Chapter Text
Epilogue
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you…
Chapter 30
Coruscant
Five weeks later…
Leia Organa gnawed at the end of a stylus while she stared out over the smoldering skyline from her office overlooking Imperial City.
“Comm call for you.”
She looked over to the intercom. It was late. Whatever problem waited on the other end could wait until morning.
Leia stood and slipped on her jacket.
“It’s General Solo.”
Halfway to the door, Leia darted back to her desk, reaching over to depress the button. “Han?”
“Working late again?”
“I was just leaving.”
“Right.”
“Where are you?”
“Waiting on landing clearance. Who do you have to know around here to skip this line?”
She walked around her desk, flipping through the assignment logs. “You’re back from Kuat already?”
“Disappointed? I could always go back. Tell them they surrendered too easily.”
Leia’s finger slid down the list of names. She cursed under her breath. “Becket’s working the military control tower.”
“Well, there goes that.”
“I guess I’ll see you at the apartment?”
“Gotta debrief with Madine. Might be late. Come by the hangar?”
Leia sat down. “Everything alright?”
She could hear traffic control in the background and Chewie’s low growls.
“Yeah, yeah,” Han said. “Everything’s fine. Just like to see you before the gauntlet, is all.”
She stood up again. “Okay, yes. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Be careful.”
“Of course.”
It was only a few blocks from her office to the military hangar. Officially the New Republic held control of the galaxy’s capital. In reality, small wars were still being waged across this planet and many others as the remnants of the Empire gasped their final breaths.
Leia had only been planetside for a few weeks. While the old Rebellion High Command gave speeches and toppled statues, Han, the Rogues, Luke, and Lando were deployed across the Core Worlds in an attempt to establish this fledgling new government.
The avenue outside the tower still bore scorch marks from the riots. Workers had removed the Emperor’s statue three days earlier, though the massive boots still remained bolted to the pedestal while engineers argued over how to bring the rest down safely.
By the time she got through the ground clearance to enter the hangar, she saw the familiar shape of The Millennium Falcon in one of the southernmost bays.
Chewie was already outside checking on something near the port side mandible. The old ship was scorched and dented, the last several months written across its hull.
“Is that another sensor dish?”
Chewie nodded and barked at her.
Apparently it had been an original part.
“Oh, I know,” she commiserated with the Falcon’s copilot before climbing up the gangway and heading inside.
Han was standing at the engineering console running his fingers over several knobs and dials while muttering to himself under his breath.
On the holochess table, Leia noticed a wrapped box. It was wrapped with old star charts and spacer’s tape, but wrapped nonetheless.
“Go ahead,” Han said without turning around. “It’s for you.”
“What is it?”
He stood up and turned around, holding his hands behind his back and looking awkward. “Open it.”
Leia walked over to the table, eyeing Han curiously. She picked up the box, turning it over in her hands, surprised by the weight of it.
“Chewie was zero help,” he muttered. “And the one time I could’ve used Threepio…”
His words trailed off as she tore at the makeshift wrapping, which, despite its looks, held together quite stubbornly. When she finally got to it, she found that she was holding a heavy-bottomed, kiln-glazed mug.
She turned it over in her hands. Unlike his old one, this mug was asteroid gray, the color of the Falcon but warmer, flecked with tiny baked-in specks that shimmered in the light.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
“And it’s mine,” Han said.
Before she could react, he swiped the mug from her hands.
Then he brought his other hand forward.
The old blue-black mug rested there.
Worn handle.
Tiny fracture near the base.
Faint green staining inside from her “leaf water.”
Leia stared at it, then carefully took it from him.
“You…” She swallowed, staring down at the mug. “You remember?”
Han took the mug from her hands.
“Some of it,” he said softly.
He turned and placed both mugs on the small table. His thumb brushed once against the old, blue mug.
“Enough.”
Leia covered her mouth. He turned around.
And then she was in his arms.
And they held each other. For how long? Neither would ever know.
But it was enough.