Pain

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When Luke opened his eyes, the world around him swayed and blurred even though he could tell his body was lying on solid ground. His face was pressed up against metal flooring, and he could smell something rusty and metallic just under his nose. He felt as though he'd stuck medical cotton swabs in his mouth; he cracked his lips apart, attempting to lick the taste away. It only marginally improved.

Everything was otherwise numb. There was a ringing in his ears, insistent and unrelenting. He tried to think back to what had happened, only to be met with a blank.

Slowly, he lifted his head, wincing as his skin resisted--stuck in a thick, sticky substance that he quickly identified as dried blood--before it peeled away.

The movement again caused everything to spin and blur. He didn't know where he was. Didn't remember. And as he attempted to get upright, pain lanced through his left shoulder, hot and sharp, and he collapsed back onto the floor.

Maybe it wasn't time to get up.

No, you need to get up.

Luke closed his eyes. Yes, he did need to get up. He didn't remember why, but something nudged at him, reminding him that he needed to take urgent action because...reasons.

But lying down calmed the dizziness. It calmed his racing, pounding heart. It felt nice. Better than being awake.

Five more minutes, he decided.

No, get up.

Five minutes.

A promise he didn't keep.

____________________________________

The attack came early the next morning.

The majority of the Rebellion was already away. Mon Mothma and General Dodonna's transport had left only an hour before. Leia was the last member of Rebel Command, left with a battalion of troops and a squadron of X-wings while she loaded the last of the equipment into the final transport. She moved purely on auto-pilot, not even fully recognizing what commands she was giving, hoping they were the right ones. So far, no one seemed concerned by anything she told them, so either she was keeping it together or they figured she was still grieving over her best friend.

This time, they were right.

There were dark circles under her eyes. She'd spent the entire night attempting to contact Luke. Finally, two hours before she was supposed to wake up, she'd attempted to sleep, making Artoo promise to wake her the moment Luke answered.

He never did. She hadn't slept a wink.

When her alarm went off, she'd stared up at the ceiling, heart hollowed out in her chest, and made her decision.

She would not be joining Admiral Ackbar and his fleet. She would separate from the Rebellion, and she'd find Luke.

Mothma hadn't liked it. Not that Leia had told her the reason she was temporarily leaving the fleet. She simply kept it at "There's something I need to take care of." After her meltdown the day before, the older woman was hesitant to let Leia anywhere out of her sight. But Leia had always done exactly what she felt was right, damn the consequences, so after she made it clear that she would be leaving, Mothma had sighed and said, "I could order you to stay, but I know how well that'll go. At least try to stay out of Imperial trouble."

But now Imperial trouble had found them, and Leia hadn't even left yet.

So much for keeping her head down.

First, the alarm went off. Everyone froze, staring up at the ceiling, as if staring would make the threat go away.

Then, Wedge came running in, face coated in sweat. "Princess, the Empire, they're here, led by Darth Vader himself..."

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