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There's a long list of things that could have woken Leia, and it's the same list of things that had made falling sleep near impossible in the first place: Luke's soft snoring above her, Bodhi's sleep-talking across from her, the intermittent cough of the Falcon's hyperspace drive (which Han insists is normal), the lumpy narrow bunk that smells like an unbathed Wookiee, Han Solo and every conflicting emotion he stirs in her, the still-fresh ache in her chest when she thinks of Alderaan or her parents.
It's not that Leia hasn't spent her share of nights roughing it but experience didn’t change the fact that she was once again wide awake. Han had rolled his eyes at her insistence that she would sleep just fine and offered his bunk the captain’s quarters.
"I'd rather sleep with the Wookiee than with you." She had snapped at him.
Han's face had fallen. "Actually I was planning to stay in the cockpit with Chewie,” he straightened up and hid his hurt behind a sneer before stomping away. “But that’s good to know, your worshipfulness.”
Leia can’t stop her cheeks from burning in shame at the memory. That stupid man kept pulling the rug from under her every time she thought she had him pegged. That stupid, idiotic, infuriating, handsome, brave, beautiful man. She sits up abruptly with a huff, nearly banging her head on the underside of Luke’s bunk above her, and swings her feet around to the floor. That nerfherder Han had put thoughts of his bed in her mind and she shakes her head to stop thinking about marching to his room, wrapping herself in his blankets and being surrounded by the scent of him.
Seriously, Leia, get a grip on yourself.
Erso isn’t in her bunk above Bodhi, and Andor had still been up and tinkering with droid parts in the common area when Leia had gone to bed and his own bed is untouched. She likes their company, Jyn’s especially, and figures conversation is a better option than lying torturing herself. She pulls on her boots to save her feet from the cold floor, presses a hand softly to Bodhi’s chest to settle him, and slips out.
As she’s walking to the common area, she hears it.
A giggle, definitely female, and there’s only one other woman on board, unless Han was better at smuggling than she thought (for the briefest moment, all she can see is the image of Han nuzzling his nose into some scantily clad woman’s neck, making that noise come out of her, and her vision temporarily whitens out in rage).
Cassian Andor is where she last saw him, but the droid parts lie ignored on the table in front of him and he has a lapful of Jyn Erso. His lips are somewhere near her collarbone and as they travel up her neck she makes that sound again. The hero of Scarif, much feared and respected daughter of Saw Gerrera, giggles while making out with the Alliance’s most decorated and committed spy.
She had known they were close - who wouldn’t have a bond after what they had been through - but she had never seen them be anything but professional in public.
Leia freezes at the doorway. The lights are dimmed, and she’s not in the direct eye line of either of them, but neither of those things are reasons to keep watching.
Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan, hero of the Rebellion, and now voyeur, she thinks to herself, feeling that same flush of shame from her earlier run in with Han.
She watches as Jyn runs her fingers into Cassian’s hair and tips his head up to pull him into what looks like a bruising kiss that soon turns tender and gentle. They break apart and rest their foreheads together, and Leia can’t hear what they’re saying to each other in soft tones but she recognises the looks in their eyes, the soft smiles and tender caresses, and she realises why it’s familiar.
It reminds her of her parents - of quiet moments when they thought no one was looking, when Leia would hear them say sweet words to each other, words that Leia had hoped to hear some day. Sadness and jealousy and misery hit her all at once like a knife to the heart.
It wasn’t that she was jealous of Jyn exactly, though Cassian Andor had once made her heart stop with just a smile when she was only fifteen, her crush had faded when she realised just how many ghosts he seemed to carry with him. She’s happy for them really, pleased to see two people she now considers friends who have given so much find love in the midst of war.
I’m lonely, she thinks, and feels raw finally admitting it to herself months after the Death Star. She had been lonely for so long - as a Princess, as a spy, and now as an orphan. She had wonderful friends, but no one to hold her when she woke from nightmares of Vader and Alderaan. No one to whisper her deepest darkest fears to, no one to share her memories of her home, plenty of reasons to fight for freedom but no one living, breathing cause.
No one to look at her the way Cassian was looking at Jyn at that moment - as if she were the centre of everything and a reason to keep breathing. No one to kiss her as if she could save them from drowning. It feels like a betrayal to her parents and everyone she has lost to wish that she were just a normal nineteen year old girl, anywhere in the galaxy, with nothing more than romance and daydreams to concern her.
Leia sniffs quietly and shakes her head to break the spell, and walks away with her arms around herself.
As long as the Empire stands, she thinks, that can’t be my life.
She pauses outside the captain’s quarters, lets herself imagine curling up in Han’s bunk and finding peace there, before turning away.
Maybe someday.