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Four months after Han had told Chewie about his and Leia's... whatever this was, Han and Leia were sharing a rare moment. They were in her quarters of the newly settled Echo Base on the frozen wasteland that was the Hoth system. The average temperature was 50 degrees below zero, and the base was underground. They were running heaters nearly non-stop, but everyone still stayed in as many layers of clothes they could find.
Almost always, shortly after she and Han had satisfied their desire for one another, one of them would sneak away. On a few occasions, they had sat up and shared a glass or two of Corellian whiskey. But in the almost year and a half since Voatera, they had never gone to bed and woken up together - one of them always snuck back to their own sleeping quarters. There had been more than a few times that Leia had lay snuggled against Han's chest and tried to remember why she insisted they not get involved with one another. He could be infuriating and arrogant, but he was also funny and at times, incredibly tender. But every time, she forced herself to remember that the Rebellion had to be her first priority and she would crawl out of bed, pull her clothes on, and creep back to her own quarters while Han slept. Most of the time. Occasionally, he'd still be awake and despite wanting her to stay, he never asked. Still, it didn't stop him from imagining what waking up next to her would be like. He'd chastise himself when he'd realize how much he enjoyed the thought.
But on this particular night in Echo Base, they remained in Leia’s quarters, hours after their physical desires had been met, huddled under a thermal blanket Han had procured on his last supply run. It was nearly dawn, but neither one of them had approached the subject of Han leaving before the overnight sentry's guard duty was over and the base was buzzing with activity.
“Why’d we pick this planet again?” Han asked with disgust.
“Because it’s uninhabitable,” Leia answered, her teeth chattering.
“For damn good reasons,” Han grumbled. He slid out from under the blanket and dug through a cabinet at the foot of her bed.
“What are you doing?” She demanded. “Get back here, I’m freezing!”
Han slid back under the blanket, holding a green glass bottle. “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he explained. “Permission to break open a bottle of Whyren’s Reserve, batch NN182?”
“Permission granted,” Leia said gratefully. “As long as I get the first sip.”
It was moments like these when he loved her... And moments like that when he panicked because he realized they were true. He wasn't supposed to feel anything for her.
He cracked the seal and handed her the bottle. She took a sip and savored the burn as it warmed her from the inside out. She passed the bottle back to Han, who took a deeper pull. Normally, he would have poured them each a glass, but it was just too damn cold for that. Leia watched him drink straight from the bottle and smiled inwardly. Her father would be appalled if he could see how she was abusing that rare spirit. Whiskey was meant to be sipped slowly and savored, not in hasty gulps straight from the bottle. But the burn of the liquor instantly warmed her and she cast the idea of propriety aside.
“I think this planet will be a great location for our base,” Leia sniffed.
“Why’s that?”
“Because I hate it,” Leia explained. “All the nice, comfortable planets never seem to last long. But the awful ones seem to be our long-term homes.”
“Great... Well, I’ll just get used to not feeling my toes, then.”
Leia pressed herself closer against him, savoring the heat he radiated. They were quiet for a while, just passing the bottle back and forth periodically. They were halfway through the bottle when she spoke again.
“You were in the Imperial Academy, weren’t you?”
“For a short time."
"What happened," Leia asked, realizing she'd never bothered to find out.
"They ordered me to kill a Wookie slave on a construction project. I chose to liberate him instead. Been my co-pilot for ten years now,” Han said quietly.
“Chewie?" Leia marveled in a near-whisper. "I never knew that."
“Yeah, well,” Han shifted uncomfortably, “it’s not something either one of us likes talking about.”
Leia was quiet for a moment, her follow-up question about the Empire temporarily forgotten. She recalled that Corellian blood stripes were awarded for incredible acts of pre-meditated selfless bravery. The Corellian military believed anyone could be brave in the heat of the moment, but it took true selflessness to go into a situation knowing ahead of time that one might not survive it. She looked down at Han’s thigh where the yellow stripe contrasted brightly against the dark brown pants. She thought about the criteria required to earn the blood stripe and about Han’s mention of his rescuing Chewbacca. She had just always assumed that he’d stolen or bought the pants from traders, perhaps as a part of his “look” to be seen as a more trustworthy smuggler for hire. Leia felt nauseous and shameful for assuming the worst, and unworthy of his affections because despite the fact that they had agreed not to feel such things for each other, it had happened anyway. She'd just thought, unrealistically, if she ignored it for long enough, it might go away on its own.
“Anyway,” Han deflected. “Why’d you ask?”
“Hmm? Ask what?” Leia mumbled, snatching the bottle and taking another long drawl.
“About the Imperial Academy,” Han supplied.
“Oh... Did they teach you anything about interrogator droids?” She asked, trying to keep her tone casually conversational.
“No,” Han replied. He’d never seen one, but he’d heard stories of how nasty they could be. Some of the galaxy’s toughest criminals had been reduced to not much more than whimpering piles of goo who’d spilled everything the Empire had wanted to know after meeting an Interrogation Droid. “I was in pilot school. Those were for cadets in the intelligence divis...” He trailed off as he remembered something. “Why do you ask?” He said again.
“Just wondering,” she said quietly, picking at a loose thread on the corner of the blanket.
“No, you’re not,” Han insisted. He set the bottle on the floor and delicately took her chin in his hand, lifting her face to be level with his.
“Is that what they did to you? On the Death Star?” He asked her gently.
Han knew from the day he helped rescue her, after overhearing her tell Luke and the old man, that she’d been questioned by Darth Vader himself but she still hadn’t told him where the Rebel base was located. If she resisted an Interrogator Droid and the evilest man in the galaxy... He anxiously watched her for a response.
Leia nodded.
With that slight gesture of her head, all the walls and safeguards he’d built around his heart to keep himself from feeling anything for her crumbled, dissolving into nothingness. And his heart broke for her. He’d done as she wanted for as long as he could. He had tried - he really, truly had. Sure, they'd broken pretty much all of the rules they'd set on Voatera, but he'd put in place some rules of his own just to help solidify their agreement. He had never stayed a full night with her and had never asked her to stay with him (regardless of how much he’d wanted to wake up to her beautiful face beside him). If they did happen to fall asleep after their lovemaking, one of them always retreated back to their own quarters before morning. Hell, he’d even tried to keep his eyes open as often as possible when he kissed her (something she did not do, he couldn't help but notice). But just as he should have known that breaking the rules the very night they made them would lead to trouble, he knew he couldn't do it her way anymore. Sometime within the past eighteen months, Han Solo had fallen in love with Princess Leia.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured wistfully.
He had expected her to curl up against him as she had been moments before so he could wrap her in his arms and kiss her forehead, not jerk away with annoyance.
“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me,” she snapped.
“Hey!” He cried, surprised by her reaction. “I didn’t mean it like... well, like I normally do. I wasn’t making fun.”
“No!” She retorted. “You were pitying me, which is worse! I get that from everyone! They look at me like I'm made of glass! Like I'm some last fragile relic from a dead planet that has to be tiptoed around and I don't need that from you, too!”
“Honey, that wasn’t pity," Han retaliated, feeling his temper rise. He was so tired of her always blocking him whenever he tried to get close to her. "That was something called compassion, your high-and-mightiness, and you could use a crash course in it!”
“Well, that’s something that you definitely shouldn’t be doing, then!” She practically hissed. “Because that would mean you felt something and you agreed that wasn’t what we were going to be doing!”
Please, Leia silently implored. You can’t have feelings for me. Because if you don’t, then it’s easier for me to deny mine for you. She had broken her own rule by allowing herself to feel something for him. Initially, she thought it was just part of her physical attraction to him. But the night she was with him after he’d returned from the supply mission by way of Perla’s transport, she had tried to ignore it, but she had been sick with jealousy. Han had known it but had teased her about it, as was his usual way. By the time she realized how much he truly meant to her, she couldn’t find a way out without someone getting hurt. Which is exactly why she’d put the rules in place. She felt like a filthy hypocrite. She had made him promise not to feel anything for her and she was the one who wound up falling in love with him. But she didn't have time for love. That was a luxury afforded to other people - not her.
“Oh, come on, Leia!” He shouted back, gaining her momentary attention simply by the use of her name, since he so rarely used it in favor of his mangled versions of her honorific. “We’re so far past that it's laughable.”
“You don’t get to decide that!” Leia objected.
“Well, neither do you!” Han roared right back. “You may be royalty, but that doesn’t mean you get to just decide how someone else feels about you.”
“Han, you agreed," she reminded him, almost pleadingly. "I didn’t force you to do anything."
“I know that, but damn it, Leia, it’s been a kriffing year and a half. What were we supposed to do? Just screw our brains out but gods forbid never be allowed to care about each other for the rest of our kriffing lives? Or were we just going to be place-holders until the real thing came along?” Han ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. He was saying everything else. Might as well get this out there too. “Do you understand what I risked for you? I have been actively evading a major crime lord who wants me dead for almost three years!" He scoffed and added under his breath, "I should just go pay him and get back on his payroll...”
“You said you were staying...” Leia said, fear gripping her heart and squeezing. She thought all mention of him leaving was behind them.
“I am staying. Because I told you I would. And you can tell yourself whatever you need to but it wasn’t for your alliance or your rebels. I stayed for you.”
“You don’t understand, or if you do, you don’t appreciate the pressure I’m under,” Leia implored. “I’m one of the people responsible for keeping this entire Rebellion alive and operational. It hangs by a thread and every day that thread could break. This... arrangement between us worked because it was my one good thing that I didn't have to think about. I could just be... just exist around you. It was my way to release stress, not add more.”
“You act like they’re mutually exclusive. You can have both, you know,” Han appealed.
“Han... I can’t.” Leia asserted. “Maybe you can, but don’t you remember what we said on Voatera?”
“I remember everything from Voatera,” Han assured her. “Which part?”
“Where I said the Rebellion always would come first. No distractions... And over the last few months, that seems to be what this has become.” She looked like she genuinely regretted it having to come to this, but she wasn't changing her mind either.
“I don’t get you, Leia,” Han declared. “You act like you’re the only person in the entire galaxy who’s ever been in this situation.”
Leia stared at him uncomprehendingly. He let out a defeated sigh. She was going to make him say it.
“People have been in love and fought in wars before,” Han said gruffly, staring at a point on the wall over her shoulder.
A heavy, palpable silence fell over the room. Leia blinked and opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. She glanced around for anything to drink besides the whiskey - her mouth was so dry. She realized she was standing but had no memory of getting out of the bed. She kept her eyes glued to the floor.
"I'm sorry..." Leia managed to say, barely louder than a whisper. She chanced a quick glimpse at him and wished she hadn't - his stunning hazel eyes were filled with profound sadness and hurt... and she put it there. This was exactly what she didn't want to happen when they started this forbidden dance over a year ago.
Han gave the tiniest of nods, almost as if he had confirmed something to himself, and pulled his boots on. He slid off the edge of the bed, pulling his shirt on over his head as he did so. Leia wanted to stop him, to tell him to stay, but they had reached an impasse and it was clear they were on different sides of a chasm they couldn't cross.
Suddenly, the overhead comms buzzed to life and General Rieekan’s scratchy voice echoed through the base.
“Captain Solo, Commander Skywalker, Senator Organa, Commander Chewbacca. Report to the Command Center for mission briefing.” The message repeated again and the comms were silent.
Han grabbed his jacket off the floor, shook it aggressively to get the excess snow off of it, and slung it on.
“We’re being summoned,” he declared as if she hadn’t just heard the same announcement he had.
The door to her chambers slid open with a hiss and Han strode out into the snow-packed corridor, trying to orient himself in this new base and find the right way to the Command Center. Luke and Wedge rounded the corner at the exact moment that Han emerged from Leia's quarters. The two X-Wing pilots looked at one another with wide-eyed stares, as if seeking confirmation from one another that they'd both seen the same thing.
"Uh, I'll catch up with you after the briefing, Wedge," Luke said weakly to his friend.
"Can't wait to hear all about it," Wedge said with a deliberate look at Solo's back.
Luke jogged a few paces to catch up with Han.
"Hey," he panted, trying to sound casual.
"What?" Han snapped.
"Whoa, what's eating you?"
Han chastised himself, remembering Luke had nothing to do with Her Worship's cold indifference. "Ehh, nothin', kid. Just tired is all."
I really hope Leia's heater was broken and that's why he was in her room so early... Luke thought. "Know what this is about?" He asked Han.
"Not a clue, kid. If we're lucky, it'll be a little side gig to get us off this frozen excuse of a planet."
Chewie joined them with a bark of agreement, pronouncing that he too was cold.
"At least you've got fur," Han grumbled as they entered the Command Center.
A moment later, Leia crept in quietly and positioned herself so that Luke and Chewbacca were between her and Han. Luke smiled at her innocently. When General Rieekan noticed they were all present, he said, "Okay, you four, I've got a mission for you... to get an entire vault full of credits off of Ord Mantell."
Han smirked at the datapads being passed to them which contained the mission details. Side gig indeed. Even though her Worship was coming along, at least they were all getting off this frozen heap.