Work Text:
He knows.
Or rather, he feels it (feels the saber like it's been shoved into his own chest) and a scream tears itself out of his throat, and then he knows.
And he feels Han's grief (my son my son I failed I failed him oh Leia I'm sorry Luke please please hear me) and before Luke can reach back to him (Han forgive me please it's not your fault I don't blame you I never blamed you please I'm so sorry) Han's life winks away and Luke feels like the Force just ripped his heart out of his chest and he screams again, this time consciously, because that's it.
He staggers against a rock, and there is nothing.
Han was so much of Luke's life for so long— his best friend, his partner, his brother— and when Han had needed him most, Luke had run away, afraid of facing him, afraid of facing his failures
(stupid selfish stupid forgive me oh Han I'm so sorry)
He remembers the sound of Han’s voice in his ear during the trench run, Han’s voice when the dianoga tried to eat him, once. He remembers Han coming back for him, over and over and over again, and cries twice on his island because there’s no coming back from this, not for Han, who never touched the Force himself, there is no seeing Han again.
He remembers the grip of Han’s hug when he climbed from his X-Wing after destroying the Death Star, remembers the feel of his shirt underneath his fingers as Luke kept a grip on him (afraid to see him go hope he’d never leave again) He remembers the elation in his eyes and his hand playfully shoving him aside. He remembers the feel of Han's hands on his skin on Hoth— fingers framing his face in the night, gentle touches from rough callouses, a voice begging him to stay alive. Endearments Luke would never question in coherence, only whispered to Leia during the long nights while they waited. Questioning.
Han Solo, the man beloved of both Skywalker twins. More socially acceptable for Leia to marry him, Luke had told her, and besides, he would never take anything away from her.
Han doesn't love me anyway, Luke murmured.
Of course he does.
Not like that, Luke said. Not the way I wish he would.
(Is this what it feels like to lose a soulmate?)
He can’t even go back to Leia, because he shot the map he charted his journey on off planet and his ship crashed in the waves in a (suicide) landing. He barely made it— barely crawled out of the ocean, salty water mixed with tears freshly running down his face because how could he have survived when he lost so much?
Oh, Ben, he whispered, unsure if he was talking to his uncle or his nephew, unsure who he was praying to.
(He’s never told anyone else of the conversation on the skiff the day he and Han were sentenced to the Sarlaac. Chewie knew, likely. Lando probably did, but he’d never made any indication in either way.
So, Han had said. A Jedi knight.
Not quite. Never finished my training.
Knew you’d never get delusions of grandeur. Not like you, kid. A chuckle. And then he’d looked (through) at Luke more closely. Why’d you quit?
Luke had hesitated. He’d considered lying. But he could never lie to Han. I felt your pain on Bespin. An admission. The closest he’d get.
Me?
Yes.
You sure you didn’t hear Leia?
Of course he’d heard Leia. But he’d felt Han’s torture as though the needles had been stuck in his own flesh, Han’s terror on Bespin, felt the agony induced by (his father) Vader and knowing there was no way he could live—
Felt the pain and the feelings in his heart that he had been reaching for for so long suddenly muffle as though through a badly-tuned comm and knowing
Luke, it’s a trap!
Luke had suddenly been unable to respond, because he had been overwhelmed with a crushing wave of guilt. If only he’d been quicker. If only he hadn’t let his feelings cloud his vision.
Don’t blame yourself, kid, Han had said gently. We’re here now. We’re going to die, but we’re here now. And you came after me, after all.
The last sentence had sounded awed, like Han had never believed that someone would care enough for him to come for him. We both love you so, Han, Luke almost said, but didn’t.
And then Han had been distracted by how much he could see, and Luke had glanced at Chewie to make sure they were still on the same page in terms of escaping, and Luke thinks about the soft way Han had looked at him on Endor after the destruction of the Second Death Star, the half remembered come on, Luke, come on, baby, you’re stronger than this, just hold on a little longer as though from a dream)
(I’m sorry sorry sorry sorry oh Leia forgive me I should never have run)
When Rey comes (because he can feel her victory on Starkiller from across a galaxy) (because she is meant to come and he will not fail her mother the way he failed Leia) he sees the grief lining her face, sees Han's pilot's fingers on her hands (the hands that hold his father's lightsaber), sees the hard edge to her eyes, feels the Force surrounding her and keeping her upright.
She’s lost Han too.
She says to him, I'm sorry.
She says, He loved you.
She says, Tell me about him.
He takes his lightsaber back.
He says, Han told me he never believed in the Force, but there was a child inside him who did.
It would be that the first words Luke speaks in so many years would be of the one person Luke loved unconditionally.