Leia knew that she'd told Han that Luke was okay, and the quiet little part of her that was so certain hadn't wavered in that conviction since then. But she still worried. She trusted that feeling—just like she had on Bespin, when it told her where to find Luke—no matter that she didn't entirely understand why. And given the conversation she and Luke had before he went off on his own?

The idea that Luke was her brother seemed like it should have felt foreign or strange, but it didn't. It felt like the most natural thing in the Galaxy. It explained a lot, really, like the instinctive way she'd trusted him on the Death Star, when he'd first appeared in the door to her cell. She'd never doubted him, not even when it came to his irrational belief in Athara Adyé. She couldn't understand how he could trust her. She'd been an Imperial agent, Vader's Right Hand. She'd proved that, to Leia at least, time and time again. Yet he was so sure Obscura could be trusted.

He loved her. A flicker of worry that was becoming distressingly familiar to Leia went through her when she thought about it. It had become increasingly obvious as time passed that Luke loved Athara, and that worried Leia. Her head told her that Athara was dangerous and that Luke should be backing swiftly away from her. Her heart was a little more conflicted. But she couldn't deny that it seemed Athara loved him too. It was frustrating and infuriating and Leia didn't like it.

But right now, the worrying thought of Luke's feelings for Vader's apprentice were completely overshadowed by the worrying reality that Luke still hadn't been heard from. He should have made it back by now. Their strike team that had been sent to disable the shield generator had already returned to the treetop village that Leia, Han, Luke, Chewie and the droids had spent the previous night in. Their little allies were even now, according to Threepio, working to prepare a feast to celebrate their victory. They were all so convivial and overjoyed in their victory that Leia couldn't help but get caught up in the moment, once again donning the garments they had made for her and settling in to help them prepare. But now, as her hands were busy but her thoughts free to roam, the worry for Luke had returned, not giving Leia a moment's peace.

She couldn't stop. Even if she hadn't discovered he was family, she would have been worried. Could the little feeling be wrong?

No. It wasn't. Even as the doubting thought ran through her head for the thousandth time, the certain little part of her confirmed he was all right. And it proved itself by prompting Leia to look up and around to the edge of the clearing on the forest floor where Leia, Han, Chewie and their furry friends were working.

And there he was. Emerging from the shadows cast by the dimming evening light. The sense of relief that flooded through the former Senator was such that the instant she tried to stand her legs failed to obey her, feeling weak and wobbly. She hadn't thought she'd been worrying quite that much. But then why wouldn't she have? He had left their mission to confront Vader and, presumably, the Emperor himself. Vader easily could have killed him the instant Luke walked into his presence. And who knows what the Emperor could have done to him; what the Emperor had done to him. Leia had to fight back a powerful shudder at the thought.

He was here, safe. Her brother—it still felt so strange yet so natural to call him that—was safe. Though the dimming light and uniformly black clothes he was wearing did wash out his normally warm-toned skin, Leia couldn't help but notice that he looked pale. A small shiver of worry resurfaced. As soon as he caught sight of the group gathered by the huge bases of the trees that held the village aloft, he was making his way toward them. As he got closer, Leia realized he was scanning the gathered Alliance members and locals. With a smile beginning to break through her worry, Leia started to extricate herself from the cluster of their new friends hemming her in where she had been working, relieved that her legs seemed to be working properly again.

As Luke reached the group he looked right past her.

It was like he hadn't even seen her, which, she realized, given that she was surrounded by their furry little allies preparing for the feast, he probably hadn't. But his anxious gaze—when had she noticed that he was anxious?—went almost immediately to the former smuggler just behind her, where he was helping to bundle up kindling for the planned bonfires.

"Han," he practically exhaled, his relief evident. Leia frowned in confusion, her expression matching Han's. "I need your help." Han's expression turned serious as Luke all but wavered on his feet, looking exhausted. In an instant the smuggler-turned-General was on his way to Luke's side. Not one to be left behind, Leia was quick to follow, her own worry reaching crushing heights. Neither made it to Luke's side before he was dashing back into the brush.

Exchanging a brief look, they chased after him, Han hesitating only for a moment when he tried to get Chewie's attention, but the wookiee was too far away. Practically growling in frustration, Han gave up, crashing through the brush after Luke, Leia close on his heels. The Jedi didn't answer their called questions or appeals to slow down, single-mindedly rushing back the apparent way he'd come.

It felt like an eternity of clambering across the forest floor before they were able to catch up to Luke. Around them the forest was growing dark, though it was still some time until true night would set in. The huge trees brought night early this far into the forest. And it was quiet. Oddly quiet, though Leia suspected that might just be because of the racket she and Han were making as they chased after Luke; either they were startling the local wildlife into silence or the woods around them seemed quiet in comparison because they were so loud.

Leia nearly stopped in her tracks as they finally reached their destination. It was an Imperial shuttle. It caused her to double-take at first, wondering if they could have really covered enough ground to reach the shuttle they'd arrived on the Sanctuary Moon in. She shook her head to clear that thought away. There was no chance they'd reached their own stolen shuttle already. This was a different shuttle, probably the one Luke had escaped the Death Star in. It was newer, but certainly not in better shape than the one they'd arrived in. It looked like it had just barely survived the explosion that had destroyed the Emperor's battlestation. Leia fought back a panicked sound, allowing her rational side to regain dominance. Luke was here and safe. Obviously the shuttle hadn't been too severely damaged otherwise he wouldn't be currently climbing back up the boarding ramp. That damage was also probably why it took him so long to make it back to the moon's surface. Exchanging another look with Han, the two of them followed, Han easily pulling ahead with his longer stride to rush up the ramp before Leia was even close.

When Leia stepped inside the shuttle she froze for real, her eyes fixed firmly on the large black form lying prone in the centre of the passenger compartment. Instinctively she knew he was dead, but Leia couldn't help the way the sight of Vader made her want to run. It took everything she had not to start shaking like a leaf. It was then that she registered that the horrible mask that haunted her nightmares was lying by the former Dark Lord's side. Yet she couldn't make herself look at him, focusing instead on the inactive lights and indicators on his chestplate but no higher. She couldn't manage to look at the face behind the mask...even knowing now who he really was...her fath—

"Leia, can you grab the medkit? Leia?" She was snapped from her near panic-attack at the concerned sound of Han's voice. It took a great deal of effort to pull her gaze from the hulking black body over to where Han and Luke were huddled beside the row of seats that lined the perimeter of the compartment, anxious words passing between them that Leia couldn't quite register. Barely thinking, she did as Han asked, digging out the medkit that was stashed on the bulkhead near the boarding ramp entryway. As she skirted around Vader's body, oh so careful not to touch him, she finally saw what had Luke and Han so preoccupied.

"What is she doing here?" Luke and Han's startled faces swung around to look at Leia, though she was just as startled by the cold, angry sound of her own voice as they were. She wasn't about to take it back, though. Seeing first Vader and now Obscura was bringing up way too many horrible memories, sparking her temper as a means to push her panic aside. Luke started to stand, to explain, but he didn't quite make it to his feet, his exhaustion flickering over his features as he gave up and remained seated near Athara's head. But that didn't stop him from steadily meeting Leia's gaze. Han shot him a worried glance before turning his attention back to Vader's apprentice, digging through the kit, looking for anything he could to use to help the woman in front of him.

She looked bad. Her skin was so pale it was nearly colourless save for a livid bruise blooming along her jawline. She looked like she was barely breathing, her hand limp as a rag when Han moved it to place the kit's diagnostic scanner on her chest.

"She was on the Death Star, Leia. Palpatine had her." Leia's jaw dropped and fury threatened to flood through her. Her rationality was in serious danger of abandoning her altogether. Han was speaking softly to Luke, reading out what the scanner was displaying when Leia interrupted.

"It looks like there's no real damage, but she's dangerously weak. What happe—"

"She was with Palpatine? That's where she was?"

"Leia, she was captured on Naboo. She was his priso—" Luke's voice was quiet but pleading, but Leia wasn't having any of it. Han paused in the middle of dosing Athara with a stim-shot, shooting Leia a wary, concerned look. She didn't even notice, her attention was wholly on Luke. Deep down she knew it was wrong-headed of her to go off the way she was, but she was nearly frantic in her frustration and angry bewilderment.

"That's enough, Luke! I don't understand! How can you continue to trust her? After everything she's done, after the number of times she happens to find herself in Vader's or the Emperor's company, how? How can we know why she was on the Second Death Star? How can we know she wasn't working with Palpati—"

"No," Luke interrupted, his tone powerful despite its softness, silencing Leia more effectively than if he'd yelled. The compartment was silent for a long, drawn-out moment, Leia and Han staring at Luke in astonishment. Luke, meanwhile, had dropped his gaze to Athara's still features, brushing back a few wayward strands of hair from her face before looking up to Leia again. When he continued he sounded so tired, the quiet authority gone, his face haunted as he spoke, "no, the only reason he had her, that he kept her alive was to torture Vader and to hurt me. Palpatine's plan was for me to first kill Vader and then kill her, to prove my loyalty to him once he convinced me to turn, to sacrifice someone I cared about to complete my transformation to the Dark Side. She was dangerous to him, Leia. She was a threat to him. More than that, he knew that I love her. And he knew Vader loved her." Leia couldn't help the scoff of disbelief that escaped her. Luke leveled her with an earnest look.

"Yes, Leia, he loved her. He believed me—we—were gone, dead; killed, even. Then he found her and took her in. She became the most important person in his life until he found out that I survived, that we survived."

"Wait—we?" Leia and Luke both turned at Han's bewildered interruption. Han had paused again, looking up from the readings on the diagnostic scanner. "Who's we? What are you talking about?" Leia could feel the blood leaving her face at the question. She'd accepted the truth that Luke was her brother, her twin, before she'd even heard it from his lips, before she'd even realized she'd accepted it. But accepting that Vader—no, she couldn't do it. Images flickered behind her eyes; Vader's form standing in the door of her cell; the glistening tip of the interrogation droid's needle as it approached; the emptiness beyond the viewscreen of the Death Star where her home had once hung, jewel-like, amid the darkness of space; Vader standing cloaked in steam and exhaust as the carbon-freeze mechanism shrieked in harmony with the scream she'd somehow managed to hold in. She desperately fought the urge to look down to the black-clad body lying nearly at her feet. No matter that she somehow knew it was as true as Luke's relation to her, she refused to accept it. Bile burned in her throat at the thought. Luke met her gaze with sympathy before turning to Han.

"Darth Vader, before he was seduced and corrupted by the Dark Side of the Force, was a Jedi named Anakin Skywalker. He was my father." Luke finally said softly, steadily meeting Han's gaze. Han's jaw nearly dropped, but he managed to restrain his shock, swallowing thickly in preparation to verbalize his reaction. But a look at Luke's face caused the former smuggler to pause. After a moment, Han's dark eyes flicked to Leia, the question she feared written in his confused glance before he looked back to Luke. The young Jedi still watched Han with the same steady, unassuming look. Somehow he seemed to know that Leia had told Han she and Luke were siblings, refraining from repeating something that Han already knew. Leia peered at Han without looking at him head on. She could practically hear the cogs working in his head. When his open face grew guarded she knew he'd put the pieces together. He turned back to Leia.

"And yours too," he added quietly. Leia couldn't respond. She couldn't even force herself to nod. She couldn't admit it, not even to Han. But he understood, nodding mutely as though making the gesture on her behalf. His eyes dropped from studying her down to Vader, his expression blank as he looked nearly unseeing at Vader's face. Leia still couldn't bring herself to look. She was afraid of what she'd see; scars? Disfigurement? A man? Was she afraid of seeing traces of Luke's features or even her own in the face that had hidden for so long behind that infamous mask? After a moment Han took a steadying breath before visibly steeling himself for the question she knew was bound to come next. He looked back over at her.

"How long have you known?" Leia's eyelids dipped closed as she fought the anguish rising in her chest, her fingers pressing together where they were clasped in front of her as though the pressure could stop the trembling she knew was likely to start. It had been a long time since she'd felt close to panicking at the memory of her imprisonment on the Death Star, but for the second time in a matter of minutes she felt closer to losing control than she had in months, even years. But she had to answer him. She could practically feel him beginning to draw away from her. She couldn't lose him now, not when she needed his strength to help her get through this revelation. It took two shaking breaths to fill her lungs enough that she felt she could safely speak.

"Last night, after Luke left, when you found me on the walkway." She knew he'd remember. She'd been too overwhelmed with grief at the realization that she might have just said goodbye to Luke for the last time to properly process what else he'd said. That was when Han had found her. She'd asked to be held, then, and he'd done so without hesitation. She wanted to be held now, but she knew it wasn't the right time.

Han was silent, his gaze shifting from Leia, to Vader, to Luke and Athara and finally back to Leia. Panic rose again in her chest, just as unbidden as before, threatening to choke her. She couldn't lose Han, not to Vader.

"I can't accept it. I won't, Han. That monster is not my father and never will be." She hated how her voice trembled. Han looked up at her in sympathy before standing, his hands coming up to chafe her shoulders. She looked up into his face, afraid what she'd see. A ghost of his crooked grin awaited her, and with a shaky sigh she leaned against him, unashamedly taking comfort of the solid feel of him against her.

"He wasn't a monster, Leia. Not entirely." Luke's voice was still so quiet, and Leia couldn't ignore the pain in it, or the conviction. Leia pulled back from Han's embrace, though his arm remained wrapped around her shoulders. She immediately wanted to contradict her Jedi brother, but the look on his face kept her silent. He was looking down at Athara again, his thumb brushing against her pale cheek. He looked so tired and hurt. But that was nothing compared to the worry written on his face, or the grief. It shook Leia to see him looking so wounded. When she finally managed to speak, her voice was far more sedate than before, betraying just how tired Leia felt too.

"After everything he's done? Luke, how can you still believe that?" He just continued to look down at Athara. From what Leia could see of the diagnostic scanner from where she stood, Athara's vitals were improving, the stim-shots Han had given her bolstering her system as it recovered from its obvious shock. But it didn't ease the look on her brother's face. What had happened on the Death Star, Leia couldn't help but wonder, to leave Athara and Luke in the physical condition they were in...not to mention the emotional state. After a long moment he sighed heavily, looking over to Vader himself before speaking.

"He killed her parents, Leia. Yet he's the only father she's ever known, and she loved him. She told me about him, how he cared for her as a child; the actions of the man from those stories were not those of a monster. It's because Vader and Anakin were trapped in the same body, each different from the other, each fighting for control. Vader was evil; but the remnants of Anakin that survived in him were still good and fought to regain control until the end. It was Anakin that loved her, Anakin who was our father. Not Vader.

"He sacrificed himself for us. The Emperor was killing us slowly—me and Athara—torturing us as he did. A few more moments..." he shuddered at the memory, his eyes squeezing shut as though to block it out. "The Alliance didn't kill the Emperor, and neither did I, nor Athara," his eyes opened, turning again to Vader, "he did." Leia felt herself going cold at the enormity of what he'd just said. She'd just assumed...Luke continued on, oblivious to the impact of what he'd revealed.

"He killed the Emperor to save me and to save her. And he died because of it. Anakin defeated Vader and the Emperor both to save us." Leia's breath shuddered as she exhaled, her very body feeling the effects of the turmoil Luke's calm truths were provoking in her. Could she see Vader as anything but a monster? Could she ever see him as Anakin? She looked to Athara, who lay still as death, Luke's hand smoothing her hair. Could she ever trust her? The bitter, angry part of her that clung irrationally to her pain revolted at the thought.

"He's done too much to me, Luke. He tortured me. Tortured the ones I love. I lost my planet, everything I cared about, my parents. He almost cost me Han, you. Vader and his Emperor have done everything they could to destroy everything good in our Galaxy. I can't do it. I can't." Luke bit back a sigh of regret, but he didn't look entirely surprised.

"You're not the only one to have lost everything," he said softly after a long moment, a trace of disappointment and sorrow in his voice that caused Leia to want to shrink back in shame, "and not the only one hurt at Vader's hands. You forget I lost my aunt and uncle, my home to Vader's orders. He took my mentor, my hand—," he paused taking a deep breath, "—my father's memory...I grew up believing him to be a pilot, a navigator on a spice freighter; nothing glamorous, no one important, but a good man. Then I learned he was a Jedi, a hero; someone I could look up to and be proud to be his son. Now..." He stopped there, again pausing to collect his thoughts, a flicker of his own inner turmoil flickering across his familiar features. It was a long moment before he started again, hesitation colouring his tone as it hadn't before; he wasn't sure he should share what he felt he needed to say. His eyes flicked to Athara again.

"She's lost more: her parents—more than once—the family that cared for her, the only man she'd ever known as a father. When she was an Imperial agent, she had no friends, no home, no freedom, barely a life to call her own; she only had Vader. Until she lost control on the Death Star when Alderaan was destroyed. After that she had nothing. Everything she'd ever known, gone. Until she met us, until she joined the Alliance. Now that's gone too." His steady gaze didn't leave Leia's face. Though he wouldn't say it, Leia knew; it was gone because of her. Leia was the one who'd exposed Athara as Obscura, who'd insisted that she was a spy and not a defector. Oh, he didn't blame her, and Leia wasn't even sure she'd truly done the wrong thing. He was just trying to make the point that Leia wasn't alone in her pain. It was a point Leia heard loud and clear. Her brother's hand landed on her shoulder. She hadn't even heard him move to stand beside her and Han.

"Yes, Leia, Vader was a monster, but Anakin was not. I can see that, now; Athara has seen it for most of her life, though she didn't understand what she knew for a long time," he hesitated for a moment, a faint, wry grin flickering across his features, "I was told once that there are a great many truths that depend entirely on our point of view..." his voice had grown distant, and as Leia looked up into his thoughtful face, she couldn't help but get the feeling that he was told that because of Vader, "...perhaps you're not ready to see the truth of who our father was yet, but someday, I think, you'll understand that who he was is not so simple as you think you know." A ghost of a smile tugged at her brother's lips as he backed away, returning to Athara's side. Leia sighed, unable to deny the wisdom in Luke's words. She looked up to Han. The smuggler was looking down at Vader again, deep in thought. After a moment his eyes flicked to Leia, his crooked smile appearing reassuringly. Running his fingers over her cheek, he kissed her lightly before he too returned to Athara's side.

After a moment of quiet discussion, the two men decided that they should be all right to move Athara from the shuttle. As Luke was in poor shape himself, it fell to Han to gather Vader's former apprentice in his arms and carry her down the boarding ramp, sparing Leia a concerned look as he did. Luke similarly looked to Leia, pausing at her side with a questioning look. She answered it with a tentative smile, trying to let him know without the words she wasn't able to find that she would be all right. After a moment he smiled back, drawing her into a hug. Something in Leia eased as she wrapped her arms around her brother's very real form, as though until that moment where she could physically feel that he was alright she wasn't quite able to let herself hope, afraid of that hope being crushed. As he held her, Leia found her gaze drawn to the large, still form laying next to them.

She looked down into the face of her father.

Hesitating, she pulled away from Luke, moving without thought until she was standing next to Vader—to Anakin, studying the face she had dreaded seeing.

There were scars, old and new, disfiguring his face. There were long-healed, extensive burns that marred his pasty skin, skin that had seen only the inside of a mask for who knew how long. The paper-thin skin surrounding his closed eyes was sunken and discoloured. There were raw looking gashes from what must have been interfaces with the helmet itself, and there were patches of skin that looked rubbed raw, perhaps perpetually so, from the mask. It looked awful, agonizing, even; she couldn't fathom living with the type of pain a man with those kinds of scars had to have endured every moment of every day.

But he looked at peace. There was nothing harsh or monstrous in his face, no matter that it had lived years behind the terrible mask that haunted her nightmares. An odd feeling—one completely at odds with the bitter well of memory that still throbbed in her chest—flickered to life in Leia as she looked down at the tranquil face of Anakin Skywalker.

Perhaps...maybe...one day, she could learn to see this man as something other than a monster.

A/N: Thanks for Reading!

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