"Of course I'm sure." For once, it's not argumentative--just tired. He's staring at her like he's looking for Vader in her dark hair or the curve of her mouth, and she thinks he already knows the answer to his question, anyway. Somebody had to sire her, even if it was Bail Organa who raised her. "Luke's sure."

And that's everything. If either of them are going to know, it's going to be the Jedi. Han wasn't here for all of Luke's silences in the last half-year, or for the way his expression would shift from cool certainty to something sadder when he thought no one was looking.

There are so many other things she could say--that she just found out a day ago, that she's sorry, maybe--but none of it makes any difference. Han will believe her, and he'll do...whatever it is he's going to do, but she assumes it'll involve finger-pointing...and things will end. She just has to wait, little as she likes it; she can't even find it in her to enjoy the fact that he's curled up next to her, knowing something else is coming.