official business’ you mention?”
“Listen, jackass, the Republic’s the only reason you can go around making a living off the ships unlucky to drive through your space,” snaps Solo.
“Insults will get you nowhere.” The voice is smug. “Frankly, I don’t know why you continue to insist your Republic has any authority here.”
Bail expects Solo go on a diatribe. Instead, he takes a deep breath, pausing for a moment. Then he says, “I really didn’t want to have to do this, but here we are. This isn’t just a cargo ship. We have diplomatic immunity and our ship is protected by the laws of the New Republic. Even stopping us constitutes a felony.”
The other voice chuckles. “This ship? You expect me to believe that this ship has diplomatic immunity? On whose authority?”
“Alderaan’s,” says Solo.
Bail’s heart stops.
“Show me a member of the Alderaanian royal family, then.”
“I... The royal consort is aboard this vessel,” says Solo.
That’s not my proper title, thinks Bail, absurdly. Someone forgetting he’s the viceroy is the last thing he needs to worry about -- for one thing, it can’t be good for strangers from the future, much less hostile ones, to see him and Leia. Not to mention the obvious, Rebellion-shaped connection the Emperor will be able to draw between them and this smuggler, whose greatest weakness appears to be subtlety.
He doesn’t know what kind of circumstances he’s in, in this strange future, but he’d rather assume his future self is still operating off plausible deniability. Bail might, might be able to spin this as a kidnapping, but not if Solo keeps talking--
“Comm Coruscant if you don’t believe me,” says Solo. “Her Majesty will confirm it.” He rattles off a port number Bail doesn’t recognize.
He’s frozen against this door. Breha of the future is going to see them and everything is going to come falling down. He meets Leia’s eyes, trying to think of what to do. Her eyebrows are furrowed, but she doesn’t look worried the same way he is.
“Something’s not right,” she whispers. “Mamí doesn’t go to Coruscant. And that’s not her port number. What makes him so sure that she’ll even answer?”
“I don’t--” says Bail, and then the words die in his mouth, because there’s a new voice in the cockpit.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Their enemy speaks, his smile audible. “This man claims to be transporting the royal consort of Alderaan. He wants diplomatic immunity, as if that applies in the Outer Rim. I wanted to see how far this would go.”
“It stops here,” says the new voice, so different from how Bail knows it. “He is the royal consort of Alderaan.”
The man laughs. “Alderaan is dead, your Highness. I’ve seen the rubble myself.”
“Alderaan lives,” snarls Leia Organa, shining light of Bail’s universe, so much older than he has ever heard her. “She lives in the hearts of her people, in me -- and, most unfortunately for you, in the Galactic Senate, which has been looking for an excuse to nationalize the mining setup you’re so proud of.”
“You would dare--”
“I’ve spat in the face of Darth Vader. Yes, I would dare,” says the older Leia, furious yet controlled in a way Bail has never heard his own Leia speak. He glances over at the wide eyes of his daughter. The Leia over comms says, “Don’t think I won’t take down your whole organization with my words and my own blaster. Tell me, what’s the status of the fugitive Imperials you were ordered to expatriate three months ago?”
The man snarls in anger but disconnects the call. Tense silence stretches out until the computer beeps and Solo lets out a long sigh. “Ship’s pulling away.”
Chewbacca says something quietly. Solo murmurs, “Yeah, well, it’s the best I could do. She’ll comm us herself in a minute. If you don’t want to be the one to lie to her, you’d better get to the back.”
Bail and Leia only barely manage to jump away from the door before it swishes open and the seven-foot Wookie walks out, making a beeline for the other side of the ship.
Solo slowly swivels around to look at them, both hovering in the doorway. “So,” he says, spreading his hands.
“How old is she?” asks Bail, before he can think not to.
“Twenty five,” says Solo.
He looks, really looks, at Solo for the first time. “And how old are you?”
“...not twenty five.”
“I didn’t think so,” says Bail, quietly. “She’s going to comm you in a minute, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” says Solo, his expression very tired. “You can-- I would say you shouldn’t listen to what she says, but that’s not going to stop you, is it?”
“No,” says Bail. “Nothing would, for this.”
“Yeah, well, I tried,” says Solo. “Just don’t let her see you. I don’t-- frankly, I don’t know whether you’re a trick or not, and I’m not going to do this to her until I’ve confirmed that.”
Solo is the Alderaanian royal consort -- Bail understands the responsibilities of that role. He thinks about how he’d feel if someone tried to impersonate his grandmother, and thinks he understands. “Fair enough.”
There’s a trill as the comm rings. Solo glances back at it, then looks up at Bail. “I mean it.”
“We understand,” says Leia, quickly. She grabs his arm and leads them both out of the cockpit.
The door swishes closed in front of them. They heard a lot in the future Leia’s words that he wants to consider -- not the least of which was the supposed rubble of Alderaan -- but instead he looks to his daughter, sixteen years old and confronted by things he never thought to prepare her for. “Are you okay?”
She frowns at him. “What, you don’t want to hear what they’ll say?”
Leia has a tendency to do this -- ignore her emotions in favor of things she thinks are more important. It’s why she thinks she’s ready to join the Rebellion. It’s why Bail is still hesitating on letting her.
Inside, Solo says, “Princess.”
...she’s probably more ready than he thinks, based on what they’ve seen so far.
“You know I don’t enjoy doing that,” says the future Leia.
“What, you don’t enjoy me being your damsel in distress?”
“Oh, I enjoy that part just fine,” she says, a smile in her voice. “You do remember there’s a formal way to establish your bona fides, right?”
“Maybe I just wanted to see your lovely face.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she says. “You’re a criminal and a flatterer, aren’t you?”
Solo’s voice is light. “Always have been.”
“You know it doesn’t give me any joy to sit there and listen to him say--”
“I know,” says Solo. “I’m sorry.”
“--god knows I don’t enjoy dealing with it here, where everyone thinks they can just talk over me because whose interests do I have to protect--”
Bail almost wants to laugh at the familiarity. He knows this mood. Leia’s anger wants an outlet: sometimes, she’s in a bad enough mood to look for a fight, to go around poking people for one, even if she doesn’t realize she’s doing it. Based on what he knows of Solo, he’s going to snap back, give her the fight she’s looking for.
Instead: “I know,” repeats Solo. “I’m sorry. I would’ve gotten out of it myself, like usual, but--” he pauses, just barely, “--something went wrong with the coolant tubes and she couldn’t get to hyperspace.”
“How bad is it?” asks Leia, distracted from her anger.
“Not very,” says Solo, casual. “Chewie’s in the back fixing her right now. She’ll be on her feet again in no time.”
This adult Leia takes a deep breath, and when she speaks again, much of the fight has left her voice. “Well, that’s good.”
“How go the vultures?” asks Solo. “You need an extraction yet?”
She sighs. “When don’t I, cowboy?” Bail’s daughter has wanted to join politics for all her life, but here, he hears all the reasons why he’s hesitated. “Politics drives me up the fucking wall, have I mentioned that before? This ambassador wants that and that representative wants that and did this senator mention yet that the Emperor assured them personally compensation for the ships they sold him at a discount and somehow the New Republic is now liable for that money and--”
“You know we could always use a gunner on the Falcon,” says Solo. “Your aim’s not half-bad.”
Leia laughs, startled. “My aim’s better than yours, flyboy, and you’d do well to remember it.”
Solo’s good at this -- this is the second time he’s pulled her out of a bad mood. The kind of mood that, if Bail is being honest, he’s still trying to figure out how to handle with his own Leia.
“Yeah, yeah,” Solo says. “I know you have to do this, but if you want me there, you know--”
“I’m fine,” says Leia, quickly. “I always am, you know that. And don’t think you can’t skip out of your mission that easily.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, your worshipfulness.”
“Will your shipment get there on time?”
“It should,” says Solo. “The engine won’t give us more than an hour of delay, and we’re ahead of schedule enough that we’ll be able to eat it.”
If Bail was acting as a leader right now, Solo is the kind of associate he’d be sure to keep a special eye on. Driving a smuggler’s ship that’s definitely his own; familiar enough with local lords to know when to rely on braggadocio and when to call in the cavalry; and most notably, talking a big game about his evasive skills. Honestly, if Bail were in charge right now, Solo wouldn’t even be close to something as important as these chips seem to be.
But Leia just says, “That’s good,” with perfect trust. Then: “Do you have somewhere else to be afterwards?”
“No,” says Solo. “Why, what’s up?”
“It’s Luke,” says Leia.
Here is a story Bail has only told his wife: once he had a friend. She was good and strong and brave and, one day, she died.
In doing so, she left behind:
an infant girl,
an infant boy, and
a power-hungry Emperor with a fondness for her husband’s genes
Bail loved his friend, and in doing so, he loved her children. They were at risk. So he and several Jedi buried the infants’ ties to their mother. And Bail took one and left the other.
He doesn’t dwell on this story much, for good reason. The Emperor’s gaze is heavy. But when he does, he thinks about his daughter and the brother he stole from her.
“Is something wrong with Luke?”
“No, I don’t-- not yet, at least. But he’s needed here and... anyway, I think he’s going too deep into something. Something dangerous. I have a bad feeling about it.”
The brother she will apparently meet.
After Solo says goodbye to his-- to the future Leia, Chewbacca returns to the cockpit and they’re back on their way.
Bail and Leia make their way to the table in the corner and sit, not quite touching each other. Leia is quiet, but she keeps stealing looks at Bail like she wants to compare notes.
Bail is not in a position to answer her questions. Instead of giving her room to ask them, he stares at the wall in front of him and tries to think.
After a moment, Solo slides into the seat in front of them. Bail glances up -- he’s looking at both of them like he knows what they’re going to say. Looking at Bail as if to say, trust me.
“So,” says Leia, folding her hands. “You’re... dating me?”
She’s doing her best to look supremely unimpressed. Solo meets Bail’s eye like he sees it, too.
“Yes, Princess,” he says to Leia. “Your older self, at least.”
Leia wrinkles her nose. “You seem kinda... scruffy.”
“Hey!” says Han, turning offended. “That’s what makes me interesting!”
His daughter giggles despite herself. Solo’s expression relaxes into a grin.
Bail is beginning to see why his daughter lets this man distract her from her anger. As if he can hear Bail’s thoughts, Han catches his eye. “Well? Are you going to push me out of the airlock?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” says Bail. Despite his discomfort, he winks at Leia, letting her in on the joke. “We’re royalty -- we pay people to do that.”
When it comes time for bed, Chewbacca leads them to a very small room with a pair of bunks. The room was clearly intended to be a maintenance closet, the beds cramped and uncomfortable-looking -- but they’re still beds, so they make sure to thank their host graciously.
Leia claims the top bunk immediately. Bail makes sure she’s tucked in, then says, “I need to talk to Captain Solo about a few things.”
It’s a sign of how tired his daughter is that she nods instead of asking follow-up questions. It’s been a long day for her -- Bail feels guilty for being grateful for her silence. He curls his hand over her cheek as he turns out the light. “Sleep well, mija.”
He closes the door behind him and makes his way to the cockpit. It’s been a long day for all of them -- exhaustion’s deep in his bones. But he can’t go to sleep yet.
It turns out that Solo and Chewbacca aren’t in the cockpit. He finds them at the games table, talking quietly over a starmap. They both straighten up at the sight of him.
“Can we help you, Senator?”
Bail sits down. “I have a few questions, if you don’t mind my asking.”
The two exchange glances, no doubt trying to figure out how to get out of it. Chewbacca says something that Han’s clearly not happy to hear, but he sighs and seems to concede.
“I can try to answer them,” says Han. “There are some things I’m not gonna tell you about, no matter how much you want to know.”
Bail nods. He thinks Han is probably bracing himself for the shovel talk, but Bail has bigger concerns. “Is the Emperor dead?”
Han blinks at him. “I’m not sure I should--”
“Maybe I didn’t phrase that right,” interrupts Bail. “I’m not blind. I know the Emperor’s dead. Where’s Vader?”
Han hesitates. “Vader’s-- also dead.”
Bail nods. He can’t let himself feel the relief -- he’s spent sixteen years watching for Vader in the corner of every room he’s ever been in, and he’ll need that caution when they get back to their own time. But it’s-- well, it’s nice to hear, anyway. “I’m guessing you won’t tell me how.”
Han looks at him, wry.
“Okay,” says Bail, setting his hand flat down on the table. “What about--” He hesitates. “The man Leia mentioned.”
Something shifts in Han’s eyes. “Yeah?”
Bail says, “Luke,” and shivers. He hasn’t said that name in more than a decade, worried someone would overhear. “Does-- who is he?”
He doesn’t want to reveal anything that Han doesn’t already know. Han, clearly, is having the same problem. “Luke Skywalker. He’s-- a pilot.”
Bail plays dumb. “Is he Anakin Skywalker’s son?”
“Yeah,” says Han, suspicious.
“I knew Anakin,” says Bail. “He-- I don’t know what kind of father he would’ve been.”
It’s clear when Han picks up what Bail’s trying to imply. He narrows his eyes. “Luke is also Leia’s brother.”
Bail’s shoulders release. “Oh, is he.”
“Did you already know?” Han asks.
Bail raises his eyebrows. “My child? A force-sensitive child, born with a twin, entrusted to me by Obi-Wan Kenobi? The daughter of Anakin Skywalker? What could give you that idea?”
Han’s staring at him. Bail says, “We weren’t blind. We knew they’d find each other, and we knew they’d figure it out if we didn’t tell them. But we had to keep it from them until they were old enough to hide it themselves.”
“Yeah, well, it didn’t really work out that way, did it,” says Han, rubbing at his eye. “Do you know who their mother was?” He tries to make it sound casual, but his interest is clear.
Bail shakes his head. “That’s not a question I’m going to answer.”
Han shrugs. It seems like he’s trying not to look disappointed. “Fair enough.”
Vader is dead, and Leia and Luke know. Bail has more of his own questions, but he doesn’t think Han will answer them. “Are you in contact with Obi-Wan Kenobi?”
Han blinks at him. “--no.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“What about Mon Mothma?”
Chewbacca rumbles something. Han translates, “If we don’t want you talking to Leia, why do you think we’ll put you on the line with Mothma?”
Bail inclines his head. “Then what are you going to do?”
“We’re only a few hours out from dropping off the shipment,” says Han. “After that, we’ll go find Luke. When Leia has a bad feeling about what he’s doing, she’s usually right. And he’s the only person I trust to be able to tell if this is a trick.”
The faith in his voice is more than Bail would’ve expected. “Does he have the Force?”
“He’s a full-blown Jedi,” corrects Han. “And as far as I understand it, intuition is one of his specialties. Like Leia’s is--” he hesitates, looking at Bail, “--command.”
Bail-- Bail very carefully doesn’t follow up on that, because if he starts asking questions about his daughter’s relationship with the Force, he’ll never stop. Instead, he says, “What’s Luke doing?”
“Jedi research,” says Han. He puts up his hands. “Before you ask me what that means, no, I don’t understand it either. He’s exploring a very old temple. It’s pretty much in the middle of nowhere -- there’s a city, but it’s out of comms range of the Core.”
Bail frowns. “If it’s out of comms range with the Core--”
“--how does Leia know what he’s up to?” Han raises his eyebrows. “The Force, and don’t ask me any questions about that, because I can’t answer them. Doesn’t matter that it’s real now -- I still don’t understand it.”
“You thought it wasn’t real before?” asks Bail.
“Yeah,” says Han. Chewbacca snorts, saying something that sounds teasing. Han flushes. “Yes, okay, and I called it a ‘hokey religion’ in front of Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
Bail chuckles. “I’m sure he enjoyed that.”
“Yeah, well,” says Han. He puts his hands together. “Speaking of Luke’s backwater Jedi shrine, we actually have to plot the route there. So if you wouldn’t mind--”
“Of course,” says Bail. Han and Chewbacca have both been very patient, and he has answers to all the questions he-- well, all the ones he wants answers for. He stands. “Thank you.”
“Hey, it’s nice to talk to you,” says Han. “It’s not-- well, anyway,” he says hastily, turning red again. “You’re welcome.”
Bail can imagine what Han was about to say. It probably has something to do with one of those answers he doesn’t want to know.
Han and Chewbacca are already in the cockpit when Bail and Leia emerge in the morning. Bail respects both of their steady hands on the controls -- he doubts either of them got much sleep, what with a delivery last night and then backwater navigation today.
Still, Chewie’s got a smile for both of them, and Han calls a friendly-sounding “Good morning!”
“That bed was weirdly comfortable,” says Leia, her hands checking over the quick braids that Bail did for her. She smiles at him when she notices him watching.
“Yeah, well, gotta make up for the size of the room.” Han’s got his eyes on the front window as they speed through hyperspace, but he glances back to look at both of them. “Senator, how did you sleep?”
“Well enough, thank you,” says Bail. “Would you boys happen to have any coffee on this ship?”
Han hands off control to Chewbacca and spins his chair around. “As it would happen, we actually have Alderaanian caf. Let me get it out for you.”
It’s rare to find café outside of Alderaan or the cultural district on Coruscant, which is why almost every Alderaanian that Bail knows travels with some. He exchanges glances with Leia as Han pulls out the familiar packaging.
“There’s a cafmaker in the other room,” he says, gesturing for them to follow him.
“Where are we headed today?” asks Leia.
Han glances at Bail as he gets the machine going. “We made our shipment late last night, so now we’re on our way to go check on a friend of mine.”
“The Luke that my older self mentioned?”
Han smiles, seeming unsurprised that she remembers. “Yeah, that guy.”
“Where is he?” asks Bail.
“The planet’s called Tiber.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” says Leia. “What’s he doing there?”
“You know, kid, I’m honestly not sure,” Han says. He slides a jug of black coffee and a container of sugar to Bail, along with two small cups painted in the style that Breha prefers. Bail’s heart aches. “Jedi stuff of some kind.”
Leia’s face lights up. “He’s a Jedi?”
“Yep.”
“Do you think he knows Obi-Wan?” Leia asks Bail.
Bail says, “It depends on how old he is, probably.” He glances up from his stirring to catch Han’s eye.
“Luke was born after the fall of the Republic,” says Han, casual. Bail should’ve known better than to worry about a smuggler’s ability to misdirect. “But he’s met Obi-Wan Kenobi a few times, I think.”
“There’s an underground network,” says Leia. She glances at Bail, her eyes sharp. “Although I don’t know if they’re still using it, if there’s a New Republic now.” She accepts the cup that Bail hands her. “Thanks. How did he become a Jedi if he’s too young to have grown up in the temple?”
“You should ask him,” says Han. He puts his hand up at the cup Bail offers him. “No, thanks, that stuff’s too strong for me. It’s a cool story. His dad was a Jedi.”
Leia takes a sip. “I thought Jedi weren’t allowed to have children?”
“See, you’d think that, wouldn’t you?” says Han. Bail takes a too-fast sip of his caf and burns his tongue. “Kriff, you okay?”
“Fine,” says Bail. He misses Breha. She has a talent for quietly underscoring punchlines.
They arrive at Tiber mid-day. From space, the planet is a gorgeous, living green -- from the surface, it’s sticky and humid, with sun-bleached stone paths leading away from the tiny spaceport’s landing pads.
“I think you two should stay on the ship,” says Han, as he shuts down the landing protocols and Chewbacca gets some packs ready. “You’re both far more recognizable than the two of us shmucks.”
Chewbacca says something from the other side of the room. Han sighs, loudly.
“What did he say?” asks Leia.
“He pointed out -- very rudely, I might add--” Han glares harder in his friend’s direction, “--that the ship’s probably the most recognizable out of all of us.”
“We can wear cloaks with hoods,” suggests Bail.
Han shakes his head. “Contrary to what Obi-Wan Kenobi thinks, cloaks don’t actually disguise very well.”
Leia laughs like she’s surprised. “Exactly!”
“No,” says Han, “Cloaks make people wonder what you’re hiding. We’ll dress like our faces aren’t anything interesting. ” He gets up from the pilot’s chair and goes to a container mounted to the side wall. “And for you, Senator--”
After a few moments of rummaging, he produces old-fashioned spectacles, the kind that Bail has barely seen outside of historical holodramas.
Bail asks, “These are going to make me look inconspicuous?”
Han sighs, offering him the glasses again. “It’s the best I’ve got, Senator. We weren’t exactly prepared for a time-traveling senator and his daughter.”
“Thank you,” says Leia, shooting him a look and accepting the glasses. He grabs them before she tries to put them on for him. He doesn’t need anyone poking out his eyes.
Disguised, they head out. The small town surrounding the spaceport is backwater enough that Bail doubts they actually have to worry about being recognized, but he keeps the glasses on and resists the urge to take Leia’s hand.
Solo’s plan for finding Luke seems to boil down to waiting at the town’s bar. Bail stiffens as he realizes the kind of establishment they’re entering, but it’s not the seediest place he’s ever seen -- the large windows intended to help with the heat also help keep the light level bright. The time of day means that the customers are all in small clumps, quietly chatting.
As they settle at a table, Leia leans over to Han and whispers, “How do you know he’ll be here?”
Han folds his hands together, leaning over the table like he’s going to discuss a business proposal. “He tends to be a social guy, and even when he isn’t, town gossip follows him. We shouldn’t bring him up ourselves -- until we find him, we shouldn’t get ourselves connected to the weird Jedi -- but we still have ears.”
That reasoning was well-practiced. Bail narrows his eyes at Han. “How often do you have to go fishing for this man?”
Han gives him a wry look. “There’s a lot of ancient Jedi temples.”
It only takes about twenty minutes of standing at the bar for Han and Bail to overhear rumors of the stranger. He’s in the forest clearing on the west outskirts of town, whispers a teenager to their friend, and he’s been sitting cross-legged on the ground with his eyes closed for the whole day.
You’d think he was a fool ripe for the robbing, adds the friend, except there’s something so quiet about him.
As they head back to their table, Bail starts to feel uneasy. They still don’t know what caused the time travel in the first place. He doesn’t doubt that Luke will be just as discreet as Solo, but Leia will still learn his name -- she’ll still learn his face. He’s no expert in timelines, but he doubts the older Leia knew Luke when she first met him.
There’s also-- the other thing. The thing Bail doesn’t want to think about. He isn’t sure if he wants Luke to recognize him with resentment, but it’s better than the alternative.
Regrouped, they all file out of the bar after Han, heading west. Leia slides up next to him, taking his hand. “You okay?”
He blinks and focuses on her. “Yes, of course.”
“It’s just-- you’ve been pretty quiet today,” she says.
“Just thinking,” he says, trying to smile. “There are things here that-- I don’t think we were supposed to know. And yet, now we see them.”
“Yeah,” she says, quietly. Leia isn’t foolish or blind -- he knows she’s noticed the same things that he has.
“What about you?” he asks. “How are you feeling about this?”
She walks in silence for a few steps, thinking. Eventually, she says, “You and Han know something that you aren’t telling me. And it’s not--” she takes a deep breath, “--I know it’s not about the future. But you both watch me the same way, when you think I’m not looking.”
Bail’s heart seizes in his chest. There’s the other consequence of this time-travel that he was worried about. Leia’s always been observant, even when it wasn’t good for her. The only reason they get away with hiding so much is that she doesn’t know she should be paying attention.
“We are,” he says, finally. “I’m sorry. But there are secrets that I’ve held since the fall of the Republic. They’re not-- they aren’t things I can share with you, for your own sake, for everyone’s sake.”
It’s ironic, that this strange future is the only place where Bail would feel secure enough to mention the existence of these secrets.
He continues, “I wasn’t expecting Han to know about them. But-- obviously the Rebellion trusts him deeply.”
Leia watches him like she knows he’s still fudging the truth. “Maybe,” she says.
They find the clearing without much trouble. Luke Skywalker has heard them coming. “Han!” he calls, grinning, as they approach him.
“Hey, kid,” says Han, offering his hand to help Luke stand. Luke takes it, unfolding his legs in one smooth motion. He has the kind of grace that Bail remembers from visits to the old Jedi temple.
“What brings you here?” asks Luke, looking at Han and Chewbacca in a careful way that implies he’s trying not to stare at the strangers.
For his part, Bail keeps his head half-turned towards Han, unwilling to look Luke in the eyes. And Leia’s standing half-behind him, trying to avoid being recognized. Bail isn’t sure she even knows she’s doing it.
“Your-- Leia asked us to check on you.” Han looks more uncomfortable than Bail’s ever seen him. “And I wanted to--” he coughs, “--introduce you to some people we met.”
Luke turns to them with a smile on his face, outstretching a hand to shake -- freezing at the sight of Leia.
“--hello,” he says, sounding confused.
“Hi,” says Leia, emerging from behind Bail to shake Luke’s half-outstretched hand. No one could ever accuse Leia of letting fear rule her -- in solidarity, Bail takes off the spectacles. With a sly smile, Leia says, “We’re new in town.”
Han snorts. Chewbacca’s laugh is a rumbling thing, comforting even after only a day.
“I can see that,” says Luke, shaking her hand. He glances at Bail, and Bail can pinpoint the moment when he recognizes him. “How old are you?” he asks Leia.
“Sixteen,” she says.
“Right,” says Luke. He looks at Han. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer -- just drags Han to the other side of the clearing so they can whisper frantically at each other.
There’s a long pause. “Jedi are never as mysterious as I expect them to be,” says Leia, like she’s trying to fill the silence. She’s still watching Bail closely.
“The Jedi were never very mysterious,” says Bail, very tired. Chewbacca makes a noise that sounds like agreement.
Han and Luke rejoin them, both looking relieved. Bail can imagine how comforting it is for Han to finally have someone to help make sense of the situation -- Chewbacca is clearly unwilling to involve himself in the complexities of Bail and Leia’s presences.
But Luke is up for it. He smiles politely at Leia and Bail, and says, “I think Han’s got me up to speed. It’s nice to meet you both. Can I ask what you remember before arriving to our time?”
“Going to bed,” says Bail. Leia nods.
“No strange dreams?” asks Luke. “No visions, or voices, or anything else?”
Bail shakes his head. He tries not to look at Leia -- if either of them were going to have a vision, it would be the Force-sensitive. But he doesn’t want to risk implying it, not when she’s started to pay attention.
“Not that I can remember,” Leia says.
Luke nods.
“What are you doing here?” asks Leia.
“I was investigating an old Jedi temple.” Luke’s gaze unfocuses -- Bail is startled by how suddenly he looks like Padmé, explaining the legal traditions of Naboo. “The Force is-- well, the Force is powerful in all the old sites. But it’s deep here, in a way that’s hard to explain.”
“Your friend-- my older self, she thought you were going too deep.”
Luke blinks at her, surprised. “...did she?”
“Let’s be honest here,” says Han. “You were, weren’t you?”
Luke says, “I can handle myself,” in a tone that implies they’ve had this argument before. “But that’s not important. Listen, Han’s asked me to confirm that you guys are actually Leia and Senator Organa, which-- the Force isn’t a lie detector, but I can do my best.”
There’s a trailing silence. Bail, sensing what he’s waiting for, says, “Would you like to start with me?”
His daughter’s brother meets his eyes for the first time. Luke looks a little surprised that Bail would volunteer.
Everyone Bail’s ever known, aside from select Imperial officers, has known him to be a man who does the hard things so others won’t have to. Bail feels a little sick.
“Are you sure?” Luke asks.
Bail nods, not trusting himself to speak.
“Awesome,” says Luke, clapping his hands together. “I’ve never done this before, but I think-- I’m going to try something. Close your eyes, please?”
Bail closes his eyes, clearing his throat. “Is there something in particular you want me to focus on?”
“Just your identity,” Luke says.
His identity. It’s a strange thing to focus on. What defines him?
He thinks about the mountains of Alderaan -- always Alderaan, first and foremost. Breha, explaining the supply chains of every food he’d brought to their second date, the ways that Alderaan is held aloft in a delicate balance of alliances and independence.
Alliances: Chandrila, Naboo, the Rebellion. Independence: their language, their cuisine, their pacifist roots.
What does he dream of? His wife without the crease between her eyebrows that she’s worn for sixteen years. An Alderaan where pacifism can mean conscientious objection rather than silence. His daughter, free of the sorrows and secrets that have defined her since before she drew breath.
What are you here for? asks the voice in his head, and in the same instant that Bail recognizes it as Luke’s voice, he finds himself answering, to see her.
There is a long, shimmering silence.
Aloud, Luke says, “Okay.” Bail opens his eyes, chest heaving, and finds Luke breathing just as heavily as he is. Something about Luke is glowing. “Yes, that’s--” he catches his breath. “That’s Senator Organa.”
He exchanges a look with Han. Leia, looking concerned for both of them, asks, “My turn?”
Just as Bail understands what just happened in the Force, he understands what Luke’s going to say before he says it. “No need.” He shoots Leia a smile. “No one shares your Force signature.”
Bail doesn’t doubt that that’s true -- but he thinks it probably goes a little deeper than that.
Han claps his hands together, looking relieved. He says, “Well, I’m glad that’s worked out. Luke, are you ready to get out of this jungle?”
Luke winces. “About that.”
“Luke,” says Han, firmly. “Your-- look, Leia asked me to come and get you, and that’s what I’m doing. You were sitting out here meditating. You can’t do that on the Falcon?”
“Something-- happened here. A few days ago.” Luke is starting to look very embarrassed. Bail is entertained to discover that he blushes easily, like Leia. “That’s why I was meditating. I was trying to figure out what I’d caused.”
“What did you cause, then?” asks Leia.
Luke bites his lip. “Well,” he says, “it’s just a hunch. But this temple is dedicated to the power of memories past.”
“...oh,” says Leia.
They head back to the Falcon.
Han looks like he’s wishing he was still a smuggler. “This was you?”
“I didn’t do it on purpose!” says Luke, keeping pace with Han. “I just-- look, when you see a knot at the center of the Force, you can’t not poke at it!”
“I think you can!” Han shoots back. “Everyone else manages not to, every single day!”
Leia’s clearly still worried about Bail -- despite the tension between them, she hasn’t let go of his hand since Luke’s Force probe. But Han and Luke’s bickering has her biting back a smile.
“I didn’t know it was going to bring half the royal house of Alderaan to the future!” says Luke, defensively. “Obviously, if I’d known that, I wouldn’t have done it!”
Leia interrupts, “If you know what brought us here, do you know what’ll get us home?”
Luke shakes his head, slowing down. “I’m not completely sure.”
“But you have an idea?” Bail asks.
Luke glances at Han. “It’s not ideal.”
If Bail had any hope for his future, it’s firmly squashed by the way Han and Luke look at him as they discuss Luke’s proposal. Apparently, the temple brought Bail and Leia here as the future Leia’s memories past, so Luke thinks the Force wants her to confront them, at which point the temple will send them home again.
None of this is concerning, except for the quiet detail: Bail looking his daughter in the eye is somehow not ideal.
There are small mercies. Palpatine is gone. Vader is dead. People keep mentioning a New Republic. Bail thinks he can stand the part he can’t avoid anymore.
“So, we’re going to Coruscant?” Leia asks.
Han looks at Luke. “I think so. I don’t think her Senate quarters are the best place for this, but given the circumstances, I’m not sure we’ve got a better option.”
“I think someone says that every time we end up in a Senator’s quarters,” says Bail, drily. Luke cracks a smile -- he looks like Anakin.
“Cool.” Han smacks the wall twice with the flat of his hand. “Chewie and I will plot a course. We’ll be there in the morning and there’s ration packs in the back. Goodbye, and goodnight.”
As Bail and Leia get up from the Falcon’s main table, Luke pulls Han aside. Bail makes a conscious effort to not eavesdrop, turning to Leia. “Are you hungry?”
She shakes her head. “I ate something at the bar.”
She’s watching him closely. Hating himself, he says, “I need to talk to Luke for a few moments. Will you be okay here?”
Her expression turns flat. “I’ll be fine.” She shrugs, standing taller. “Maybe Chewbacca will want to play some dejarik.”
“Okay,” says Bail, slowly. He knows she wants him to tell her the truth, or at least stay near her so she can wear him down. But if this is his one chance to talk to Luke-- “Don’t let the Wookie get to you, okay?”
“Don’t worry about me,” she says, giving him a smile. It doesn’t reach her eyes.
He lets her go, turning back to Luke, who’s thankfully done whispering to Han. His daughter’s brother looks at him with curious eyes and the steady hands of a full-fledged Jedi. “Can I help you, Senator?”
“Yes--” says Bail, hesitating. “Would you mind speaking with me for a few moments?”
His conversation with Han was a negotiation. This-- he’s not sure what this is going to be.
“Sure,” says Luke. He tilts his head towards the corridor. Bail follows him.
Once they’re out of earshot of the dejarik table, Luke turns towards Bail. He folds his hands in front of him in a way very reminiscent of Obi-Wan. “What’s on your mind?”
Bail shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, trying to move past the guilt left by his conversation with Leia. He looks at Luke and says, “It is-- a miracle to finally meet you.”
If Bail were wrong about his future, Luke would smile affectionately at him, or flush and stammer as he tried to preserve the timeline, or even turn stiff to indicate that he doesn’t get along with Bail’s future self.
Instead, Luke looks at Bail like he knows what he’s thinking. “Yeah,” he says. “For me too.”
There’s almost a comfort in having it confirmed. He can focus on Luke. “So you’re a Jedi. Were you trained by Obi-Wan?”
“Sort of,” says Luke, grinning. “Mostly it was Yoda making me run around the swamp.”
“Yoda.” Bail smiles and shakes his head. “Of course he would.”
“You knew Yoda?”
He aches at the surprised delight on Luke’s face. “Of course I did. Not particularly well, but...” he spreads his hands. “I did liaison with the Jedi for several years.”
“Oh wow, okay,” says Luke, pulling a hand over his face. “So you understand. I’ve had a hell of a time explaining Yoda to anyone.”
Bail chuckles. “Yes.”
There’s a moment of silence before Luke looks at him, sideways. “Did you-- Han told me that you knew.”
There it is. Bail says, “I did.”
Luke glances down the hallway they’re standing in. He doesn’t say anything else. Bail can only imagine the depths of oddity that he’s brought to Luke’s life.
“Do you-- have questions?” He can’t undo the past. He doesn’t want to undo the past -- for all of his regrets, he stands by the decision to separate the twins. Nothing less drastic would have protected them.
But god, if he doesn’t think of it every time Leia smiles at him with Anakin’s grin. His daughter is sixteen years old, growing up in a fascist empire that wants her dead, and the greatest violence of her life came before she turned a day old.
And it came from him and Obi-Wan.
“I don’t know,” says Luke, giving him an awkward half-smile. “I don’t have anything ready. I never imagined this would happen.”
“Of course not,” says Bail. And always Luke, at the back of his mind. “I’m sorry, of course you didn’t.”
Luke watches him. “But you did, didn’t you?”
Bail smiles at Luke, a little ruefully. His good friend’s son. His daughter’s brother. “Yes.”
Luke smiles back, understanding in his eyes. “What did you expect?”
“I wasn’t sure about the details.” Bail shakes his head. “I am, and will always be, a Core Worlder. I didn’t know what kind of childhood that planet would make. But I wondered--”
He hesitates. “Obi-Wan told us a little about you,” he says finally. “He said you were a sweet kid, easy to befriend. You were good with droids, like your father.” He rubs a hand over his eyes. “You always wanted more than the farmer’s life.”
Luke’s eyes are a little wet. He says, in a self-deprecating sort of way, “Always did.”
“I’m sorry,” says Bail. “I don’t know if you know this, but I was the one who made the choice between you and Leia. I don’t regret it, but-- I am sorry.”
Luke stares at him for a moment. Finally, he says, “As far as I can tell, there’s nothing to apologize for. Leia loves you -- and her mother and Alderaan -- more than--”
He breaks off, chuckling a little. “Leia would call us both ridiculous for regretting anything that led to her being your daughter.” He shakes his head, smiling, as if he hasn’t just hit the core of Bail’s heart. “And I wouldn’t give up my aunt and uncle for the world.”
“Oh-- of course,” says Bail. Owen and Beru -- Obi-Wan had mentioned them too. “Forgive me.”
Luke puts up his hands. “Again, nothing to apologize for. I know what you meant, and I appreciate it. I just wanted to make it clear that you don’t have to beat yourself up for it.” He smiles, tilting his head to the side. “Leia does the same thing now, did you know?”
Bail feels a pang in his chest. “I can imagine.”
In the main area of the Falcon, Leia is sitting at the game table, staring at nothing.
“Did he beat you?” Bail asks her.
She doesn’t look up. “No, I won.”
“Nice job,” he says, sinking down on the worn cushions across from her. Luke found him a ration bar in a box somewhere. He eats it in three bites, watching Leia the whole time. She doesn’t say anything.
Across the room, Luke emerges from the hallway and slips into the cockpit. The door slides closed behind him.
Leia says, “There’s something strange about him.”
Bail glances at her. “What do you mean?”
She frowns. “I’m not sure. I think it might just be Jedi weirdness -- I can’t remember if Obi-Wan seemed weird like this.”
Leia has talked about strange uneasiness every time she’s been around Vader, too, but Bail doesn’t point it out now. Instead, he asks, “Do you think we can trust him?”
“Yes,” she says, like the concept itself is inconceivable. “It’s not that he’s going to betray us. I don’t-- it doesn’t seem like my future self would hang out around someone who’d betray her. It’s more that...”
She trails off, thinking about it. “It feels like he could see straight into my soul, if he decided to look. I don’t feel like I can hide anything from him.” She shudders. “I don’t like it.”
“Interesting,” says Bail.
Leia looks sidelong at him. “Do you feel it too?”
Bail takes a sip from the water bottle on the table. “No.” He knows why she’s feeling strange certainties -- and he knows that she can probably see that in his eyes. But he can’t answer her question. He can never answer that question, as long as the Emperor lives.
He hopes she’ll forgive him one day.
The next morning, Bail blinks up out of sleep in the space between one breath and the next. He spends several minutes just lying there, staring at the metal above him.
When he gets out of bed, Leia is already awake, lying on her side and watching him.
He doesn’t have to worry about her asking any questions about Han or Luke today. They’re probably only an hour away from Coruscant, and both of them know it.
They both get dressed in silence. Han had found them some scraps of clothes in the back, so they’ve been wearing refugee clothes to try to blend in. But today they both put on the clothes they arrived in.
When Leia hands him her brush, she says, “Can you do the formal braids?”
He nods. He knows she didn’t miss his careful combing of the side part that marks him as nobility -- not to mention the attention with which he straightened out his short politician’s hair.
They’re both trying to put on their best face. Bail hopes that, at least, Leia feels reassured to see him just as anxious as she is.
When they come out of their bunk, Luke is sitting at the central table. At the sight of both of them, he gives them a tense smile. “How did you sleep?”
Leia nods, her eyes wary. “Well enough,” says Bail.
Luke looks at Leia like he knows how she feels about him. “We should be docking in a few minutes.”
Bail asks, “Does she know we’re coming?”
Luke sets his hands down on the table, taking a deep breath. “We haven’t told her.” His eyes meet Bail’s. “But I think she might have a suspicion.”
“Why does she-- why do I think you’re here, then?” asks Leia, her voice still a little scratchy from sleep.
Luke inclines his head. “Well, she -- you -- asked Han to bring me.”
The door to the cockpit slides open, and Han comes striding out. “Well, we’re docking,” he says, rubbing his hands together. He looks at Bail and Leia. “You guys ready?”
There’s a long pause, then Leia says, “Yeah.” She reaches out and takes Bail’s hand.
Bail doesn’t recognize the landing pad they’ve docked on -- they’re not at the apartment that’s belonged to Alderaan’s senators for hundreds of years. As they emerge from the Falcon, he looks around, trying to orient himself.
He almost has to turn around to find the Senate building. For the first time in a very long time, the sight of it doesn’t make his shoulders tense. The statue of Palpatine has been taken down.
They wait on the landing pad until the door at the end of the platform slides open. Bail’s heart jumps into his chest -- but both figures gleam, metal-bright, as they step into the sunlight.
“Why, hello, Master Luke!” calls C-3PO. Next to him, as always, is R2-D2.
“Hey, Threepio,” says Luke. He looks back at Bail and Leia. “We’ve brought some visitors.”
“Oh, I’m not sure today is a good day for visitors. The appropriations bill has proven more difficult than expected.”
Artoo beeps something rude. Next to Bail, Leia smiles for the first time all day. “Yeah, tell him, Artoo!”
Threepio freezes next to Luke. Han steps out of the way to let Threepio see them, and for a long moment, he just stands there looking at him. “Hello, Mistress Leia.” He glances at Bail. “Senator Organa.”
“Hi, Threepio,” says Leia. She lets go of Bail’s hand to pat Threepio’s arm. “You’re so polished!”
“Yes, well,” says Threepio, sounding even fussier than usual. “Coruscant is home to the galaxy’s best droid-care establishments.”
Artoo rolls up to Bail. Bail puts his hand on his head. Artoo knows everything Bail would tell him.
“Are you all here to see-- the Senator?” asks Threepio.
“Yeah,” says Han. “Is she home?”
Threepio glances uneasily at Luke, then at Bail. “Yes,” he says, finally.
“--yes, Mon, I understand that, but they can’t just think they could get away--”
“She’s on the comm,” whispers Han. There’s a half-finished tazita of coffee on the table, Alderaanian weavings hanging on the walls. Bail recognizes his own curtains on the windows. In the center of the main wall is a print of the formal family portrait from when Leia officially became crown princess.
Luke tilts his head to the side. “She’s almost done.”
“--yes, okay, fine.” Pause. “Yes, fine, I’ll talk to them.” Pause. “Who do you think I am? Obviously I’m not going to say that.” Pause. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”
They hear the click of the comm ending, and then a long sigh. Luke and Han look at each other and then, as one, walk into the other room. After a momentary hesitation, Bail follows them, Leia behind him.
The office seems more lived-in. There’s a blanket crumpled on the couch by the door and abandoned cups of water on the side tables. As they file in, Bail and Leia obscured by Han and Luke, Threepio hastily starts picking up.
And at the desk, of course, there’s--
“Can I help you gentlemen?”
“Hey, Princess,” says Han. “We’ve got some visitors.”
She starts to say, “I don’t have time for--”, but then Luke steps out from between her and Bail.
“Hi, mijita,” Bail says, around the lump in his throat. There’s a long moment of silence. Then:
“Threepio,” says the fully-grown Leia, “tell Mon that something’s come up.”
“Yes, Senator Organa,” says Threepio, bowing. The door whooshes closed behind him and Artoo.
“Luke,” the older Leia says. She waves a hand in her brother’s direction, rising from her desk chair. “Luke--”
Luke puts his hand on the desk. “As far as I can tell, that’s them,” he says. “The Force isn’t a lie detector, but--”
“--you know,” finishes Leia. She hasn’t looked away from Bail, not even to look at Luke. “What do you mean, them?”
Bail clears his throat. “Leia--” His voice still cracks. “Leia and I were both brought here.” He doesn’t know how to describe the younger Leia -- doesn’t want to call her his, not when that would imply that this older Leia isn’t.
The older Leia’s gaze shifts towards the younger Leia, standing next to him. Leita gives a little wave. “Hey, sis.”
The older Leia smiles faintly. “Hey, kiddo.”
“I found them in the middle of a spaceport,” says Han. Both Leias turn to face him -- their eerie unison makes Bail shiver. “They didn’t know where they were or how they’d gotten here-- or now, I guess.”
The older Leia looks back at Luke. “Do you know?”
He flushes. “I-- have a theory.”
“It was that temple,” guesses Leia. Luke nods. She takes a deep breath. “The temple of memories past?”
“Yeah,” says Luke. He raps his knuckles, once, on the desk between them. “I’m sorry.”
Leia shakes her head. “Not your fault.” She closes her eyes for a long moment. “--though I know you think it is.”
“Leia--” starts Han.
“Will of the Force,” interrupts the older Leia, opening her eyes. “Mysterious ways, so on and so forth. Can we leave the bullshit for later? Can I--” her voice breaks. Bail’s heart aches.
“Look,” she says finally, “you want me to talk to my dad, right? Fine. Let me talk to him, then.”
Luke puts a hand on Han’s arm. “We’ll be outside,” he says, and Han nods, his eyes still on Leia.
Bail takes a deep breath, takes her hand.
Leia looks at him with tears in her eyes -- his daughter, his daughter, all grown up and alone in a way that he never wanted for her -- and yet, surrounded by love. Surrounded by trust. Surrounded by truth, which he’s never been able to give her. Which he now knows he’ll never get to give her.
Why else would it end here, in Leia’s Senate chambers, with his daughter looking at him like he’s the end of the world? Why else would he be a memory past?
“Mijita, I am so, so proud of you.” He squeezes her hand, once, and through his own tears sees hers fall.
The secrets don’t matter. Nothing else matters. This is the truth of it: when he took a baby from Obi-Wan Kenobi, the gravity of their lives shifted. And for all of the burdens they carry, neither he or Breha have never, once, had a complaint about their new orbit.
He says, “Never, ever doubt that.”
As the world warps around them, Leita’s hand held tightly in his, he hears his grown daughter say, I forgive you, Papi.
He blinks himself awake in his own bed.
Breathing hard, he sits up in bed, trying to get his bearings. The early morning light is filtering through the window, leaving shadows of papaya leaves on the wall next to him. His eyes are still wet, his throat empty-feeling like he’s been sobbing.
Breha is still asleep next to him, her pulmonodes humming faintly in the early-morning silence. As he watches her, she begins to rouse, stretching her legs out over the area of the bed.
“Good morning,” she says, yawning.
“Hey, love,” he says, leaning down to brush a kiss over her forehead, even as he rubs the sand -- and tears -- out of his eyes.
She pushes herself up to sit. “How did you sleep?”
Breha doesn’t seem surprised at all to see him there -- it must be the same morning after he and Leia were pulled into the future. He could probably get away without telling Breha anything at all.
But that’s not what they do in this bed, no matter how dark the world gets outside of it. So instead he raises his eyebrows. “You know, I think I had an experience with the Force?”
Breha purses her lips. There’s humor on her face -- always the punchline to his straight delivery -- but her eyes are serious. She says, “Yeah? Tell me about it.”
Leia sits down at the breakfast table, grabbing a wrapped tostada.
“How did you sleep, mi cielo?” asks Breha.
“Like normal,” says Leia, taking a crunchy bite. She raises her eyebrows at both of them. “How about you guys?”
“Well enough,” says Breha.
Bail says, “I had strange dreams.” He waits for Leia to look at him. “I dreamed about being on a freighter.”
“That’s weird,” says Leia. Half-distracted by the process of pouring café into her cup of steamed milk, she asks, “Why do you think you would’ve dreamed about that?”
Bail’s daughter has never been a very skilled liar. Underneath the table, Breha takes Bail’s hand. He squeezes it, once. One more secret for them to keep, then. The Force has a hell of a sense of humor. Or maybe it just likes its status quo.
“I don’t know, mija,” he says.