Sympathetic memories ricochet back in response, Leia draping a blanket around his shoulders and sitting next to him, pressed close. His trying to ask about Alderaan and her deflection, that she can't think about it, needs to keep going, long dark curls and impossible strength.

A lightly haired chest under his cheek, bare skin on bare skin and nothing at all sexual or erotic. A hand holding the back of his neck and head and murmurs of 'It's okay, we're not dying tonight, buddy,' that breathe hot breath over his ear.

The pain drops away again and Luke stops screaming, throat raw and voice croaking and the Force still a shimmer of healing haze about him, trying to envelope everything that hurts.