FLYING SOLO ➳ luke skywalker

THIRTEEN! COMMANDER

KNEES hugged close to her chest, Analia sat on the cot in her quarters at Echo Base and cried. Not for long. Not many tears. But she couldn't stop thinking about the way Han had looked at her, about the way he had spoken to her. It made her chest tighten.

They would talk about it again, she was sure, before their departure from Hoth in two days time.  The decision to leave was one they had formerly come to together, although Han seemed more keen on it than she was. But the bounty on Han's head was rising by the day, and they couldn't risk running and hiding any longer. Han had vowed to return to the rebels if circumstances allowed. Analia knew he was full of it, but she let him lie anyway.

Wiping the tears from her cheeks, Analia reached inside her pillowcase and pulled out a flask.  She tapped her fingernails against the cool metal, pondering for a moment, before pocketing the flask and slipping through the door. The Commander's quarters weren't far from the Captain's. Analia knew exactly where to go.

When she found the desired door, she rapped her knuckles against it, then waited patiently with her hands tucked behind her back. Muffled footsteps from within, then the door opened slowly, revealing a groggy Luke Skywalker. His eyes widened upon falling on Analia, and she did not miss the way his lips twitched.

"Ana," he said, a little breathless. "Hey. What are—what . . . ?"

Analia held up the flask, an impish grin stretching across her face.

"Want some of the good stuff?" she asked. "None of that Corellian spiced crap."

Blue eyes bright and twinkling, Luke held the door open wide and invited Analia inside. He shut the door carefully behind himself. The Commander's quarters were, as would be expected, more spacious than those for a Captain, though not by much. Luke didn't have any more personal possessions than Analia did, and his walls were also bare.

He stood by the closed door, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet. He clapped his hands behind his back, in front of himself, behind his back, in front of himself. This was always Analia's favourite part when she and Luke were alone together. Him lingering a few feet away, bumbling, making awkward movements to busy and distract himself. His nose was pink, and his eyes were drooping with tiredness.

"So," he started, breaking the silence. "What is that stuff?"

He gestured to the flask.

"This, my friend, is Whyren's Reserve," Analia said. She popped open the flask, took a swig, winced and its strength. "Han and I still have some stashed on the Falcon from and old run."

Luke tutted, shaking his head, but Analia could see that a smile was playing at his mouth.

"Of course you did."

Though he feigned disapproval, he still stretched his hand out for the flask. Analia handed it to him, then seated herself cross-legged on his unmade sleeper.

"Were you going to sleep?" she questioned.

Luke was mid-drink when she spoke and he coughed, spluttering. Analia chuckled as he grimaced at the flask.

"What?" he asked, still coughing. He clutched a hand to his chest. "Oh, no. I mean, I was laying down, yeah, but I wasn't going to sleep. So you're not keeping me awake, or anything. If that's what you were wondering."

He ceased his babbling, face flushing pink. A soft smile tugged at Analia's lips.

"Good," she hummed. "I wouldn't want to bother Commander Skywalker."

Luke's blush deepened. He looked down at his feet, then at the wall. Anywhere but at Analia, really.

"Oh, stop that, now," he said, scratching at the back of his neck.