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Gambler’s Fallacy (noun phrase)
The belief that a future event is certain to happen in the future, simply because it hasn’t happened before.
Most often, it does not.
The sprawling streets of Zilairea stretched out beneath them, shimmering hazily in the heat. A faint cloud of dust wafted over the buildings, coating their roofs with a thin layer of grit and blowing into being’s eyes and mouths if they weren’t careful. The sun pounded down on their backs, but Han barely felt it through the thick scarf covering his head and part of his face.
It was nearing midday, and he and Leia were scouting for a good place to complete their trade-off tomorrow with one of the local Alliance connections. After arriving on the outskirts of town the previous day, Leia had tried to correspond with the contact– Mellynd Alamic, she’d said her name was– to see if they could potentially execute the trade-off tonight, but Mellynd had declined, explaining early-morning hours would be safer.
Leia was obviously a little miffed at that, if the way she’d angrily pocketed her commlink and readjusted her headscarf with a bit more force than necessary was any indication, but Han wasn’t too bothered. Yeah, he would feel better once they were safely back on the Falcon in hyperspace, but all in all, Zilairea wasn’t a bad place to be stuck. There wasn’t much of an Imperial presence, meaning he and Leia could probably walk around without their disguises if they really wanted to.
Mellynd had also asked him and Leia to check out a secure location for the drop off since she couldn’t scout around the town without drawing too much attention, which was what they were doing now.
“Looks clear to me,” Han said, pulling down his macrobinoculars and handing them to Leia. She took them from him and held them up to her face, slowly surveying the land.
“Hm. Do you see that gray shape over in Sector 3? Could be an abandoned TIE.”
“Well, if it’s abandoned, that might solve the problem for us,” Han quipped, but he followed her finger, squinting against the bright sunlight that streamed down from above. There was a weird grey smudge on the horizon, but it looked more like an old, deserted freighter than a TIE.
“Nah, that’s a HT-2200,” he said with a shake of his head. “Been out of usage for years.”
Leia shot him a glance from behind the macrobinoculars.
“That’s oddly specific. How do you know that?”
He grinned. “Years and years of haulin’ spice for all sorts of freighters, sweetheart.”
“Mm. I guess you’re right,” Leia conceded, putting the strap of the binoculars over her head and tucking the lenses under her scarf for protection. “So, should we go ahead?”
Han shrugged, turning back to scrutinize the horizon.
“The day’s not gettin’ any younger,” he agreed, and joined Leia in climbing over a rather large jumble of roots on the ground. Once they’d clambered over it, they started down the long, sandy hill leading into town.
So far, their mission had been wildly uneventful, which Han couldn’t complain about at all. It was supposed to be relatively simple, but Han had stuck around the rebellion for almost two years now, and he knew from first-hand experience just how fast things could get out of hand– especially when a mission was supposed to be easy.
To his credit, though, he’d also successfully completed a number of very difficult missions as well.
He and Leia had been paired up for this specific mission fairly soon before it was set to go ahead. Mellynd apparently had a very volatile schedule, and even though there wasn’t much of a rampant Imperial presence on the planet, the town remained under periodic surveillance, which made slipping away for the trade-off fairly difficult.
The mission wasn’t exceedingly hard, but it was… tricky. Mellynd would be trading them Nysillin sheaths in exchange for a plentiful supply of Imperial-issued credits they’d acquired a couple of standard months ago. Neither Han nor Leia liked the idea of handing off credits– it made their movements too easily traceable if anyone were to connect the dots– but it was the only thing Mellynd would accept.
That was the issue with this sort of thing: they had to take what they were given, and they didn’t have much of a say in the matter.
“Goggles up,” Leia muttered as soon as they came within ten feet of the town.
“Already one step ahead of you, sweetheart,” Han replied quietly, his protective goggles already on. A couple of locals were giving them curious looks– two strangers entering town from the back– but Han kept his gaze firmly ahead, snugging up the goggles around the back of his head.
They weaved their way through the streets, stopping only occasionally, as tourists would, to observe some fabrics and jewelry the merchant stands had on display, but never lingering long enough to invite any conversation.
By the time they’d done nearly a full circuit of the town, Leia had visibly relaxed under her disguise, at least to Han’s trained eye.
“Everything seems quiet,” she told him as they walked past a merchant selling ceramics. “As long as we don’t venture into the more populated areas of town, I think we should be okay.”
“Is our friend here alright with our meeting happening behind the grocer’s shop?” Han asked under his breath, nodding back in the direction of the small, darkened alcove they’d discovered. Leia looked behind her with a casual glance over her shoulder before shrugging non-committally. To anyone observing, it would look like they were having a conversation about which local delicacies to try later.
“I would think so,” she said quietly, sidestepping a small pile of rocks. “I’ll contact her as soon as we’re back on the Falcon.”
Han nodded and steered them both back in the direction they’d originally come from, now actually allowing himself a chance to look around. The marketplace was bustling with vendors and shops, and was pretty crowded with both locals and newcomers like them. To the right, there was a seedy-looking cantina he’d probably venture into if he’d come here alone and not on a mission for the rebellion. The door to the establishment opened and he caught a glimpse of a few casino machines inside.
“Hey, Princess,” he muttered, nudging Leia’s arm. She glanced up and followed his line of sight into the cantina-casino.
“Please tell me you’re not suggesting that as a meeting place?” she asked, sounding exasperated, but he caught the smile in her voice.
“Of course not,” Han said, smiling wryly. “But that’d be a fun place to spend some time, huh?”
“I suppose,” Leia conceded, nodding slowly. “Although the bistro we saw back there is much more my speed.”
Han smiled at her. On one of their first missions together, they’d gotten to talking about how much they’d like to visit these planets they went to while preferably not being shot at. They’d each mentioned a place or two they’d seen that they’d want to explore if was this not a mission, and those discussions had quickly morphed into a tradition for every mission they went on.
They’d point out a couple of places while they scouted, then later that night, during dinner or whatever meal they could scrape together, they’d talk about what they’d like to do if they weren’t currently risking their necks for the rebellion. It helped them pretend, if only for a little while.
Well, Leia pretended, but Han mentally catalogued every place she talked about. If he had a chance– if they weren’t killed in combat or taken prisoner by the Empire, or if the war someday ended– he’d sworn to himself he’d someday take her to every place she’d ever wanted to go.
He didn’t allow himself to hope, but sometimes he did. For her.
But they never actually talked about what they’d do if they came back after the war. As far as either of them was concerned, the war was their past and present, and any talk of a future without the constant battles and fear of death seemed to be tempting fate.
But for however long they discussed where they’d like to visit should they have the chance, Han allowed himself to pretend.
The slowly darkening sky painted the horizon with strokes of violet and a deep, inky blue. Han could see it through the viewport of the Falcon from his spot on the dejarik booth, sitting opposite Leia. After their circuit of town earlier today, they’d returned to his ship.
“What’s another word for ‘opportunity?”
“‘Prospect’.”
“Nah, it has to be six letters.”
“Hm. Oh! ‘Chance.’”
“That’s the one.”
Han tapped the letters into the puzzle he was doing on his holopad. It was an old crossword from a couple of weeks ago since Han didn’t do them often, but when there was nothing better to do, he pulled one up.
Plus, Leia enjoyed them.
“Well, that’s the third one of the evening I finished, and you’re still not done with your work,” Han sighed, throwing his holopad onto the booth beside him. “What’re you doing, Princess?”
Leia glanced up, smiling slightly at his impatience. She was no stranger to how restless he could get, especially on missions.
“Financial reports cataloging the losses from the Battle of Astora.”
Han made a face. “Yikes. Sounds boring.”
“It’s not much fun, I can tell you that,” Leia agreed, scribbling something down.
Han watched her for a minute, smiling at the way her brow furrowed in concentration, her wide brown eyes scrunched up slightly as she wrote away, and her two long braids slung over her shoulder instead of pinned up as she usually wore them. For a long time after they’d first met, Leia had always worn her hair in some sort of updo, as was the tradition on Alderaan. Only family and close friends would see it down naturally, so Han understood why she hadn’t gone without her braids before she got to know him and Luke.
But now, she wore it down more often, even if it wasn’t unbraided– at least, here on the Falcon. With him.
Sometimes, when Han was feeling particularly hopeful about the future– whether that meant one without the war or one where he and Leia might have a chance to… well, he didn’t want to put a name on something so elusive as that. But either way, he wondered if she’d wear her hair down on dates. If she might allow him to run his fingers through it or tuck a stray piece behind her ear, as she’d once told him he could do before.
It wasn’t that Han just wanted the chance to go out with her in a kinder galaxy; it was that he wanted it all with her. To ask her out and for her to say yes, even if it was to lunch on the Falcon. He wanted her, if only she’d let him.
And it wasn’t that she didn’t want him too, Han was sure of it– at least, fairly sure. He just knew she didn’t want to start something in the middle of a war where things could end so suddenly, without any sort of goodbye. She’d had too many losses already, and Han understood that.
Still, he hoped.
He could satisfy that longing he had for her by simply enjoying her presence. It wouldn’t be everything, but it would be enough to just enjoy her, and the way she talked and laughed and sat with him.
And how lucky he was to do that, he decided, grinning at how she pursed her lips in concentration, the end of her stylus tapping agitatedly against the edge of her datapad.
Leia looked up.
“What are you smiling at, flyboy?” she asked him, arching a brow and leaning back in her seat.
Han shrugged, straightening up and stretching leisurely. “Nothing much,” he responded. “Just thinking.”
“Thinking about what?”
The words were out of Han’s mouth before he could stop them.
“Going out with you.”
Leia’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and Han mentally cursed himself for being so loose-mouthed. He probably would’ve smacked himself in the face if Leia wasn’t staring at him, her mouth half-open.
“Uh, I mean–” Han fumbled for a good excuse and seized on the first one he had. “We should go out to dinner. Tonight.”
Worse!
“Han, are you feeling alright?” Leia asked, looking mildly concerned, and Han nodded, quickly getting up and walking over to get a cup of water. His mouth was suddenly feeling dry.
“Just fine, Princess,” he got out, forcing himself to keep his tone even as he shuffled through the cabinet, his back to her. “Absolutely fine.”
He could practically hear Leia’s bafflement and feel her scrutinizing gaze on the back of his head, but mercifully, she dropped the subject. After a minute, he heard her stylus tapping on the screen of her datapad again, and he allowed himself to let out a breath of relief.
What the hell had come over him? He definitely hadn’t meant to ask her that. It had just… come out. Despite him knowing he probably shouldn’t have asked her that.
Besides, what did he think her answer would be? A resounding yes? It had never been before, and so it wouldn’t be this time.
But then again…
“Hey,” Han said abruptly, turning around to face her. “I have an idea.”
“If it involves laser cutters and a meilroorun fruit again, don’t tell me about it,” Leia said, pointing her stylus at him in mock reproach. Han held his hands up.
“Relax, sweetheart!” he said, shaking his head. “And no, this idea is much better.”
Leia looked up, regarding him warily. “What is it?” she asked suspiciously, and Han smiled.
“Well, we’ve been on the Falcon for basically four hours already, and as much as I love doin’ crossword puzzles and battle reports with you, I think we could be doin’ much better.”
“They’re financial reports, but continue.”
Han leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms and fixing her with an expectant look.
“The cantina we saw earlier. No Imps are gonna be hanging around there if they know what’s good for them,” he explained. “I reckon we could drop in, get some good food, and leave before anyone even knew we were there.”
Leia laughed, incredulously. “The cantina? And surround ourselves with smugglers and bounty hunters who would love nothing more than to ship us off to the Empire if they knew who we were?”
“We could wear our disguises,” Han pointed out and then hesitated. “...And pretend we’re not– you know, running for our lives. Just for the night.”
“Absolutely not, flyboy,” Leia laughed again, shaking her head and turning back to her data pad. “Not with the prices we have on our heads.”
Han’s heart sank.
“Yeah,” he said placidly. “Alright. Just an idea.”
Trying to keep the frown off his face and failing, he made his way back over to the dejarik table booth and turned on his datapad again, his cup of water forgotten.
He and Leia worked in silence for another fifteen minutes or so, her on her financial reports, and him on his puzzles. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her glancing up every so often, her eyes lingering on him for a couple of seconds before looking away again.
Just as he was about to say something about that, she spoke.
“I’ll do you one better,” she said abruptly, and Han glanced up from his datapad. To his surprise, she was smiling at him, something akin to anticipation in her gorgeous brown eyes, the color as lovely as–
Right. What was she saying?
“The bistro,” she said, and Han cocked his head.
“The one we saw earlier? Is that gonna be safe?” he frowned, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. It wasn’t often that Leia wanted to take risks like this, especially while on a mission. That’s why he wasn’t surprised she’d said no before… just disappointed.
“I think so,” she said thoughtfully. “We should be able to blend right in with the locals.”
“You said no to the cantina, though,” he reminded her, and Leia rolled her eyes, though it lacked any real irritation.
“Yes, because that cantina is probably packed full of bounty hunters. No one working for the Empire is going to be having a sit-down dinner at an upscale bistro.”
“Well…” Han was still dubious.
“Besides,” Leia added, her eyes sparkling with possibility. “It’s like you said. We can pretend.”
Han raised an eyebrow. “Pretend we have the credits for it?”
Leia faltered, leaning back in her seat with a frown. “I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t want to, but–”
“I do,” Han said hastily, before she could change her mind. A night out with Leia? Who was he kidding!
To his delight, Leia was smiling and already turning off her datapad.
“I’ll go get ready,” she said, getting up and heading over to the crew quarters. “Let’s leave in thirty minutes.”
Han couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. Was his luck finally about to change?
Leia had absolutely no idea what had come over her.
Well, that was a lie. She knew exactly what had come over her, and she knew it wasn’t a thing or some unexplained feeling, but it was a person by the name of Han Solo.
Normally, she would never even deign to suggest something this insane on a very important mission for the Alliance. It was simply foolish to do something like this when they could be caught and carted off by the Empire, but strangely, she found herself rather unbothered.
Yes, she was worried, and yes, she knew she likely wasn’t acting very rationally right now, but she couldn’t bring herself to care that much. Not when she’d seen that great big smile that had taken over Han’s face. She’d do anything to make him smile like that, even if she knew the one thing he really wanted, she couldn't give.
The one thing she wished she could.
At 1715 hours, Leia stepped out of her quarters dressed in a sensible, long black dress. Aptly, she’d brought one with her because one never knew where a trade-off would occur, or what sort of establishment one might need to blend into on a mission. It wasn’t the prettiest dress she’d ever worn, of course not, but it was nice enough.
Plus, the sash around her waist provided a perfect place to hide her blaster.
“Han, are you ready to leave?” Leia called, typing a quick message to Home One on her holopad that she and Han would be in town for the next couple of hours and wouldn’t be able to be contacted via holocall until they returned. She didn’t explain why they’d be in town, and hoped neither Rieekan nor Dodonna desperately needed to reach her and she’d have to answer in her classy black dress with her hair done up. That would be hard enough to explain.
From inside the captain’s quarters, Leia heard a thump followed by Han’s muffled cursing, and she stifled a smile, placing her holopad back on the table.
“Almost!” he shouted. “Just– uhh, gimme a minute!”
Leia rolled her eyes and leaned against the dejarik table, crossing her arms and waiting for Han to emerge from his room, likely with his jacket lopsided and belt missing a loop.
Sure enough, he did just that a couple of minutes later.
“Hey,” he said, the door whirring shut behind him as he adjusted his belt. He had, in fact, missed a loop on it, a habit of his that Leia found rather endearing. “Ready to go?”
“I’ve been ready,” she told him, adjusting her blaster under her sash and joining him as they descended the boarding ramp of the Falcon. “I’ve been waiting on you.”
“Don’t get too excited, Princess, otherwise I’ll think you have something in mind for tonight.”
Leia laughed and followed Han down the path leading them to the town. Now that it was evening, the dust from earlier in the day had settled, and a pleasant breeze blew over them, tickling some loose strands of Leia’s hair against her face.
The town itself was just as busy as it had been earlier that day, so when Han offered her his hand, she allowed herself to take it under the pretense of not wanting to get separated. They were still on their mission, after all, so some precautions had to be upheld.
By the time the bistro came into view, Leia was feeling mildly nervous about walking in without her disguise. There weren’t any Imperials present as far as she could tell, and Zilairea was a peaceful planet– at least for the most part.
She chanced a glance over at Han as they entered the restaurant. He didn’t seem nervous at all, and Leia had learned pretty quickly that if he was afraid, she should be as well.
Then again, she reasoned as they were led to their seats, Han’s hand ghosting over her lower back, maybe she was nervous about something else too.
“Pretty nice place, huh?” Han said as he sat down across from her, surveying the setup and already examining the menu.
The table they were sitting at was elegantly decorated, with delicate-looking plates and tall glasses already filled with a ruby-red liquid. A complimentary muftari bread basket sat to her left, and next to it were two menus.
“I haven’t eaten somewhere like here since before the war,” she told him under her breath, spreading her napkin out over her lap. It felt oddly surreal that she was here, wearing a nice dress and sharing a meal with a man she lo–
“Not true,” Han countered, taking a bite of a bread roll and following it with a considerable mouthful of wine. “We ate at that fancy restaurant on Hosnian Prime during our mission there last year.”
“I forgot about that!” Leia exclaimed. “The time when Luke took a bite of palate cleanser thinking it was ice cream.”
Han snorted into his glass. “The look on the kid’s face was priceless,” he said, shaking his head, and Leia gave an amused nod.
“He didn’t eat ice cream for a month after that,” she agreed, taking a sip of her wine to stifle her smile. It tasted rich and tangy, much like Jhantorian wine, which she definitely hadn’t had since before the war.
Han opened his mouth to respond, but had to fall silent as their server approached, offering them the specials menu and asking to take their orders for starters. Since they were tight on credits, they waved the server away for now, for time to look at the entree options.
“The brekka beet pasta sounds good,” Leia muttered, more to herself than anything, but Han heard her.
“Then get it,” he said, scanning his own menu. Leia looked up, smiling a little painfully.
“I wish I could, but we definitely don’t have enough credits for that,” she reminded him, to which Han shrugged.
“So? Get it, and we’ll split it.”
“Are you sure?”
Han glanced up at her, his eyes meeting hers for a quick second with an unbearable softness in them.
“I’m sure, Princess.”
Leia cleared her throat and looked back down at the menu. “Okay,” she finally said, her voice slightly strangled.
It was going to be a long evening.
The meal was wonderful. Leia did end up ordering the brekka beet pasta, and she and Han split it as he’d suggested, though they ended up getting into a minor tiff over who could have the last bite. In the end, Han relented that Leia could, but only if she let him choose what was for dessert.
At some point during the meal, they’d gone from reminiscing over old mission stories to much more philosophical topics, like what they wanted after the war. Leia was all too aware they were quickly moving into dangerous territory.
“If I could have anything… I’d probably go with a lifetime supply of Corellian rum. The good stuff, not the knockoffs.” Han said thoughtfully, nodding his head.
“I’m surprised you didn’t say a new hyperdrive for the Falcon,” Leia said furtively, watching as Han’s eyes grew wide in defense.
“Why would I say that?!” he exclaimed, and Leia rolled her eyes.
“Probably because it’s practically just a bucket of bolts at this point!” she told him, enjoying how he spluttered for air, aghast.
“It’s not the years, honey, it’s the mileage!” he countered seriously, pointing a mockingly accusing finger at her. Leia laughed, swatting away his hand and taking another sip of her wine.
“That’s something only you would say, flyboy,” she said, and Han grumbled to himself, leaning back in his seat and pulling the dessert menu over to him.
“You can choose the dessert. I’m not sure I want to share with someone who mocks my pride and joy.”
“‘Your pride and joy’? That’s an awful lot of confidence for a ship that’s nearly killed us twice.” Leia said severely, though they both knew she was joking. The Falcon had saved their lives many more times than it had risked them.
“Careful, sweetheart, or I just might make you find your way back to base on your own.” Han ribbed, and Leia pressed an astonished hand to her chest.
“You wouldn’t dare!” she gasped, and Han smiled, though it quickly softened to something much more tender.
And far, far more dangerous.
“No, I wouldn’t dare,” he said quietly, and Leia suddenly became quite interested in a speck of dust on the tablecloth.
“So what is it you want?” Han asked suddenly, observing her over the rim of his glass. Leia looked up, tilting her head to the side.
“You mean for dessert? Or just in general.”
“In general,” Han responded. “In life. After the war.”
Leia considered. “I don’t often think about life after the war,” she told him quietly, and he nodded in understanding.
“But if you did.”
Leia hesitated and then, feeling bold, opened her mouth to respond–
“Can I get you two anything for dessert?”
Leia’s head swiveled to see their server standing expectantly next to their table, holding his little datapad.
“Oh,” she said, turning quickly to look back at the menu. “We’ll take the goldfruit tart.”
“Excellent. And for you, sir?”
“I’ll have the same,” Han agreed, keeping Leia locked in his gaze.
“I’ll be right back with that!” The server said cheerfully and walked away. Han took a measured sip of his wine, and Leia forced her voice to remain steady.
“Decided not to split it with me?” she asked, her voice shaking a little.
“We want the same thing, anyway,” he simply responded, shaking his head slowly.
Leia looked away.
They paid for their meal and left quickly, just in case someone looked too closely at the credits and realized they were Imperial-issued, and from off-world. Not that anyone would inquire, should they assume Han and Leia had been with the Empire, but they found it pertinent not to linger.
Leia didn’t complain that their night was coming to an end. She’d had too many close calls throughout the night, and as Han had offered her his hand instead of his arm to walk back to the Falcon, she’d found herself wanting to blurt out– well, what she’d wanted to tell him for months.
They came to a stop in front of her quarters, and Leia turned to face him, her smile only wavering a little bit.
“This was nice,” she said pleasantly. “Thank you.”
“Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart,” Han said, then tilted his head to the side, shifting slightly closer. “But… you never did tell me what you want, Princess.”
Leia swallowed roughly, trembling under the weight of his stare.
“Something I can’t have,” she whispered, her eyes dropping to his lips before she could stop them.
Han frowned, then, ever so slowly, began to step forward.
She stepped back.
“I can’t kiss you, Han,” she said, voice strangled, and Han’s eyebrows practically shot up to his hairline. She winced, clenching her hands into fists as she forced herself to reckon with what she’d just said.
She knew, she knew both of them knew exactly what they were circling with each other. All the “accidental” touches and lingering glances and smiles and everything… they both knew what it was leading up to. What it was supposed to lead up to. And in a kinder galaxy, one not torn apart by war and riddled with loss of life and love, maybe it would lead up to what they both wanted it to.
But Leia couldn’t allow it, not when there was a chance she could still lose him. That she would lose him, even if it wasn’t to death. And Han would lose her, because he couldn’t have her.
So they’d never put a name on it, and she’d resolved herself to that, at least for the time being.
But now, she’d said it.
And if the wounded look on Han’s face was any indication, he was just as shocked as she was that she’d done that.
“Can we pretend I didn’t say that?” she whispered, closing her eyes so she didn’t have to see his wide, aching eyes.
“Princess…” He sounded upset, but also understanding, and that made it hurt all the more.
Before she could think twice about it, she lifted up onto her tiptoes, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and darted into her quarters before he could respond. The door swished shut, and she pressed her forehead to it, relishing the cool metal against her flushed skin.
“Goodnight, Han,” she said through the door, her voice shaky.
There was silence for a moment, and just as Leia wondered if he’d already walked away, she heard him speak again.
“G’night, Leia.”