Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In the end, she’d rather they both left. She’d rather know that they existed out there, somewhere away in the void, even if that meant away from her: Luke hunting for clues on his quest to become a Jedi, Han plying his illegal trade, paying off his debts and roaming the galaxy freely with Chewie. Maybe they’d be happy. It would at least give her comfort to know that they were out there, somewhere, instead of here on this frozen hellhole, dead in the snow.

Because of me. Leia stopped pacing and closed her eyes, leaning into the familiar knife’s edge, her mantra. My fault. In the end, it all boiled down to her: her mistakes aboard the Tantive IV; the reason her friends got caught up in all this in the first place. Her convincing them to stay (didn’t she coax and plead?). Her having the audacity to open up her heart and let them in, even though she knew they deserved so much more than to be pulled into her black hole of guilt and pain. Yes, she’d told herself she was just trying to retain some of the Rebellion’s greatest assets, and while that was true on some level, Han was absolutely right—this was so much more. She did need them, both of them, in ways she didn’t quite understand and couldn’t fully admit to herself.

The three of them had been through so much together. They were a spectacular team; their exploits for the Rebellion were already legendary. They knew how to read each other so well now that they hardly had to communicate in the heat of battle. And they had saved each others’ lives multiple times, both on and off the battlefield.

Once, as she lay in the medical bay in the aftermath of the Battle of Yavin, she had found herself teetering on the edge of a cliff, looking out over a dark, roiling ocean that seethed with grief and despair. The Alliance leaders had saved her from falling, then, with their offer of a new home and purpose, and she had thrown herself completely into the fight for justice she had believed and worked for her whole life. This had, for the most part, kept the storm-tossed swell at bay. But still, there were times when duty and purpose were no longer enough; when her hope for the galaxy’s redemption was eclipsed by the immensity of its pain. Han and Luke had always been there to ward off the waves, each in his own way.

Now she was faced with losing them both in one cruel, needless stroke, and she felt the floods rising again.

Leia leaned back against the support of an X-wing, arms wrapped around her against the chill. The hangar door was wide open to the swirling snow and the swift-falling night. The temperatures were plunging along with her hope. Artoo and Threepio, those two faithful droids, were at the door, searching the gloom. Chewie stood nearby, now still, now pacing; a mirror image of her own turmoil. Neither of them said a word, as if some moment’s lack of vigil would doom the ones they waited for.

Any moment, Leia thought, any moment now, they’ll come through the door. She seized on that image in an effort to shut out the unwanted ones. Han would probably shake his head to fling off the snow and make some quip about the cold and the danger. Luke would grin, and then he’d come over to reassure her that everything was okay.

If he could be found. If he wasn’t severely injured, or…. Despite her best efforts, the scenarios slipped their way into her mind, a parade of horrific images that she couldn’t shut out: Luke and Han, lying broken at the bottom of a crevasse. The two of them lost, slowly freezing to death in a whiteout. Their bodies torn to pieces by those horrible wampa creatures. Or… could bounty hunters have somehow finally caught up with them? The Empire, even?

Leia fought against the rising waves, tried to will the images out of her head. They had to come back. They had to. They were hardy, resourceful. They’d been through so much already, and they still had so much life to live. This couldn’t be the end. Any moment now, she repeated to herself.

Her sense of dread grew.

There was movement on the hanger floor. Her head snapped up. “Sir, all the patrols are in. Still no sign of—” the deck lieutenant was hushed by a motion from his commanding officer. It didn’t matter; Leia knew what they were saying, anyway.

She stood still, willing herself not to feel, to be strong against the panic beginning to claw at her chest. She vaguely acknowledged Threepio’s approach and his confirmation that Artoo’s sensors hadn’t picked up anything. The officer, Bren Derlin—a good man, who had been on a mission with Luke a few years ago—and the deck lieutenant, a newer recruit, were walking towards her. She knew what was coming, and she was powerless to stop it.

“Your Highness,” Major Derlin said gently, “There’s nothing more that we can do tonight. The shield doors must be closed.”

No. Please. Not now, not yet. Leia felt half-crazed. She wanted to scream, wanted to order them to keep it open all night, regulations be damned, even if it cost them valuable supplies and froze all of the fuel and them, too. She found herself nodding instead.

Duty. The Rebellion had to come before personal interests. She knew that, believed it; she’d had a lifetime of training for it. She’d ordered men and women she cared about into battle, knowing that they might not make it out alive (many hadn’t). She’d been ready to give up her own life, too, time and time again. Anyone involved in the Rebellion knew the risks. But that didn’t make the cost any easier for her to bear, nor did it make this moment feel like anything less than a knife to her chest.

The doors began to creak and groan. Leia stood frozen, watching their slow progress as they shut out the icy night gales and the two people she loved most in the galaxy. As they shuddered closer and closer, she suddenly had a strange feeling that she was watching them close not only on her friends’ lives, but on her own, too. Her future dwindled down to just a sliver, then disappeared with a clang: sudden, inevitable, and horribly final. She stood still for a moment, numb, then turned and walked blindly back to her room.

The door swished shut behind her, and Leia collapsed onto her cot. She lay there unmoving, staring blankly at the ceiling, the waves buffeting her full-force now. She had shut out Luke and Han, left them to die out in the night’s storms. They might still survive, of course, but, as Threepio had so helpfully indicated, the chances were very slim.

She was going to lose them, too.

In a blink she was back on the bridge of the Death Star, held fast by an iron hand clamped on her shoulder, watching as her planet erupted into flame and dust. She couldn’t breathe. She felt the explosion mounting inside her once more, the panic finally tearing its way free. She was shaking, gasping for air; all things faded but the images of her home’s annihilation and Han and Luke, frozen in the snow. She sat up and swallowed down bile, fighting the waves of nausea, and tried to steady her breathing.

She would not think of them dead. Leia choked back a sob as she put her head in her hands, still shivering despite her efforts at control. She remembered Luke’s face as he came to retrieve her from her cell on the Death Star, all hope and youthful exuberance, the first friendly face she’d seen in what felt like a lifetime. How they had shared some of their grief with each other on the trip back to Yavin IV, taking comfort in each other’s understanding and presence in a way she was still surprised at. While Luke could sometimes be a little naive, impatient, and caught up in his own world, they’d had countless moments like that since—finding strength and solace in their shared loss and common purpose. She felt such a strong connection to him, so much so that it sometimes unnerved her; there was a familiarity there, as if she had known him all her life. She relished the much-needed consistency of his friendship. He was a rock of pure goodness; a beacon of hope in the midst of the swirling uncertainties and the darkness of their time.

Han, on the other hand, had irritated her to the core with his continuous threatened inconstancy. But despite his words, he had stayed with them for the better part of three years, and she had come to rely on his presence in her life, too. Underneath the aura he gave off of devil-may-care rogue, she had discovered a depth of sensitivity and caring that few might suspect (and which she occasionally questioned herself, when he was being particularly difficult). Whenever she or Luke were having a hard time, Han would always be there to help however he could, whether through humor, fun, a comforting hand on the shoulder, encouraging words, or offers for them to dig themselves deep into his treasured stash of Corellian ale (the latter she had mostly refused—aside from the questionable propriety of a princess in wartime getting drunk, she feared losing control, particularly in his presence, however tempting it might be to escape everything for awhile). Swashbuckling scoundrel Han might be, but he had a heart of gold, and he had proven that time and time again with his actions, always coming through when they needed him.

But there was more. Han saw her, the real her. Leia blinked back fresh tears at the thought of it. While others tended to hold her at a distance due to her title, and even Luke put her on a pedestal, Han had dispensed with the formalities from the start and treated her as an equal, a peer. This was shocking, occasionally annoying, and overall incredibly comforting. She’d had very few people in her life outside of her family who had looked beyond the royal title to see just her, the real Leia, and this was like a breath of fresh mountain air. Han saw her, and by now he knew her better than anyone else still alive—although Luke was a close second.

Then came the undercover mission to Ord Mantell, and everything had changed. She still remembered how close Han had been that night at the resort in the mountains—had it only been a few weeks ago? His eyes were soft and open as they talked over dinner, and afterwards, on the veranda, his arm was around her waist, and his other hand was reaching up to brush a strand of her hair aside, slipping around the back of her neck, drawing her closer, closer—then came the commotion, and the sudden agony in her arm; the bounty hunter had missed Han and shot her instead. They had escaped (barely), and her arm had since healed, but that was the turning point. Han’s walls had come up again (she supposed hers had too—it wasn’t like they needed much prodding), and he had been insufferable ever since. She felt like he was playing some sort of game. There were times when he softened again, just for a moment, and a version of the man she had come to rely on (love) before would show himself, but those times were growing less and less frequent. More often he’d make some inappropriate comment or try another one of his ridiculous attempts at flirting, only to lash out at her the next moment. Their fights had become epic; she knew they were the gossip of everyone on base, and yet he set her off in ways she couldn’t seem to control. She was losing him; she was sure of it—he had always talked of leaving, had even once followed through for a short time, but now it looked as if he were really going to leave for good.

She thought about their last fight, just that afternoon, in the south passage. He had abruptly told her goodbye and then stormed off, and she had followed, heart sinking, repeating her same old pleas for him to stay. He wanted more from her than that, though, more she wasn’t sure she had left to give, especially if he was eventually just going to turn around and leave. The last thing she had said to him was “I’d just as soon kiss a Wookiee,” and that was a lie, and oh how she wished she could have left him with something else, something that might keep him here. But no, she was too broken, and too aware of it. She was a center from which suffering radiated outward. People died because of her, and really, she was already dead, too. She had no future beyond the Rebellion. Why would she—how could she—possibly convince anyone to stay for her own sake?

The Rebellion. Her drive for justice had kept her going, kept the ocean of grief at bay, kept the fissures of despair from opening up and swallowing her whole. She still believed in the cause of the Rebellion as much as ever, was just as committed to the fight, but time had chipped away at the floodgates and revealed the fault lines, and lately they had been harder and harder to control.

Now the fissures cracked wide open, and the dark ocean was frothing at her feet, and there was Alderaan again, engulfed in flame, and she was being tortured, writhing on the floor of her cell, and Han and Luke were pale and stiff, eyes glazed over and frosted, and her breath was coming ragged again, and there wasn’t any other way out, and what hope did they really have anyway? Everything inside her was screaming, and she was furious at the galaxy, furious at the Empire, furious at the gods (if they ever existed), furious at the Force, furious at herself.

Turning towards the wall beside her, she reached out and touched it, acknowledging its smooth, icy contours. Then she pounded her fist into it, hard. She winced with pain, but she punched it again, first one fist, then the other, until her knuckles were red and bruised and she fell back onto her bed, spent. After a breath, she rolled back over to the frozen surface and pressed the backs of her hands into it, letting the ice send its sharp tendrils of pain into her skin; pain which soon turned to comforting numbness. She breathed in and out slowly, trying to regain control. The familiar locks clicked back into place in her chest, taming the panic, stowing away her anger and grief. She hid her dreaded visions of Han and Luke beside the image of Alderaan’s demise and tucked them back into a far corner of her mind, where they’d be harder to reach again for the present. Wiping her face clean of tears, she sat up slowly and grabbed her datapad. She felt emptied out. There was nothing left to feel now, and there was nothing left to do but work, and wait, in the darkness.

Chapter Text

The call came in the morning. Leia startled awake from where she was slumped over her datapad, all sense of time lost. Her comlink beeped incessantly from the table beside her cot, and she nearly tumbled over herself in an effort to reach it.

Thank the Force, they’d been found, and found alive.

The next few minutes were a blur as she raced to freshen up her hair and makeup and sprinted to the command center, anxious for the full report. Her gaze passed over everyone in the room, impatient, searching. They weren’t there. She turned to General Rieekan, who had stepped up to her in the interim and put a hand on her shoulder. His eyes were reassuring. “They’re in the medbay, Your Highness”—she took in a sharp breath—“but don’t worry, they’ll be fine. Han survived the night without even a trace of hypothermia. He’s already been examined and is cleared to go. It seems that Luke ran into a particularly nasty creature out there, but his injuries are no longer life-threatening and he’s expected to make a full recovery. He’s been put in a bacta tank in room 110.”

She wordlessly nodded her thanks and shot out the door, heading for the medical bay. Han was still there, talking with Chewie and looking as effortlessly casual as ever, but she knew him well enough to see the concern written beneath the shields of his composure. Before she was fully aware of what she was doing, she was in his arms, holding him tight, breathing in his warmth; the full, glorious reality of him. He chuckled down at her. “It’s okay, Princess. We’re not gonna be taken out by a little cold.”

She pulled away, slightly embarrassed; not quite willing to meet his eyes. “I’m glad you made it back alive. How’s Luke?”

He turned and nodded towards the far end of the room, where Luke hung suspended in clear liquid, unconscious. “He’ll be all right once the bacta treatment’s over. He’s got a whole lotta questions to answer when he gets out, though. He was nearly frozen when I found him, and it looked like he’d been mauled.” Han shrugged. “He said he was gonna go check out a meteorite or somethin’, before he disappeared… I dunno what that was about, but my guess is he found one of those damned wampas instead.”

Looking at the claw marks across Luke’s face and body, Leia had to agree. She turned her gaze back to Han. “So how did you manage to last all night out there?”

“I actually found him pretty quickly, but my tauntaun gave out on me so I couldn’t bring him back. I was, uh, able to use the tauntaun to warm him up. Got the shelter up soon after, and we were cozy and dry until morning.”

Leia raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Good work,” she said. She looked over at Luke again. The Too-Onebee droid initiated the process of removing him from the tank, and she let out a sigh. “Thank you,” she added softly. “I don’t think anyone else would have risked going out there to look for him like you did.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I was still around.” She felt his eyes shift away from her. “Not that it’s going to keep me around much longer. As soon as he’s back on his feet and we have some answers, I’m off.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Leia said icily, “I forgot that you don’t actually care.” What was it about this man that sent her from inert to thermal detonator in the span of a single second? “Excuse me, but I’m going to go get some work done. Have someone comm me when Luke’s awake.”

“Oh, come on, Your Worshipfulness,” Han yelled after her, but she was already out the door, speed-walking down the hall and nursing a very strong desire to punch something again. Why did he have to ruin everything? He’s really going to leave this time. She could feel the truth woven into his threats as of late, the air of finality about his words. He’s going to leave, and it’s your fault. Why did he matter so much to her, anyway? Why couldn’t she just let him in, or let him go?

She didn’t want to think about this right now, and when she didn’t want to think, she found that work usually offered a good means of escape from the mazes in her mind. She made her way back to the command center.

She was waist-deep wading through scout reports when she got the comm that Luke was out of the bacta and awake. It wasn’t from Han; he must have coerced the medical droid into contacting her instead, like she’d asked. Good, she thought, swallowing back a twinge of disappointment. She didn’t really care to talk to him right now anyway. Besides, with General Rieekan’s new orders that no ships could leave base yet, it looked like she’d have plenty of chances to see him again in the short-term once things had cooled off a bit more between them. She finished glancing over the report she had open—from a member of Gold Squadron who was tracking the Empire’s recent worrisome movements near Naboo—sent off a quick memo, then hurried back to the medical bay.

Luke smiled up at her as she entered, his face like sunshine. A wave of affection and gratitude washed over her. Sitting here, alive and well beyond all odds, was not only what was likely the Rebellion’s greatest hope, but her dear friend; the solar light to her cold, barren rock. He, at least, would be around.

“Luke.” She said his name, enjoying how it felt on her tongue as she looked him over. Luke. Alive. Here. She knew that the emotion of the night before was playing out on her face, but she didn’t mind, not so much with him. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

Luke’s smile grew wider. “It’s good to see you too, Leia.” He patted the edge of the bed, beckoning her closer, and she obliged. Leaning over, she examined the wounds on his face, gently tracing the biggest mark with a finger.

“The bacta’s growing really well. Your scars ought to be gone in a day or so. Does it hurt?”

“It’s fine,” Luke shrugged off her question, gazing at her with an intensity that slightly unnerved her. She wondered what horrors he had faced out there in the snow. If he needed to talk about it, she wanted him to feel free to do so with her. “Leia….”

“Hmm?” she prodded.

“When I was out in that storm, I…” he trailed off again.

“I was real worried,” she said, tucking a strand of sandy hair behind his ear, willing him to go on.

“YOU were worried?” He chuckled—Leia didn’t quite get the joke; she felt worried all the time—but then he quickly grew serious again. “Look, it got me thinking, you know… I might never get the chance….” He stopped and closed his eyes.

“Tell me,” she said gently.

He looked back up at her, his clear blue eyes searching her own, a mix of warmth and affection and fear and… something else? She suddenly noticed that they were very close, and he was leaning in closer still, as if he were going to—

“Oh, it’s so good to see you fully functional again!” exclaimed Threepio, Artoo whistling his agreement as the two droids entered the room.

Luke shook himself, as if released from a spell, and Leia stood up, suddenly anxious to put some distance between them. Had Luke actually been about to kiss her? And had she very nearly let him? They had always shared an easy physicality, exchanging hugs and kisses as if they were family, but this was something more. She loved him, but not in that way; yet right now her mind was such a mess of fear and confusion, exhaustion and gratitude that she didn’t quite know what she was feeling. She couldn’t understand herself lately, and she didn’t like that at all. If she was this out of control, best to leave now before she said or did anything she’d regret.

“You relax now,” she said to him, perhaps a bit more icily than she meant to. “I’ll be back later.” She turned to go.

“Leia!” Luke’s voice stopped her, insistent. Begrudgingly, she turned around, raising her eyebrows. “I have to go away for awhile,” he said quietly, calmly, as if his words weren’t a punch to the gut.

Not him, too.

Not now.

“What? Where are you going?”

“To another system… not far from here.” He was being vague, infuriatingly so. And the way he was saying it… it sounded so suspiciously longterm. A jolt of panic swept through her, and she felt her fear and temper rising.

“That’s great, that’s just great. Why doesn’t everybody just take off?”

“What are you talking about?”

“First Han, now you….” she sputtered, then let out an angry breath, more at herself than at Luke. In the end, she had only herself to blame for feeling this way. “When am I going to learn not to count on anyone but myself?”

Luke looked troubled. “I didn’t know he was leaving.”

“You know,” Leia continued, her voice tight, “I was getting along fine before I met you two moon jockeys.” She hadn’t been, and she was well aware of it, but at this point being terminated on the Death Star was sounding more and more appealing. Currently, her losses were just growing more and more painful, and she was so very tired.

“Calm down,” Luke said placatingly. “Tell me about Han.”

“Oh, he’s got to pay off that criminal he’s in debt to.”

“Jabba the Hutt? Leia, he’s no joke. I’m from Tatooine, right? I know about Jabba. He’s awful.” Luke sighed. “Look, I know this is hard for you, but after what happened on Ord Mantell, I think Han is right to try and fix this before it causes any more damage. I’m sure once Han gets his debts squared away, he’ll come back.”

“Right,” Leia muttered. “Because he’s made it so clear in the past that this is where he wants to be.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s the impression I’ve gotten, Mistress Leia,” Threepio interjected. As usual, his six million forms of communication lacked proper fluency in sarcasm.

“How’re you feeling, kid?” boomed the subject of their discussion as he entered the room, Chewie following along close behind. Leia looked away, wishing she’d been able to disappear a bit quicker. Han leaned over the side of Luke’s bed, taking his turn examining the wounds. His relief was evident. “You don’t look so bad to me—in fact, you look strong enough to pull the ears off a gundark!”

“Thanks to you!” Luke grinned.

“That’s two you owe me, junior.” A moment of pleasantness passed, but only a moment. Han turned around to face Leia, and she braced herself for the coming onslaught. “Well, Your Worship,” he said, looking infuriatingly smug, “it looks like you’ve managed to keep me around for a little while longer.”

Leia wished she could wipe the smirk off his face with the sheer force of her glare. “I had nothing to do with it,” she replied. At least she didn’t think she did. She sometimes got the feeling her parents’ friend Carlist was more perceptive of things than he let on, but the bottom line was that she agreed with his decision from a tactical perspective regardless of how the consequences affected her and Han. “General Rieekan thinks it’s dangerous for any ship to leave the system until we’ve activated the energy shield.”

Han’s smirk only grew wider. “That’s a good story. I think you just can’t bear to let a gorgeous guy like me out of your sight.” Behind him, Luke rolled his eyes.

She flushed with anger. Oh, so it was going to be this way again. Did Han have any idea what he was doing to her? She was sick and tired of this game; sick and tired of her emotions being played with like holomonsters on a dejarik board. She took aim and shot back. “I don’t know where you get your delusions, laser brains.”

Chewie chuckled in amusement from over by the wall, and Han shot him a look. “Laugh it up, fuzzball. You didn’t see us alone in the south passage.” He strutted over to Leia and put his arm around her. “She expressed her true feelings for me,” he announced.

Leia’s jaw dropped as she looked up at him, blood boiling. Her true feelings? Really? “Why you stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking… NERF-HERDER!” She spat out. She acknowledged that maybe those weren’t her best spur-of-the-moment insults, but she could barely think straight. Her anger was the only thing holding back her tears.

Han actually looked kind of injured. “Who’s scruffy-looking?” he muttered. He turned to Luke, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. “I must have hit pretty close to the mark to get her all riled up like that, huh, kid?”

Luke nodded. He seemed tired, and disappointment was written all over his face. Leia stared at them both for a second, feeling a new wave of pity and gratitude for Luke. She walked over to his bedside, glaring up at Han. “Well, I guess you don’t know everything about women, yet,” she said. Bending down, she kissed Luke soundly on the lips. With that, she turned on her heel and left the room.

Leia swore under her breath. She had regretted the kiss immediately. It didn’t feel right, but it wasn’t until she stopped to breathe in a mostly-deserted hallway and her pulse began to return to normal that she allowed herself to think about why. A wave of guilt swept over her. While Luke had fallen for several pretty faces since they first met, she now suspected his initial feelings for her must have either returned or never truly gone away. She had taken advantage of that, using him as a pawn in the fight between her and Han. She had also been moved by pity, and nobody deserved to be kissed out of pity, especially Luke. She didn’t love him like that, and he deserved her full honesty. He deserved so much more than her.

Furious with herself, she let out an anxious breath. She couldn’t believe her own actions were so out-of-control, and she wished whole-heartedly that she had stormed out of the room a little sooner. She’d have to have a talk with Luke soon, and that would probably only serve to hurt him even more. She rubbed her knuckles, still splotchy with bruises, and willed herself to ignore the urge to add some more. It had already been a few minutes since General Rieekan had called for all important personnel to report to the command center. It was time she got herself together and there.

She arrived just after Han. There was a flutter of fear in the command center, and as soon as she heard the news, it settled on her, too. A droid-like thing was prowling outside the base. It was currently unidentified, but she had her suspicions as to what it was. This day was about to get a whole lot worse.

Chapter Text

Echo Base was a flurry of activity as everyone prepared for the evacuation. The combined fear of all the Rebel occupants in the face of the Imperial invasion lingered in the air, adding to Leia’s already skyrocketing anxiety. She had just finished briefing a group of pilots on their mission, and now she was heading back to her room to quickly pack her things, weaving through scrambling soldiers in the hall. One more turn, and she was there. The door closed behind her, shutting out the noise and confusion, and she took a deep breath.

They’d had to evacuate bases before, but this time felt different. She had a sense of imminent doom that she couldn’t shake off. This was it—Han would be leaving today, Luke would certainly take this chance to leave as well, and life was changing irrevocably once more. She felt her breath grow shallow, but she determinedly pushed back the images that once again reared up at the edges of her mind.

She glanced around the room at her meager possessions. Everything was mostly packed in a travel case already, as per her usual habit on base, so there wasn’t much to do. She grabbed the extra snowsuits that were lying on a crate by the wall and was alarmed to find that they had somehow been soaked and then refrozen stiff. She had half a mind to just leave them on this forsaken planet, but she stuffed them as best she could into the crate anyway. Then, turning to the other crate she used as a bedside table, she regarded the few things she kept on top—an extra datapad she used occasionally for journaling, an Alderaanian candle decorated with intertwining tree motifs that she often lit for remembrance of home (and some semblance of devotion to the old gods and spirits), and an amulet made of brilliant chalcedony, set with sparkling cerulean cala-jewels, that her mother had given her before Leia left Alderaan to take up her role as senator. “For your protection, my daughter,” Breha had whispered, smiling softly, smoothing a stray strand of Leia’s chestnut hair back into its elaborate coif. “Chalcedony from the mountains, cala-jewels from the sea. The life-blood of Alderaan goes with you, as do our prayers. Keep this close and let it be a reminder of our love.”

Leia pushed back the memory. The amulet was likely as dead as the people and the planet that had given it, as lifeless as the molator and the other spirits who had blessed it. What protection had it given her, in the end? She had survived, at the cost of her home and everyone she had loved, and for what? This endless torture of haunting memories and ever-multiplying losses? This feeble fight against the dark cancer that consumed the galaxy, in which she was constantly ordering people to their deaths? She tossed the datapad, candle and amulet into her travel case.

Let it be a reminder of our love. She paused. She had dreamed, once, back in her cell on the Death Star, that her parents had forgiven her. She wasn’t sure that she believed the dream, and she didn’t feel like she deserved love, much less forgiveness. But still… the amulet held the memory of it, at least. She took it back out of the travel case and slipped it into the pouch she carried beneath the outer layer of her jumpsuit. She would hold that memory close until the end.

Because this was the end, wasn’t it? Leia felt the dark waves crashing around her, tugging at her feet again. She had been running away from them for so long, but they always followed, always haunted, threatening to break over her and carry her away. She was so exhausted, so weary. She looked around the room at her packed crates and travel case. Then, squaring her shoulders, she turned and headed for the door, leaving them all behind.

Leia Organa was done running away.

The control room was shaking. Chunks of ice were falling from the ceiling, but Leia ignored them and carried on, intent on her purpose of getting everyone safely evacuated.

Everyone but her.

She figured that if she were going to go down, this was the way to go—fighting for hope for the rest of the galaxy, saving as many lives as she could. It was only a tiny atom in the galaxy of her debt, of course—billions of lives had been lost because of her—but it was something. She would fight for the Rebellion until her dying breath, and then would come the escape. Blessed oblivion, if the Force was kind. If not—well, at this point it would almost be a relief to hear the accusations of the dead, to receive her punishment, and have it over with. Better that than the ghosts of guilt that gnawed at her, eating her alive, even in her sleep. Or the storm of fear and furor that raged endlessly in her mind. Maybe in death she’d find peace.

“Your Highness, we’d better get moving,” General Rieekan said, breaking into her thoughts. “The last transports are waiting.”

“You go on, General,” she replied, not quite able to meet his kind eyes. “I’ll be there soon.” She turned away to continue giving orders to the chief controller, but Rieekan caught her arm and brought her back around to face him, catching her gaze before she knew what was happening. He regarded her for a moment, and she thought for a second she saw a knowing look pass over her fellow Alderaanian’s eyes.

“I think you should come now, Princess,” he implored, more quietly this time. “We need you.”

She took a deep breath. “I’ll be there soon, I promise,” she insisted, wondering at how easily the lie rolled off her tongue, “but I think I’m needed more here at the moment. Please, General, you go on, and I’ll catch up shortly.”

After a moment, he sighed and nodded, apparently taking her words at face value. She felt a brief jolt of guilt, followed by relief as she watched him walk away. He had been the closest thing she’d had to a father figure over the past few years, and she would never forgive herself if he didn’t escape. May the Force be with you, Carlist Rieekan, she thought, sending him her silent benediction. Then she turned off her comlink and returned to the task at hand.

Everything was in chaos. Walkers were destroying the troops and Rogue Squadron’s snowspeeders outside, and at the rate the command center was falling to pieces all around her, Leia guessed Echo Base might not last all that much longer. Still, there were a lot of soldiers who remained in the fight, doing their best to give the transports their chance at escape, and she and those left in the command center remained with the goal of coordinating their efforts and minimizing their losses as much as possible. She threw herself into the work, losing herself in strategy and grim determination.

She barely even noticed Threepio’s arrival, and she only felt mildly annoyed by his incessant pleas for her to get to safety. The dutiful droid had, it seemed, stopped by her room and, upon finding her things still there, took it upon himself to see that they were delivered safely to a transport. As exasperating as he could be sometimes, Leia truly did appreciate Threepio’s loyalty and concern. She wished she could manage to convince him to leave her and make it to a transport, but she was so busy studying the mayhem outside and orchestrating the various troop movements that she couldn’t spare the time it would take to persuade him. She hoped his self-preservation protocol would kick in soon and that he’d leave of his own accord.

Suddenly, the command center was rocked by a nearby explosion, and the room plunged into darkness as a part of the ceiling caved in. Leia was glanced by a falling chunk of ice; it was enough to throw her to the floor. When the lights flickered back on, the room was in shambles; their equipment all askew. Dazed, Leia got to her feet and brushed herself off. Cries for help came from under the rubble, and she and a few others rushed to pull out the injured man. He had a broken leg; a nearby droid wasn’t so lucky. “Controllers Allren and Derit,” she ordered, “help Commander Moray get to the transport. And stay there!” she called out after them as they helped the hobbling man to the door. “We’ll be initiating the retreat soon.”

“Oh! Mistress Leia!” Threepio wailed from near the wall. If a droid could be hysterical, he was nearly there. “We must leave now or we’ll be buried here forever!”

Leia was distracted, however, by what had just developed outside. “Where’s Rogue Leader?” she demanded anxiously. “Why isn’t he responding?”

“It looks like Luke’s speeder went down,” one of the controllers replied, “but he appears to have survived the landing.”

Another communications officer called out from across the room. “I just got through to his personal comm—he’s all right but he’s on foot.”

“Well, tell him to get to his X-wing and get out of here!” Leia shot back, sending out a silent plea in the direction of her friend. The base shook again, sending fresh showers of ice from the ceiling, and causing a definite increase in Threepio’s plaintive cries. Leia walked past him to look at one of the controllers’ monitors. The battle outside was growing more and more bleak by the second. It wouldn’t be long now.

She wondered what death would feel like. Certainly it could be no worse than the torture she’d endured on the Death Star. It would likely be a whole lot quicker, too, as long as she managed to avoid capture. Even so, she wasn’t without resource if that did happen—this time around, she had a pill sewn into her sleeve that would do the job if worse came to worst.

“Send all troops in sector four to reinforce the battalion in sector six,” she ordered, leaning over Chief Controller Farr to get a better look at the screen.

“You all right?” a familiar voice—one she thought was long gone—called out gruffly from across the room. She turned, startled, and found herself face to face with Han.

“Why are you still here?” she demanded incredulously, before turning back to the screen.

“I heard the command center had been hit.”

“You’ve got your clearance to leave,” she replied, unnerved by Han’s appearance. If he didn’t hurry, this would be his tomb as well.

“Don’t worry, I’ll leave,” Han asserted, voice set with determination, “but first I’m gonna get you to your ship!” Leia groaned inwardly. Of all the people to try to ruin her plans. What did he really care anyway, once all was said and done?

Threepio piped up again beside her. “Your Highness, we must take this last transport! It’s our only hope!”

“Send all troops in sector twelve to the south slope to protect the fighters,” Leia bellowed, brushing past Han to confer with Controller Correl at his station. No sooner had she gotten there than another explosion shook the command center, nearly knocking her off her feet again and once more causing Threepio to cry out in terror.

“Imperial troops have entered the base!” a voice repeated frantically over the comm, and Leia felt a sudden chill of uncertainty. In that small moment of hesitation, Han grabbed her by the arm. His eyes held her own, and the sheer force of unmasked love and concern she saw there left her speechless. Images flickered unbidden across her mind: kisses stolen slow in corners of the Falcon. Blasters wielded against the enemy, forces for good, side by side. Bodies pressed warm in the dark, nightmares soothed. Lying together, small in a vast forest alive; joyful, victorious. A child, beloved, with Han’s face and Leia’s eyes.

A future. Maybe she had a future, after all.

Suddenly she wanted desperately to stick around and find out.

She turned to Controller Correl. “Give the evacuation code signal,” she ordered. “And get to your transports!” she called out to the rest of the room as Han pulled her out of the door and out of the grip of her despair.

Maybe she’d regret this. Maybe her hopes were rising only to be crushed again later. But right now, as she barreled down the hallways with Han, visions of possibility still tugging at her mind, she was suddenly willing to take the risk.

This time, she wouldn’t let the doors shut fast on her future without a fight.

Chapter Text

The Millennium Falcon was quiet as it rested, eerily so after the tumult of their escape. Leia tinkered with a malfunctioning coolant valve in the circuitry bay and tried to make sense of everything. The events of the last few hours had been astonishing, to say the least. She’d gone from resigned despair to wild hope in the span of a few seconds, and she had soon found herself outrunning tenacious Imperials with Han, Chewbacca and Threepio in this piece of garbage ship that currently refused to go to lightspeed. They’d narrowly avoided being captured or vaporized by three Star Destroyers and a ridiculous amount of TIE fighters, and they’d narrowly avoided being smashed to obliteration by an asteroid field. Now, they were sheltering in a cave inside one of those asteroids, listening uneasily to the occasional faint sounds of Imperial bombardment on the surface, and working on making the Falcon moderately space-worthy again.

Leia had no idea how they were still alive.

She picked up the welder and began repairing a damaged canister mount, fighting off annoyance at the dismal state of Han’s ship. He’d had weeks to do his repairs after Ord Mantell; that should have been plenty of time. Why hadn’t he finished, or come anywhere near close?

Sparks leapt through the air in front of her, glowing bright in the dim, cramped enclosure of the circuitry bay.

Han. He had, as usual, exasperated her to no end on this trip. His antics flying the Falcon to escape their Imperial pursuers had left her white-knuckled, and they’d been at each other’s throats the whole way. She had watched, however, as his hands expertly guided the Falcon through it all, and she had to admit that somehow his half-baked gambles had allowed them a temporary escape. Honestly, she was impressed, though she wasn’t inclined to admit it to his face. And even more than impressed, she was grateful. He’d come back for her, despite it all. She hadn’t thought there was anything left for him to come back for, but apparently he disagreed; disagreed enough to risk everything.

She still remembered the look in Han’s eyes, there in the command center back on Hoth. And she still remembered what she had seen there, the visions of a future that had echoed through her mind. She wondered if there was any shred of reality to them.

Her mind wandered as she worked. She thought of his hands, on the Falcon, on the small of her back, grabbing her own as they ran through countless dangers over the years. His eyes, full of want on Ord Mantell, full of concern and something deeper in the command center. His body, shielding hers from an ice cave-in during their escape, and so close against her own in the cockpit, just an hour ago, after they’d landed in the asteroid cave. Leia found herself dwelling on the memory. A bomb going off on the surface had thrown her right into Han’s lap, and he’d lost no time in wrapping his arms around her. He had felt warm and safe, like home, and the energy between them pulsed, and for a moment, she didn’t want to leave. He’d goaded her, of course, made some stupid comment about her getting “excited,” and the moment was soon over. But now, for just a second, she allowed herself to wonder what might have happened if she had simply stayed there.

Her face grew hot. Annoyed with herself, she tried her best to replace the blush with a grimace. What was getting into her? For all she knew, he was planning on dropping her back off with the Alliance and leaving again.

Taking off her protective goggles, she set the welder back down, put the mount back in position, and reached for the valve’s reset lever. It wouldn’t budge. Her hands ached, bruises still flowering from her mistreatment of them the day before, and they were cold now that the warmth emanating off her welding was extinguished. She cursed under her breath and tried again. Instantly Han was behind her, reaching his arms around her, cornering her in the cramped space. Instinct kicked in and she shouldered him away rather violently, sending him a glare before turning back to the stubborn lever.

“Hey, Your Worship, I’m only trying to help,” Han grumbled, infusing the title with even more sarcasm than usual.

Leia rolled her eyes and threw her whole weight against the lever. “Would you please stop calling me that?”

Surprisingly, he relented. “Sure, Leia.”

“You make it so difficult sometimes.”

“I do, I really do,” he admitted. “You could be a little nicer though. Come on, admit it, sometimes you think I’m all right.”

Leia gave up on the lever and raised one of her bruised knuckles to her lips in an effort to ease the pain. Conceding, she turned to face Han. “Occasionally. Maybe. When you aren’t acting like a scoundrel.”

He was staring tenderly at her still-raised hands with a curious expression, and before she could draw them away—before she could escape, hide from him all evidence of her pain and weakness—he had taken them in his own, massaging carefully around the bruises. His hands were warm. She tried not to think about how good it felt. “Scoundrel?” he teased, eyes glinting merrily. “Scoundrel? I like the sound of that.” He smiled and continued kneading her aching hands, and suddenly Leia felt like the situation was careening out of her control.

“Stop that,” she demanded, embarrassed.

“Stop what?”

“Stop that.” She reached for an excuse. “My hands are dirty.”

“My hands are dirty, too. What are you afraid of?”

“Afraid?” she whispered, any defense scrambling away as he leaned in closer. She stepped back against the wall, heart beating wildly. She noted, once again, that his eyes were flecked with green; deep wells of unplumbed passion. They searched her own, knowing. Part of her still wanted to run away, and yet….

“You’re trembling,” he pointed out.

“I’m not trembling.” The denial was almost irrepressible. Sometimes it felt like arguing was the only thing she knew how to do these days; her words sacrificed to the raging battle inside. Was she even arguing with him anymore, or with herself? Had her arguments ever really been about him? Sure, he had frustrated her time and time again, but when it came down to it, did she allow herself to let loose on him because he was the only one rogue enough to take it and understand, the only one willing to give her release?

“You like me because I’m a scoundrel,” Han continued, still looking at her in that way that made her feel as if all her protective walls were made of glass. “There aren’t enough scoundrels in your life.”

He was so close now. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, and the air seemed to arc with the same electricity that sparked from her welding earlier, setting off a low buzz she felt in her bones. “I happen to like nice men,” she insisted, voice barely above a whisper, but right then she knew it was futile. She wanted this. Oh gods, she’d wanted this for so long.

“I’m nice men,” he murmured. She opened her mouth to argue back, but suddenly his lips caught hers, enveloping hers, warm and gentle and smooth, better than all the dreams she’d tried to ignore; burning all her arguments and fear away until all she knew was him, finally, them together, melting together, electric and alive. She never wanted it to end. Too soon he broke it off, eyes questioning.

For a moment she just looked at him, stunned, as all her feelings resolved into the clarity of desire. “Okay, hotshot,” she whispered. The hint of a smile played on the corners of his lips, and before she knew it she was pulling him back towards her and kissing him again, harder, more passionately this time. He bent her back against the wall, and she reached up to stroke the hair on the back of his neck, like she’d always longed to do. He tasted like passion, and freedom, and bliss, and—some kind of commitment, even? Dedication, devotion. This, Leia thought, was sacred.

Not sacred enough for Threepio, apparently. “Sir, sir!” the droid exclaimed, tapping on Han’s shoulder. “I’ve isolated the reverse power flux coupling!”

Like that, it was over. Han turned to confront the source of their interruption. “Thank you!” he snarled, backing the droid toward the door. “Thank you very much!” But now that his eyes weren’t on her, Leia felt all her fears rushing in once more. Overwhelmed, she turned and slipped quietly out of the room.

Aside from the whirring of the life support systems and a handful of glowing indicator lights, the cockpit of the Falcon was silent and dark, a comforting contrast against the loudness of Leia’s inner landscape. Her emotions were a whirlwind of fear and desire, barreling through all of her carefully built edifices of control. She sat in the co-pilot’s seat and tried to make sense of it all—a hard task when her mind was determined to keep giddily replaying what had happened just a short while ago.

Han had kissed her.

He had taken her aching hands, seen her bruises, and kissed her.

She could still see the look of elation in his eyes when she finally gave way; she could still feel the softness and warmth of his lips on hers.

She wondered at his tenacity in pursuing her all these years, despite her attempts to push her feelings away at almost every turn. She hadn’t been kind. Even on this trip, despair had been banished only for anxiety to again take its place, and she had lashed out at him continuously, her shields up despite herself. She felt as if she’d been frozen for so long, she didn’t know how to thaw. But here he was changing all of that, applying heat with newfound determination, and he’d melted right through her defenses and kissed her.

And she’d kissed him back. She’d been shocked, really, at the magnitude of her passion and desire. She’d kept that part of herself locked behind closed doors for so long, because, when it came down to it, it was like Han had said: she was afraid. Terrified, in fact. Scared to death of the power love had over her: of the risks she found herself considering, of the way she really wanted this, wanted him. Scared that she wasn’t enough for him, that she’d never be enough; that he’d delve deep only to discover wreckage and emptiness, an asteroid field where some green and living planet should have been.

Most of all, she was scared of gaining something so good, so beautiful, so extraordinarily alive, only to lose it, lose him, just like she had lost everything else before.

The sound of distant bombs grew louder again, rupturing the quiet.

Could she risk it? Could she walk this ledge, forward into something new and beautiful? Could she live with the danger of falling, of all her edifices falling into ruin?

Sitting there in the cockpit, gazing out into the thick darkness of the cave, she realized that she already knew the answer.

Yes.

Her answer was yes; it had been yes ever since she made the decision to leave Echo Base with Han. Life itself was a risk, but she’d chosen it, in part to see where this particular ledge would lead, and she wasn’t ready to give up again just yet.

Still, she was entering uncharted territory, and she’d have to be careful; take it slow. She felt her heart opening gentle to a world of possibilities, but there were limits to what she could take, and some things she wasn’t ready to give—not yet. Not until she knew he’d always be around.

Her eyes settled questioningly on the pilot’s chair, then on the controls in front of it—an extension of him, she thought, his hands so often fused with them to thread deftly through the fabric of space.

What were his intentions with her, anyway? A part of her still wondered if she was just another conquest for him; if thawing her was a challenge and once he got what he wanted, he’d be even less inclined to stick around. And yet, he’d come back for her on Hoth. She kept returning to that truth. He’d come back, even after all they’d said to hurt one another, even after she thought he was shaking her dust off his feet, leaving for good. That had to count for something. And that look in his eyes in the command center had to count too. She couldn’t deny what she’d seen plainly written there.

Outside in the shadows of the cave, something moved. Leia blinked, startled. Had she imagined it? She rose from the copilot’s seat and peered out the viewport, searching the gloom. Suddenly, a huge sucker, brown and tentacled and grasping, latched onto the window right above her with a horrible squelch. She screamed, jumping back. Breathless, she ran to find Han. He was in the main hold, making some repairs behind a bulkhead with Chewbacca.

“There’s something out there,” she announced, embarrassment creeping in as the shock wore off. “Outside, in the cave.” She inwardly scolded herself for being so easily frightened, but when she saw the look on Han’s face as a fresh clanging sound erupted from the hull, she felt somewhat justified. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

“I’m going out there,” Han muttered, already headed for the breath masks in the hall.

Leia ran after him. “Are you crazy?”

Han looked more angry than afraid. “I just got this bucket back together; I’m not going to let something tear it apart!”

“Then I’m going with you!” Leia asserted, pushing back her fear as she grabbed another breath mask and followed him to the hatch, Chewbacca close behind.

They emerged cautiously onto the boarding ramp, scanning for any sign of the attacker. The air was strangely dense and humid, and a mist clouded their view, making it impossible to see very far in front of them. Leia followed Han out onto the floor of the cavern.

“This ground sure feels strange,” she remarked, her voice taking on a slight metallic ring as the comlink in her breath mask transmitted her words to Han and Chewie. “It doesn’t feel like rock.” She peered through the mist, some nameless feeling rising inside her and filling her with dread. There was a presence, here—perhaps their shadowy attacker?—and the cave was permeated with the threat of its menace. Even the rock under her feet (or whatever it was; it was too squishy to be entirely rock) seemed full of a silent and ominous power. She imagined the entire cavern collapsing; no, shrinking—constricting around them, crushing them like a boa snake.

“There’s an awful lot of moisture in here,” Han observed.

Leia nodded. “I don’t know,” she worried aloud. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Yeah.” All at once, Han whipped around, senses on alert. “Watch out!” he yelled. There was a flash from his blaster and a large shape fell off the Falcon’s hull. “It’s all right, it’s all right,” he said, hurrying forward, Chewie moaning something as he approached from the other side of the ship. I have got to learn how to understand Shyriiwook, Leia thought to herself, not for the first time. She’d begrudgingly given the language a cursory study in her teenage years, but she hadn’t retained any of the little she’d learned. She had never suspected how much she would one day rue that.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Han continued, examining the fallen creature. “A mynock. Chewie, check the rest of the ship and make sure there’re no more attached. Chewing on the power cables,” he muttered. Leia could sense his frustration from several meters away.

“Mynocks,” she repeated, scrunching up her face in disgust. She’d never seen one before, but she’d heard horror stories of ships being completely drained of power by the creatures. The life support systems were the last to go, and by the time some pilots became aware of what was happening, it was too late—all the occupants would be doomed to freeze or suffocate, whichever came first, inside their aimlessly drifting tomb. She looked around nervously. Where there was one, there were usually more.

“Go on inside,” Han said. “We’ll clean them off if there’re any more.”

Leia considered arguing—surely they could use an extra blaster and pair of eyes—but thought better of it when something large and leathery hit her head with a rush. A whole flock of mynocks swarmed them, screeching, clearly not happy about the loss of their comrade. Leia let out a shriek of her own and made a dash for the ramp, arms over her head to protect herself from the dive-bombing creatures. She’d almost made it when she heard the blast of Chewie’s bowcaster, and the ground moved. Launching herself at one of the hydraulic pistons, she clung to it for balance until the shaking stopped. In the silence that followed, the mist seemed to close in thicker than before.

“Wait a minute,” Han mumbled. He stood still for a moment, deep in thought. Everything in Leia screamed danger, and she looked around, wary.

Without warning, the calm was shattered by another blaster shot, this time from Han. The cavern heaved, and she lost her balance, nearly tumbling to the ground as it rocked back and forth. This time the shaking didn’t stop. Han managed to run up behind her and steady her before rushing up the ramp, and she and Chewie followed, trying to keep on their feet. “All right, Chewie, let’s get outta here!” Han yelled back from around the bend of the corridor. Another heave sent Leia tumbling into the wall, but as disturbing as the sudden quake was, Han’s words lit in her a deeper fear.

“The Empire is still out there!” she objected, catching up to him in the main hold as he stopped to make some final adjustments at the engineering station. “I don’t think it’s wise to—”

“No time to discuss this in committee!” he cut in brusquely, already halfway down the hall to the cockpit.

Leia felt her face flush with fury at the dismissal as she was thrown against the wall once more. “I am not a committee!” she bellowed, rushing after him into the cockpit. Chewie was already there, and by the sound of it, the Falcon’s start-up sequence was well underway. “You can’t make the jump to lightspeed in this asteroid field!” she said, throwing herself into the seat behind Han.

“Sit down, sweetheart, we’re taking off!”

Leia wanted to wring his neck, but something stopped her from retorting. As the ship swiveled around, she caught sight of the cave’s opening and froze. Something wasn’t right. As they sped towards the entrance, away from the mists that had gathered in the asteroid’s depths, the mouth of the cave, which should have looked larger as they approached, was quickly growing smaller. She thought of the boa.

“Look!” Threepio wailed from the door.

“I see it, I see it,” Han replied.

“The cave is collapsing!” Leia finally stammered.

“This is no cave,” said Han.

“What?” she shrieked, but right then she knew fully what in some part of her mind she had already guessed. As they sped through the rapidly closing teeth of a giant space slug, she could only clutch the leather of her seat and say a prayer to the Force and the (nonexistent, she reminded herself) gods.

A breath, and they realized it: they had escaped the exogorth, and were careening once more through the asteroid field, diving under and around the tumbling rocks. Another few harried breaths, and the ship was jolted by a blast from a Star Destroyer. The Empire had found them again. Of course they have, Leia thought. For once, she was unable to speak.

“Chewie, let’s get her to open space,” Han said, focused intensely on his weaving. The Wookiee roared in agreement. Leia held in a breath as an asteroid the size of the Falcon hurtled towards the viewport. The ship banked sideways, narrowly avoiding it, and continued to shudder, rocked by the deluge of laser blasts from behind. Leia knew the Falcon’s shields were good; they should be able to hold as long as they made the jump to lightspeed soon. Han better have fixed that, she thought.

The asteroids grew thinner. “Oh, thank goodness we’re coming out of the asteroid field,” Threepio exclaimed from the seat beside her. Leia didn’t let up her death grip on the seat cushion. The blasts continued to shake them from behind.

“Let’s get out of here,” Han said. “Ready for lightspeed?” Chewie nodded in assent. “One… two…” he pushed the throttle forward. “Three!” he shouted. Nothing happened. They sat there, stunned, listening to the whine of the failed hyperdrive. Chewbacca let out an irritated yelp, and Leia rolled her eyes. “That’s not fair,” Han muttered. Chewie yowled at him, gesturing angrily. “Transfer circuits are working,” he protested. “It’s not my fault!”

Leia sighed. It wasn’t all that surprising, really. “No lightspeed?” she chided. She was weary of everything. After all they’d been through, after she’d decided to live, godsdammit, it looked as though fate had caught up with them at last.

Han turned back to her for a moment, hurt. “It’s not my fault!” he repeated. Another blast rattled the Falcon especially hard.

“Sir,” Threepio warned, “we just lost the main rear deflector shield! One more direct hit on the back quarter and we’re done for!”

“Turn ‘er around,” said Han. Chewie let out an incredulous wail. “I said turn her around! I’m going to put all power in the front shield.” He climbed over the seats to reach a switch in the starboard wall.

“You’re going to attack them?” Leia couldn’t believe her ears.

“Sir, the odds of surviving a direct assault on an Imperial Star Destroyer—”

“Shut up!” Leia barked, silencing the droid as Han retook the pilot’s chair. Despite her objections, she realized with a start that she trusted Han. Besides, whatever he had planned was most likely better than their current state of events. She watched in silence as the Star Destroyer swung into view, and they soared toward it, laser cannons blazing. They were headed straight for the command bridge. She could make out figures now, standing behind the bridge’s viewport. Leia tensed in her seat. Surely Han wouldn’t—

Suddenly, they swooped up, narrowly missing the deck. In one fluid movement Han guided the Falcon behind the bridge tower, latching it onto the back of the massive structure. Nobody followed. The sound of the lasers stopped. All was quiet once more.

Leia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Opening them again, she exchanged a jubilant smile with the man in the pilot’s seat. Her scoundrel had just played the odds against the Empire, brilliantly, and won. Again.

Chapter Text

All outside the Falcon may have been quiet as they rested on the back of the Star Destroyer’s bridge tower, but inside the ship, the organic occupants’ ears were being assailed by See-Threepio’s hysteric prattling.

“Captain Solo, this time you have gone too far,” the droid announced pompously, prompting the Wookiee to let out a frustrated growl, one that Leia felt spoke for all of them. “No, I will not be quiet, Chewbacca!” Threepio wailed. “Why doesn’t anyone listen to me?”

Ignoring him, Han gestured towards the two other Star Destroyers they could see out the viewport, which seemed to dance around one another as each veered off towards some separate, unseen goal. “The fleet’s beginning to break up,” he observed, turning to Chewbacca. “Go back and stand by the manual release for the landing claw.” The Wookiee roared his assent and clambered his way between the seats towards the hatch, unintentionally giving Leia a face full of musky Wookiee fur in the process. She crinkled her nose and tried not to sneeze.

Threepio continued his lecture, and while Leia was sure that to his own ears he was being quite heroic, even she was having trouble tolerating him at the moment. “I really don’t see how that is going to help,” the droid moaned. “Surrender is a perfectly acceptable alternative in extreme circumstances. The Empire may be gracious enough—” Han exchanged an incredulous look with Leia, then motioned towards the droid. Happy to comply, Leia reached over and switched him off.

“Thank you,” said Han.

Leia got out of her chair and moved up beside him, resting her arms on the console and trying not to let the thrill of being this close to him again show. “What do you have in mind for your next move?”

“Well,” said Han, “if they follow standard Imperial procedure, they’ll dump their garbage before they go to light-speed. Then we just float away.”

“With the rest of the garbage,” Leia finished, an amused smile playing on her lips. It was a pretty decent plan. “Then what?”

“Then we’ve got to find a safe port somewhere around here. Got any ideas?” He flipped a switch on the display monitor, and the light from the astrogation display bathed his face in a blue glow as he pored over holographic charts of nearby systems.

“No,” Leia replied, searching her memory for any information that might help, but coming up empty. This was a remote sector of the galaxy, and her knowledge of the area was primarily limited to the Hoth system, which they no longer appeared to be in. “Where are we?”

He centered in on a system less than a parsec away from Hoth. “The Anoat system.”

“Anoat system,” she muttered, scouring the chart for anything promising, but not feeling particularly hopeful. “There’s not much there.” If her memory served her right, the system’s only options for shelter were planets the Alliance had advised against even venturing near—pirate-infested, toxic wastelands where people had a tendency to vanish.

“No,” Han agreed, widening the map to encompass more of the surrounding area. “Well, wait,” he said, his voice rising hopefully. “This is interesting. Lando.”

“Lando system?” Leia repeated, puzzled.

Han looked back at her briefly, an unreadable expression on his face, and Leia felt a twinge of uneasiness that she couldn’t quite place. “Lando’s not a system, he’s a man,” Han explained. “Lando Calrissian. He’s a card player, gambler, scoundrel. You’d like him,” he added, eyes glinting mischievously.

“Thanks,” Leia grumbled.

“Bespin,” he continued, zooming in on a planet in a system of the same name. “It’s pretty far, but I think we can make it.”

Leia scanned the information scrolling on the screen. “A mining colony?”

“Yeah, a Tibanna gas mine. Lando conned somebody out of it. We go back a long way, Lando and me,” he added, that same inscrutable look on his face as he turned off the astrogation display and leaned back in his chair.

“Can you trust him?” Leia asked.

“No,” Han declared, without a moment’s hesitation. “But he’s got no love for the Empire, I can tell you that.”

All of a sudden they felt the Star Destroyer rumble beneath their feet as it began its pirouette into position for light-speed. “Here we go, Chewie, stand by,” Han spoke into the comm, eyes fixed on the scene outside the viewport. “Detach!”

Leia felt the deep reverberations of the Destroyer fade into nothingness as they floated away. Stars spiraling through the viewport, they tumbled down to join a stream of garbage released from a hatch in the giant capital ship. Han had timed it perfectly. Leia shook her head in wonder. “You do have your moments,” she confessed, reaching out tentatively to put a hand on his shoulder. “Not many of them, but you do have them.” Feeling a sudden burst of boldness, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Then, lips tingling, she sat back down to let him concentrate on avoiding a collision with the whirling detritus.

In a moment, the Star Destroyers had all disappeared from the Falcon’s sensors, vanished into hyperspace. Han pulled the Falcon out of the torrent of garbage and began calculating the route to the Bespin system.

“So, how long are we looking at?” Leia ventured to ask.

“Well, our hyperdrive is shot—”

“Clearly,” she snorted.

“—so we’re gonna have to use the backup hyperdrive. It ain’t fast. I’m doing the calculations now, but it looks like it’ll be, oh, about three weeks till we get to Bespin.”

“Three weeks?” she exclaimed, horrified. It made sense, of course, that it would take so long, and when she thought about it she realized she should be grateful it wasn’t longer. But until this moment, she hadn’t truly processed the implications of not having a properly working hyperdrive in a relatively empty sector of space. She hadn’t had time to. She felt weak.

Han sounded apologetic. “Hey, at least we’ve got the backup hyperdrive. This could be a whole lot worse.” He finished punching in the coordinates and set the sublight drive on autopilot before turning around to face her. “I’m pretty sure we have enough supplies to last us that long. We’ll have to do an inventory and ration out everything just to be sure, but I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

“Right,” said Leia, feeling dazed.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Han got to his feet. “Well,” he started, giving his hair a quick comb-through with his fingers, “Chewie and I had better go hook up the backup hyperdrive. You can go ahead and grab something to eat and we’ll join you later.”

“I’m not really hungry,” she muttered.

“You’re ‘not really hungry’?” Han repeated skeptically, concern and frustration warring on his face. It was a look Leia was all too familiar with—for awhile now, he’d been entirely too concerned with her eating habits. “Come on, sweetheart. I bet you haven’t eaten anything all day.”

“I ate a ration bar before the battle.”

Han rolled his eyes. “That’s not enough.”

“I’m not hungry, okay?” she snapped, a little harsher than she meant to. She didn’t want to be having this argument, and to be honest, she didn’t think she could force anything down right now, not with this tension crawling up her spine again, encompassing, constricting. She felt a little bit sick.

Han held up his hands in a gesture of defeat as he circled her chair and headed to the hatch. “Okay, Princess, do whatever you want. But if you aren’t going to eat, you could come help Chewie ’n me. I wanna get us out of sublight as soon as possible.”

Pursing her lips, Leia nodded and followed him out the door.

“I know, I know,” Han said, in answer to another frustrated roar from Chewbacca. “This field stabilizer isn’t working either. We’ll have to see if we have any more in storage.”

Leia looked at her chrono. It had been an hour since they had begun the process of switching out hyperdrives, and as far as she could tell, they weren’t even close to being done. Disconnecting the main hyperdrive had been anything but simple, and moving it had involved a small repulsorlift, a considerable amount of Wookiee brawn, and an eruption of cursing as a corner of the hyperdrive came to rest on Han’s foot (an event Leia still maintained was in no way her fault). They’d managed to drag the backup out of the number three hold with slightly less difficulty, and they’d been inspecting it ever since to make sure it was in good enough shape to use. It wasn’t.

Leia sat back on her heels, taking a break from scrubbing corrosion off the charge planes to give her aching arms a rest. Chewie disappeared into the number three hold, apparently on a search for spare parts. Han was silent. They’d traded barbs over the foot incident, as well as various other things, and he’d been in a foul mood ever since. She didn’t feel much better. Exhaustion was starting to hit hard, but as much as she wanted to be finished with the hyperdrive, she dreaded going to bed. Sleep was never easy for her, nor pleasant, especially on nights like this when the muscles in her shoulders and neck clenched under the weight of the walls of anxiety closing in. She dreaded sleep, and she dreaded waking up again. She dreaded having to figure out how to live in close quarters for so long, dreaded further eruptions between her and Han, dreaded him… well, knowing her even more than he already did; seeing more of her cracks, and more of the monster she feared was lurking underneath them.

She dreaded the fact that she was trapped here on this little ship, with no way to run—not from Han, and not from herself.

She rolled her shoulders to try and relieve some of the pain, then she resumed her scrubbing. The charge plane she was working on was so corroded she was amazed Han thought it could be salvaged. She sighed, and wondered darkly if they’d ever be able to get the backup online, or if they’d be stuck in sublight until either their rations, fresh water, and oxygen ran out or the local pirates found them. “I guess it was too much to hope that anything would be in good shape on this blasted ship,” she muttered.

Apparently that was the last straw. From the other side of the hyperdrive, she heard a clang as Han set down his hydrospanner none too gently. “Look, Your Worshipfulness,” he growled, “like I’ve said before, this is the fastest ship in the galaxy, and she’s saved your royal neck more times than I can count, so a little gratitude wouldn’t hurt. Besides, if there’s a reason she’s not in her best shape right now, it’s you and your damned Rebellion.”

Leia bristled. “My Rebellion?” she repeated, her voice rising with ire. “You’ve been with us for three years! And I seem to recall that you yourself volunteered for many of your missions, including the one to Ord Mantell!” She threw down her scrubber brush and stood up to face Han as he rounded the corner of the hyperdrive, indignation writing lines into his face. “You had weeks to finish your repairs, and all the resources and supplies you needed from us. It’s not my fault that you wasted all that time.” She vaguely noticed Chewbacca appearing in the doorway of the number three hold.

Han stood there in front of her, seething, his eyes ablaze with anger, and—to her surprise—genuine hurt. She tried not to look at his lips. He was close, so close she half expected him to take her into his arms and kiss her again, but instead he thrust out an index finger. “Look, Princess,” he snarled, “if you’d rather I’d left you on Hoth, I can turn around and drop you back off on my way outta here.”

Leia suddenly felt incredibly tired. The fire that had been surging in her blood seemed to drain away, leaving her cold and empty. “Maybe you should have,” she said quietly. Then she turned and walked out of the room.

Chapter Text

Leia sat huddled against the wall behind a few crates in the forward hold. The light in the room was blessedly dim, the only sound the quiet hum of the ship. This wasn’t the first time she had taken refuge here. A long time ago, on the way back from a mission gone horribly wrong, she had sought out a safe place to be alone, to let the tears come, to grieve over the the horrors she’d seen and everything lost, and she had found this spot. Ever since, she had thought of it as hers in a way, returning here when she needed to get away. The crates had never been moved in the two years since; she didn’t know what was in them, but she suspected that at this rate, they were likely to be permanent fixtures.

Leaning her head back against the wall, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She had hoped there for awhile that things between her and Han might be taking a turn for the better once more after that kiss, but they hadn’t even made it a day before exploding at one another. She wasn’t exactly sure how it had happened. In insulting his ship, she hadn’t meant to legitimately hurt him. She knew that he hadn’t really meant what he said about dropping her back off on Hoth, either. But still, she wondered darkly if it might not be a good idea.

What was she even doing here? This hadn’t been the plan. She had changed her mind on a whim, on the basis of a fleeting vision that probably didn’t mean anything, and now she felt like her very existence was an accident, a burden on the universe. She certainly felt like a burden on Han—if not for her, she thought again, he’d have been happily on his way a long time ago, set free from her gravitational pull. He wouldn’t have to deal with all the hurt she seemed to continuously unleash on him.

He deserves so much better, she thought, and her eyes brimmed over.

She heard the sound of the hatch opening and frantically wiped her eyes, only to find more unwelcome tears taking their place. “Leia?” Han’s voice called, gentle and tentative. His footsteps came around the corner, and she hid her face in her hands, embarrassed to be caught like this. She felt him flop down beside her. For a moment he said nothing. “I’m sorry,” he finally mumbled, voice thick. His hand settled softly on her back, tracing patterns there. “That was a terrible thing to say.”

She took in a stilted breath but didn’t respond. Was it that terrible if it was true? She shook her head.

“Leia,” Han continued, speaking her name again, and even now she felt a tingle at the sound of it from his lips, infused with so much feeling. “I—” he paused, searching for words. “I know you were planning… to stay. Back there on Hoth. And,” he paused again, his hand slowing on her back, “and I want you to know that there is no way in hell I’d want you to. I’d’ve dragged you outta there unconscious, if I had to.” He seemed to be fighting for composure. “Leia, losing you is the last thing I want.”

Despite herself, Leia felt her tears multiplying, and yet again she tried unsuccessfully to wipe them all away. “Kriff, Leia,” Han continued, a note of helplessness in his voice. “I didn’t realize things were this bad.” He traced a finger down her spine, and she shivered involuntarily.

“They’ve always been bad,” she whispered.

“No, not like this, they haven’t,” he insisted. “I mean, I know things have always been… hard, ever since—well, ever since I’ve known you. I know you’ve felt like giving up a lot of times, and sometimes you’re too goddamn reckless for your own good, but still, something’s always kept you going, kept you fighting. This time’s different. What’s changed, sweetheart?”

Leia shook her head. “I…” she started, struggling for words. “I guess I was just tired of running away from everything. From the memories… the pain.” She paused. “And tired of losing,” she added in a whisper. “Luke. You. I was driving you away. I’m still driving you away.” She risked a sideways glance towards Han. He looked simultaneously haunted and contemplative.

“I think,” he said slowly, “you’ve been running away from your feelings, too. Not just the painful ones. The ones that make you feel alive. That’s why you’ve been pushing me away.” He swallowed, then he caught her eyes. “I think if maybe you stopped running from those, you would find something worth sticking around for.”

Leia let out a long breath and studied the back of the crate in front of her. “I don’t deserve it,” she muttered, the words tumbling out almost without thinking.

“What?” he said incredulously. “Leia, you’re wrong. Blast it, sweetheart, if anyone in the galaxy deserves something good, it’s you.”

“Look,” she argued, her voice trembling as it rose, “because of me, billions of people are dead. Don’t talk to me about what I deserve.”

“Leia, look at me.” He nudged her shoulder, gently turning her to face him. Reluctantly, she looked in his eyes, half afraid of what she would see. His face was grave. “Leia, it’s not your fault,” he said. She flinched. “Hell, it’s no one’s fault but the Empire’s.”

“But—”

“No,” Han said forcefully. “You’ve told me what happened before. You had no real choice; they would have destroyed Alderaan no matter what you said. I know you’re gonna say you shouldn’t have been captured in the first place, but would you rather have sat by and done nothing during the Battle of Scarif? Abandoned the plans for your own safety? Abandoned your mission? The Death Star would still be blowin’ up planets if it weren’t for you. Leia, you’re the reason so many people are still alive.”

She searched his eyes; they were full of conviction, and she felt her own filling with fresh tears. She wanted to believe him. She rolled each word over in her mind, wishing she could convince herself of their truth.

“It’s not your fault,” he repeated, gripping her shoulders. “It’s not.” She shut her eyes as the tears spilled down her cheeks. “C’mere,” he said gruffly, and pulled her into his arms. Feeling ashamed, but unable to hold back any longer, she leaned her head against his chest and wept, finally allowing her tears full rein. “It’s not your fault,” he repeated in a whisper, over and over again, his fingers stroking her hair.

Leia wasn’t sure how long she sat there, cradled in his arms, her head on his chest, him muttering those same four words until she felt like maybe, finally, they were sinking into her very bones, planting themselves in her mind and growing into something like acceptance. It seemed so fragile, like it could be uprooted at any minute, but for now, a good part of her believed him, and that was enough. Eventually the tears slowed, and the hitches in her breath came farther and farther apart, but she didn’t really want to move. His hand was still in her hair, which was probably a mess by now, and she could hear the steady thump of his heartbeat in her ear, beating out a rhythm that soothed her. She breathed in deep the scent of him, all musk and grease and the leather seats of the Falcon, and tried to compose herself so she could say the words she needed to.

“I’m sorry I took it out on you,” she said finally. “That I’ve been taking it out on you since the beginning.” She felt Han’s chest move as he slowly exhaled.

“I’m sorry I’ve taken stuff out on you, too, sometimes,” he responded. His arm shifted as he reached up to scratch his chin. “Most of the time it’s all right, you know,” he admitted. “I know you need to blow off a little steam, so I help you do it.”

She frowned, pondering his words. “But not this time.” She looked down at the taut arm that still held her, tracing with her eyes the muscle lines of his bicep beneath his shirt. “Tell me,” she ventured, “what was really bothering you tonight? It wasn’t your foot.”

Han was quiet for a moment. “I guess,” he began, then halted, unsure. “I thought… well, ever since I told you how long it would take to get to Bespin, you’ve been as cold as a polar night on Hoth. I guess I was worried that you just… uh… didn’t want to be around me that long. That maybe, after I kissed you, you decided you were through. That maybe you’d rather be with Luke instead.”

Moving out of his arms, Leia sat up and looked at him. He didn’t return her gaze. She could feel his radiating nervousness, how he dreaded her answer, and she was shocked. How much courage must it be taking for him to be this vulnerable with her? She still couldn’t believe they were having this conversation, being so open with one another like this—just yesterday, it would have been unthinkable.

Leaning back against the wall, she contemplated how to respond. What she felt was confusing enough to herself. “First of all,” she said, “Luke and I….” She searched for words to explain their connection. “He’s my dear friend; that’s all. I only kissed him to get back at you, which was stupid and unfair to you both. I never should have done it.”

That was the easy part. The next part, not so much. “Han… it’s not that I don’t want to be around you,” she finally stammered. “And… it’s not that I didn’t like what happened earlier. I did. The truth is,” she continued, voice barely above a whisper, “I’m afraid.” She glanced over at him briefly as his eyes rose to meet hers, searching. “All of this—” she waved a hand. “All that’s happened, it’s just so… much. It’s overwhelming. I’m worried about Luke, and the Alliance—they probably think we’re dead, you know, or captured. Three weeks is a long time to be out of contact with them. And maybe plenty of time for us to get dead or captured, too. Also…” She paused, and looked down, shaking her head. “I can’t deny that I’m a little afraid of what’s happening with us, Han. I know this may not feel like much to you, but it’s a lot for me, and… and I just don’t know how to deal with it. If we follow this path to its conclusion…” She took a deep breath, then locked eyes with him. “I don’t think I could handle losing you, too.”

Han’s green-gold eyes held her own. There was a measure of some deep sadness in them, Leia thought, maybe even regret, but they were no longer clouded by worry or by any trace of the pretense so often there in the past. “I can’t promise you anything, sweetheart,” he admitted. “I’ve gotta go pay back Jabba, or else I’m putting you and everyone else in danger.”

A warmth blossomed inside Leia’s chest at the care Han’s words implied, but only briefly; frustration at his reasoning soon took over. As if we don’t all have bounties on our heads, she thought. We’re all in danger no matter where you are. She bit the retort off her tongue; this moment of unguardedness between them felt too precious to rip apart with more heated words.

“But you know,” he continued, “we’re gonna be on this ship together for a long time. Now, we don’t have to, uh, however you put it, ‘follow this path to its conclusion’ just yet. We can take our time. I won’t push you—you can set the pace, sweetheart. But blast it, Leia, it’s been painful enough tryin’ to push each other away. Don’t you think it would make things easier if we stopped fighting this, at least for awhile? See where it takes us?”

Leia’s breath grew shallow, and she felt that curious buzzing again in her core, spreading out to her limbs, speaking of wild possibilities. Once again, the vision in the command center rose like a ghost in her mind, with its message of hope, a hope that suddenly seemed much more material again. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, willing it to stay. Loss be damned; she didn’t want to spend her whole life walling herself off, avoiding everything good in order to protect (or punish) herself. Locking herself away from love had so far only served to shut her in with her grief, laying herself on its altar to be consumed. Whether or not she deserved it, she wanted something more. Opening her eyes again, she sought out Han’s, his hazel laced through with mingling caution and desire. “I guess I’m willing to try,” she said quietly.

Han broke into one of his lopsided grins, radiant with unguarded delight, and abruptly the buzzing grew to a fever pitch. Leia returned his smile. He cocked his eyebrows in a silent question, then gently he took her tilted chin in hand, and with a thrill of emotion she felt coursing through the both of them, he pressed his lips to hers. The electricity cracked like lightning, and once again, time seemed to disappear, taking her anxieties with it. This was really happening, right here, right now, Han was kissing her, and she felt she could explode from the rightness of it all. His mouth was soft and searching against her own, his hand leaving her chin to weave through the hair on the back of her head, and she tentatively returned his fervor, testing the waters between them with newfound delight.

Finally, by some mutual decision, they parted, but they stayed wrapped close together, gazing into each other’s eyes. Han’s clouded with so much emotion as he looked at her that Leia thought briefly it might spill over; a vast sea of devotion and raw desire. Then he smiled and shook his head. “Well, sweetheart,” he said, “how about we give that backup hyperdrive another try?”

Leia grinned. “Good idea, Captain,” she replied. She stood up, hauling Han up after her.

Chewbacca had some words for Han when they got back to the engine room; Leia didn’t find it hard to guess at their meaning. He quickly relented, however, upon seeing their new demeanor; Leia was sure her own face, as much as Han’s, was plastered with a stupid grin. She promptly realized that the disheveled state of her hair, too, likely spoke volumes about what had just occurred. She felt her cheeks grow warm.

Han raised his hands. “Sorry, pal. I owe you one.”

Chewie let out a series of roars with what seemed like significantly less frustration, then gestured to the backup hyperdrive, which was now connected to the wall.

“The hyperdrive is ready to go,” Han relayed to Leia. The Wookiee broke in with another pointed roar, and Han rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not translating that part for her, you big oaf.”

“What?” Leia said.

Chewie articulated a series of sounds that she’d come to interpret as laughter.

“Anyway,” said Han—

“That’s it, I’m learning Shyriiwook on this trip,” Leia interrupted. Chewie looked pleased.

—“Anyway,” said Han, “Chewie ’n I are gonna take her to lightspeed.” He stopped, a brief shadow of caution crossing his features before he continued. “Um, how about you go get yourself something to eat? We’ll join you in a minute and then we can talk sleeping arrangements.”

“Sure. Okay. You win, Nerfherder,” Leia responded, rolling her eyes, but still unable to fully hold back a smile. Surprisingly, she was kind of hungry. Turns out kissing does wonders for relieving tension, she thought.

She made her way to the main hold to scour the cabinets for food. Soon she felt the slight shift that indicated that they were in hyperspace, and she breathed out a sigh of relief, letting another small pocket of the tension she’d been carrying melt away. Rummaging in a cabinet near the dejarik table, she found a significant store of ration packs. She also found some glasses, which she filled with water from the dispenser before setting them on the dejarik table.

“I haven’t counted them since before Ord Mantell,” Han announced as he walked in with Chewie, “but I’m pretty sure we’ve got enough food for three weeks. We’ll have to do an inventory tomorrow.”

“Here,” said Leia, tossing them each a ration pack. They joined her as she sat down at the dejarik table and opened her own. Her stomach growled, and as she rehydrated the contents of her pack, she had to admit that these actually looked pretty decent. “Is this Bilbringi food?” she asked between bites. She’d had Bilbringi pies once or twice before while on Coruscant, and she recognized the unique blend of meat, cheese, peppers, and spices that left her tongue pleasantly burning.

“My favorite,” Han said from beside her as he demolished his. “There are a bunch of different kinds of packs in there,” he added, nodding in the direction of the cabinet, “but I always make sure to stock up on the Bilbringi ones. Chewie and I both love ‘em.” Chewbacca growled. “Okay, Chewie prefers stuffed chyntuk, but he says the flavors aren’t all that different.”

Leia smiled at the Wookiee. “I’ll have to try that sometime.” Chewie responded with a gratified roar.

Stomach satiated, Leia leaned back in the seat, subdued by a wave of fresh exhaustion. Checking her chrono, she realized that while it wasn’t that late yet in Galactic Standard Time, even she would have retired hours ago on Hoth. And this had been no normal day. She could hardly believe that just that morning, she had been talking to Luke in the medical bay, without any clue of the calamity and triumph the following hours would bring. Quite frankly, it was astonishing any of them were still on their feet.

As if reading her thoughts, Han cleared his throat. “So… um, since we’ll be on the Falcon awhile, I figured I can take the bunk out here, and you can take your pick of the ones in the crew quarters.”

Leia opened her mouth to argue, then she stopped short. True, everyone had always shared the crew quarters on past missions when sleep was required (except for Chewbacca, who had his own hammock in the number three hold). But that had been a rare occurrence, and it had been even rarer that any sleeping arrangements on the ship involved just Han and Leia. Despite the fact that it would inconvenience him, Han was offering her her own private space for the duration of the slow crawl to Bespin, and Leia was grateful.

“Thank you Han,” she said with genuine appreciation. “That would be wonderful.”

Han grinned, pleased at her reaction. “All right then. Chewie and I will take our turns in the ‘fresher, then it’s all yours.”

Half an hour later, after a soothing session in the sonic shower, Leia finally lay in one of the bunks, a blanket pulled up to her neck, warmer than she could remember feeling since she first landed on Hoth—it seemed like years ago, now. As sleep slowly tugged at her mind, her last conscious thoughts were of Han: the bright hot fire of their first kiss in the circuitry bay, awakening a part of her she’d kept starved for so long. Him holding her close to his chest in the forward hold as she wept, and how he’d felt safe, like home. “It’s not your fault,” his words drifted by in a whisper, as the current steadily carried her towards sleep.

For the first time in years, no nightmares disturbed Leia’s rest, not even the faintest nudge of a dream. She slept deeply and peacefully until morning.

Chapter Text

The calm, static hum of the sonic shower rang in Leia’s ears as her eyes fluttered open. Disoriented, she started awake in alarm. Then she sank back onto her pillow, exhaling the sudden jolt of adrenaline. It was all okay, or mostly so. She was on the Falcon. She was safe.

The events of the previous day accelerated through her mind, and she shook her head in wonder. In so many ways it had been hell, and yet the sudden, long-awaited blooming between her and Han seemed to blot out the horror and despair like an eclipse. Closing her eyes, she replayed once again the two encounters that had ended with a kiss, relishing the memory of the sudden rupture in the dam of their restraint, joy and hungry desire rushing in through the breach and opening up something marvelous inside her.

The sound of the sonic shower stilled. She wondered whether it was Han or Chewie in there, and what state they’d found her in when they’d entered the cabin. She imagined Han seeing her with her mouth hanging open, drool pooling on the pillow, but she bit back the embarrassment. It wasn’t as if this was the first time she’d been forced to set aside some of her pride for the sake of life in the Rebellion; not by a long shot, and it was certainly not the first time in this particular state of vulnerability with Han—though she admitted that somehow things felt different now after the shift between them. Much more worrisome was the fact that she hadn’t even stirred; that, whoever the current occupant of the shower may be, their initial presence hadn’t impinged upon her state of unconsciousness in the slightest.

The door to the shower opened, startling her once again in her less-than-fully-alert state. For a split second she considered faking sleep to avoid any awkwardness, but the moment was already past. Feeling resigned, she pushed herself up on one arm, and oh—

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” Han said cheerfully as he strolled out of the shower, combing a hand through his hair, his chest bare.

Leia blinked. She was abruptly aware that if she hadn’t looked undignified earlier, she most certainly did now, with the trappings of sleep still clinging to her and her mouth frozen in a little ‘o’ where she had opened it to reply. Quickly—too late, was that a smirk on Han’s face?—she lifted her eyes to meet his, deciding to ignore what had just happened (along with various elements of the scene before her). She had learned long ago that even when she couldn’t control the outer state people caught her in, she could control her inner dignity. Picturing herself in her regal finery, she lifted her chin and smiled pleasantly. “Good morning, Han. Did you sleep well?”

He shrugged. “Not that great. I was, uh, a little preoccupied.”

“Preoccupied?” She frowned.

He flashed her a grin. “Well, there was a certain princess that kept poppin’ up in my dreams….”

Blast it, why did Han always have to slip in right through the seams of her composure? “Oh really?” she challenged, trying to cover for her blush by arching her eyebrows, but to her chagrin she failed to keep the fluster entirely out of her voice. Already her imagination was helpfully supplying her with various intriguing possibilities as to what his dreams might have entailed.

His grin widened. “How ‘bout you?”

“What?”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Oh. I slept quite well, thank you.”

It was his turn to raise his brows.

“No really, I did.”

“I guess you were out pretty hard when I got in the shower,” he said. Were his eyes twinkling? Suddenly she felt very conscious of the fact that she was only wearing a tank top and her underthings, a realization that was amplified due to the nearness of his bare chest. She pulled the blanket a little bit closer to her neck.

Seeming to sense her discomfort, he shifted on his feet and ran a hand through his hair again. “Well,” he said, “I’ve got some caf brewing out there whenever you want some. Uh… let me know if I can get you anything.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at him awkwardly.

As soon as the hatch closed behind him, she hopped out of the bunk and started rummaging through the compartments. She had always kept an extra travel case somewhere on the Falcon due to the frequency of past missions on the beloved junkheap. She’d discovered in the past that one never knew when an extra hygiene kit or change of clothes might come in handy. If only she could find it—it seemed it had been moved. Finally, she double-checked the cupboard where Chewie stored his brush; she’d barely given it a glance earlier, but after pushing aside long wads of Wookiee hair, she discovered her small travel case wedged in the back. Grimacing, she extracted it, brushed off the hair that had accumulated on it, and headed to the ‘fresher.

Warily she glanced in the small mirror, but the state of things wasn’t quite as bad as she had feared. Her eyes looked a little puffy—she supposed her body wasn’t sure what to do with that much sleep—and her hair was a little tangled where it wasn’t braided tight. After stripping and depositing her clothes in the little built-in autovalet, she got to work on her hair, thankful for the extra brush in her travel case. With practiced hands she unwove it and combed it out then rebraided it and pinned it in a crown, her go-to style as of late for its simplicity and practicality. The indicator light on the autovalet stopped blinking, and she pulled out her clean clothes, setting aside the snowsuit and opting instead for the simple leggings and long-sleeved shirt she wore underneath it. Quickly she washed her face, dabbed on some makeup, and tended to her teeth with the vaporpick, grateful for the one she’d first claimed as her own many missions ago. Satisfied, and with a peculiar flutter of nerves that she only half-acknowledged, she headed out to the main hold to find Han and his promised caf.

He wasn’t there—she could hear some tinkering going on in the far circuitry bay—but there was a full, steaming cup of caf on the dejarik table that she knew from experience he’d left for her. She sat down and pulled it close. The heat nearly burned her, leaving her hands tingling, but after all those long, cold months on Hoth where nothing ever seemed to stay warm, she relished it. She closed her eyes and breathed deep the scent of the caf, then she took a small sip. Han had always known how to brew it right.

Hearing footsteps, she opened her eyes to find the now-shirted scoundrel in question sauntering in. He stopped short at the sight of her. The look he gave her was only for a moment, but she caught it—she supposed it had been awhile since he’d seen her out of the snowsuit—but he quickly smiled, thumbs curling through his belt loops. “Caf okay?” he asked, the strain of tentativeness in his voice betraying the confidence of his smile.

“It’s perfect,” she declared, smiling back at him in a way she hoped was full of warmth and appreciation. They were silent for a moment. “Where’s Chewie?” she asked.

“Sleepin’ in. I wouldn’t go anywhere near the number three hold if I were you.”

“Ah. Thanks for the heads up.”

“C’n I come join you for breakfast?”

“Sure.”

“All right, I’ll get some water for the packs.”

She nodded. As he filled up a carafe at the dispenser, she wondered about this new awkwardness between them. There had always been a sort of tension, she supposed, from the day they first met; a tension that had so often resulted in them lashing out at each other. But now it was as if they were both tiptoeing around it, determined not to set off any mines while exploring this new territory. Yesterday already seemed so far off, but its events lingered in the air, full of both heaviness and promise, a promise she couldn’t help but feel was all too delicate. Who knew whether it would hold up under that tension, the push and the pull? Would one explosive step too far, either of a belligerent or passionate nature, destroy it forever? And then there was the question of how to do this, how to be where yesterday they’d grown towards, here in this quiet in-between. She’d had relationships before, but none had ever felt like this. None had been this significant, this full of potential both for good and for bad. None had ever had such a claim on her heart.

Han came back with the water and sat down at the table with a couple of ration packs.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“A proper Corellian breakfast,” he answered with a grin. “Always used to keep ‘em around, but I guess it's been awhile. Lucky we stocked up on them a few weeks ago.” He pointed at the different pockets. “Vweilu nut buns, Corellian apples and nerf sausage.”

Leia looked skeptically at the packs. “In ration pack form?”

Han rolled his eyes. “Sorry, your highness, but this is what us lowlifes have to make do with.”

Leia felt sheepish. “I didn’t mean—”

“Nah, its okay, I know what you meant,” Han cut in reassuringly, and she realized his earlier comment hadn’t had the edge it once would have had. “It sits a bit heavy, and it’ll last you awhile, but it ain’t gonna make you sick, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Good,” she said, smiling. “I wouldn’t want to upset my delicate royal stomach, you know.”

He chuckled in response and began rehydrating the packs. Is this what it’s like now? Leia wondered. Trading the barbs for banter? The way they had both just let go of what once would have easily turned into a full-blown argument, had turned it into good-natured teasing… yes, this was good. She liked this kind of battle. She gave Han an amused smile as he pushed a rehydrated breakfast pack over to her.

“So,” she asked between bites, “what’s the plan for today, Captain?” The food really was good, though she’d probably take it easy on the nerf sausage to avoid any regrets later.

“Inventory,” he said, though it sounded more like “iwe’ory” through a mouthful of bun. He swallowed. “Food supplies, water. An’ I gotta do some check-ups on the Falcon’s other systems, make sure they’re all running smoothly.”

“Sounds good,” she replied. “I’ll take care of the inventory; you and Chewie can focus on the ship.”

“Whatever you say, Princess.” Han flashed her a wide grin. “How do you feel about some music?”

A little over an hour later, Leia had counted up all the ration packs and was just finishing her calculations concerning the water supply. She could hear Han humming along to the raucous Corellian music in the rear circuitry bay, occasionally breaking into song himself, and she chuckled. His voice wasn’t half bad. She’d never grown up with Corellian music—it was much more gritty, less refined than she was used to—but she was finding that she liked it, for the most part, especially when Han was so clearly enjoying it. It was a jolt of raw, spirited fun, and the work of the morning had gone by fast.

Soon after they’d turned on the music, Chewie had emerged from the number three hold with a number of choice roars for Han, but since then the cheerful mood had seemed to settle on him, too, and he could occasionally be heard yowling along to the music when it got especially boisterous.

A rousing ballad gave way to another song with a particularly good beat, and with a pang, Leia felt herself reminiscing, her memory taking her back to stage lights and Lashaa silk, moving intricately in sync to a bass thump not entirely unlike this one. She stilled, her fingers pausing over her datapad. She’d chosen her priorities long ago, had sacrificed many things she enjoyed doing for something much more important… but still, she missed those things, sometimes.

Swallowing back the ache of memory, she finished her calculations and reported to Han in the circuitry bay. She found him and Chewie tapping their feet, jiving to the music together as they ran diagnostics and uploaded data spikes. They both erupted triumphantly in song at the chorus. Smiling, she cleared her throat. Han turned around, and with a twinkle in his eye, he snapped his way jovially over to her, grabbing her by the hand and giving her a whirl. She laughed, and it felt free, genuine in a way laughing hadn’t for awhile. He pulled her in and planted a kiss on her forehead.

“All right, you scoundrel,” she teased, stepping back a little so as not to get too distracted from her mission. “It looks like we’re not going to starve or die of thirst, though we’ll need to be frugal with how much food and water we use each day. I’ve divided up the ration packs.”

“Great. Thanks, Leia,” Han replied. “Chewie ’n I’ve still got some more work to do on the power distribution adjusters before we’re ready to call it quits. We’re gonna divert a little power from the environmental systems to the backup hyperdrive—it’ll increase our speed, but it might make it a little cold in here. You okay with that?”

“Sure. If I can handle Hoth, I can handle a chilly ship.” She pondered for a moment. “I think I might go find Threepio and see if I can’t start learning some Shyriiwook.” Chewbacca ululated joyfully, and she smiled at him. “With any luck, I’ll know what you just said by the end of the trip.”

He added a few more growls, and Han translated for him. “He says he’ll come join you soon so you can learn from the real deal.”

She beamed at him. “I’m looking forward to it.”

She found Threepio in the cockpit where they’d so unsanctimoniously shut him down the day before. He was none too pleased when he was awakened, and even less so when he discovered what he was awakened for.

“Why anyone would ever choose to learn Shyriiwook is quite beyond me,” he prattled. “It’s rather uncivilized, and I must confess I dislike producing such coarse sounds.”

Leia rolled her eyes at the droid's prejudice. “You’ll get over it,” she said. “Now, how do you say, ‘Shut up and teach me?’”

Chewbacca growled, his pitch rising, undulating, then lowering again. Leia considered for a moment. They had been hard at work for a few hours now, and she felt like the time was finally beginning to pay off. “The Falcon flies,” she translated.

Chewie shook his head, then repeated the statement. Suddenly, she smiled as recognition hit her—she’d caught the inflection on the end this time. “The Falcon flew,” she corrected herself.

The Wookiee bellowed in approval. «You’re doing well, Princess!»

Her smile grew bigger as she was able to piece together that statement, too. “Thanks.” She shook her head. “I’m just glad I’m finally getting to this. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long.”

He let out a series of utterances she couldn’t quite understand, though she caught “you” and “all right.”

“He expresses his understanding and wishes you to know he does not mind,” See-Threepio jumped in, looking rather bored, though relieved now that he didn’t have to personally produce Wookiee phonemes. “Most people do not take the time to learn his language at all. He is honored that you’re doing so.”

Leia frowned. “You’re my friend, Chewbacca. I should have done this a long time ago.”

Chewie reached out and ruffled her hair, taking care not to mess up her braids in the process, articulating something else as he did so.

“He says that you’ve had enough on your mind, Little One,” translated Threepio.

Leia let out a breath and gazed at the Wookiee, a slow, small smile coming back to her face. His clear blue eyes were full of fondness. Even when Han had been at his most difficult, she’d never had any doubts about Chewbacca’s heart. The Wookiee had always been unwavering in his support and care for her, and his belief in the cause of the Rebellion was only second to his loyalty to Han. Despite the distance she felt from him due to the language barrier, a distance she now intended to close, she’d developed a soft spot for her Wookiee friend, and she knew it went both ways.

“All right,” she conceded. “I suppose I can give you that.”

«You can, because it’s true.»

“Well, I think my mind has had enough to chew on for today. Shall we renew our studies tomorrow?”

He roared his affirmative.

“Chewbacca additionally wishes to suggest that it is now the time for filling stomachs instead of minds,” Threepio added.

Leia laughed. “Shall we go in search of some dinner, then?”

At Chewie’s enthusiastic agreement, they untangled themselves from their comfortable positions draped over the pilot’s and copilot’s chairs, and the three of them—the princess, the Wookiee, and a slightly befuddled, rather lonely droid—set out for the main hold.

It was several hours after dinner, and Leia sat curled up at the dejarik table, eyes glued to her datapad. It had been awhile since she’d had time to do any reading. She was currently absorbed in a novel she’d previously downloaded from the DarkNet, a work of historical fiction about the young queen of Naboo who would later become a senator before her untimely death. Senator Amidala had been a friend of her parents, and Leia had always admired her work and held her in high esteem as a role model for her own senatorial career, along with her father and Mon Mothma.

Unfortunately, while the storyline was interesting, she found the novel rather problematic, overly sentimental, and at times farfetched. She seriously doubted whether the young queen had collapsed in despair and been relegated to her bed for days at the start of the Trade Federation’s blockade, or that the then fourteen-year-old had had a secret, whirlwind love affair with one of the Jedi who’d accompanied her to Coruscant. The current chapter was fast devolving; at yet another desperate, overwrought dialogue sequence between the queen and Kenobi, which was quickly turning into a cheesy, full-blown romantic interlude, she found her mind wandering.

Han was sprawled on the floor several feet away, arms tucked beneath his head as he rested. He had just called it quits on the power system. Chewbacca had already retreated to the number three hold. Threepio, surprisingly enough, had decided to power off after helping Han and Chewie run some more diagnostics, though not without many assurances that he would be happy to assist the moment his services were called for. He’d expressed dismay upon hearing how long it would take to reach Bespin, and Leia guessed that he’d rather not spend the entire trip powered on with nothing to do, an uninterested audience, and no trusted astromech companion to vent to. Whatever the case, his absence was somewhat of a relief.

Han shifted on the floor, tapping his feet softly to the rhythm of a song they’d heard earlier. Leia figured now was as good a time as any to ask the question that had been burning at the edges of her mind all day, though for some reason, she felt strangely reticent. After cracking open so deeply the day before, exposing their hearts so greatly, today had been so quiet; so utterly normal that the openings seemed to be mending without her consent. The awkwardness between them again felt magnified.

“Han?” she ventured.

“Hmm?”

She took a deep breath. “How did you know to come back for me? There on Hoth?”

He opened his eyes and rolled onto his side, pushing himself up onto one arm so as to get a better look at her. His eyes were thoughtful and concerned. “Rieekan,” he said simply. “He knew something was up. Commed me just as I was getting ready to leave.”

“He did? What did he say?”

“He said you were still in the command center, that you wouldn’t come with him, and that he was worried. Said if anyone could get you out, it’d be me.”

“Oh.” Leia looked back down at her datapad, though she didn’t really register it. She was thinking of her conversation with Rieekan the day before. So he had guessed—at everything. Once again she felt a rush of gratitude and fondness for the man, and a pang at the thought of how she had attempted to deceive him. She imagined him now, grieving her disappearance, then pushed it quickly out of her mind. The thought of that sort of loss was too painful. For now, she turned her attention back to Han, who was getting up off the floor. He dropped into the booth beside her.

“Thank you,” she said, still looking down. “Thanks for coming back.”

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he murmured in response, and she nuzzled into his chest as his arms wrapped around her. She exhaled slowly, letting his presence push back the gnawing guilt that threatened to surge to the surface once more.

But she could only let herself settle so far. He’d come back for her on Hoth, but would he come back again after paying his debts?

She didn’t have the heart to ask.

Chapter Text

Leia peered over the embankment, Han, Luke and Chewie by her side. Quickly her eyes took in the scene before her: a squad of stormtroopers and a few self-important officers hurried through the square, guarding a data tape with key intelligence that, from what she’d gathered, had enough intel on the Alliance to do some serious damage. Not if we have anything to say about it, Leia thought, setting her teeth grimly as they rushed over the embankment and began exchanging fire with the troopers. Other members of their Rebel strike team materialized from the buildings across from them, joining the fray. One by one, the stormtroopers fell. She, Luke, Han and Chewie fought seamlessly together with the synchronicity and steady familiarity that she knew came from their deep bond, from all that they’d faced together throughout the years. She felt at home with them, and exhilarated. They had the upper hand. The Empire would never know the secrets collected in that tape.

Suddenly, she became aware that one of the Rebels on the opposite side of the square was hovering off the ground, an expression of bewilderment on his face as his hands flew to his neck. His eyes rolled back in his head as he fought for air, but to no avail—as if gripped by an invisible hand, his body jerked and was slammed lifelessly into the ground. The Rebel beside him followed a moment later. The battle around her slowed to a near standstill, and to Leia it seemed as if she were caught in a vise-grip, frozen horribly in place as one by one, the Rebels around the perimeter were lifted, choked, and flung dead to the ground. She tried to cry out, to warn the others, but no sound escaped her; she could only watch in horror as Chewie, then finally Han, her Han, was wrenched up into the air beside her. His hands clutched at his throat as his eyes met her own, surprised and confused and scared, pleading for her to do something—anything—to help him. Desperately she strained against the bonds that held her, but she felt enclosed, muzzled, buried alive. She tried to scream, but there was no sound, no release. A final look of panic, and then a fleeting look of betrayal—then the light in Han’s eyes went out, and he crumpled to the ground. As if released from a spell, Leia fell on her knees beside him, her anguished “no’s” spilling over in cascading disbelief. She bent down to kiss his lips, not caring who might see—how was it that they could have finally discovered the wonder of each other, only to be torn apart like this? How could the Force be so cruel? How had she failed, yet again, to save the ones she loved?—but instead she was wrenched away by an unforgiving hand. The mechanical, dreaded breath that haunted her every waking moment echoed throughout the square, and she and Luke, the only other survivor, were shoved towards the source of it, the monstrous towering shadow she knew only too well. This time, she knew, there would be no escape….

Abruptly the scene wavered, then it blurred into a more pleasant one. Relief flooded through her. She was home, at the palace in Aldera, in one of her favorite spots: the Hall of Arches, wide and airy and lined on one side by open windows that looked out over the city. Laughter arose on the wind along with a music that made her want to dance down the hall, but remembering her age and TooVee’s lectures on propriety, she settled for a dignified twirl before walking to look out one of the windows.

Something was wrong. The laughter faded, and the sunlight shone less brightly. There was a shadow in the sky, a moon that should not be. Dread filled her; she knew what this was, she knew what was coming. She had done this, it was her fault, and she had to warn everyone, she had to warn her parents—

She rushed through the winding halls and rooms, but the palace had become a labyrinth, and she couldn’t find anyone. Panic filled her—she had to warn them, it was her fault—as halls she thought she knew by heart became dead-ends or else turned into cold, hexagonal black passages with grated floors.

Finally she turned a corner, and there was a door; the door to the garden, and she could hear pleasant chattering outside: her mother’s soft, musical voice, her father’s rich baritone, their mingled laughter. Rushing down a tree-lined path towards the sound, she called out, but got no response. She wound past the clearing in the lillet bushes, past the fountain she’d always loved to sneak away and play in as a little girl, and finally, after climbing some steps, she emerged out onto the western lawn. Two figures were standing hand in hand at the edge of the balcony on the far side, gazing out towards the city and Appenza Peak beyond. “Mother! Father!” she called to them again, relief flooding through her as she approached them. They didn’t turn. A chill filled her heart. “Mother! Father!” she cried again, this time louder, more desperate. Bail and Breha stood still as stone.

Suddenly, the mechanical breathing once again filled the air; no, it was right behind her, right down her neck, and its iron hands clamped her in place, keeping her from crossing the lawn. Struggling, she screamed for her parents again, begging them to hear her.

The sky turned a sickly green, then all was fire.

Leia sat up, gasping, a scream dying in her throat. She was shaking, covered in sweat, and she swallowed down the urge to vomit. Not real, she told herself. It wasn’t real. Glancing around the cabin, she tried to anchor herself, slow her breathing. It was dark in the crew quarters save for the emergency lights running along the floor; faintly luminous chevrons pointing towards the exit. Right now it reminded her a little too much of those dark, sterile corridors and the floor and ceiling grates in her cell, lattices of black steel that had wholly failed to keep out the red glow behind and the all-pervading fire in her mind.

Shutting her eyes, then opening them again, she tried to will away the image of that place and bring back the feeling of safety she’d always felt here on the Falcon. It didn’t work. Tonight the gleaming arrows were only more windows into flame. The air felt thick, and the blackness and the narrow walls seemed to close in around her, crushing her.

Out. She needed out. She threw off her blanket and bounded out of her bunk, legs shaking beneath her as she pulled on her leggings and followed the chevrons to the door. Palming the control, she stumbled out of the room into the hallway and slumped against the wall. It was a little less dark here, the blackness less heavy, the emergency lights less sinister, though the air moving down the hall lent it more of a ghostly feel. She shivered. Images arose unbidden of the dead, marching around the bend of the corridor towards her, bringing with them their accusations. She shook her head and swallowed. Forcing herself to move, she headed towards the main hold. Maybe if she could just stay in there for a little while, near Han, she would slip out of her fear and leave the nightmares behind.

Tiptoeing, she turned into the main hold. The lights from the engineering station glowed softly, and the low rumble of the ship was more prominent here, a vaguely comforting sound. And there was Han, sprawled out in the bunk above the dejarik table, asleep. She felt her breath calm a little at his presence. Moving towards the engineering station, she sank gently into the chair.

It had been several days already since they’d started their voyage, and until tonight, her nightmares had vanished, seemingly left behind in the caves of ice and snow. But now that they’d found her and come to torment her again, it was clear to her that she would never truly escape. Did you actually think you would? She shook her head, incredulous at her own naïveté. Love might provide some relief, but it sure as hell wasn’t a cure.

Also, it seemed, being in Han’s proximity wasn’t going to banish the images from tonight’s dreams that continued to race through her mind. While she no longer felt like her fear was in control, she still shook, her muscles refusing to relax, her thoughts denying her solace. Seeking a distraction, she silently began counting all the lights on the engineering station, trying her best to slow her breathing as she did so. She counted them once, then twice, just to make sure she got the number right. Then she counted them in all the various Alderaanian dialects she knew, followed by Bocce, Sullustese, Mando’a, Aqualish, Pantoran, Huttese, and Ubese. When that failed to have the desired effect, she ran through a few old dance routines in her mind, trying to remember the steps, but her mind couldn’t stay focused long enough to get through them. Giving up, she recited the ten principal oaths of Alderaanian rule, the five essential virtues of the sungoddess Sola, and the seven precepts of Abayo, god of justice, before remembering how irrelevant those things were anymore in the light of the fire that had consumed them, the fire that threatened to consume her mind now.

Leia hugged her knees to her chest to gain some warmth. She couldn’t stop shivering, and while she guessed that it might be due to more than just the temperature, she still felt cold. She considered getting up to make a hot drink but quickly set that thought aside. She didn’t want to wake Han. Instead, she moved to tuck her legs underneath her so she could curl even deeper in on herself. To her alarm, the chair creaked—loudly.

In the bunk across the room, Han shot up like a lightning bolt, blaster already in hand as he leapt to the floor. He stopped short at the sight of her. She must have looked like a wreck; all pale and shivering and sheepish in the dim glow of the engineering station. “I’m sorry, Han,” she grimaced. “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He was over to her side in a heartbeat. “Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, kneeling so he could look in her eyes. He shook his head. “Don’t even think about apologizing. Nightmares?” She nodded. “Here, let me get you a blanket.” He hit the room’s illumination controls as he went out the door, and the light flooding into the room was a relief, dimming the brightness of the flames in her mind. He was soon back, draping a spare blanket around her, and leading her over to the dejarik table. “Caf, mocoa or cider?” he asked as he pulled on a shirt.

“Some cider would be nice,” Leia responded, teeth still chattering, though not as bad as they were before. She sat snuggled up in the blanket and watched Han as he heated water from the dispenser and poured it into two mugs, mixing a packet of instant cider powder into each one. Bringing them over, he sat down beside her at the table, pushing her mug in front of her before leaning back to put his arm around her. The pressure and warmth felt safe on her back, like a barrier between her and what haunted her. The mug was pleasantly hot in her hands, the spices of the cider fragrant and appealing. She felt herself relaxing a little more.

Han rubbed her shoulder with his thumb. “Well,” he said after a few minutes of silence, “you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” she said automatically. Then she shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Han said nothing, but his fingers continued to work gently at the tightness in her shoulder. She considered his offer for a moment. She thought about all the images bubbling up in her mind, threatening to brim over; all that tension, trapped, ready to explode.

All of a sudden, she was tired of being silent.

“I dreamed of Alderaan, again,” she heard herself saying, half-surprised she could say it. “I was there, at the palace in Aldera, and I couldn’t warn my parents… I couldn’t warn anyone in time. It—” her voice caught. “I can see the fire, still.” She examined her hands and the mug of steaming liquid she’d enfolded in them to stop them from shaking. “It never really goes away,” she muttered.

Han pulled her closer into his warmth.

“Also….” she struggled to find the words. This was the hardest part. She’d dreamed of Alderaan’s destruction many times before—if not in this exact form, then in many similar variations, each as agonizing as the other. But the other dream… that was something new. True, she’d had plenty of dreams over the past few years about Han dying or leaving, and those dreams had forced her to come face to face with emotions she hadn’t wanted to confront at the time; feelings she’d desperately tried to stuff down afterwards. But now that her relationship with Han was openly unfolding into something deeper, the dreams brought a new kind of torment. She wondered, again, if this wasn’t a mistake. If she ever lost him… the fear of it burrowed deep, sharper than ever before.

She took a deep breath, then let it all tumble out. “I dreamed you died,” she started, and the words pricked her tongue, too painful to say very loudly. “Vader choked you, killed you, and I… I couldn’t move. I could only stand by and watch.” She focused on the slow twirl of steam from her cider. “I believe you hated me, there for a minute, at the end.”

“Hated you?” Han repeated incredulously. “Sweetheart, look at me.” She lifted her eyes reluctantly to his. “Leia, you know I wouldn’t. Look, I know your nightmares make everything out to be your fault, but they’re blasted liars. It’s not your fault,” he stated again, emphatically. “Sometimes there’s nothin’ you can do, nothin’ that wouldn’t make it worse.” He paused. “And I know you; I know if it ever came to that, you’d do somethin’ to save me if you could.”

“I would,” she replied, looking back down at her cider as her eyes filled with tears. She set it back on the table.

“I know,” he said simply. The truth and feeling in his words compelled her eyes back to his. “I know,” he repeated, softer, his voice both firm and tender. Those two words seemed to stand in for all that was between them, both acknowledged and unacknowledged.

They gazed at each other for a few moments, and Leia let out a deep breath. She parted her lips to reply—although she wasn’t yet sure how—but Han saved her the trouble. He kissed her, long and deep; gently, though, without prodding her for more. She let herself sink into it like a soft blanket.

They parted, and she turned to grab her cup of cider again before nestling against his side. Both of them sipped silently for awhile. Leia felt her eyes drooping. A Corellian tune from earlier tried to piece itself back together in her mind, and her thoughts, veering toward the man beside her, idly wound their way to Han’s homeworld. Not for the first time, she wondered about his past. He’d rarely ever talked much about his life before the Rebellion during their years as friends—most of what she knew was what the Alliance had uncovered soon after he came on board, or what she and Luke had pieced together from fragments he’d let slip during conversations. She hoped that maybe this long voyage might allow her the chance to dig even deeper beneath the surface; to discover more about what made Han Han. Sleepily, she went through all of the facts she knew about Corellia. An industrial world of shipyards and sea-ports, dense, polluted cities, but also vast wildernesses, and mountains not unlike her own…. Suddenly, she got another glimpse of Han’s desperate face, begging her as he fought for air. She jolted, nearly spilling her cider.

“You okay?” Han said, concerned.

“I’m sorry, I must have drifted off.” She blinked, trying to bring herself back to reality.

“We should get you back to bed.”

Leia nearly shuddered at the idea. If her nightmares were trying to return out here, she’d likely have no defense against them in the dark, stifling crew quarters. “I don’t know, Han,” she said. “I don’t think I can go back in there. And anyway, as soon as I close my eyes, I see things again.” She considered for a moment. “Maybe we could switch places—you move back to the cabin and I’ll stay out here. I don’t want to keep you up.”

Han idly rubbed her shoulder again. He looked thoughtful. “I think I’ve got a better idea,” he said.

A few minutes later they were both settled into adjacent bunks in the crew quarters. Leia had to admit that the air seemed a lot less heavy now that Han was in there with her, his head only a few centimeters from her own. His hand dangled off the side of his bunk, close enough that she could reach out and grab it if she wanted to.

She had tried to object at first, insisting that sharing a room would keep him up more than she already had. Inwardly, she feared him waking up to her in the throes of another nightmare. It had happened several times on past missions, and while Han had never failed to (if awkwardly) comfort her and show her understanding and kindness, she was still deeply embarrassed. It was a vulnerability she wasn’t sure she was willing to fully share with him just yet.

And yet… she was exhausted, and the thought of Han being near her made the idea of sleep sound less terrifying. Perhaps she could fall asleep still wrapped in the comfort of his earlier kiss; with him there, it might not flee. Perhaps if she woke up again, his presence would be an anchor, pulling her back to reality.

In the end, her drowsiness won out.

As her eyes began to close, lulled by the sound of Han’s steady breathing, she decided she’d made the right choice.

Chapter Text

“Arrrauugghrrr anraaagh,” said Chewie.

Leia chuckled. “Han is an idiot cub,” she repeated in Basic, grinning.

“Why, certainly I don’t agree with his decisions all the time, but—”

Chewie let out another roar that shut the droid up. Threepio had once again been woken up to talk to the ship’s computer as they did repairs, as well as for the secondary purpose of helping Leia with her Shyriiwook. They’d previously tried to tackle her language learning with Han as a translator instead, but that had gone south pretty quickly—Chewie had relished the chance to tease Han with some things he wasn’t particularly fond of translating. While Leia had learned some interesting words in the process, it had soon ended with Han throwing up his hands and exclaiming, “I don’t have to do this, you big furry oaf!” before walking out of the room.

Leia felt like Han and Chewie both deserved the moniker of “idiot cub.” On the bright side, she was picking up more and more of the Wookiee language every day. It honestly wasn’t as hard as she’d expected it to be, once she’d nailed down some of the basic stress and tonal patterns. She was even starting to understand more of what was being said outside of lessons, too.

“What did you just call me?” Han growled, poking his head into the main hold from where he was working in the circuitry bay.

«The best pilot in the galaxy,» roared Chewie.

“That ain’t what it sounded like, furball.” Han smirked. “Though you’re damn right on that count.” He loped over to the dejarik table and took a seat next to Leia. “I’m sorry to interrupt your language lesson here, but I need Goldenrod to run some more diagnostics on the Falcon. We’ve got the most critical stuff fixed, but the asteroid field banged her up pretty bad all around and I want a good look at everything else we’re dealing with.”

“Oh dear,” exclaimed Threepio. “Well, I will gladly lend my services. Though I do dislike talking to that strange computer; she’s rather rude. I suppose it is better than no companionship at all—”

“Just talk to her and figure out what needs fixing, okay?” Han interrupted, rolling his eyes.

“Oh. Of course, Captain Solo.” The droid headed over to the engineering station.

Leia quirked an eyebrow at Han. “You could be a little nicer,” she murmured under her breath, so as to stay out of range of Threepio’s auditory sensors.

Han shrugged. “He’ll get over it,” he muttered. “Besides, I never met a droid that talked so much about so damn little. Just tryin’ to keep the rest of us sane.”

Leia chuckled. It was true; the droid’s endless jabbering could definitely be a pain.

Chewie peered at them, his expression unreadable, then shook his head. Han turned to the Wookiee. “You disagree?” Chewie shrugged, but said nothing. Of course, any utterance on his part would have been entirely discernible by the droid in question.

Threepio, finishing his exchange with the Falcon’s computer, walked back over to address them. “It appears there are still a vast number of repairs that need to be made,” he announced. “Due to some of the smaller particles we passed through in the asteroid field, we’ve received some damage to the sensor array—the electro-photo receptor on the rectenna in particular, although multiple sensors have been affected. It is quite fortunate indeed that the sensors needed for hyperspace travel are unharmed!” He paused. Perhaps he expected cries of similar relief, but getting little reaction, he continued. (In truth, Han had double-checked those sensors prior to launching the backup hyperdrive.) “In addition, the dorsal quad laser cannons are jammed, as are the concussion missile launchers. The tractor beam is nonfunctional due to substantial damage to the starboard emitter. There seems to be some type of system failure within the escape pods, as well, as they are no longer communicating with the main computer.”

“Blast it,” muttered Han. “And we just managed to get the weapons systems all nice and shiny on Hoth.” Chewie moaned in agreement. “Well, it’s worse than I thought,” Han continued, “but most of it will have to wait until we reach Bespin, unless we wanna spend more time than we have resources for in sublight. Still…” he pondered. “I dunno, maybe we oughtta try and get both sets of quad lasers online, just in case. And I’ll look over the diagnostics on the sensors and see what I can do from the inside.”

Leia raised an eyebrow. “I thought you trusted this Lando guy?”

“Sure I do,” Han replied.

«I don’t,» roared Chewie.

Han ignored him. “I just don’t like the idea of being sitting ducks,” he continued.

“…Right.” Leia didn’t feel like this conversation was instilling much confidence. “Anyway, I agree. I think we ought to make sure we’re able to defend ourselves as best we can.”

“I fully concur, Mistress Leia,” Threepio remarked.

Han looked slightly exasperated. “Don’t worry,” he insisted, hands raised in defense. “I got this under control.”

«Let’s get to work, then!» barked Chewie.

Several minutes later, Han and Chewie were going back and forth between both circuitry bays and the engineering station, vigorously discussing the best way to make the most of their working sensors. Leia had spent the past few minutes warming up her muscles to prepare for her exercise routine, and now she sat on the floor by the entrance to the forward hold, stretching—out of the way, but within easy reach if Han or Chewie needed her help. While she had some experience in mechanical work and could certainly claim to be a decent pilot, what they were attempting was rather outside of the scope of her knowledge, so she hadn’t insisted on helping this time.

She breathed deeply as she settled into her routine, moving from position to position, allowing herself to feel each one fully before moving on. Doing this always reminded her of the Gatalentan practice of skyfaring—and Amilyn Holdo, the friend from her teenage years who’d taught her the art. She smiled to herself, remembering the girl’s endearing quirkiness. That quirkiness was certainly still present a year ago, when Amilyn had joined the Rebellion. Through her unconventional methods, she had quickly risen to the rank of captain. While Leia was thrilled for her, she couldn’t help but be sad that their paths had rarely crossed since. She missed her friend.

On a whim, she decided to try some of the floor exercises Amilyn had taught her all those years ago. Looping her legs around one arm and crossing her feet, she leaned forward and then pushed herself up with both arms, holding her legs straight out to the side as she balanced. After holding that pose on both sides for several breaths, she lowered herself back to the ground. I guess I’ve still got it in me, she thought, feeling satisfied with herself. How about something harder? Kicking one leg up and tucking her foot behind her neck, she leaned to one side and rose up in a plank, extending her free arm overhead. Exhilaration filled her as she balanced for several moments.

Suddenly, the Falcon shifted—only slightly, but it was enough to cause her to lose her balance. Tumbling to the floor in a wad, she untangled herself and stood up, frowning. Over by the engineering station, Han and Chewie had stopped what they were doing, frozen in place.

“Did we just come out of hyperspace?” Han asked, a look of incredulousness on his face.

A split second of horrified silence went by. Then, in an instant, they were all racing towards the cockpit. Han tumbled in first, Chewie behind him, Leia right on his heels. When Leia managed to see past all the Wookiee fur, her worst fears were confirmed—the dynamic, interweaving lights of hyperspace had been replaced by a million fixed pinpoints. Something, or someone, had tugged them out.

“Damn it,” Han yelled. He and Chewie were already at the controls. “Chewie, we’ll have to bypass the bad sensors by rotating the ship. That dish only has a narrow range, but if we circle her around quick we might be able to get a good reading and see what’s out there—if no one starts shooting at us first.”

Chewie belted out his agreement. Leia buckled into the passenger seat behind Han, holding her breath. Pirates were known to pull tricks like this. The Empire had even been known to do so from time to time with their advanced Interdictor ships. But as Han and Chewie pulled the ship around, no enemy vessel appeared. No hostile fire shook their ship. There was only a nearby star—close enough to exert a rather strong gravitational influence, but too far to have pulled them out of hyperspace. It nearly blinded them as they turned towards it. Shielding their eyes from the worst of it, they searched its rays for any sign of trouble.

“What’s that?” Leia shouted, pointing. There was a black spot tumbling in the brightness, just to the left of the star.

“Wait a minute,” Han murmured. Chewie roared in alarm and realization. “Chewie, get the comlinks working!”

“What?” Leia demanded. “What’s going on?”

«I’m on it!» the Wookiee yelled, as he frantically flipped some switches. At first there was only static. Then—

“Oh, thank goodness! I’m saved! Captain Solo, Mistress Leia, Master Chewbacca, you must come and rescue me!”

Leia’s jaw dropped. “Threepio?”

“What happened, Goldenrod?” Han growled.

“Well, as I said earlier, the escape pod computers were no longer communicating with the Falcon. I thought I might try and talk some sense into one of them, but it was being quite obstinate, I must say. Though it was a nice computer. Well-meaning, but not quite all there, if you understand. We were only chatting, but it must have thought I said “launch” instead of “lost,” and before I knew it, it had gone and jettisoned itself! It said it would help me find Artoo, but I’m afraid it has no idea where it’s going. I do believe it thinks this star is a planet!”

Leia, Han and Chewie all froze for a moment in silent disbelief. It was Chewbacca who recovered soon enough to speak first. «Hang on, we’re coming!» he roared, followed by something Leia didn’t quite understand, though she thought she made out “comlink” and “on.”

“Oh, do hurry,” Threepio moaned. “If we continue on this course, I shall be melted!”

“Yeah, we’ll try to avoid that,” Han replied. “Hold on a minute.” He turned the comlink off, shaking his head, and turned to the others. “Well, that explains why we came out of hyperspace. Escape pods can only jettison in sublight. Must’ve triggered it.”

“Yes, I know. How are we going to get Threepio?” Leia demanded, impatience giving an edge to her voice. The press of time weighed heavy. If they wanted to rescue the droid before the escape pod tumbled into the sun, they’d have to do it quick.

Han shrugged. “Well, normally I’d use the tractor beam, but Threepio just told us an hour or so ago it’s out of commission. If we want to rescue him, we’ll have to do a spacewalk, and considering how near we are to that star, it’ll be risky.”

Chewbacca growled.

“If?” repeated Leia angrily. “I don’t care if we have to do a spacewalk, we’re going to get that droid!”

“Sweetheart, I hate to say it, but do we really wanna risk our lives for a droid?” Some lights on the back console flickered and then went out; Han hit the bulkhead, but they stayed dark.

“What do you mean he’s ‘just a droid’? Look, I know Threepio’s tried our patience, but that’s no reason to just let him die.”

“Droids are mechanical; they don’t die.”

Leia sent Han a withering glare. “He may be not be made of organic material, but he’s a sentient, thinking, feeling being. Clearly he went to talk to that pod’s computer because he felt lonely and was missing Artoo. We haven’t exactly treated him very well lately—”

“Because he’s annoyed the hell outta us!” Han interrupted, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t care! We shouldn’t have been so hard on him. The point is, droids have feelings too. They’re not just… disposable,” she said with distaste. “They care about us; is it too much to ask that we care about them too?”

Han was silent, staring at the console as if her words had sparked some sort of memory.

“Besides,” Leia continued, more softly, “he served the royal house of Alderaan for years. He’s one of the few things I have left. We’re getting that droid.”

«I agree with the little Princess,» said Chewie.

“All right, all right,” Han caved. “But again, it’ll be dangerous.” His features were still gruff, but Leia could sense a certain unsettled softness underneath. He thought for a moment, frowning, and when he spoke again, his voice was full of new determination. “Chewie, you’re gonna have do the maneuver we did off of Christophsis; get close to the pod and try to block as much of the sunlight as you can. Leia and I will grab the cable and go get him. Keep in touch with Goldenrod; let him know the plan.” Chewie roared his assent as the lights on the back console flickered on again. Han stood up, and Leia joined him. “Leia, you can stay at one end of the cable; make sure it’s tethered firm to the ship and be ready to reel us back in. I’ll clip into the other end and go get Threepio.”

Leia’s brows knit, but she didn’t have time to argue; Han was already out the door. She caught up with him by the port airlock, where he was digging in a wall compartment. “Here, this should fit,” he said, shoving a pressure suit and helmet into her arms before sprinting off to the corridor again. With a cursory glance at the spacesuit, which was surprisingly in good condition, she followed him to the starboard airlock. He had pulled another spacesuit out of a similar wall compartment and had set about putting it on. Placing her helmet on the floor, Leia began the process of encasing herself in her own suit. She felt uneasy.

“I think I should be the one to retrieve Threepio,” she said. Retrieving Threepio would be dangerous; it should fall on her to shoulder the most hazardous part. She was the one who’d insisted on doing this, after all. She imagined the cable coming loose, Han drifting away with the escape pod, burning alive in his suit as he fell into the sun’s hungry glare.

Han glanced at her as he finished zipping up his suit. “Ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”

Leia bristled at his blunt refusal. “Look, I’m smaller, lighter, more nimble. It just makes sense for me to go and for you to wait on the hull with the tether!”

“Like that matters much in space.”

“I am not going to let you go out there and sacrifice yourself because you were too stupid to see reason!”

Han turned to her, his helmet under his arm. “That’s just it,” he said. Surprisingly, his face was clear of anger; resolution shone in his eyes. “You’re worth too much to sacrifice. I’m not.” He extended an index finger towards her. “The Rebellion needs you, Leia, and I’m gonna make sure you get back in one piece.”

Leia’s mouth hung open. Even now, it came almost as a shock to hear Han being so entirely selfless. Deep down, there’d always been a part of her that still believed he was ultimately in it for himself, as he’d insisted so many times before, despite his actions so often proving otherwise. Even as the years went by and she’d come to see a different side of him, the belief had been hard to shake, his words the day they met still etched in the back her mind. I ain’t in this for your revolution, and I'm not in it for you, Princess. I expect to be well paid.

But this—this was the real Han speaking, not the mask of the mercenary. She’d heard him before, many times, but not often with this much clarity. Speechless, she nodded.

Han searched her eyes. Satisfied, he nodded back. Suddenly, he stepped closer, took her by the shoulders, and kissed her forehead. She tilted up her head for a better one on the lips. “All right,” she declared after they pulled apart. The words came out more calmly than she felt. “Let’s go.” With one last shared glance, they lifted their helmets up and onto their heads, locking them in place. Leia checked her gloves to make sure they were also locked in tight, then she pressed the button on her chest to turn on the life support unit.

“Can you hear me?” Han’s voice came through the comlink, tinny but clear.

“Yes. Can you?”

“Clear as a Tatooine sky. Chewie, we ready?” The Wookiee roared his blessing. With that, Han grabbed a cable from the wall cupboard and pressed the control to the inner airlock door, which slid open to reveal the dark cavity behind. Leia followed him in. The door shut behind them, and they both grabbed onto one of the handrails on the walls. Han turned to Leia. “It may get a little warm out there,” he said, his voice only slightly betraying the undercurrent of worry Leia knew was there. “You ready?”

“Let’s do this, Captain,” she said, lips curling into a smile. Already she felt the adrenaline coursing through her, exhilarating her, bringing her mind into sharp focus.

Han palmed the airlock controls. Leia felt the rush of air around her as it escaped through the vents, and she clung to the handrail. Brilliant sunlight poured in as the hatch unlocked. Despite the tugging feeling of buoyancy, her feet held fast to the floor, the electromagnetic grippers on her boots doing their job. Looking over, she saw Han disappearing into the glare as he followed the handrail to the outside of the ship. After a deep breath of recycled air, she moved to join him, carefully placing each foot down to gain full magnetic contact before lifting the other. She let her mind reorient itself as she stepped onto the airlock's wall. Twisting her perspective yet again, down became forward as she climbed out onto the side of the ship, crouching so as to keep her hands close to anything she could potentially grip if for some reason her boots failed. She much preferred doing this with a jetpack, but unfortunately, as nice as the spacesuits on the Falcon were, they lacked that particular luxury.

They were much closer to the star already; it filled an entire quadrant of the sky, its light vicious and blinding. Leia’s visor darkened to adjust for the glare, but she still squinted as she stepped onto the top of the Falcon’s hull. Her spacesuit was climate controlled and shielded from radiation, but she figured that would only protect her for so long while they hurtled toward the star.

Crouched by a harness ring on the hull, Han clipped one end of the coiled cable to it before tethering the other to his gear harness. Leia followed suit and clipped her own harness into the ring, feeling relief at the extra safeguard. Finally allowing herself the chance to really look around, she lifted her head to see that Chewbacca had indeed managed to pilot the Falcon alongside the escape pod. It was still careening toward the star, but they were keeping pace beside it. She turned to Han. “You still okay with this? Because I can—”

Han silenced her with a single sound, his pointer finger asserting itself once again, and she could almost see his cocky grin. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I got this. Ready?” She swallowed, not feeling entirely assuaged, but she gave her consent anyway.

Han pushed off from the hull. His form grew smaller and smaller, a silhouette against the sun’s consuming rays, hurtling toward the coffin-like escape pod. Next to Leia, the cable unwound itself nearly all the way before he reached it. She could just make out him landing, twisting himself to plant his feet on the pod. From the cockpit, Chewie let out a questioning roar. “I’m fine,” Han’s voice flickered over the comlink.

“He made it to the pod,” Leia confirmed.

Time seemed to blur over the next few minutes into an agonizingly slow, amorphous slog, greatly outpaced by the beating of her heart. It was getting steadily brighter, and it was hard to make out Han’s figure in the glare. Sweat began to bead on her brow, her limbs, her chest—not from fear (though that was admittedly substantial), but from the growing heat. She heard the whir of the climate control system in her suit as it tried to keep up.

Seconds more passed. Leia squinted anxiously up at the pod, searching for any sign that Han had made entry. There was a flash of light that was nearly blinding. A spike of fear enveloped her, but it quickly evaporated. That was Threepio, yes, out there on the hull of the pod, the sun’s harsh beams reflecting off his golden plating.

“Leia, reel us back in!” Han’s voice came over the comm, panting. “Uh… quickly, if you can,” he added. “It’s gettin’ a bit warm.”

Leia was already reaching for the cable, tugging with one hand and then the other as fast as she could manage. Within a few minutes (or more—she wasn’t quite sure, though she marked how each movement became heavier, her suit hotter, the glare brighter), the two figures, tethered together, came in for a landing. Han yelped as they rolled once and then bounced, kept close by the cable, before he was finally able to gain his magnetic footholds. “Get inside!” he ordered, but Leia had no intention of leaving him behind with Threepio. She helped him hoist the moaning droid up. Then, with their arms around the droid, they sprinted back towards the airlock as quickly as they could, pulling themselves back in. Leia hit the controls for the outer door, blocking out the light and heat. She felt the blood rush to her toes as the artificial gravity set in, her limbs heavy and tingling. Through a sweltering haze, she heard Han yelling at Chewie to “get them the hell away from that star”; then he pressed the controls, the inner hatch sprung open, and they stumbled into the hall.

Leia could think of nothing else but removing herself from the stifling suit. Grasping at the locking mechanisms on her helmet and gloves, she twisted and then flung them off, relishing the feel of the chilly ship air on her skin, the unstifled oxygen in her lungs. Quickly she stripped off the rest of her suit and flopped on the floor next to Han, who had also managed to get his off in record time. He looked every bit as drenched as she felt. She collapsed beside him, feeling the cool floor on her back. Vaguely she became aware that Threepio was chattering.

“Oh, Mistress Leia, Captain Solo! What have I done? Overcome by the heat! My own circuits are fried, too, I’m sure!”

Leia, panting for air, managed a smile. “It’s okay, Threepio, we’re all right!” she reassured him. “And you’ll be fine, too.”

“That dimwitted bucket of faulty wires! This is all its fault—trying to sail me into a star! I’m afraid its end is near. It was quite sympathetic for a computer; it’s a shame.”

“I’m afraid so,” said Leia, closing her eyes and shifting the palms of her hands to a spot of the floor her body hadn’t warmed up yet. Her fingers brushed against Han on her left (an accident, she told herself), but despite the warmth also radiating off of him, she didn’t move away.

Han’s hand slid into her palm.

They lay like that for several minutes, breaths heaving, hands clasped tight as if to defy the danger they had been in. She tried to resist the temptation to scoot herself closer to him. Presently, Han gave her hand a squeeze and sat up, letting out a gruff sigh. “Well, Goldenrod, I guess I owe you an apology.”

Leia felt the same way Threepio looked: shocked. She raised herself up on her arms and stared curiously at Han.

“I beg your pardon?” the droid replied.

“No one should feel unwanted. No one’s, uh”—Han glanced at Leia—“disposable.” He coughed, then winced, as if the apology was being strung out of him by force, but Leia just watched him wide-eyed, a feeling of warmth blossoming inside her. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way,” he mumbled. “Sure, you may be a pain in the ass sometimes, but you… you’re a part of our team, and we’re, uh… we’re glad you’re here.”

Threepio, for once, was almost speechless. “Why, Captain Solo! …Thank you.”

“I agree with Han,” said Leia, sitting up. “I’m sorry for my part in making you feel that way, too. We need you, we want you, and we appreciate you, Threepio. You’ve been a caring, faithful companion. We never would have made it this far without you.”

“Oh! Well, I suppose not.” The droid continued to look gobsmacked, though he soon regained himself. “I do have a way of saving the day. Back on Hoth, for example, I was merely walking by your room and I thought perhaps I should check…”

Han and Leia looked at each other, amused and a little exasperated despite themselves. Now you’ve done it, Han mouthed.

“…still there, of course; I’m sure you were too wrapped up in the evacuation to notice, so I took the liberty of removing them to your ship. And earlier, just the day before in fact, I told Artoo…”

Han cleared his throat. “Sorry to rain on your parade, Threepio, but—” he sniffed his underarm theatrically “—I’d better hop in the shower before Chewie gets wind of this stink.”

Leia chuckled. The air was pretty ripe, considering how soaked with sweat they both were. “I’ll go after you,” she said.

He waggled his eyebrows at her. “You sure you don’t wanna go with?”

Leia rolled her eyes, smiling. “Leave it, hotshot.”

Han shrugged. “Figured I’d ask.” Flashing her a disarming grin as he got up, he disappeared down the hallway towards the crew quarters.

Leia stared after him a moment longer, trying not to think about what would happen if she accepted his offer. Then, with some effort, she turned back to face the droid. “You’re right, Threepio. You certainly did well on Hoth, and I owe you my thanks.” She smiled. “We’re pretty tired now, though, so I think it would be good to have some quiet for awhile, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, Mistress Leia,” said Threepio magnanimously. “I’ve certainly had enough excitement today to last me for years. I think I shall power down for a few days.”

“Go right ahead. We’ll alert you if we need anything.”

With a few last pleasantries, the droid headed off to the charging station in the main hold.

Leia shook her head. Threepio didn’t need any more ego-inflating, that was for sure. But still, she cared for the droid deeply, and she felt an enormous relief at his safe return. She shuddered to think of how close he’d come, how close they’d come, to being swallowed by a star. To disappearing forever into light and heat. Burning to ash—less than ash even, to nothing—just as everyone on Alderaan had done before her. Getting to her feet, she locked the images out of her mind. Water, she determined, and followed after Threepio. Her mouth was parched, and she felt a little sick. A cool glass of water would be just the thing.

Chapter Text

In dreams, she remembered all over again. Cruel needles probing and cold liquid rushing through her veins, sickening, turning every sense to ice and fire. Her back against a wall, cornered by the interrogation droid and the towering, half-human monster; the horrible rasp of his breath and the explosion of pain as he clawed at her mind. And later: the scent of ozone and the hard, mechanical grip on her shoulder as she stood there, drugged and shivering in her thin, white senatorial gown. Watching the sickly green bolt of light trace its inevitable path; desperate to be able to reach out and stop it, to take it into herself, for her to be the one to burn instead. Her home igniting into an inferno, its brightness scorching her corneas, the tidal wave of agony coming off of it scouring away what was left of her softness and hope.

A hand, warm and gentle, on her shoulder, and her name, as if from far away.

“Leia.”

The voice came out of the distance, from somewhere beyond the roar of the flames, breaking through her screams of agony.

“Leia, it’s all right. It’s Han. I’m here, sweetheart. You’re safe.”

She opened her eyes, and the searing, blinding light died, replaced by the dim cabin and Han’s anxious face, coming into focus as it hovered above her. Seeing that she was awake, he stopped shaking her, his hand reaching up to cup her forehead and brush a strand of damp hair out of her face. “It’s all right, sweetheart,” he repeated. Leia felt her screams turn to sobs, and she half-turned her head into her pillow, trying to stem the flood. The mattress on the bunk shifted as Han climbed in, nestling in close behind her. “It’s okay, Leia. I’m here.”

She tried to stifle her cries, but she kept breaking anyway. It was all too much. It was enough to have lived through it once—why did it have to pierce her over and over again in her dreams, making her experience it like new every time? No matter what she did, she could never escape. And she could never stop the advance of that sickly green light from the Death Star, nor divert its course. A part of her still hadn’t learned that, though. The part of her that still hoped was crushed every time.

Her sobs spilled out, muffled by her pillow. Somewhere, from beyond the raging grief, she felt herself scoff at this display, at this particularly flagrant lapse of composure. She didn’t want Han to see her this way, not again. And yet somehow it felt good to have Han behind her, holding her, stroking her hair, his warm breath on her neck as he whispered comfort. On an impulse, she turned to face him, burying her head in his chest as he pulled her close.

“It’s okay, Leia,” he murmured, cradling her head. “You can cry all you need to.”

As if the words were a permission she didn’t know she needed, she felt herself weeping even harder. But there was a trickle of relief let loose with it now, too. She felt less confined, less backed into a corner, even as Han’s arms engulfed her—and less sick from the effort of keeping it that way.

Slowly the inconsolable anguish subsided, along with the choking sobs.

In their place was a deadness.

All the nightmares she’d ever had mingled with reality in times like this. She knew she had not been tortured today, yet her veins still ached from where she had been pricked three years before. Alderaan’s blast had not happened today, yet the agony of her people still echoed loud in her bones. She hadn’t died with her planet, nor had they been incinerated by a star in their earlier, surreal escapade to save Threepio, yet she already felt gone—a ghost, maybe. Unsubstantial, unreal. Ash that might crumble in a slight wind.

Would she be stuck in this limbo indefinitely, suspended in these horrors? Could she ever escape and become, be real enough to overcome? Or was she already dead, already faded away?

Han’s heart beat against her temple, his warmth radiated into her from all sides, his embrace both tender and firm. He… he was real. She breathed in pace with him, measuring the rise and fall of his chest.

He was real.

And if he was holding her like this, then maybe she was too.

Her tears had soaked the skin on his chest, making it uncomfortably slick, but even as her eyes dried and her breaths grew less and less ragged, she clung to him, unwilling to relinquish his reassuring solidness.

“Stay here, Han,” she whispered. “Please.”

“Ssshh, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Their breaths grew long, and his fingers slowed on her back.

Leia awoke gradually, surrounded by a sense of warmth and security and peace. As her eyes fluttered open and she slowly became more aware, she remembered why. Nestled behind her was the long, firm form of Han Solo. His legs were folded behind her own, and an arm cradled her waist. She sleepily wondered at her lack of alarm. Once, she would have started awake in shock and sought to put as much distance between them as possible—in fact, that’s exactly what had happened on a past mission or two (accidents, she’d told herself at the time). Now, a sense of peace endured. There was nothing to worry about. This… this felt so right, so safe, having him here in bed with her.

In bed with her. She felt a thrill at the idea of those words, that reality.

Okay, so maybe she was a little excited. We haven’t got time for anything else, Han’s words echoed from earlier that week, and she grinned at the memory of what had thrown her so thoroughly off her guard at the time.

And why shouldn’t she feel this way? She was done denying the force of her attraction to Han—and this was more than just attraction. The strength of what had grown between them over the past few years was something she’d never felt before, not even in her younger days with Kier. She would no longer pretend that every blasted thing he did didn’t make her crazy. She would no longer deny that if she had her way, they’d spend the rest of their lives, however short, together. She would no longer deny that many mornings over the past three years, she’d awakened as she’d done now and imagined him lying there beside her, imagined this feeling, imagined him….

She closed her eyes again, trying to memorize the sensation of Han pressed up against her, committing it to memory. This, she told herself. Keep this. Keep this forever.

Maybe, once he woke… maybe he would pull her even closer, and she’d turn to him, and he’d kiss her the way he had kissed her in the circuitry bay, and he’d not stop there, but…

She blinked, slamming the door down on the thought.

No.

She may not be denying what was between them anymore, but that didn’t mean she was ready to jump all the way in. He was still planning on leaving, wasn’t he?

As quietly as she could, she slipped out of his arms and out of the bunk.

Leia waited calmly at the dejarik table as the caf dispenser gurgled, the scent, at once soothing and invigorating, filling the air. She felt significantly more awake, and, she hoped, significantly more in control of her desires.

Still, she had to fight not to think too much about how utterly nice it had been, waking up with Han like that.

As she considered the night’s events that had led them there, she felt rather more sober. She played absentmindedly with her hands, glaring at them in annoyance as if they were somehow the source from which her nightmares had sprung. Yesterday’s near disaster must have triggered the remembrance of a worse one, she supposed. Why wasn’t her mind content to just not think about it? The Force knew she tried so hard not to during the day. Even after three years, it was still too much.

I guess there’s your answer, she told herself. You still can’t deal with it; you probably never will. Not fully.

The caf dispenser beeped, and she got up to fill her mug.

Still… she thought, it’s different, now, with Han. Maybe the nightmares would never really go away, but something, at least, had changed. She no longer felt like she had to face them alone. Han had shown her he’d be there, even if she woke him up in the middle of the night screaming. Moreover, it seemed that he continued to truly see her and not be daunted, and that was both humbling and freeing.

Can I do the same for him? she wondered as she sat back down, sipping her caf.

She wanted to. Han, as much or even more so than her, had always been resistant to anyone getting too close, seeing too much. She’d long suspected he hid a lot of hurt underneath that barricade, some of which she knew about after their years working together, but some of which yet remained an enigma.

She knew that he’d grown up a so-called “scrumrat” on the streets of Corellia, begging and thieving to survive. She knew there was a criminal overlord of sorts, someone who exercised control over him—which, she figured, explained his aversion to being “under” anyone now. And strangely enough, she knew—via General Draven, who’d naturally done some investigating, and through a few brief conversations with Han himself—that he had once been in the Imperial Navy and Infantry. She still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around that. Picturing him in uniform felt absurd.

She’d been loath to ask him more about any of those facts, assuming that they were memories he’d prefer to leave far in the past. There seemed to be a lot of those, with Han. She wondered what pain he was hiding.

She took another long, slow sip of her caf, considering.

Han kept up his own barriers, that was for sure. The two of them weren’t all that different in that way. But he had been taking an axe to hers as of late, and it felt… good.

Maybe there was an upside to being trapped on board the Falcon for this long. Maybe she could finally begin to crumble Han’s walls, too.

Leia’s understanding of Shyriiwook was rapidly improving. It was remarkable, but not altogether surprising, how much easier it was to learn from a native speaker and friend as opposed to a stuffy Alderaanian tutor droid. It had only been a little over a week, but she and Chewie were already having full-fledged conversations, pausing every so often to ask Threepio or Han for help translating. It was a delightful diversion from the long hours of their slow crawl to Bespin, and Leia treasured the new level of friendship that had sprung up between the two of them.

Today, they were sitting at the dejarik table. Chewie was sprawled out comfortably with his hands tucked behind his head, and Leia had nestled against the cushions with her legs curled up cozily beneath the spare blanket. They had just finished going over the subjunctive, which was conveyed by an extra little modulating gargle in the middle of the verb. They were now taking turns throwing out phrase after subjunctive-containing phrase, each translating the other’s into their own language.

«It is necessary that Han clean the ‘fresher next,» announced Chewie gleefully.

Leia repeated it dutifully in Basic before responding. “It is necessary that you clean the hair out of the shower filter.”

«If that is so, let us hope that your hair contribution is small.»

Leia chuckled. “I highly doubt there’s as much as yours! Either way, I pity Han if the task falls on him.”

«Speaking of Cub, I hope his smell improves.»

Leia swatted at him good-naturedly. “Han smells just fine!” she exclaimed, breaking the chain of subjunctives. To tell the truth, she found his scent appealing—regardless of whether he used some of that ancient Chandrilan cologne, which he only pulled out on special occasions (or when some unhappy mission’s reek demanded it).

«He does to you! You’re a human female!» Chewie said, rolling his eyes.

She laughed. “I’ll give you that one.”

He stopped for a moment, regarding her, then he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. «It makes me happy that you’re laughing, Little Princess. I hope things continue to get better for you.»

Unexpectedly touched, Leia found herself focusing on the seat between them, unsure of how to respond. “Thanks, Chewie,” she finally said, glancing back up and giving him a small smile.

Looking into her eyes, he nodded, patted her one more time on the shoulder, and then leaned back, continuing the subjunctive train. «We hope to arrive on Bespin next week.»

“I hope there are no more escape pod incidents beforehand.”

«Very true, Little Princess. It is necessary that we fly smooth and fast, with no more runaway droids.”

Leia paused. “I hope Luke made it back to the fleet all right.”

«I doubt that cub would falter.»

“I wish we knew for sure.”

«I bet he wishes he knew about us, too.»

Leia sighed, nodding. “He can probably sense us through the Force, though. He’s practically a Jedi. Hopefully if he’s there he can tell everyone we’re all right.” It was a reassuring thought. Maybe he’d get word back to Mon, to Rieekan, to all those who would be worrying about her. Come to think of it, she was fairly certain Luke was all right, too, though she didn’t voice it. It was only a feeling, and therefore unreliable.

She considered for a moment and began again. “It is necessary that the Alliance wins and brings peace and justice to the galaxy.”

Chewie nodded solemnly, leaning forward. «It is necessary that all beings are set free.»

Leia felt something twinge in her heart. “I hope we can see your people freed someday, Chewie.”

He reached over and tousled her hair. «If we free my people, I suggest that you come visit Kashyyyk. You will have a grand welcome.»

“I would love to come to Kashyyyk and meet your family.” She had heard about his family from Han—apparently he had a wife and son who were still, as far as they knew, enslaved by the Empire—but now that she could finally understand the Wookiee himself, she was eager to hear about them from his own lips. The lesson seemed to be over anyway. “Tell me about them, Chewie. What are they like? If you feel like talking about it…?”

Chewie let out an affirming growl. «I am happy to talk about my family. It is hard being far from them, knowing they are suffering. Sometimes I think we will never be together and free, and the loss is so—» (here he spoke some word Leia didn’t recognize.) «But I speak their names and remember them. I do not forget. I will remember them and return.»

He bowed his head briefly, then continued. «Mallatobuck is my wife. She is as bright and warm as sunlight, and very smart. I miss her clever teasing. She has sass like you, Little Princess. And she is very beautiful. Her eyes are as deep as the bottom of the forest, and her fur is eaghraaghla—ah, you do not understand that word. It means smooth and soft and full. Her scent is like the rryylghra fruit. Her intelligence and beauty are well-known in my tribe.» He paused, lost in thought, eyes far off, as if picturing the exquisiteness of that silky mane.

«My son is Lumpawaroo.» He faltered for a moment, shoulders slumping, then went on. «He was taken from me when he was still very young, so I do not know him as I should. I will always remember his scent, though, and I will know it should we meet again.»

He was quiet again for a little while, his head bowed, his great furry arms resting heavily on the table. Leia reached out a hand and laid it gently on one of them.

«There are others I love and miss,» he continued. «My father, Attichitcuk. I don’t know if he is alive or dead. My mother is dead. I miss my tribe, my village. They have all been scattered, put in Imperial slave camps. Fallen leaves cannot be put back on the branches. A wroshyr tree will not hold all of us together again.» He glanced at Leia. «You understand this loss, Little Princess, more than anyone.»

Leia nodded, unable to speak. The grief woven through his words hung heavy on her heart. “I’m so sorry,” she finally whispered.

He turned to her. «Will you tell me about Alderaan? Your tribe?» His eyes shone gentle; entreating, not demanding. She knew he would not take offense if she said no.

She swallowed. Then, to her surprise, she found that words were flowing freely out of her mouth. She described her mother, regal yet so human, gentle yet so fierce, with a wisdom and astuteness that not only served Alderaan well but helped Leia find her way through life, too. Her father, with his patient persistence and quiet rebellion in the face of the Empire; with his delight in books and in dancing and in her, and the way he’d taught her how to delight in things, too, both big and small. (She wondered if she’d ever really regain that ability, or if it had been lost along with him.)

She talked about her aunts, and the happy memories of their visits—well, mostly happy; she loved them dearly, but she still bristled at their attempts to tame her into something she wasn’t. She described her favorites among the household servants and the members of the guard, and she told him about her personal attendant droid, TooVee, who had done so much to care for her despite being even more pompous than Threepio. She missed them all. Her voice broke.

She stopped speaking, and they sat together in silence.

It was not a lonely silence, though. It was, Leia thought, as if there were invisible cords connecting them, a bridge fashioned out of grief and understanding. The ache inside felt as impossibly large as ever, but… perhaps ever-so-slightly less heavy, as it hung there in the space between them.

Chewie put his paw over her hand and spoke, gazing at her intently. «You, Cub, young Jedi, me—we are like wroshyr trees with melded limbs. We are joined, we have each other; we are a tribe now. We face no loss alone.»

Tears came to her eyes, and she smiled at him, nodding.

“Say, Han, Chewie,” Leia asked at lunch, between bites of reconstituted Iridonian trophlet. “I’ve been meaning to ask you two, what’s in those shipping crates in the forward hold? They permanently welded to the floor or something?”

“Hmh?” said Han, his face full. He swallowed. “Oh, those. ’S mostly Chewie’s stuff. He gets attached to things and keeps ‘em around. Dunno why.”

Damn it, thought Leia. So much for her bet that those crates she liked to take refuge behind held the keys to Han’s past.

Chewie gave his version of a chuckle, with a little shake of his mane towards Han. «I keep things that are meaningful to me. Cub understands. He just pretends he doesn’t so he looks cool.»

Leia chuckled as Han sent Chewie a withering glare. “Shut it, furball,” he replied, lofting a pointer finger at the Wookiee. He turned to Leia. “Eh, I understand, I guess, but I ain’t that interested in keeping stuff like that around for myself. The way I look at it, things only mean something if they’re connected to people. And people come and go. Most of ‘em ‘ll end up betraying you.” He shrugged. “No use trying to hold onto something that’s a reminder of what’s gone wrong.”

“So you expect me to believe you haven’t kept anything nostalgic?” Leia asked wryly. “What about that golden pair of dice hanging in the cockpit?”

Han waved a hand in dismissal. “That’s different. It’s my good luck charm. Had it since I was a kid. It’s been with me through everything.”

Chewie rolled his eyes. «And that has no meaning?» He leaned toward Leia conspiratorially. «Cub has some things in the crates, too.»

Leia raised her eyebrows at Han.

The smuggler set down his spoon and lifted his hands in mock defeat. “If you must know, I’ve kept some old uniforms, just in case. A few disguises are always good to have around, especially when you don’t have a Rebellion to provide you with ‘em. But they ain’t there because of some half-assed notion of ‘meaning,’ I’ll tell you that.”

Leia gave Han a look, then turned back to Chewie, frustrated. If Han was going to be obstinate, she could at least learn more about the Wookiee. “So what do you have back there, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Chewbacca shrugged. «Little things, mostly. On my world, if there’s an experience we want to remember, we keep something to remember it by. Perhaps we find a smooth stone, or buy a fine carraughrr—»

“That’s some sort of Wookiee art mumbo-jumbo,” Han cut in.

«—then we put it in a safe place, so we can always look back at it and remember.»

Leia nodded. “That’s a really good tradition.”

“Gah.” Han waved his hand in dismissal again, then got up, his ration pack finished. “I’m gonna get to work on those sensors. Enjoy your nostalgia party.”

Leia and Chewie shared a look, and she sighed, shaking her head. She had obviously touched a nerve, but that had only served to make him even more reticent. Her mission had failed.

Perhaps a different tactic was needed.

Chapter Text

Leia sat on the floor of the main hold, going through Han’s music selection. He was in the far circuitry bay tinkering, but he’d answered a query of hers before he left by pointing her towards the wall compartment where the music datacards were stored, all in a jumbled heap. She’d raised an eyebrow at the mess, then gathered them up and set them on the floor, sorting them alphabetically as she perused with interest.

She examined one of them closer. Kloo Horn Blues by Figrin D’an and the Modal Nodes: she’d vaguely heard that the jizz band was popular in the Outer Rim. She’d have to give it a listen sometime. Nebula Songs by Aurodia Ventafoli—a classic; it seemed like everyone in the galaxy knew and loved the “Chanteuse of the Stars.” Her music practically dripped with romance, and Leia made a mental note of it for later (just in case). More jizz bands she wasn’t very familiar with. Khyyynett, the late Wookiee clarion trumpeter—probably one of Chewie’s favorites. Kor Vella Fever by The Bloodstripes, the upbeat album they’d listened to towards the beginning of the trip, and Those Old Spacer Blues by Grondorn Muse, another Corellian who had performed once or twice for the Alliance.

There were some classical albums: Kithra and Berltagh’s sonatas, Mondegrene’s Fugue in K. She gasped to see Tofli Argala’s Spring Symphony; the Nabooian composer’s masterpiece was often played in the Organa household while she was growing up. There were a few dance albums, too: the critically acclaimed B’ssa Nuuvu by Telindel and Saerlock, and even the Alderaanian band Heartbeat of Istabith, which increased her nostalgia even more.

Suddenly, Leia froze, eyes widening at the name spelled out on the datacard she’d just picked up. Melodic Order. That was the Alderaanian cloister choir she’d rescued after the Battle of Yavin! How had Han known about them? Their music was so unlike anything else in his collection; contemplative and ethereal and so very classically Alderaanian that she had a hard time imagining him listening to it.

But perhaps the more curious question was how Han had managed to get hold of it. She stared at the album title and frowned. Forever Lost, Forever Onward. An album she didn’t know, with a name that hinted of… she caught her breath. He must have picked this up recently, within the past few years. She wondered why he’d never told her about it. Trembling, she inserted it into the dataplayer.

She leaned back against the bulkhead, closing her eyes as the beautifully haunting, melodious strains washed over her. She’d grown up listening to Melodic Order and countless other Alderaanian choirs. Hearing them again felt so familiar, so like home and family and love and security, so like the innocence of a forever-lost childhood that she couldn’t stop the tears from welling.

The first song ended, and Leia opened her eyes, blinking. Han stood at the entrance to the hold, a sheepish smile on his face. “Er… I forgot that was in there. I, uh, remembered you talking about that choir. Found the datacard on the black market during one of my supply runs. Was saving it to give you as a gift, but…” he shrugged. “Guess you beat me to it.” He frowned. “Look, I’m sorry if it’s the wrong thing right now, I didn’t mean—”

In a moment she was off the floor and across it, flinging her arms around him. “It’s perfect,” she whispered into his chest. “Thank you.” He held her close, and she felt him relax. Leaning down, he gave her a kiss on the forehead.

The next song had already started; this one was a little bit more buoyant and upbeat. “It’s pretty,” Han remarked.

“Come and listen.”

Han grimaced. “To a whole hour of this? That could get boring pretty qui—” he caught sight of Leia’s face and stopped short. “Then again, it is really pretty. I’ll bring some stuff in to work on while we listen.”

She grinned, triumphant.

A few minutes later, they were both settled on the floor—Han against the bulkhead with a magna-driver and a gravity compensator module, and Leia lying on her back near him, eyes closed once more as she tried to savor every lovely, heart-wrenching note.

The music rose and fell, soaring like thrantas over the River Wuitho. It was at times as merry as a field of starflowers and as solemn and mournful as the wind on the peaks. But woven through it all like the threads of a tapestry was a sense of longing so immense that Leia felt like her heart might burst from it. The lyrics intensified it; the voices sung of grief and remembrance, of yearning for what was no more, but also for what might someday be. Along with that yearning, hope was named, a hope Leia clung to like a rock in swift water.

The album was over halfway through when all at once her eyes snapped open and she sat up. “What did they just say?”

“Hmm?” Han mumbled from against the bulkhead as he strained the magna-driver against a particularly stubborn fastener.

Leia frowned as the song reached its chorus.

Symbol of hope, wreathed in white.
Our death she saw but stalwart she fights.
The remnant she gathers, our hearts she stirs, our doom she defies.
The princess will bring us into light.

“No,” she whispered. Suddenly feeling very ill, she got up and stumbled to the corridor.

“Leia?” She vaguely heard Han’s concerned voice calling after her. Jamming her hand against the controls to the crew quarters, she lurched towards the ‘fresher and sank down on the floor beside it. Han caught up with her. “You all right, Princess?” He frowned. “You look really pale.” He sat down next to her.

Concentrating, she tried to slow her heartbeat. She had already begun to swallow down the initial wave of nausea, but she was still reeling. “Did you hear what they were singing?”

“Uh, something about hope and light?”

Leia stared at the wall across from her. “It was about me,” she whispered.

A cloud passed over Han’s eyes. “The hell do they think they are? You saved them! If they’ve been talking trash—”

“No, Han. It’s not that. It’s….” She felt lost for words; it was hard to speak at all right now, much less clearly. How could she explain this? He laid his hand, palm up, on the floor between them. She clasped it and took a deep breath. “They sung about me like I was one of the old Alderaanian gods.” She shook her head. “A ‘symbol of hope.’ Like I was going to make everything right.” She clenched her teeth as another wave of nausea swept over her.

Han gave her a funny look. “But you are a symbol of hope, Leia. To the whole galaxy. You agreed with the ol’ stooges in high command when they decided to make you one. It’s important, right?”

“Yes, Han, but this is different.”

He opened his mouth like he was about to argue some more, but then he seemed to think better of it and sat there, waiting. Wise move, whispered the wry part of her mind that was somehow still hovering nearby, outside of the body that trembled and felt sick. He squeezed her hand and looked into her eyes, concerned.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she sighed. “I can’t be their idol, Han. I can’t be their goddess of light now that Alderaan is gone. If they knew… if they knew what part I played in their loss, they wouldn’t say such things. They’d be praying that the god of justice destroys my soul.” She gritted her teeth; the last words had come out sharp and hard, like a gavel.

“Leia—”

“Han, I don’t care what you say. I don’t deserve this. I will never deserve this. I may not be directly to blame, but you know just as well as I do that if it weren’t for my actions, Alderaan would still be here. I chose to rebel.” She paused, voice breaking. “And what’s maybe even worse is that I’m still glad I rebelled. Maybe that makes me a monster, or maybe I just believe in something greater than all of us. But I’m implicated. I can take steps to bring justice and peace to the galaxy and what’s left of my people, but I will never be able to assuage my guilt or bring Alderaan back.” She laid her head on Han’s shoulder. “I can’t be their perfect symbol of hope, Han. And I’m not. A whole lot of people do blame me.”

Han was quiet for a moment. Then he leaned over and kissed her head. “You did the right thing, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You, and your parents, and, hell, all the Alderaanians who wanted somethin’ better than the Empire.”

Leia paused at his words. She exhaled slowly as the implications hit her.

It wasn’t just you.

He wrapped his arms around her. She let herself be drawn in closer, and they both rested there, quiet for awhile.

Her mind was still a mess, but eventually she felt the nausea dissipate and her heartbeat grow calmer. She was struck by a sudden desire to move on with things, to leave this awkward little episode behind. Gently she untangled herself and got to her feet; he followed suit.

“Well,” she said awkwardly, stretching her arms on her hips.

“I shoulda known that wouldn’t’ve gone too well,” Han said apologetically.

“No, Han, thank you. That music…” she shook her head. “I needed it. Maybe not the one song, but the rest… it means so much to me. It’s home.” She looked at him standing there, leaning against the wall, worry lines fading from his face, and she smiled. Suddenly she had a thought—a small opening, a chance to dig a little deeper—and she took it. “You ever have any music like that?”

“Music that reminds me of home?” He chuckled bitterly. “I haven’t had a home worth remembering, ‘cept the Falcon.”

Leia winced inwardly at her mistake. “Oh, I don’t mean like that. I mean the kind that goes down really deep. That means something important to you.”

Han looked thoughtful. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I guess I do.”

“Can I hear it?”

Moments later they were back in the main hold, and Han was digging haphazardly through the piles of datacards she’d nearly finished organizing. She considered that her efforts to bring a little order might well be hopeless, and she shook her head, amused.

Han found the datacard he was looking for. A wistful smile tugged at his lips as he examined it, and then he tossed it to Leia. “The M-68s,” Leia read aloud as she inserted it into the player. “That’s the name of a speeder, right?”

“The best in the galaxy. Or it was, awhile back.”

The music started; more raucous Corellian ballads, similar to what they’d listened to before. The first song seemed to be an ode to the band’s namesake.

Han leaned back on his arms, his eyes distant, as if he were picturing the speeder right in front of him in all its glory. “Powerful, variable thrusters… modifiable 289-hirep repulsorlift generator… sleek, beautiful lines….” he whistled. “Every street racer worth their stuff on Corellia wanted one. But by the time I finally got my hands on one—”

“Wait, you were a street racer?” She leaned forward, intrigued.

Han shrugged. “Yeah, when I had the time. I built a speeder of my own. Raced it a couple of times. Did pretty damn well, considering that I had to steal every minute with it right from under Lady Proxima’s oily nose.”

“Lady Proxima?”

“Head of the White Worms. Horrible being. I, uh, worked for her for awhile.”

Leia raised her eyebrows.

“All right, smuggled. Stole things. All sorts of illegal hijinks. Happy now? Not that I had much of a choice. I was just a kid trying to survive.”

Leia’s expression grew softer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Han made a dismissive sound in his throat. “Eh, don’t worry about it. I suppose being an Alderaanian princess didn’t give you much experience with underground cartels.” Leia opened her mouth in defense, but Han beat her to it. “And that’s good. I’m glad you didn’t have to deal with ‘em.”

“We had some underground illegal activity, but nothing like the cartels on other worlds,” Leia conceded. “And you’re right, I never had much experience dealing with them directly.” She paused, searching his face. His eyes were focused elsewhere. Was he ashamed? “Tell me about it,” she said gently. “Help me understand.”

Han considered for a moment, then sat up, fiddling with his holster. “The White Worms were the biggest gang in Coronet. Controlled the black market there. Any kid on the streets desperate enough eventually ended up with them.” He paused, his distaste palpable. “Easy to get in, not so easy to get out.”

Leia shuddered.

“It was better than being alone on the streets, though. We at least had a steady source of food.” He shrugged, then stopped speaking. Leia guessed he was hoping that would be the end of it. Despite her curiosity, she felt it was unwise to press him too hard just yet, so she went back to the subject beloved by the gritty, spirited anthem still belting from the datacard player.

“You said you were able to get your hands on an M-68?”

Han let out a wry chuckle. “Didn’t have it for long. It’s, uh… it’s actually what helped me escape. Nabbed it on the streets; crashed it the same day trying to shake off the White Worms. It got us almost all the way to the spaceport before that though.”

Leia listened intently. This was exactly what she had been hoping for; a more concrete glimpse into his past. Still, even this story seemed to hint at so much more that he was leaving unsaid. She wondered what kind of horrors he had gone through that had led up to that desperate decision to escape. She wondered what the White Worms would have done if they had caught him. She wondered what “us” meant.

“So is that why this band means so much to you?”

“Yeah, I guess. That, and street racing. And flying.”

Leia nodded. “Things you’ve always had a passion for.”

“Yeah. I dunno, I guess it feels like I was born to do those things. Being in the driver’s seat of a speeder or the pilot’s seat of a ship….” He shrugged again. “It’s me. ’S who I am.”

Leia snuggled against his side as the next song came on, this one a joyous exposition on the thrills of speeding. “I like who you are,” she said, kissing his cheek. Han looked down at her, affected; the guarded vulnerability in his eyes melting away into a softening joy. He leaned down and kissed her.

Chapter Text

Music had quickly become a prominent feature of their daily lives on the Falcon. There was scarcely an afternoon or evening when they didn’t enjoy it. It accompanied everyone as they laughed around the dejarik table over a meal or a game, or as they continued to apply themselves towards improving the Falcon’s condition. It accompanied Han and Leia as they ducked into various holds to steal kisses, or as they lay in the crew quarters in each other’s arms, talking about everything and nothing, piecing together more of each other’s pasts little by little.

Tonight, Chewbacca had receded to the number three hold for some time alone—«away from human hormones,» he’d announced—and Threepio was still powered down over by the engineering station. Leia curled up comfortably against Han as they sat at the dejarik table, cups of cider spiked with Corellian ale in front of them. “Not too much,” she had requested as Han had mixed it up. Now more than ever she felt the danger—and the temptation—of taking leave of her inhibitions that way. A little wouldn’t hurt, though. She took another small sip. It was delicious.

Tonight’s music selection was the Alderaanian dance group, Heartbeat of Istabith, with its soaring melodies and driving rhythms. As soon as it began playing, she wondered if choosing it had been a mistake. Already the nostalgia was looming, threatening to turn mournful something that was once full of joy. Why did the horror of what had happened so often eclipse the good that had been? She wished she could find a way to embrace the latter without the former forever intruding.

She closed her eyes, feeling the contours of the music, drumming her fingers to the beat. “I used to dance, you know,” she murmured. “I originally started lessons because my father liked to, and I wanted to be like him.” She chuckled. “But by the end… it was all my own.”

She opened her eyes, and Han was staring back at her, interested. She took a deep breath. “I eventually set it aside, of course, in favor of martial arts training and my senatorial ambitions. That, and other things. Dancing, theater, riding thrantas—those aren’t particularly helpful pursuits for a Rebellion.”

“You miss it?” Han asked.

She closed her eyes again. She remembered the studio where she’d once learned, with the musty aroma of the pleekwood floors. She remembered the bright lights, the excitement of the stage. She remembered the thrill of mastery, of performance and competition, and the satisfying synchronicity of good partnering. But most of all, she remembered the joy. She remembered the way it felt like touching light, like embracing the entire galaxy, her soul being set free.

The beat continued to thrum through her veins; a relentless lament, a challenge.

“Yes,” she said simply. “I miss it a lot.”

Han shifted away from her. She looked up. He was standing, holding out his hand in invitation.

Her brows knit. “You dance too?”

“I’ve picked up a few things.” That silly, cocky smirk was once again creeping up the corners of his mouth. “C’mon, I dare you. Think you can remember how?”

The music ground out a tantalizing beat, and she grinned devilishly. “You’re on, hotshot.” Taking his hand, she followed him to the middle of the floor.

Han immediately pulled her close, his hands finding their proper place; one at the small of her back and one in her own. She led the way into a basic Galactic quarterstep, one that she was fairly certain he’d know. She’d danced it at half a million Imperial balls; it was popular, if rather languid and simple.

To her surprise, he didn’t miss a beat. Though not perfect, he was surprisingly proficient, his movements smooth and relaxed. He sent her into a few twirls and then stopped, smirking down at her. “That one’s boring. I got a better idea.”

Pulling her even closer, he began a series of intricate steps. Her feet followed along, almost without thinking, and she gasped. This was an Alderaanian tango. “How… where…?”

He only grinned in response, and then they were off, moving together in sync, bodies twisting to the beat, spinning and writhing and twirling. He led her, then she led him, then back and forth again, each silently challenging the other with steps that could have easily led to them falling in a tangled mess on the floor (which on second thought might not be half bad, Leia thought).

“Stop gaping,” Han said, smiling. He stumbled slightly but recovered.

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up and dance, flyboy.” His smile growing even wider, he twirled her again and sent her into a dip, leaning down to kiss her in the process. She came back up breathless and nearly stumbled herself before he pulled her into another set of slides across the floor. Regaining control, she hooked her leg around his and led him in a series of enganches.

This… this was so different than the partnering she’d done in the past. There was a fierce intensity, a scintillating electricity to their bodies moving together that she’d never experienced while dancing before. It felt like second nature, almost, the way they found their rhythm, gliding and undulating to the music as one, anticipating and leaning into one another’s movements with surprising ease. But even more intoxicating was the passion that leapt from Han’s face (still bearing a trace of that obnoxious smirk—Force, why did that always make her want to kiss it off him?), and the focused intensity with which he matched her. Leia felt the room growing warm. She was increasingly conscious of the steadily narrowing gap between them, the heat rising off his limbs, their ragged breaths. The relentless rhythm drove them steadily onwards. The air was on fire.

Her chin was nearly against his chest when the song ended. For just one moment, they stood in each other’s arms, eyes locked, lips parted in surprise. Then suddenly, as if in unspoken agreement, they moved as one, closing the gap. Han’s lips felt hot on hers as he hoisted her up to his level. She hooked her legs around his hips, threaded one hand through his soft, gloriously scruffy hair, and leaned into him, finding a new rhythm as her lips moved against his. She felt the brush of his tongue on hers, and she let him in. She could barely breathe or think of anything at all except how much she wanted more of him.

More.

He took a few steps forward, and the cool surface of the bulkhead against her back broke through the sizzle of their heat as he pushed her against it. She let out a small moan, and renewed the intensity of her kiss. She cradled one lip, then the other with her own, savoring the taste. The low sound that rose from Han to meet her in response sent shivers down her spine.

More.

His hands, freer now that the wall helped hold her weight, stroked her hips, ventured along her thighs, cradled her from behind. She thrust one hand inside his collar, stroking his chest, his neck, his shoulders; exploring skin she’d never yet touched. She felt him reach up underneath her shirt, his fingers tracing up her back.

More.

…Wait.

No.

She turned her head abruptly, breaking off the kiss. “I… I can’t….” Wildly she turned her eyes back to his. Their chests were heaving. The air felt dense; her head spun. But Han’s face, while hungry, was understanding. He nodded. Gently he eased the pressure off her and set her back down on her feet. Reaching out, he caressed her cheek. His hand trembled.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Only as far as you want.” Then, letting out a long breath, he turned and sank to the floor beside her. She followed suit.

The next song had begun, its syncopated beat a little slower and calmer than the first. They sat in silence for several minutes, heartbeats slowly winding down, skin growing clammy as the heat dissipated.

“Where the hell did you learn to dance like that?” said Leia when she finally recovered her voice.

Han chuckled, leaning his head back against the cool bulkhead. “Long story. Involves Lando, actually, and some questionably legal ventures in high society. He hooked me up with some private lessons.”

“In Alderaanian tango?”

“Yeah, that and several more of the highfalutin ones. Had to know enough to be convincing.”

She shook her head, smiling. “You never stop surprising me, flyboy.”

They were quiet, for a moment, listening to the music. A feminine-sounding singer was crooning a sultry love song. Not helping, she thought.

Han wiped the sweat off his brow with his sleeve. “Where the hell’d you learn to kiss like that?” he asked, looking over at her and grinning.

She smiled, then contemplated her hands for a moment thoughtfully. “Kier Domadi. Fellow junior senator. We were together for awhile after I turned sixteen.”

“Oh.” A cloud passed over Han’s face. “That was… I meant… more of a rhetorical question. I didn’t know there was someone else—”

Leia rolled her eyes. “Of course there was someone else, Han. Being a princess doesn’t mean I lived under a rock.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like him,” he mumbled.

“Oh, shut it, there’s no reason to be jealous. We were young, and it went nowhere. He… he wasn’t on board with the Rebellion. And besides…” she paused, growing more solemn, “he’s dead now.” She felt that tiny little ache that still occasionally arose when she thought of Kier, his near-betrayal, and his death. It was much smaller now than it used to be. But she would never forget how that loss had affected her. She had vowed, then, never to fall in love again, not until the war was won.

These days, she wouldn’t even call what she’d had with Kier love, not really. Not now that she had something more mature to compare it with. But still, his loss had gutted her so deeply—the first major loss, other than her birth parents, that she had known. She couldn’t bear to imagine how much worse losing Han would be.

Han glanced up at her, his eyes speaking a silent apology, and he took her hand in his. Leia curled her fingers around it, cementing their connection, the faint electric tingle of his touch calming her fears for the moment. She shut her eyes, leaning back. The whirling, raging ball of desire inside was nearly tamed once more.

Tamed—but never quite trapped.

When they had kissed earlier, she hadn’t wanted to stop. Soaring through new milestones had been unexpectedly easy; it felt so good, and they’d felt so right together, that she’d hardly had time or the presence of mind to realize what they were doing. Part of her still desperately longed to tell him it’s okay, let’s keep going, I don’t care. To hell with the consequences.

But she knew consequences, and she did care. Despite the pull of her heart and body, her mind was still confident in its decision, and for now, at least, it was the most stubborn of the three. If you give in, she told herself, you will regret it forever. If you go all the way with him, there’s no coming back.

Because one thing was certain: she would lose him, just like she’d lost everyone else, and she had a sickening feeling that if she let herself get too far in over her head, she just might lose herself, too.

Chapter Text

Leia stared at her datapad, and it stared right back. The blankness of the new journal entry she’d opened called to her—or taunted her; she wasn’t quite sure which. She twirled a finger in one of the tendrils of her hair that had escaped from its braid.

It had been two weeks since they’d left Hoth. Two weeks since that crazy, horrible, wonderful day—wonderful, eventually, thanks to Han’s return, her decision to leave with him, their conversations, the kisses they’d finally shared. Horrible, because before that, the Empire had found their base… and she’d finally given in to despair. The past two weeks had been a welcome distraction, a healing balm for her soul. She hadn’t spent much time looking back. But as she sat curled up on her (their) bunk in the crew quarters, alone, datapad in hand, she sensed that she needed to confront what had happened that day, now that there was some time and distance.

Writing it out would help, she knew. Sometimes, that was the only way she could bring any sort of sense or order to the tangled thicket of feelings inside. She’d kept a journal for years; first it had been reluctantly, as a child following her mother’s strong suggestion, but as the years went on she had clung more and more to the release that came from setting free the jumble of words caged in her mind.

She had left behind the datapad she normally used as a journal. At the time, she had assumed she’d never need it again. It wasn’t gone forever, thankfully—dear old Threepio had seen to that—but for now, she’d have to make do with the single datapad she had on hand.

It would help if she could figure out where to start. Twenty minutes ago she’d dated the top of her new entry; since then, she’d begun a sentence only to delete it again multiple times. The more she thought about that day, the more jumbled up she felt.

Well, perhaps not all that jumbled—one feeling rose to the top of the writhing heap, threatening to overpower everything else, including her will to write.

Shame.

A sick feeling rose in her stomach. Absentmindedly, she drew out the amulet her mother had given her from the pocket she’d been keeping it in. Turning it end on end, she ran her thumb over the smooth silver metal, the rough, sea-toned jewels, the delicate chain.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

There was a knock at the door, and Han came in. She closed her fist around the necklace.

“Hey sweetheart," he said cheerily. "Just going to use the ‘fresher.” A minute later he emerged. He paused on his way to the door, taking her in. “You okay?”

Leia sighed. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh, come on, it’s never nothin’.” He crossed over to the bunk and sat down across from her. “Now look, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but—”

“No, I’ll talk,” she said, though she didn’t offer up anything else in the pause that followed. As it was with her journal, she wasn’t sure where to begin.

Han broke the silence. “So, uh, what’s that?” He gave a pointed glance at the bit of chain hanging out of her closed fist. She opened to let him see.

“My mother gave it to me,” she said. “It’s… it’s one of the few things I didn’t leave behind.”

Han cradled her hand with his own, leaning over to get a good look at the amulet. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured. He looked back up at her, raising an eyebrow. “Bringin’ up memories?”

“Always.” She smiled wistfully. “But it’s more than that.” She looked down at the amulet, her smile fading. “I… I was just thinking about what happened on Hoth. How I let them down.”

“Your parents?”

“My parents, my planet, everyone. I let them all down.” She shook her head. “I abdicated my duty.”

Han frowned. “What do you mean, sweetheart? We were just tryin’ to escape—we didn’t know we’d end up floatin’ out here all by ourselves, crawlin’ towards the nearest friendly system. That’s not your fault.”

“Oh, that’s not—that’s fine—I mean, it’s not fine, but that’s the way it is. No, the problem is what happened before that. I gave up, Han. I… I was going to let myself die.” She paused, then caught his eyes, trying to steady herself in them. “I wanted to die.”

Pain flickered in Han’s eyes as they held her own. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then he changed his mind and began stroking the side of her palm instead. Leia was vaguely relieved; she already felt ashamed enough without him piling on the worry and pity.

“Do you know what my father’s last words to me were?” she continued. “He told me he trusted me, more than anyone. He said there wasn’t anything I couldn’t deal with. At the time, he was sending me on a mission, charging me with taking the Death Star plans to Obi-Wan. But ever since… ever since, I’ve felt like his words were a charge for life. He trusted me to be the person I needed to be for my people, for the Rebellion, for the galaxy. He trusted me to not give up. On Hoth, I failed that trust. I proved him wrong.”

She swallowed down the lump that was rising in her throat. “I justified it by telling myself I wasn’t going to run away anymore. That I was facing my guilt, facing my fear. But really I was just giving into those things. Surrendering to my despair. Abandoning my duty. Letting Va—the Empire—win.” Her voice broke, and she stared down at the blankets, fighting back angry tears.

“Leia.” Han spoke her name softly, searching her face until her eyes rose to meet his. “Sweetheart.” He shook his head, his thumb continuing to outline small circles on her palm. “You’re actin’ like you wanted to die out of selfishness, like you went off and abandoned the galaxy on purpose. That’s not the truth and you know it. You said it yourself; you thought you were confrontin’ things you needed to.”

“Honestly, I thought I deserved to die,” Leia muttered. “That I should. That the galaxy would be better off without me.”

“See? I’m right. Sometimes, y’know, we all get lopsided and start thinkin’ things are one way when they’re really the other. And with what you’ve been through, I’d be surprised if you didn’t get a little lopsided sometimes. Look, I know you haven’t talked about it, but I’ve heard: the suicide rate among Alderaanian survivors is somethin’ else. Losing your whole planet… kriff, Leia, that kind of thing gets to your head, even if you aren’t a princess. You know what I think?” He caught her eyes again, and flashed a disarming grin. “I think you’re really strong for holding on for so long.”

Leia huffed, looking away. The sentiment was nice, but it rung hollow. “Strong or not, I had a duty, and I failed.” She blinked back tears. “Sometimes I wonder if my parents see everything I’ve done, everything I’ve become, and regret adopting me. If being the cause of their deaths and the death of our planet wasn’t enough for them to despise me from beyond the grave, then this ought to be.”

Han rolled his eyes and threw up his hands in mock exasperation. “Okay, so you briefly tried to get yourself killed. You were lopsided and felt like you were doin’ the galaxy a favor. You know how much that changes how I feel about you? Zip. Zilch. Nada. Nothin’ like that could ever change the fact that I love you. And nothin’ like that could ever make your parents quit lovin’ you, either, not from what I know about ‘em.”

Leia’s breath caught. Her mouth hung open, speechless. Had he really just said those three words?

Han went on as if nothing monumental had happened. “You carry so much guilt, Leia, and you don’t have to. You’ve always done the best you could. You’ve fought through hell like nobody I’ve ever seen, and helped a million people while you’re at it. Believe me, Princess, you’re one of the best damn things to happen to the galaxy. Your parents would be kriffin’ proud.”

Leia sat frozen. Her arguments were being eclipsed, one by one. Finally she found her voice, quiet and shaky, but clear:

“You love me?”

In answer, Han gathered her into his arms and kissed her soundly. “Yes, your worshipfulness,” he murmured in her ear, chuckling. “I’ve been doin’ a terrible job of it, but I’ve been tryin’ to tell you that for years.” Tears sprung fresh to Leia’s eyes as he lowered her down on the bunk. With every ounce of passion and strength she possessed, she did her best to respond without words, and all she knew for a long time was the feeling of his lips on hers.

They rolled onto their sides, and Han kissed a line down the side of her neck, his fingers wound tight in her hair. Leia’s breath hitched at the sensation, and she pulled him closer, running her fingers down his spine, catching his lips again. When they came up for air Han murmured it again: “I love you.”

He looked so vulnerable, lying there beside her, saying those words over and over as if making up for lost time. She could sense his longing to hear her say them back, and she wished desperately that she could.

Because she did love him. She knew it in every fiber of her being: a love so immense it seemed like it would explode from her in a neverending fountain of light and color. A passion so deep she could fall into it forever and never return.

And that, precisely, was the danger.

Han’s face, betraying a flicker of hurt, relaxed at her expression of consternation. “Sshhh,” he whispered, and he kissed her again, more gentle this time. Tears welling once more, she leaned into him harder, trying to pour into him everything she couldn’t say, everything she hoped he’d understand. But he pulled back and searched her eyes, fingers brushing loose hair from her face. Then, tenderly, deliberately, he planted one last kiss on her forehead and rolled out of bed. It felt cold and empty without him. “Only as far as you’re ready for, sweetheart,” he murmured. He turned and left the room.

Leia wasn’t sure how it was possible for her to feel all at once so happy and so very wretched.

Han seemed glum the rest of afternoon; Leia was certain she wasn’t imagining it, despite the fact that he always flashed her a grin whenever she was near. She ached knowing that she was the source of his hurt and there was little she could do to make it better.

At first she had given him some space. She tried to write down a few words about everything on her datapad, but that was soon tossed, once again, to the side. She attempted to bury herself in another illegally-downloaded novel, but she couldn’t focus on it.

He doesn’t want space, she realized. He wants you.

Sighing, she wandered out of the crew quarters and down the corridor. The sound of welding beckoned her to the circuitry bay.

“Hey, Princess,” said Han all-too-cheerily, lifting up his goggles as he turned to greet her.

“Hey there, hot shot. Can I help?” She watched as several different emotions warred on his face, and she would have laughed if she weren’t so heart-stricken. He was never as good at hiding them as he thought he was. Affection—and the desire to have her as close as possible—soon triumphed.

“Uh, sure,” he said. “You can calibrate some of the sensors I just got back online.”

“All right.” She picked up the holo-probe from where it was lying on the floor. Han went back to his welding, sparks flying, and she went to work on the sensors.

The silence between them lay heavy. The memory of their first kiss, right here in this cramped space, made Leia ache for more despite herself.

She swallowed. Stop it, she told herself. That won’t help anything. For the first time, the thought occurred to her that she might end up being the one to break Han’s heart, rather than the other way around. He had laid his heart on the line, and if she never told him she loved him, if she were never willing to jump all the way in, if she just kept stringing him along…. I can’t tell him, she reminded herself. He’s going to leave. I can’t take another loss.

But… she didn’t want him to have to bear that pain, either. Her heart sunk.

Maybe she needed to back off. For his sake, as well as her own.

She tried to focus on her work. Too often, though, she found herself stealing sideways glances, studying him, committing each feature to memory: that mop of brown hair, as scruffy and enticing as always. His muscular arms, rippling beneath his shirt. His rough hands, so careful and precise as he set down the welder, peeled off his gloves, and sank wrist-deep into a tangle of wiring. His face, frowning in concentration, a thin mask guarding over the vulnerability that was as always hidden just beneath the surface.

Taking off his goggles with a toss of his head, Han reached up past her to activate the panel he had just finished working on. Leia closed her eyes, willing herself not to focus on the nearness of his chest.

“You havin’ trouble?”

“What?” She opened her eyes, focusing them back on her work.

“The holo-probe actin’ up?” He hadn’t moved away.

“I—”

Reluctantly, inevitably, her eyes flickered up to find his. Yes, there was the hurt she was dreading to see, and the fear, and the… fiery determination? Her lips parted in surprise. Without another word, he took her in his arms and kissed her passionately, pushing her back against the wall like he had done two weeks before. Leia sunk into it at first, desperate to close the gap between them, until she recovered her senses. She jerked her head to the side.

“Han, wait, I—”

He held a finger up to her lips. “Don’t,” he murmured. “It’s all right.”

“But I—”

“I knew when I said it that you wouldn’t—that you couldn’t say it back. Not yet. It’s okay, Leia.”

“No, it’s not. You’re—”

“Sure it is. We’re goin’ at your pace, remember, sweetheart?”

“Stop interrupting me!” Leia lashed out, frustrated. “Listen: you’ll be leaving soon. I don’t know how I’d live with myself if… if I never… but I can’t… Han, can’t you see we’re flying straight into our own graves? We’re going to lose each other. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t—”

“Leia, I’m gonna try and come back—”

“I’m sorry, Han, but maybe we should just… stop this.”

Han froze. Leia looked away, trembling. The future once more was winding down into bleakness; she’d just have to face it and find the strength to move on, somehow.

Then slowly, Han let out a breath. “Sweetheart,” he said softly, catching her eyes again, “there are worse things out there than havin’ something great and then losin’ it. One of those is never havin’ anything to begin with. That’s the whole damn reason we decided to try this out in the first place.”

She blinked, forcing back the edge of the familiar panic, focusing in on his words.

“Now, I’m not ready to back down yet, and I don’t think you are either—and no, you don’t have to say or do anything to prove it to me. I get it. You can’t. But as for me…” he brought his hand up to caress the side of her head, tracing his thumb along her hairline. He shook his head. “…Blast it, Leia, I love you. You’re worth it to me, no matter what happens. All of the consequences, all of the whatever afters—as far as I’m concerned, they can all go straight to hell.”

She looked up into his eyes, searching. Finally, she raised a tremulous eyebrow. “You really mean that, don’t you?” she whispered.

He nodded gravely.

She exhaled, feeling a mixture of sadness and relief. Reaching up her hand, she gently brushed the hair off his brow. “You always were a reckless one, flyboy,” she murmured.

“That’s why you like me.” He grinned roguishly, resting his arm back on the bulkhead above her and leaning in closer. “Now, where were we?”

The bleakness was dissipating, replaced by cautious hope; replaced by him. While a part of her heart still smoldered with fear, she clung to the truth of his words and the sincerity with which he had spoken them.

There are worse things than having something great and then losing it.

You’re worth it to me, no matter what happens.

Somehow, she felt as if a great weight were lifting off of her, slowly fading through the walls of the ship to disperse, free, in the aether.

Chapter Text

It was a relief to relax again; to simply enjoy the feel of each other’s lips and hands on each other for a little while, there in the circuitry bay. Leia tried hard to quiet her worries, and for a moment, she almost succeeded.

That moment was soon interrupted, however. Chewie stuck his head in the door, braying something about it being time for food, with an addendum about how it would be great if they pursued their mating rituals somewhere outside of his sight and hearing.

«Besides,» he noted, «I’ve prepared something special.»

Duly chastised, they made their way to the dejarik table. Emotionally, Leia felt as though she’d just flown through some particularly rough in-air turbulence, and she wasn’t that hungry—at least, not until she caught the scent of whatever was in the bowl Chewie was carrying in. He deposited it on the table in front of them with a flourish.

“What’s this?” she asked.

Instead of answering, he disappeared again to the corner of the hold, quickly returning with a large plate of ration sticks and reconstituted Bilbringi pies.

«A feast,» he announced. «I made a sauce to go with the rations. It will make us feel like our feet are rooted to the ground again.» He passed out bowls and utensils, and the three of them eagerly dug in.

Leia dipped a spoon into her sauce-covered Bilbringi pie and lifted it for a taste. Immediately, she closed her eyes, savoring the rich, spicy flavor. “How in the galaxy did you manage this, Chewie?” she asked.

Han cut in between bites. “Oh, he always keeps a bunch of spices and stuff around, just in case.”

«One never knows when they’ll be stuck onboard for three weeks,» explained Chewie. «It’s good to—» here he made a series of sounds Leia wasn’t familiar with, and she looked at Han inquisitively.

“He means it’s nice to have something special to break up the routine.”

“I’ll say,” she replied, taking another bite. It wasn’t just the weeks on the ship; it was the endless cold rations on Hoth, too. When had she last had a proper meal? Ord Mantell, maybe? “Honestly, Chewie,” she said, “this is as good as any royal feast I can remember.”

After their stomachs were suitably stuffed—Leia had only found two Wookiee hairs in her bowl, and the last bite was every bit as mouthwateringly delicious as the first—Han turned on some music and conjured up a sabacc deck and a handful of Corellian ales. Soon the hold rang with laughter. Leia had generally been too caught up in her duties to play the game much, but Han and Chewie, while fiercely competitive towards each other, were rather generous teachers. Soon she was holding her own—which for now, she surmised, meant not losing every hand. She suspected Han was going easy on them.

After a long time the music quieted, the album having played through twice already.

“And… Pure Sabacc.” Han layed out his hand triumphantly. Chewie bellowed, waving his arms in frustration. Leia laid out her cards in defeat—she’d had a good hand this round, but at twenty-one points, it wasn’t nearly enough. She briefly thanked the old gods that they weren’t playing for a sabacc pot; otherwise she might have just lost… a lot.

“You’re watching a master at work,” Han crowed, tipping back his second Corellian ale, and Leia and Chewie both rolled their eyes.

She took a small sip of her own drink. “Where did you learn to play sabacc, Han?”

“Oh… around.” He waved dismissively.

«Han was already a master of it when we met, and he was barely more than a cub in human years, then.»

“So… you learned it on Corellia?”

Han shrugged. “We may have been scrumrats, but we were still kids. It was one of the few ways we had fun.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“Do you ever miss your home planet?” Leia asked.

“No,” Han said firmly. There was no hesitation in his voice.

Leia nodded. She leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand, and thought for a moment. She needed to tread this conversation carefully—considering the lightheartedness of the evening and the alcohol Han had consumed, she suspected he might be a little more open than usual to talking, but she still didn’t want to push too hard. “When you finally escaped… how did it feel? Did you feel free, or was it bittersweet?”

Han and Chewie exchanged a brief look. Then Han leaned back in the seat, raking his fingers through his hair. “Uh,” he muttered. “It’s… complicated.”

She nodded, giving him space to go on if he wanted to. After another mouthful of his ale, he did.

“So, uh, there was this girl.”

Leia stiffened a little, but she just as quickly relaxed again. Of course there was a girl, she told herself. There’d been multiple girls; she was already well aware of that. Don’t be silly; listen. She didn’t want to miss out on this part of his story just because of some childish sort of jealousy.

“We tried to escape together,” he continued. “But… I made it; she didn’t. They grabbed her right as we went through the gate at the spaceport, and I couldn’t do a damn thing.” He shrugged. “I spent the next three years in the Imperial Navy planning out how I was gonna buy my own ship and go back to Corellia. To find her. So yeah, as much as I hated Corellia, you wouldn’t’ve believed it back then.”

“Did you do it? Did you go back and find her?”

He took another sip. “Didn’t have to. Turns out, she was sold right after I left—to Crimson Dawn.”

Leia’s breath caught in her throat.

“She was owned by one of the syndicate’s head honchos,” Han continued, “and somehow she managed to work her way up to being his lieutenant. We ran into each other on my first job after the Empire. Chewie n’ I were with a crew doing a job for Crimson Dawn, and she came with us to Kessel.” He face lit up in a grin. “The trip where I made the run—”

“In less than twelve parsecs. We know,” Leia said, rolling her eyes. “So what happened to her? Did she ever get free?”

“She… no, she didn’t. At least I don’t think so. I, uh, thought, at the end, that we had won, and that she was gonna come away with me and Chewie. She killed the guy who owned her. But… I guess she had other ideas.”

Leia frowned, feeling the glimmer of deep pain in Han’s past. “She took his place,” she said, the realization coming as she said the words. She wondered if this girl was still alive… and if she was still at the head of the notorious cartel.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Eh, it was a long time ago. I was a kid, naïve. She’d always been like that; a survivor, a climber. In it for herself, no matter what—or who—was in her way.” His words, even after all these years, sounded bitter.

Leia raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like somebody I once thought I knew.”

Han ignored her comment. “It wouldn’t’ve worked out.”

«Hmm. It wouldn’t have,» Chewie agreed. «But Han was sad for a long time.»

“Thanks, fuzzball,” he retorted. “It’s not like nobody ever broke your heart.”

Chewie chuckled. «There was a young Wookiee before Malla,» he explained, turning to Leia. «I was also sad for a long time when we ended the hunt.» He paused. «These things are hard. But when you meet the right person, the sadness of the past seems very small next to the happiness you’ve found.»

With that, Chewbacca stretched and rose from the dejarik table. «I’m going to leave you two to continue your mating ritual. Just stay away from the number three hold.»

Leia blushed. “Chewie, it’s not—we’re not—”

The Wookiee only laughed, eyes twinkling. «Goodnight, cubs.»

The main hold was quiet for a little while in Chewie’s absence. Then, Han scooted closer to Leia on the bench, putting an arm around her and shifting his ale to his other hand. He massaged her shoulder, looking thoughtful.

“You know,” he said, “I’ve had a lot of disappointments. A lot of heartache.” He took another sip. “Everyone I’ve ever cared for has either abandoned or betrayed me, the whole lot of ‘em.” He made a scornful sound. “Usually both. And I never… I never took it easy.” He glanced at her. “I’ve had to learn to face the galaxy on my own. Well, not completely—I’ve got Chewie, but you know what I mean. I’ve had to learn not to trust people, not to commit to anything.” He swallowed, looking into her eyes. “I… Leia… I want that to be different, with you.”

Leia opened her mouth to respond, then she closed it again. She wasn’t sure what to say. His words had stirred something deep within her, and her mind was still working through what all it meant. He wants to commit, she thought. He wants a life together. How impossible that would have sounded, once. Still sounded, if she were honest. Was it? All she knew was that she desperately wanted it, too.

“I love you,” he murmured again, and bent down for a lingering kiss. They parted, and she laid her head on his shoulder, nestling into him, wishing she had more to give. Several minutes passed in silence.

And then, finally, she knew what to say, what to do.

She took a deep breath. “On Alderaan,” she began, “women’s hair is regarded as sacred, in a way. There’s all sorts of meaning behind how we wear it.” She paused. “And… there’s a lot of meaning behind who gets to take it down. It’s… incredibly intimate.” She sat up, trembling. Slowly, she drew a pin out of her hair and laid it in his hand. His eyes widened.

She hoped he would understand. It wasn’t a spoken “I love you,” nor was it a lustful consummation. But it was a sign, and, she hoped, a promise of things to come. A powerful act, words without words. Would he hear them? She rotated on the bench, presenting him with the coil of braids that were wrapped around the back of her head.

Slowly, he reached out and touched them. Then he kissed the nape of her neck, making the tiny hairs there stand on end. She let out a shaky breath. He began to search, his fingers wandering over the braids. He pulled out one pin, then another. Every time he removed one, he planted another kiss—this one on her shoulder, that one on her cheek, another one on her neck again.

Finally, the last pin was out and her hair was unraveled. She felt it spilling like a waterfall over her shoulders and back. From behind her, Han made a quiet, agonized sort of sound. She’d never worn her hair down around him before. With reverent care, he dug his fingers into her loose tresses, slowly running through them, gently smoothing out the tangles. “Leia,” he murmured, voice cracking. “It’s… kriff, you’re so beautiful.” He buried his head in it, kissed it.

Once again, Leia didn’t know what to say. A lump had formed in her throat; it seemed to come from a bubble of joy inside her that was growing larger and larger by the second. There were no words for this. She simply turned around to face him, drew his forehead to hers, and then kissed him again, long and deep, while his hands wove through her hair.

Chapter Text

They fell asleep in each others’ arms again that night, Han’s fingers still twisted in her hair, a rare peace settling on her heart.

In unspoken agreement, they had taken to sharing a bunk after the last nightmare incident—at first it had been hesitant, but already it felt like a comfortable routine. She had been drifting off to sleep much faster, and waking up far less. The nightmares had been fewer, too; her dreams tending to be of a more banal—and occasionally erotic—nature.

Which is why she didn’t expect the profound vividness of the surroundings that overtook her this night, untold hours after her eyes had closed.

She was in a garden, like the one at the palace in Aldera… only more so. Bigger, more lush, more beautiful; every color so gloriously vibrant that she wondered if she were seeing it for the first time.

A pleasant breeze drifted by, carrying the scent of starflowers and the sound of familiar laughter. Heart catching in her throat, she turned to find the source. No one stood there; there was only a trellis of flowering vines and a stand of fruit trees, leaves dancing in the wind.

From above came a flap of wings, and she looked up, startled by this other sound she knew by heart. Soaring above her were two large, graceful thrantas.

“Leia.” A voice whispered on the breeze. “We love you.”

The thrantas twisted and somersaulted in the air, as if to salute her, and then they soared away. She watched them for a long time, until they turned to tiny specks and finally winked out, leaving only the great blue expanse of the sky.

The blue darkened, and her sense of peace shattered like glass. She was in a strange room, clouds of steam boiling up ominously from grates that glowed orange beneath her feet.

“Leia!” That was Han’s voice, desperate and pained. She looked around, frantic, but all around her the billowing steam gathered into a fog her eyes could not pierce. From their depths came a ragged scream—Han’s scream. “No!” Leia cried, stumbling forward. He screamed again. Desperate, she plunged into the mists. One foot caught and the other met with air, and suddenly she was tumbling—down, down into darkness and bone-numbing cold.

She woke up with a jolt, sitting straight up in the bunk.

“Mmmph,” Han grunted from beside her, reaching out sleepily for the warmth that had left his side. She caught his hand and let out a slow breath. Not real, she told herself. She fell back on the bunk, snuggling into him.

“Y’okay?” Han mumbled.

“Sshh,” she whispered. “I’m fine. Just another bad dream.”

He rolled to face her, seeming to shed layers of sleep as he did so. “You sure? It’s okay if you wanna talk about it. I’m awake.”

“No, really, it’s fine.” She wasn’t even sure what she’d seen, or if she could describe it. It was like none of her dreams before. All she could be certain of was the deep unease that had settled on her, and a far-off echo of pain and loss.

Han looked at her with concern.

“Just… hold me.” She nestled into him, taking comfort in his warmth, and he snuggled her close. That strange, misty room still haunted her, lurking at the back of her thoughts, but she focused on Han as he kissed her forehead, stroked her hair. Soon she relaxed, her breathing deepened, and she knew no more.

The dream with the strange room came back again the next night, and the next. Leia felt troubled, an anxious feeling growing steadily inside her with each passing day.

She didn’t tell Han. It felt almost silly. She had never seen that room in her life; it was like none of her nightmares before. What was she supposed to tell him? That she was afraid of a place she’d never known? That she had a strange sense she couldn’t shake off that it was real? That somehow, against all reason and logic, she feared she was seeing visions of the future? That’s ridiculous, she told herself.

But even so, she felt a deep dread that rose with every parsec they traveled closer to Bespin.

They would be there by the end of the week.

In some ways, that was a relief. While it had been unexpectedly nice to get away for awhile (and more than nice to be sharing that time with Han), the ship’s confines seemed to be steadily shrinking; the grubby if beloved bulkheads were feeling more and more like a cage. She could hardly wait for a breath of fresh air, for the feel of wind on her face, for space to… she wasn’t sure what. Run? Jump? Do a whirling kavadango dance? The thought made her smile.

On the other hand, she could almost stay on this cramped ship forever if it meant no more change, no more loss.

She was in the ‘fresher, meticulously brushing out her hair. It turned out that there were consequences to sleeping without it tucked into its usual long braid, particularly when someone’s hands had been tangled up in it all night—consequences that took some steady, persistent work to set right. She and Han had both laughed at the state of things that first morning after he’d unpinned it, but she suspected he rather liked it that way. Moreover, she was enjoying this new level of intimacy too much to object. Even the act of having to brush it all out made her feel a little bit giddy, despite the worry that still gnawed at her gut.

Finishing up, she slipped into her leggings and long-sleeved shirt, and, with her hair still cascading loose down her back—she’d leave it that way, at least for the morning—she headed out to find breakfast, leaving her dark dreams behind.

Leia tiptoed around the bend of the corridor, back against the inner wall, heartbeat pounding. She tried to quiet the sound of her breathing. Was that the creak of a floor panel she heard from up ahead? Silently she crept forward, inch by inch. Slowly, the door to the crew quarters came into view. It was open. She froze, considering what might be lurking in the dark.

Nothing emerged, so she released the breath she was holding and continued edging along the corridor, scouring her memory for any clues as to which floor panels were the creaky ones. For a moment she considered taking refuge in the crew quarters, but she dismissed the thought just as quickly. She might have hidden in the ‘fresher or even tucked herself into a cupboard, but then she’d be stuck—there was only one way in or out of the room. The primary circuitry bay that opened up opposite it, however… it wasn’t large, but it did have some potential hiding spots, if she could get settled in quickly….

A massive blur shot at her from around the bend. “GOTCHA!” it yelled.

Crew quarters it was. With a stifled shriek, she darted across the hall and into the room, pounding the controls to shut the door behind her. Squinting, she willed her eyes to adjust to the darkness as she cast about the room for further refuge.

Too late. The door swished open, the lights blazed on, and in an instant Han was on top of her, tackling her to the bunk. She burst out laughing at the sudden jolt of adrenaline, and he laughed too, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Like I told you,” he said, grinning.

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, hot shot. We both know I’ll win the next one.” Reaching up, she grabbed his head and pulled it down so his lips met hers, and they spent a moment reveling in Han’s success.

She’d had her own successes, too, at this game of hide, chase, and seek. Not half an hour before, she had been the one to discover Han as he tried to slip into one of his smuggling compartments. She’d gotten a good kiss for her efforts then, too.

Chewie had long ago thrown up his hands in annoyance at their antics before retreating to the number three hold, but Leia didn’t feel the slightest sliver of guilt. This was exhilarating, especially after being cooped up on the the ship for so long. Maybe two and a half weeks trapped in space had driven them a little insane, but she couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed this hard; the last time she had given herself permission to act this silly and carefree. She felt like a young teenager all over again.

The most mystifying part was that despite the adrenaline, the creeping around, and the surprises from dark corners, she actually felt safe. The instinctual fear and panic had faded, replaced by delight, excitement, assuredness, love. It was as if this trip had been slowly drawing her out of herself—or rather, drawing her out of the part of herself that was besieged by all that she’d been through, and into whatever part of herself still held the echo of being whole. She wasn’t entirely there yet, but it was extraordinary nonetheless.

What was also extraordinary was how in the span of a couple weeks, Han had dispensed with the illusions and indecision and put all his cards on the table. She knew now that he had set aside his own past of betrayal and heartache to love her wholeheartedly, and she did not take for granted the courage it took him to do so. It only made her love him more.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she deepened the kiss, and Han pressed into it hungrily. His hands ran down her side and over her hair, and she followed suit, greedy for more of him.

Han’s scream. Orange mist. Cold.

She froze.

Han pulled back, looking at her with concern. “You all right, Leia? This too much?”

“I—” she stuttered, not sure what to say. “I’m fine. This is fine. Just an intrusive thought, that’s all.” She smiled at him, willing the images away, and raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t tell you to stop.”

The worry didn’t fully leave his eyes, but after a moment he shrugged, smiling back at her. Soon she was once again lost in the sensation of his lips. For awhile, she was almost able to forget.

He broke it off without warning, jumping out of the bunk. She started to get up after him, intending to pull him back down, but he raised a finger to stop her. “Better start counting, Your Worshipfulness,” he declared, and then with one last cheeky grin, he made a bolt for the door.

Leia found herself laughing freely once more as she fell back onto the bunk, ready to begin the hunt all over again.

“You know, I saw you in a holovid, once.”

They lay on the bunk together, worn out from the afternoon’s chase. Han was sprawled out on his back, arms tucked behind his head; Leia was on her side, propped up on an arm so she could get a good look at him. Right now, she was particularly enamored with the way his hair stuck up in various places and how his eyes creased when he let out one of his rare, genuine, full-throated laughs.

“Really?” she replied, intrigued.

“Yeah. You were giving a speech in the Senate. I don’t know what the hell it was about—never payed any attention to politics anyway—but I remember it said you were ‘Alderaan’s princess and newly elected senator’ or somethin’ like that.”

Leia chuckled. That could have been any number of occasions—she’d given many speeches over the course of her short time as senator. And the HoloNet had always emphasized her royal title above and beyond anything else, to her annoyance. “Any particular reason you remembered me?”

“You were pretty.”

“Of course you’d say that,” she said, shaking her head in amusement.

“Hey, don’t blame me. Couldn’t help but notice.” He grinned. “But the thing that really made me sit back and watch for a minute was this: You were all dressed in white but you were a kriffin’ fireball. Whatever you were saying, you really believed it. Didn’t often see that from all those high ’n mighty politicians up there on Coruscant. Made me believe for a second that someone up there was actually gettin’ something done, tryin’ to make things better.”

Leia felt unexpectedly moved. “Thanks, Han. It means a lot to hear that.” She studied his chin, marked by that interesting little scar. “I… well, at least I tried. For awhile I believed maybe I could get something done there, but—” she shook her head, the memories flooding back. “The Empire’s grip on the Senate was so tight, and getting tighter every day. I thought being a senator would be one of the best ways to make a difference in the galaxy, but it turns out that by the time I got there, it was all a sham. What really mattered was my work for the Alliance, and my mercy missions.”

“Mercy missions?”

“I did a lot of charity work, disaster relief, that sort of thing, on many different worlds. Sometimes we used it as a cover for the Rebellion, but a lot of times it was legitimate. The Empire was doing so much damage, everywhere. I may have been a thorn in their side, but I was liked well enough that they couldn’t afford to stop me, not for a long time.”

She grew silent as she remembered some of the horrors she had seen back then. The faces of young and old alike, beings of countless species and genders, desperate and hungry and suffering in so many ways. The weariness that lined every inch of their forms. The spark of hope, however small, in their eyes when she brought help. She had made it her personal goal to fan that hope into flame, but as long as the Empire stood, even that seemed in vain. She wondered where some of those beings were now, and if they were any better off than before.

Han was staring at her, brows furrowed. “You made a difference, you know,” he said, seemingly reading her thoughts. “Yeah, the Empire might have come in and undone a whole lot of it, but it meant something. To those people.” He blew out a breath. “There weren’t a whole lot of beings who gave a damn about me growing up, but occasionally someone would care for a bit. Do some act of kindness, give me a piece of bread or somethin’. When you’re in a place like I was… that’s something you don’t forget.”

Leia nodded, thoughtful. That’s something you don’t forget. She filed that away to bring out the next time she felt the nearness of despair.

Swallowing down the sudden lump in her throat, she abruptly remembered something she had meant to ask him earlier, after his mention of the holovid, and she smiled. “Say, did I ever tell you I saw an old, decrepit YT-1300 a lot like the Falcon once, back in my younger days? Ever since I met you, I’ve always wondered if it were you.”

“There ain’t nothin’ like this ship, sister,” Han said, grinning back at her. “Not gonna bet any credits on it, but I wouldn’t be surprised, either. When and where was it?”

“On Coruscant, six years ago. I was desperate for secret transport off-planet. I was going to try that ship, but it took off before I could reach it or see anyone on board.”

Han frowned. “Only been to Coruscant a couple a’ times, and I can’t remember when.” He shrugged. “Still, it very well coulda been Chewie n’ me. Who knows, you mighta fallen for me a lot earlier!” He waggled his eyebrows.

Leia chuckled. “I was sixteen, Han! If I had, I would have been too young for you.”

He whistled. “Damn, you’re right. Thing is, you act so much bigger than everyone else, command the hell outta everyone, I forget you’re that much younger than me.”

She laughed, letting her head sink down on the bed. Han rolled over on his side to face her, and he reached out a hand to tuck aside a strand of hair that had fallen in her face. Most of it was up in a braid now—as nice as it felt to wear it down for a change, it was not in any way practical for running around and concealing oneself on a ship.

Darkness. Cold. Steam billowing up through floor vents.

No.

Leia tried to force the images away, angry at the intrusion. She just wanted to be here, now, happy and enjoying this moment with Han. Why couldn’t they just let her be?

“Leia?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s wrong?”

She let out a small sigh. The thoughts kept invading no matter what, so she supposed she might as well stop pretending. A small wave of relief swept over her at the thought.

“Han…” she began, searching out the right words. “Do you ever get the sense that something’s about to go very wrong, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it?”

They were lying face to face, now, his hand still running through her hair, and she could clearly see the concern and confusion in his eyes.

“Uh… not really. Usually I just try to trust my luck and, uh, hope for the best.”

“I don’t mean it like that. It’s… it’s not a matter of optimism or pessimism, or intuition, even. I’m talking about a premonition; a certainty deep down that something is going to happen.”

Han looked slightly alarmed. “I get a lot of bad feelings about stuff, but I’m not sure I’ve ever felt… certain like that. What, you worried we’re in danger?”

“I… I don’t know. I’ve been having these dreams.” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “For the past few nights now. It’s always the same. And it’s so vivid, Han. I can’t shake the foreboding that somehow it’s real, and that it’s lying in wait for us.”

Han shook his head. “Sweetheart, you’ve had enough horrible stuff happen to you. You gotta admit it makes a lot of sense for your brain to start expecting more horrible stuff just around the corner.”

That was the conclusion she had come to as well, the explanation that made the most sense. But it didn’t change the way she felt. “I guess so. I just wish I could convince my brain that’s all it is.” She sighed, suddenly fighting back tears. “I’m just so tired of this, Han. I’m tired of feeling trapped in all this fear and grief. Always waiting for the next disaster to strike. Always remembering what happened and being afraid of what will.” He moved in a little closer and continued to stroke her hair. “I’m so tired,” she repeated in a whisper, closing her eyes against it all.

“Leia.” Han’s voice was thick, and she blinked to find his eyes gazing back at her own, grave and passionate and determined. “Someday, whenever you’re ready… I’d like to help you escape that world for awhile.”

Leia’s breath caught in her throat and her stomach fluttered as the full sense of his words hit her. Yes, she thought, I’d like that, too. All at once she was filled with overwhelming longing, and a part of her was tempted to act; act to make “someday” now.

But… no, she couldn’t afford that. Not yet.

Still, she managed a slow smile against the ache in her chest, the lightness in her head, the warmth growing in her body. “Someday,” she repeated, drawing a hand up to caress his face.

Han nodded, and then she was once again almost lost in his long, gentle kiss, wondering if that day of escape would ever come.

Chapter Text

Soft, blue light bathed the cockpit of the Falcon in an eerie glow. It flickered on and off with a distinctive click.

Nothing. There’s nothing.

Leia had known what she would find as soon as she sat down in front of the astrogation display; she had scanned the nearby solar systems for alternate destinations three times today already. But something kept propelling her to look again.

Threepio had woken up from his self-induced sleep earlier that day, relaying the Falcon’s message that they had just entered the gravitational influence of Bespin’s star.

They had one more day.

The dream had come back every night, relentless. Han knew when it happened now. She’d wake up panting in fear and curl herself into him, and he’d wrap an arm around her and kiss her forehead, whispering that it wasn’t real.

But it felt so real, and Leia couldn’t convince herself it wasn’t, no matter what the rational side of her brain told her. Dread filled her when she thought of Bespin now. Surely there was some way to change their course; avoid whatever disaster was ahead. Surely there was somewhere else that they could go.

There wasn’t, and their supplies wouldn’t last them long enough to get anywhere else, now, even if there had been.

But she still checked anyway.

It wasn’t only the dream that had her on edge. The closer they crept towards the gas giant and its supposed refuge in the clouds, the more she became aware that no matter what, her time with Han was running short.

Soon, he’d be gone. Would what had grown between them be gone, too?

For a long time after the astrogation display was turned off, she sat in the cockpit, staring motionlessly at the twisting tunnel of light outside.

“Leia?”

She sat up straight, startled out of her thoughts.

“There you are. You gonna come eat with Chewie n’ me?”

She slumped again. “Go ahead. I’ll be there soon.”

Truth was, she wasn’t hungry, and she didn’t feel like socializing. She didn’t feel like sitting here accomplishing nothing, either, but her universe wasn’t exactly teeming with choices right now.

Han’s consternation was so loud that she didn’t have to see his face to know it was there. “You okay?” he asked.

“I’m just….” She grimaced, giving up on trying to find the words. “I’m not hungry.”

“Still thinking about that dream, aren’t you?” He came up behind her and began rubbing her shoulders. “I think you just need to chill out. Worrying about it won’t help anything.”

Leia whirled on him. “You think I just need to chill out? Well, why didn’t you tell me before? That would have fixed everything!”

He winced. “Leia, I—”

“No matter what, things are going to change after we get there, and I can’t do a damn thing about it.” Her voice was cold. “Of course I’m worried.”

Han opened his mouth to retort, but then his eyes softened and he seemed to think better of it. “Sorry, sweetheart. That was a dumb thing to say.”

Leia’s shoulders sagged, deflated from the fight that hadn’t come. For a moment they stood there looking at each other awkwardly. Then Han held out his arms as if they were a peace offering. With a sudden rush of need she stepped into them, feeling the comfort of those arms wrapping around her, stroking her hair, massaging her back. She willed away the sudden tears that loomed like storm clouds. Right now, she was afraid that if she let the rain come, it would never stop.

Han kissed the top of her head. “We’ll figure it out together,” he murmured. Leia closed her eyes and tried to believe that everything would be all right.

Han put on some music again after dinner. It was jovial and upbeat, unlike Leia’s mood. She watched, amusement slowly beginning to thread through her worry, as he and Chewie joined hands and boisterously danced around the main hold. They seemed to have formed a conspiracy to make her laugh. To her surprise, she was starting to think it might actually work.

“Oh dear!” Threepio exclaimed, clearly appalled as the pair clattered into a few of the canisters and tools that had been left on the floor. Finally, with a triumphant roar, Chewie lifted Han and deposited him unceremoniously on the floor by the dejarik table.

“Hey!” said Han, pretending to be affronted.

Ignoring him, Chewie turned to her and gallantly offered her his paw. After a split second’s hesitation, she smiled and took it.

To hell with anxiety anyway.

Chewie led her in the same lively dance. Apparently it was a Wookiee favorite, though he explained he’d toned it down quite a bit so as not to hurt his human companions. «The Rhaggghhwr,» he called it. Leia turned to Han for elucidation, but Threepio beat him to it.

“The Wiggle-Hop,” the droid translated pompously. That did make her laugh.

Chewie swept her across the room. Several times, he tossed her up in the air and caught her—not high enough so as to be alarming or make her lose her balance, but enough to give her a thrill of delight. She found herself laughing even more. By the time he tossed her one last time and set her down—a bit more gently than he had Han, and on the dejarik bench, this time—she was completely out of breath, a grin plastered on her face.

“That…” she panted out between breaths, “was… fabulous.”

Chewbacca gave a little flourish.

“So,” she said wryly, leaning back against the seat cushion, “apparently you’re both dancers, and you never told me. I wonder what other talents you’re hiding?”

The Wookiee folded his arms and gave a little shake of his mane. «On Kashyyyk, I was known for my remarkable singing voice.»

“Trust me,” Han said in a mock whisper, “you do not want to hear it.”

“Come on, Han, can it be any worse than yours?”

“Hey, you haven’t even heard my voice!”

“Then who was singing along to The Bloodstripes earlier?” She grinned.

«Perhaps you were hearing my agghghgra reuughhh!» Chewie declared jovially.

Han extended a pointer finger towards Chewie. “Your ‘tones’ aren’t ‘illustrious,’ pal, not by a long shot.” He turned back to Leia and smirked, putting his hands on his hips. “I suppose your royal-high-and-mightiness can do better? I say we hear and decide for ourselves! Whaddya say, Chewie?”

The Wookiee roared his agreement.

“Okay,” Leia reluctantly conceded, raising an eyebrow. “But only if you two take a turn, as well.”

«Deal!» Chewie trumpeted.

“All right, all right.” Han threw up his hands, though clearly he wasn’t at all upset about this turn of events. “You first, Princess.”

Leia stood up, considering her options. She settled on a song from her childhood; it was simple and lovely, and—as it was a lullaby—easy to sing a cappella.

“Mirrorbright shines the moon,” she began, “its glow as soft as an ember. When the moon is mirrorbright, take this time to remember.”

She closed her eyes as she sang. She thought of her mother’s soft voice lulling her to sleep as a young child, of the Alderaanian constellations shining in through her bedroom window, of the distant tinkling of the south terrace air sculpture floating in on the night breeze. She tried not to think too much about the words themselves, and what they meant now, after… after the end.

“….Mirrorbright shines the moon, as fires die to their embers. Those you loved are with you still—the moon will help you remember.”

She opened her eyes. The room was silent for a moment, then Han and Chewie erupted into applause.

“Kriffin’ hell, Leia. You should sing more often!”

“Why, Mistress Leia, I was not aware that your voice was so sonorous! And what a lovely song!”

«You will put us all to shame, little Princess!»

Leia blushed at their enthusiasm. She had never had much voice training, and she was well aware that there was plenty of room for improvement… but their praise was encouraging. Maybe she should take time to sing more often.

Chewbacca was up next, sharing a ballad from his homeworld. Leia found Wookiee singing to be very interesting, if not entirely enjoyable. The scale was like nothing she’d ever heard, and at times it seemed like he was warbling two or three notes all at once. All the same, she was relieved when it was over. Technically impressive or not, the clashing tones of the ballad made her struggle not to cringe.

Han took the easy way out when it was his turn, choosing to sing along to a Grondorn Muse song. His voice, while even less trained than hers, was low and smooth and generally pleasant. She laughed as he hammed it up for them, plucking at an imaginary instrument. “When it’s just you and the stars, with an old bottle o’ booze, singing those old spacer blues!” he crooned, drawing the last note out with relish. He bowed grandiosely at their applause.

When their laughter and cheers had died down, Threepio piped up. “If I may, I have a song to share as well.” He was already striding to replace Han in the middle of the floor.

Han and Leia exchanged a quick look. Oh great, she thought, but just as quickly she scolded herself. She had wanted to treat Threepio better and include him—to a reasonable extent—in their goings-on, and this seemed as good a time as any to start.

“As you know,” he continued, “I am fluent in over six million forms of communication. One of the languages and cultures I am fortunate enough to be familiar with is that of the Lekhar. Their etiquette prescribes that upon greeting fellow Lekhari, they sing a greeting song, one of which I will sing to you now. I think it is rather delightful.”

With that, the droid launched into song. His voice, while a bit tinny, was quite agreeable, and before long Leia found herself lost in the strange syllables and wistful tune. It was longer than she expected a greeting to be, but she guessed from her own experience with languages that this was probably the formal version, and that the Lekhari had a short version for more everyday occurrences.

“Damn, Goldenrod,” Han said once the droid had finished, “you’re not too bad of a singer yourself. And I gotta admit, that was kind of interesting.”

Leia smiled, pleased at Han’s kindness.

The music didn’t end after Threepio. Han and Chewie took to the floor again to sing along to another old Corellian ballad. Then she and Han tried their hand at a duet, and then all of them, including the droid, joined in belting out a classic by Hyperspaze and the Jump Lanes.

It was unexpected and fun and wonderful. Occasionally, Leia remembered the foreboding creeping at the back of her mind, the incongruity jolting her. She felt vaguely guilty for having a good time.

Later, as she clapped along to another musical number courtesy of the Captain and the Wookiee, she paused, the thought hitting her like a ton of duracrete: she couldn’t be so afraid of losing any of this that she forgot to enjoy it.

Joy drives out fear.

The old Alderaanian proverb echoed in her mind. Her anxiety was never wholly gone, and she knew it would soon return in full force, but laughter, friendship, love—these things helped. She could fight the darkness with delight.

What’s more, she realized, these moments of beauty and happiness would always be real. They’d always be with her in some way, because she had experienced them. Loss could take away so much, that was true, but it couldn’t erase these moments any more than losing her planet had erased the precious memories of her beloved family and world.

I need to have more hope, she thought. Not hope based on unfounded optimism, but hope based on this—that joy and goodness would always be real, no matter what may come.

As she watched Chewie and Han belt out the last tenuous notes of their duet, a strange sense of peace washed over her, mingling with the merriment of the moment. Grabbing hold of it with everything she had, she smiled.

Chapter Text

Puffy clouds of rose gold melted into orange, and violet striations marked the sky as if placed there by brushstroke. It was dawn, and the city in the clouds shone with reflected colors as the Falcon finally made its approach.

Leia’s breath would have caught at Bespin’s extraordinary beauty if it hadn’t already been shallow with worry.

Two small ships with twin pods, presumably from the Cloud City security force, flanked their side threateningly. A curt voice came over the comm.

“No, I don’t have a landing permit,” Han repeated. Annoyance filled his voice as he slowed down his enunciation in an effort to get the message across. “I’m trying to reach Lando Calrissian!”

Without warning, the Falcon jolted as the cloud cars fired on them. Leia sucked in a breath, alarmed at the unexpected escalation. Great, she thought.

“Wait a minute!” yelled Han into the comm. “Let me explain!”

“You will not deviate from your present course,” said the voice.

“Rather touchy, aren’t they?” remarked Threepio as he stood behind Chewie.

Leia glanced at Han. “I thought you knew this person.”

«You think he’s still angry at us for leaving him during that job on Socorro?» Chewie asked.

“Well, that was a long time ago; I’m sure he’s forgotten about that,” Han muttered.

Leia was not comforted. She glared at Han, biting her tongue to avoid saying something she would regret.

“Permission granted to land on Platform Three-Two-Seven,” one of their escorts said.

“Thank you!” Han growled. He paused, sensing Leia’s spiraling unease. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he insisted. “We go way back, Lando and me.”

“Who’s worried?” Leia replied dryly.

Following the cloud cars, they wove through the orange twilight into the still-shadowed city. Lights gleamed out of a hundred towers. Cloud City’s people were awakening and beginning their day; she could see their silhouettes in the windows as they passed, moving here and there. Homing in on the landing platform they were being directed towards, Han and Chewie began the landing cycle, and soon, for the first time in three weeks, they were on the ground. The sigh of the ship as it came to rest had a certain air of finality to it.

Wordlessly, the four of them rose and headed towards the boarding ramp, strapping on their weapons as they went. Han stopped her on the way, taking hold of her shoulders. “It’ll be all right,” he murmured. “I promise.” He gave her a quick kiss; she suspected it was as much to reassure himself as it was her. She wanted to believe his words, but every sense was on edge, the warning klaxons in her head growing steadily louder. This was not helped by the fact that when they descended the boarding ramp, they found only shut doors and an eerie silence.

“Oh! No one to meet us,” Threepio exclaimed.

Leia shook her head, stopping at the bottom of the ramp. “I don’t like this.”

“Well, what would you like?” Han turned around to face her, exasperation finally getting the better of him.

“They did let us land,” the droid commented.

“Look, don’t worry,” Han said, reaching out a hand to pacify her. “Everything’s going to be fine; trust me.”

Leia set her lips in a straight line. Before she could reply, however, they heard the unmistakable sound of a door sliding open. Turning to look down the length of the platform, they saw two people—one of whom wore a cape—consulting with each other in the doorway before walking out onto the platform, followed by a cadre of guards.

“See? My friend,” Han said. Taking two steps forward, he paused by Chewie. “Keep your eyes open, huh?” he muttered to the Wookiee before striding out to meet the approaching party. “Hey!” he called, spreading out his arms in welcome.

The caped man, leading the group, did not do the same. “Why, you slimy, double-crossing, no-good swindler!” he said coldly. “You’ve got a lot of guts coming here, after what you pulled.”

«Uh-oh,» growled Chewie.

The man approached Han. Without warning, he lunged—except it turned into a hug instead. He started laughing. “How’re you doing, you old pirate? So good to see you!” His tone had completely changed. “I never thought I’d get to see you again! Where’ve you been?” At a signal from his aide, who appeared to be a cyborg, the guards left.

«Just like old times!» Chewie remarked cheerfully.

“He seems very friendly!” said Threepio.

“Yes,” grumbled Leia. “Very friendly.” She followed the other two as they went to to join Han in the middle of the platform.

“What are you doing here?” Lando was still quizzing Han.

“Repairs. I thought you could help me out.”

Lando frowned. “What have you done to my ship?”

“Your ship? Hey, remember you lost her to me fair and square.”

“And how are you doing, Chewbacca?” Lando turned to greet the Wookiee. “You still hangin’ around with this loser?”

«Better than hanging around with you!» Chewie teased, though Leia didn’t think Lando could understand him.

All of a sudden, Lando’s attention was entirely on her. “Hello, what have we here?” he crooned.

Leia bit back her anger at being called a "what." Just… give him a chance, she told herself. Maybe he’s not so different from Han.

“Welcome! I’m Lando Calrissian, the administrator of this facility. And who might you be?”

“Leia.” She forced a smile, and the once-scoundrel bent down to kiss her hand. Her eyes met Han’s; she saw a flash of jealousy there, which made her feel rather gratified.

“All right, all right,” Han said good-naturedly, grabbing Leia’s hand as he moved between them and escorted her towards the door. “You old smoothie!” She smiled, the tension that had been building for days finally beginning to melt into the background. Whatever lay ahead, they would at least have a day or two together in this beautiful city. She intended to enjoy it to the fullest of her ability.

Lando led them through the elegant, curved white halls of Cloud City. There were picturesque plazas and beautiful works of art seemingly around every bend, and with a pang, Leia realized it reminded her of home.

There were no dark, foggy rooms in sight.

“How’s the gas mine?” Han was asking Lando. “Is it paying off for you?”

“Oh, not as well as I’d like,” he answered. “We’re a small outpost and not very self-sufficient. And I’ve had supply problems of every kind. I’ve had labor difficulties—what’s so funny?”

Han was laughing. “You! Listen to you. You sound like a businessman, a responsible leader. Who would have thought that, huh?”

Lando seemed pleased at the backhanded compliment. He stopped, turning to face his old friend. “You know, seeing you sure brings back a few things.”

“Yeah.” Han put a hand on his shoulder.

They shared a meaningful look, then Lando led them on. “Yeah, I’m responsible these days.”

Han glanced back, catching Leia’s eyes. She smiled at him and nodded her approval. There was something about Lando’s charm that made her uncomfortable, but setting that aside, he really did seem decent and respectable. See? she told herself. Han’s right. You need to stop worrying.

“…it’s the price you pay for being successful,” Lando continued, and he and Han shared a laugh.

Lando pointed out potential places of interest as they passed: restaurants, shops, entertainment. Han and Leia’s eyes slid towards each other again. Her mind wandered, imagining her hand in his as they enjoyed a dinner under the light of candledroids or attended a play in the Nabooian theater.

Their guest suite was at the top of a central tower, not far from the landing platform. It consisted of a circular lounging chamber from which other rooms branched off. On one side of the chamber was a great, long window with a spectacular view over the city; on the other side were several doors leading to a breakfast room, a refresher, a smaller second lounge, and a bedroom with its own private refresher.

Lando had taken his leave after showing them to their suite, but not before offering to provide them with anything that would make their stay more comfortable. Leia requested some fresh clothes, and soon several elegant and perfectly fitted gowns were brought up along with a hammock for Chewie, which he hung up in the second lounge.

After hanging up her clothes, Leia took a closer look at the bedroom. In the middle of the chamber was a very large bed with impossibly soft-looking pillows and silky sheets. When was the last time she had slept in a proper bed? She imagined curling up next to Han on it, drifting off to sleep.

Of course, there were… other possibilities such a bed could offer. Possibilities that were highly tempting. She swallowed hard. Suddenly, she felt much more uncertain about her decisions.

Hearing a sound behind her, she turned to find Han, staring at the bed with a similar expression. His eyes flickered up and found hers. For one long moment they gazed at each other in silence.

Leia bit her lip. “Han….” she trailed off.

He swallowed. Then blinking, he squared his shoulders. “Uh, Chewie ’n me are gonna go back and get our travel bags from the Falcon.”

Leia nodded, shaking off her thoughts. She followed him back out into the main lounge and quickly began making a checklist of things for them to bring back from the ship.

After a moment, she stopped short, frowning. Something didn’t feel right. Her eyes darted around the room, a sinking feeling in her heart. “Where’s Threepio?”

Chapter Text

No one had seen Threepio since they left the platform. Leia’s dread was back with a vengeance and steadily rising.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up soon,” Han reassured her. “Probably went to check out that droid spa Lando mentioned on the way here.”

«Perhaps he has gotten lost,» Chewie suggested. «Lando told us our room location. If he can’t find his way here, he will comm soon.»

“It’s just not like him—” she stopped abruptly, giving that a second thought. On the contrary, See-Threepio seemed to run off quite a bit. “—to not comm,” she finished. That was slightly more true. She sighed, defeated. “Okay, we’ll wait. And Han? Chewie?” She caught them before they headed out the door. “Not a word to Lando—or anyone.” Better to avoid drawing more attention to ourselves, she thought darkly.

“Not a word,” Han repeated.

Soon, the pair returned from the ship with their travel bags, and Leia retreated to the bedroom to freshen up. Before she began, however, she quickly scoured the room for recording devices. There were three. She grimaced. Disgusting as it was, she hoped it was the work of some lecherous janitor—that would be better than a few of the more nefarious possibilities looming in her mind. Carefully, she removed the bugs and dismantled them. Grabbing one, she opened the door to the main lounge and tossed it across the room to Han. He caught it, frowning. “Two in the bedroom, one in the ‘fresher,” she said. “Check the rest of the suite.”

“We’re on it,” he said.

Shutting the door again, she banished for a moment all thoughts of the bugs—they’re not exactly rare; it’s nothing, she told herself—and turned her attention to the closet. Her eyes were drawn to an elegant, flowing tunic and pants in warm, rusty burgundy. A cream-colored cape lay over the top, embellished with delicate embroidery. She usually tried not to think about it while caught up in Alliance affairs, but she missed wearing outfits like these, with such rich colors and flattering shapes. Feeling pretty was a luxury she rarely had time for anymore, and she was almost ashamed that she wanted it at all.

Well, she supposed, there was no need to be ashamed today.

Quickly, she removed her jumpsuit and boots and slipped on the new outfit instead, fastening a matching belt around her waist and sliding into the delicate but comfortable slippers. Then, grabbing the travel bag with her hairbrush and makeup, she set herself up in front of the ‘fresher mirror. After reviving her face and tinting her lips with a stain that complimented her outfit, she twisted her hair into a bun and two looped braids. It was a simple style—she didn’t want to advertise her status—but she thought it rather chic and lovely.

There was a thump from the other side of the wall. She jumped, but it was followed by a roar, and she relaxed again, annoyed with herself. It was only Chewie, searching the second lounge like she had asked. She was letting herself get way too worked up. If she couldn’t figure out a way to loosen up, she wouldn’t be able to enjoy her time here with Han. And that was something she wanted terribly much.

After the last pin was in place, she headed back out to the lounge. Her eyes slid over to the bed again as she went.

I’m in over my head anyway, she thought. Would one night really make that much of a difference?

She tried to silence those thoughts; at the moment they were only serving to make her more agitated. But contemplating the mystery of Threepio’s disappearance wasn’t any better. It had been, what, an hour? She frowned. Too long.

She emerged from the bedroom, ready to argue her case, but the look on Han’s face when he saw her stole all her words away. Speechless, he rose from where he was sitting and walked towards her, stopping far enough away to take her in.

“Leia,” he murmured, her name like honey on his lips. “You look…” She raised an eyebrow, and he shook his head, apparently unable to find the right word. She closed the rest of the gap between them. “…Gorgeous,” he whispered, taking her in his arms. “I mean, not that you don’t normally; you always look gorgeous—” Leia laughed and kissed him, cutting off any further remarks.

Chewie groaned. «I’m right here,» he announced. «Don’t forget.»

They broke off quickly. Leia frowned, abruptly remembering what she had been about to say. “Still no word from Threepio?” she asked.

Han and Chewie glanced at each other, and Han shook his head.

«I think it is time to look for him,» said Chewie.

“Dumb droid,” Han muttered under his breath. “Chewie’s right.”

“I was worried about telling the authorities,” said Leia, “but I’m beginning to think letting him wander is riskier.”

“I know what you mean. Yeah, he’s got good intentions, but it’s just a matter of time ’til he blows our cover.”

Quickly, they came up with a plan of attack. Chewie headed out to examine the area surrounding their path from the Falcon, while Han volunteered to stop by the droid spa to see if Threepio had detoured for an oil bath. Meanwhile, Leia commed the concierge, Cloud City Security, and Lando to advise them on the missing droid.

No one she talked to had seen him. “We will certainly keep our eyes peeled,” Lando told her when she finally got him on the comm. His voice still oozed charm; she stifled a gag. He didn’t offer any more help.

“Thank you,” she said shortly, cutting off the communication.

Han commed her a second later, informing her that Threepio had not been seen at the spa. “No one’s giving us much useful information, and I don’t like it,” she said, telling him about her brief conversations with Lando and the others.

“I’m sure they’re doing what they can. I think I’m gonna go down to the platform and see if I can get an update on repairs.”

“All right. Don’t be gone too long,” she entreated him, trying not to sound too desperate.

She stood still for a moment after flipping off the comm, considering whether there was anything else she could do. Her mind drew a blank. Sighing, she sat down to wait for Han and Chewie’s return. A minute later she got up again, restless. Walking over to the window, she looked out over the city. The pleasant blue of morning lit up the sky, and all the towers sparkled in the sun. Traffic was light, and everything seemed so pretty and peaceful, at odds with the unsettled heaviness she felt. Was she making too much of a big deal out of nothing?

She began to pace, trying to work out the puzzle. Why would Threepio just disappear without a word? If he was lost, he would have certainly found a way to contact them by now. Could he have been kidnapped? The thought seemed absurd, especially in such a seemingly genteel place. On the other hand, there weren’t many other explanations that made sense.

Her apprehension grew. The more she thought about it, the more vaguely nightmarish it all felt. Even the pleasant light outside seemed off in some way she couldn’t put her finger on. Was the city’s beauty just a veneer, hiding something much darker underneath?

Suddenly, she wanted very much to leave.

The door slid open, and Han walked in. “The ship’s almost finished,” he announced. “Two or three more things and we’re in great shape.”

“The sooner the better,” she said, walking towards him. “Something’s wrong here. No one has seen or knows anything about Threepio, and he’s been gone too long to have gotten lost.”

At the sound of the tension in her voice, Han reached out to her, gently kissing her forehead.

“Relax,” he said. “I’ll talk to Lando and see what I can find out.”

“I don’t trust Lando,” she replied, sitting down on one of the cushioned benches.

Han sat down on the other side of the bench, angling his body so that he faced her. “Well, I don’t trust him, either. But he is my friend.” He leaned in close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath, and she fought off the urge to get rid of the space between them entirely. “Besides,” he continued, “we’ll soon be gone.”

And there it was, the other fear.

“And then you’re as good as gone, aren’t you?” she said quietly.

Han looked down for a moment, taking her hands in his, before turning his gaze back up to her face. His eyes were soft and pained, tinted golden brown in the room’s natural light. Leia had rarely ever seen him look so unguarded, and she saw in him a desperation that mirrored her own. “Leia,” he murmured, his voice torn.

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head and looking away. “I shouldn’t have said that. I know you have to go.”

Han reached out and cradled her face, turned it back to face him. “This isn’t the end,” he promised. “I swear it. I’ll come back.”

She blinked away tears. “I know you’ll try,” she said simply.

Sometimes, though, trying wasn’t enough. Sometimes you lost people no matter what.

Han gently brushed away the wetness under her eyes with his thumbs. Then all at once, as if in mutual agreement, the distance between them finally collapsed and he was kissing her, savoring her as if he might never have the chance again. She responded in kind, letting herself melt into the sensation of his lips on hers, her tongue on his, her arms reaching out to pull him even closer. For a moment they parted, though they stayed only millimeters away. There was mist in Han’s eyes, too.

Maybe some regrets are worth it, she thought.

“Han, I…” she began, unsure.

The door slid open abruptly, and they both straightened up as if nothing had happened.

«Found him,» Chewie announced grimly as he walked into the room, a box in his hands.

A box full of Threepio’s parts.

“What happened?” Leia rose in alarm, walking over to take a closer look as Chewie set the box on the floor.

«Found him in a ghhrraarkhr. Ugghhhnaur-men were going to throw him in the fire.»

“Where? Found him in a junk pile?” Han repeated incredulously.

“Oh, what a mess,” Leia said. How in the universe had Threepio ended up there? Thank the stars Chewie had discovered him in time; they might never have seen him again. “Chewie, do you think you can repair him?”

The Wookiee shrugged, letting out a noncommital roar.

“Lando’s got people who can fix him,” Han offered.

“No thanks,” said Leia tautly.

A chime sounded, and she turned towards the open door to find the subject of their disagreement walking in. She stiffened.

“Sorry, am I interrupting anything?” Lando asked.

“Not really,” she replied.

Lando grinned at her, shaking his head. “You look absolutely beautiful,” he said, looking her up and down. “You truly belong here with us among the clouds.”

“Thank you,” she replied, gritting her teeth. She would have much preferred to discourage him from ever ogling her again, but losing his goodwill could be hazardous, she considered, especially in light of their situation at the moment.

He held out his hand to her. “Would you join me for a little refreshment?”

«Food?» Chewie rumbled eagerly, looking up from where he was fiddling with Threepio’s sole silver leg. Leia glanced back at Han, unsure.

“Everyone’s invited, of course,” Lando continued.

Han nodded, getting to his feet. It had been awhile since their last meal, after all, and she suspected they were all hungry. Chewie, especially, was eager to go. She politely took Lando’s hand for a moment, then switched to Han’s arm as he came to stand beside her.

Lando frowned, looking down at the box of droid parts. “Having trouble with your droid?”

Han’s face was a mask. “No,” he replied, his eyes shifting briefly to Leia. “No problem. Why?” With that, he walked her to the door. She bit her lip to keep from laughing—the deflection was obvious, ridiculous, and so classically Han. I guess that’s one way to deal with it, she thought.

The mood seemed a little less heavy as they walked along Cloud City’s corridors, light streaming in from innumerable windows. Lando was explaining how the mining colony had managed to thrive under his leadership. “So you see, since we're a small operation, we don't fall into the… uh… jurisdiction of the Empire.”

“So you’re part of the mining guild, then?” she asked, curious.

“No, not actually. Our operation is small enough not to be noticed—which is advantageous for everybody since our customers are anxious to avoid attracting attention to themselves.”

They turned a corner into another wide, pleasant hallway with colored panels filtering light through the windows. Out of nowhere, Leia felt a wave of near-panic. It enveloped her for a moment like a storm before she managed to calm herself down again. I must really be going crazy, she thought. Maybe it was all the city’s echoes of Alderaan.

“Aren’t you afraid the Empire’s going to find out about this little operation and shut you down?” Han asked. They turned and walked down a short side hallway towards a set of grand double doors.

“It’s always been a danger, and it looms like a shadow over everything we’ve built here,” Lando replied. “But things have developed that will ensure security. I’ve just made a deal that will keep the Empire out of here forever.”

A deal? Leia felt another surge of alarm. Lando pressed the button to open the doors, and they swept open, revealing an elegant dining room. At the far end of the table sat a tall, masked figure in black.

Leia froze.

No.

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. She watched as if in a dream as Darth Vader rose to his feet and lifted his palm, deflecting the blaster bolts Han was shooting towards him. Han had caught her hand in his free one, she noticed, and she gripped it as if it were her only hope, her only defense against the nightmare.

No.

Not again.

Han’s blaster sailed through the air to land in Vader’s outstretched hand. “We would be honored if you would join us,” the monster said, its deep voice reaching into her memories, the echoes of her own once-screams and desperate pleas joining with it in chorus.

Behind him, another figure stepped out of a side door. She recognized him from the holos; a bounty hunter, Boba Fett. More footsteps sounded from behind them, and they turned to find a squad of stormtroopers blocking their way out.

“I had no choice; they arrived right before you did,” Lando said, his voice flat. “I’m sorry.”

Leia didn’t even have the capacity to be angry. She gazed up at Han, and he looked back at her for a moment, devastation in his eyes. He seemed to sense her paralysis and grabbed her hand again, squeezing it supportively as he turned back to Lando. “I’m sorry, too,” he said coolly. From beside them, Chewie let out a mournful howl about friendship and betrayal.

Han turned back to Leia, his shoulders squared and his eyes steely. In that moment, Leia knew: he would do everything he could for her, to keep her safe—everything except betray what she stood for. If she could feel much beyond fear, she might have cried. As it was, a tiny flame of courage flickered to life inside her; unsteady, but enough. Squeezing her hand once more, Han led her into the room, Chewie and Lando following behind. The doors shut firmly behind them.

Chapter Text

Dinner was nonexistent. No sooner had the doors slammed shut than another squad of troopers came through the side door, surrounding them and cuffing their wrists. Quickly, they patted them down and stripped them of their remaining weapons, including the small, spare blaster Leia kept hidden near her ankle.

Han and Leia’s eyes met again and held there. Then, they turned to face the enemy together.

“So,” Darth Vader said, disdain echoing clearly through his vocoder, “I see you have continued to… associate with lowlife, Your Highness.”

She trembled, fury finally overtaking her at the insult to Han, but she didn’t respond. She grasped Han’s hand tightly, trying to draw from his strength.

“Take them to the lower levels,” Vader ordered. “I will personally oversee their questioning.”

Questioning.

Her heart pounded as that last word, horrible and inevitable, echoed in her mind. Armored hands like claws gripped her, and she was wrenched towards the door.

Their turbolift plunged down, far into the depths of the city. When it came to a stop, Han, Leia and Chewie were pushed out into a dark, angular corridor, entirely devoid of the natural lighting and organic architecture of the upper levels. It reminded Leia a little of the Death Star, except that it was painted red. She shivered.

They stopped next to a door into what seemed to be a holding cell, and the stormtroopers surrounding Chewie pushed him towards it. The Wookiee struggled, roaring obscenities. In a daze, Leia watched as several other troopers raised their blasters.

“Chewie, no!” Han yelled. “Don’t let them shoot you!” The Wookiee hesitated, which gave the troopers enough of a respite to push him through and hit the door controls. “Chewie!” Han yelled again. The doors and walls weren’t thick enough to block out Chewie’s muffled wail. Han’s face was lined with distress.

Suddenly, everything became crystal clear. The haze faded away, and Leia knew what she had to do: protect the Rebellion, and protect Han and Chewie. She caught Han’s eyes, and in one moment she tried to convey it all. Stay strong. We’ll be okay. We’ll find a way out.

She found it much easier not to give into the looming panic of remembered torment when she was focused on him.

Han seemed caught off guard by her expression. Then he straightened and nodded, his lips once more set in a firm line. She let out a breath. We’ll find a way. Even if we’re tortured, we’ll find a way.

They were being herded down the hallway and into another one. She glanced around as they went, searching for an escape route or anything that might allow them a chance to break free. She barely had a chance to look. One more turn, and there was Vader, striding down the hallway to meet them. Lando followed behind, looking worried, and Boba Fett brought up the rear.

Vader was always taller than she remembered. The troopers jerked them to a halt in front of him, and he loomed over them. She glared into his mask defiantly. For a moment, he stared back at her, regarding her with…anger? Amusement? She could almost guess his eyebrow would be raised if it weren’t set in plastoid. That raised her hackles even more. She spat at him.

Vader raised a hand and wiped it off, as if it were nothing. He turned to the troopers, motioning towards a door on her right. “Take Solo to that cell and hook him up to the interrogation device,” he ordered. “I will deal with the Princess and then return.”

Interrogation device? Leia’s insides constricted. She caught Han’s gaze again. Fear and sorrow haunted his eyes, but piercing through it all was so much love, she could almost hear him saying the words to her again. She opened her mouth, trying to think of something, anything, that might give him courage or ease his pain—but there was no time; he was already being pushed away. The cell door shut with a hiss.

“You have proved resistant to interrogation in the past, Princess,” Vader said coldly. “But perhaps you will respond differently when you see firsthand the suffering of someone you care for.” He stepped towards a door to the right of Han’s cell and pressed the controls to open it.

Leia froze, new horror flooding through her at his words.

Vader entered the room, and the troopers followed, jerking her inside. Quickly, she appraised her new surroundings. There was another squad of stormtroopers inside, along with several officers. The room itself was long and narrow. Along one wall of the room was a door; along the other was a row of windows—one-way, she guessed, by their shadowy veneer. Her eyes were drawn, almost against her will, to what lay beyond them.

They were strapping Han to a machine. She didn’t have experience with this one; it must have been some new method of the Empire’s for inflicting pain. She couldn’t decide if that made her feel worse or better. One side of the machine held him upright at an awkward angle; the other side was bristling with needles, electrical coils, and other nasty-looking implements.

Worse, she decided. It made her feel much worse.

Darth Vader’s voice wrenched her eyes away.

“You will watch,” he commanded her. “They”—he gestured to the room full of Imperials—“will make sure of it. If you attempt to escape…” he paused menacingly, and for the first time, Leia noticed an interrogation droid floating in the air near the door. She tensed. “…Solo will not survive.”

Fury filled Leia again, followed by a familiar prickle of guilt. Of course Vader had seen what was between them; of course he would use it against them. She hated him for being sick and twisted enough to do it. She hated herself just as much for letting it happen. She had chosen Han, and now? Now he was going to pay the price.

Vader turned to the head officer, a smug man drenched in Imperial arrogance. “Captain Orffa, you will administer a small initial dose to weaken her resolve. Then you will stand by and wait for my orders.” The officer nodded curtly. Vader turned on his heel and left the room, his cape billowing behind him.

The captain stared at her for a moment with pure loathing, and she met his gaze, holding her head up high despite the fear clawing at her insides. He flicked his hand, beckoning, and a familiar hum crept up behind her. She trembled.

No.

You can get through this, said the other part of her mind. You made it through before.

She closed her eyes and steeled herself, hands forming into fists. Breathe.

She felt a slight prick on the back of her neck. Then all was pain: it coursed through her, slowly setting every vein on fire. It crawled its way up her throat, out to her hands and feet, in towards her heart. She gasped, falling to her knees. The bitterness on her tongue nearly made her retch. It took everything within her not to cry out as each wave of pain washed over her. Then abruptly, it let go of its grasp, fading almost as quickly as it had come. She was left reeling. The room spun, and her limbs felt weak.

She got up.

She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of forcing her up themselves. She felt shaky, and like she was standing on pins and needles, but she could stand. The officer grabbed her arms and held her in place.

Her eyes flickered, once more, to the room on the other side of the windows. Vader was in there now, stalking around the figure on the machine. With a sinking feeling, she realized that Han didn’t know she was watching; otherwise he would have tried to act stronger for her sake. He seemed almost childlike in his fear as he looked around the room, desperate and vulnerable.

Leia’s stomach turned with dread. Why couldn’t it have been me instead?

Then Han’s eyes turned to Vader, and they narrowed, filling with anger. There, that was the defiance she knew so well.

Don’t give in. Breathe. It will be over soon. She sent the words like a prayer, hoping he could hear them, somehow.

Slowly, the machine lowered him towards the torture panel. Then it abruptly crackled with a blaze of electricity, arcing between the raised coils and his body. Han screamed; the sound of it reverberated through the observation room, ragged and muffled, but loud. Tongues of lightning leapt out again, and again. His screams continued, each one more agonized than the last.

Leia closed her eyes against the horror, but she couldn’t get rid of the sound. She felt like she was going out of her head. Stand tall, she told herself. Don’t let the Imperials see what this is doing to you. With a great effort of will, she straightened and opened her eyes again.

Another particularly wretched scream, and she flinched despite herself. The officer’s hands tightened on her arms, his breath ruffling against her ear. “It hurts, doesn’t it?” he whispered. “Seeing him in such pain?” She tried to shoulder him away and failed. He laughed.

Han screamed again, a long, drawn-out sound that wrecked Leia to her core. On the other side of the window, she could see him writhing against his bonds. He was alone now, save for a few stormtroopers. She glanced desperately towards the door that led back out into the hall, out towards him—the squadron of troopers stared back at her, and Vader’s threat rang in her ears: Solo will not survive.

She needed to stand tall, she reminded herself; that’s how she could save him now. Stand tall, fall apart later. It’s what you’ve always done.

She turned back to the window. The shocks continued to jump between the machine and Han, relentless, but this time she couldn’t look away. She could almost feel his pain as if it were her own, carving into her skin and bones, vivid and excruciating. She heard a whimper and realized, too late, that it was her own.

Her captor laughed. “It seems Lord Vader was onto something with you,” he said. “Even the strong have their vulnerable spots, and I do believe he’s yours.” The sadistic glee in the officer’s voice kindled her anger, but she felt like all the breath had been drawn out of her. For once, she had no words for the fight. His voice lowered again so only she could hear it. “Was he a lover, perhaps? Is that why this hurts so much?”

Han let out a loud scream again, and she clenched her teeth to prevent herself from joining him. Her whole body trembled, knees nearly buckling.

The officer—Captain Orffa, she vaguely recalled—chuckled softly in her ear. “I could make you hurt even more,” he murmured. “I could make you forget you were ever with him. Give you something to replace those memories.”

Leia felt a cold chill creep down her back.

Orffa’s grip on her arms intensified. “It’s what you deserve, you Rebel scum.”

“Monster,” she spat out.

His response was sudden; he yanked her towards the door behind them, and she nearly stumbled. “I’m going to teach this one a lesson,” he announced to the room. “Anyone who wishes may wait their turn.”

He pushed her, and she fell into what was clearly a control room, equipment of various sorts lining the walls. She was still too off-balance from the droid’s drugs to recover quickly, and she had barely risen again before he was upon her. Bringing her cuffed hands up, she punched him in the face and then kneed him in the groin—only she missed his face, and the groin jab was off-target enough that it failed to inflict the expected result. Fear shot through her as she realized the true extent of her limitations. Damn those drugs, she thought bitterly.

Growling, Orffa lunged for her, catching her attached wrists and yanking them forward, throwing her off-balance again. Her feet scrambled for purchase and missed, and she found herself face-down on the floor. Rough hands jolted her, rolling her over. Letting out a frustrated snarl, she kicked out with her legs, hoping to trip him. It didn’t work. The officer grabbed a handful of her tunic and ripped it, causing a ragged tear down the front. Heart pounding, she fought desperately to block his hands. He grinned wickedly, angling instead for the bottom of her tunic.

And then, something inside Leia snapped.

NO.

She felt a rush of adrenaline and fear and power and bright, red-hot anger, crashing down on her like a wave. Closing her eyes, she screamed.

Suddenly, there was a sickening thud, and all was still. Breathing heavily, she opened her eyes. Orffa lay against a console on the other side of the room, his neck at an odd angle.

Vader stood in the doorway.

He stared at her silently. Strangely. Han’s screams still echoed out behind him. Vader made no move. “You…” he finally muttered, but his voice trailed off, swallowed once again by the sharp sound of his mechanical breathing.

Her momentary confusion dissolved. Vader was an unlikely savior, but he was still the one to blame for all this pain. Shaking, her throat constricting with rage, she pulled the ripped edges of her tunic closed over her chest as best she could with her bound hands and stood up to face him.

And then she crumpled once more, too light-headed and weak to stand. Pain and humiliation stung her eyes.

Vader turned to the officers and troopers that had filed into the room after him. “She arrived in something more utilitarian, I presume. Retrieve it from her quarters. And…” his voice grew darkly ominous. “See that no one else makes the same mistake as Captain Orffa.”

For a moment she sensed his rage boiling beneath the surface; burning, burning like her own. And then, once more, he was gone.

She felt as if she’d been drained of all strength. All she could do was sit there blinking, trying to breathe, as she waited for a change of clothes, the drugs to wear off, and an end to the screams.

Chapter Text

Leia wasn’t sure how long she’d been waiting, praying for it all to be over. It could have been one hour, or many; time seemed cruelly stretched out. Vaguely, she realized that Vader hadn’t even tried to question them yet. So far, he had just made them suffer. She tried not to think about what might still be to come.

For now, at least, her strength was returning, and for that she was grateful. She would be better able to defend herself if… if anything else happened. She might also be able to run. She glanced surreptitiously at the collection of officers and stormtroopers guarding her, her whole body tense. They had seen what had happened to Orffa, and she knew they were unlikely to follow in his footsteps, but that certainly didn’t mean she felt safe. At least the officers had the decency to turn away while she changed back into her jumpsuit. Only a few troopers watched, which felt dirty and unnerving, though she knew they had to make sure she didn’t try anything.

All this felt like nothing, however, compared to what Han was going through. Across the barrier of windows that divided them, he gave another hoarse scream and went limp. Leia’s breath caught. Was this the third time he had lost consciousness? She wasn’t sure. She sent up a desperate plea to the Force, to the old gods, to whatever was out there. Please, let this be over. Don’t let him die. She didn’t know how much more of this a body could take.

This time, there was an answer. The stormtroopers, acting on some unseen order, returned the machine to its upright position and began unstrapping him. Han stirred, eyes fluttering. She nearly collapsed from relief.

They dragged him from the room. The highest ranking officer that remained in her room nodded to the others, and soon two troopers came up on either side of her and grabbed her arms. Several more surrounded her, and they escorted her out.

They stopped next to a door down the hall that looked much like the one they had thrown Chewie through earlier. Opening it, they gave her a rough push, and she stumbled in, still a little off-balance. Surprised, she realized it was, in fact, Chewie’s room. Not only was he there, but so was Han, and a slightly-more-pieced-together Threepio. Relief flooded through her, followed by confusion. None of what the Empire was doing made any sense.

At least Chewie didn’t look too worse for the wear. He was leaning over Han, who was lying on a low, metal bunk that extended from the wall. Her heart in her throat, Leia made her way over to them, kneeling beside Han and stroking his hair. He was warm, and he was alive, and he was looking at her. But he was so frail, and his eyes held the stunned horror of what he had been through. She fought back her returning tears.

“Why are they doing this?” she murmured.

“They never even asked me any questions,” Han said weakly. Tenderly, she kissed his forehead, just like he’d done for her so many times, and she laid her head on his.

Suddenly, the door swept open again. Leia looked up to see what was going on before turning back to Han. “Lando,” she announced. Gently, she helped him up to a sitting position, letting him rest against her.

«Betrayer!» Chewie trumpeted, anger in every note of his roar.

“Get outta here, Lando,” Han snarled, “or I’ll—”

“Shut up and listen!” said Lando. “Vader’s agreed to turn Leia and Chewie over to me.”

“Over to you?” repeated Han. Unlikely, thought Leia.

“They’ll have to stay here, but at least they’ll be safe.”

“What about Han?” she asked.

“Vader’s giving him to the bounty hunter.”

“Vader wants us all dead,” she said.

“He doesn’t want you at all. He’s after somebody called, uh, Skywalker.”

All of a sudden, everything made sense. Horrible, sickening sense.

“Luke?” Han asked, shocked.

“Lord Vader has set a trap for him.”

“And we’re the bait,” Leia finished.

“Yeah, well, he’s on his way,” said Lando grimly.

Leia felt like she’d been knifed in the stomach. Not Luke, too.

“Perfect,” said Han, rising to his feet. “You fixed us up real good now, didn’t you? My friend,” he spat, and punched Lando square on the jaw.

Everything happened fast. Lando nearly crumpled with the force of the impact, but somehow he managed to stay on his feet. Han, however, fell to the ground, his balance giving out, as Lando’s guards rushed up and started beating him with their batons. In a split second, Leia was by his side, leaning over to shield him.

“Stop!” Lando shouted to his guards, stopping their blows before they could do any more harm. Apparently he still had some shred of honor left. She looked up at him; he was gingerly putting on a fancy cape that had fallen off in the fray. “I’ve done all I can,” he insisted. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do better, but I’ve got my own problems.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

“Yeah, you’re a real hero,” Han growled.

Lando froze for a moment, conflicted. Then, he turned on his heel and marched from the room, his guards behind him. Chewie had been held at blasterpoint; now he rushed over, and the two of them helped Han sit up again. Han groaned in pain.

Leia shook her head. “You certainly have a way with people,” she said fondly. She helped Chewie get Han back to the bunk, and he lay down again, letting out another groan.

“I could sleep for days,” he muttered.

Leia looked him over, frowning. “Don’t,” she said. “Not yet. I want to check you for head injuries first.”

Thankfully, nothing looked too bad—the torture injuries, she guessed, were mostly internal and non-threatening, and the blows hadn’t hit his head. A deep weariness settled into her bones. Suddenly, his proposal to sleep for a few days didn’t sound half bad.

Han gazed at her softly, concern in his eyes. “Leia? Are you okay?” he murmured. “Did they hurt you too?”

She looked at him for a moment, unable to answer. Then, without a word, she gently lay her head down on his chest. She wished her eyes would fill with tears again; her heart ached horribly with the tension of all that was uncried. But none came.

Han lay his hand on her head, stroking her cheek. Then, with some effort, he scooted over on the bunk and patted it. She lay down next to him. Chewbacca hovered over them still, clearly worried.

“You okay, Chewie?” she whispered.

«Yes,» he replied. «There was a painful sound for a time, but there was no long-lasting damage and I am not weakened.»

She nodded, thankful.

He let out a soft warble, inquiring if there was anything more he could do to help them. Leia shook her head. She could think of nothing more, and even if she could, she felt like she had no energy left even to speak. From the silence, it sounded like Han felt the same. Gently, Chewie reached down and stroked both their heads. Then he walked over to the bench and sat down to continue the slow, painstaking work of piecing together the droid.

Leia and Han grasped each other close, praying for sleep, trying to drown the pain in the warmth of each other’s love.

Chapter Text

They awoke suddenly and all too soon, startled by the sound of someone entering the room. Leia blinked. For a second she forgot where she was; then it all came flooding back in hideous detail. Her entire body ached. Han moaned.

“Get up,” growled a low, sinister voice.

Summoning what little strength she had, Leia rose, pausing to assist Han as he got up, too.

It was the bounty hunter, Boba Fett, and several stormtroopers. “You’re coming with us,” he said, and a few of the troopers moved to put cuffs on Han. Leia felt a surge of panic. Were they going to take him away now?

But no, the troopers were readying all of them.

“Oh dear,” exclaimed Threepio. Currently, he was just a head, a torso, and an arm, but Leia was grateful, despite everything, to have him back. Chewie quickly dug a net out of a pouch on his bandolier and gathered up the droid and all its various parts, stringing them to his back. “Really, this is rather uncomfortable,” Threepio complained.

«Deal with it,» muttered Chewie. Impatient, the troopers prodded them towards the door.

They followed the bounty hunter deeper into the bowels of the city; the corridors growing more industrial as they went. They hadn’t been walking long, but Leia’s body was dragging; her movements slow and clumsy, her mind groggy. The ache hadn’t gone away. She could only imagine how Han, walking beside her, felt.

Threepio, seemingly unaware of the state of things, prattled on about his discomfort. She barely registered it. She was focusing on Han, at least as much as she could while trying not to stumble. She needed to see him; needed to hear him breathing next to her. Finally, a door ahead of them opened, and they went through.

Leia would have stopped, frozen in her tracks, if Chewie and the troopers hadn’t been so close behind.

It was the place from her dream.

The room was large, round and dark, with a sunken central ring surrounded by the walkway they were on now. Bluish light lurked around the perimeter; it ceded to orange in the center, glowing out of the grated floor like tongues of fire. Steam billowed up through the grates and puffed down erratically from the ceiling, which bristled with strange machinery. In the middle of the ring, there was a strange, circular hole. Around it stood Lando and his aide, another squad of stormtroopers, and a number of busy Ugnaughts.

Leia blinked, wondering if she were still asleep.

But no. There was a faint yet distinct metallic scent on the air—she could almost taste it—and a loud rumble and whine emanating from the machinery. Her dreams had omitted such details. Fear, raw and wild, nearly overpowered her.

Fett led them down a short stair to the central ring; at the bottom, he directed them to the right, and they halted behind Lando. Darth Vader descended from the opposite stair, his gait slow and triumphant. She refused to look directly at him, but her fear grew sharper as the monster from her nightmares took shape once more, his presence looming like a shadow over the room.

“What’s going on, buddy?” Han spat out the last word with contempt.

“You’re being put into carbon freeze,” Lando replied, not looking at him.

“What if he doesn’t survive?” Fett hissed at Vader from across the room. “He’s worth a lot to me.”

Leia turned to Han in horror and found he was already looking at her, his eyes solemn and sad.

No, she thought, panic sweeping through her. This couldn’t be happening. She wasn’t ready to lose him yet.

She couldn’t lose him yet.

Certainly not like this.

Han watched her, resignation showing on his face. Somehow, his lips widened slightly into the hint of a smile, compassionate and apologetic, that she knew was hers alone.

“Put him in!” Vader ordered, and the moment shattered. All of a sudden, Chewie was yelling; tossing stormtroopers everywhere. Threepio screamed in fright. For a moment Leia felt a surge of wild hope—it wasn’t over, they could still fight—but then she saw the other troopers surrounding them, blasters raised, and Vader, always Vader, standing stone-like across the ring, entirely undismayed.

No. This wasn’t going to work. They would die fighting the inevitable, and then there would be no one to warn Luke, and no one to rescue Han if by chance he survived. They had to live, somehow.

“Stop! Chewie, stop!” That was Han’s voice, rising through Threepio’s frantic pleas. He went to stand right in front of him, catching the Wookiee’s gaze as more stormtroopers approached with another set of handcuffs. “Hey! Listen to me! Chewie, this won’t help me! Save your strength; there’ll be another time.”

Suddenly, Leia felt a cold chill. Almost of their own accord, her eyes were wrenched to the other side of the ring. Vader was staring at her. She felt open, laid bare, seen in a way she didn’t understand. He was a gravity well, a black hole pulling her in towards destruction. What would he do with her after this? She backed away slowly towards Han and Chewie.

“The princess,” Han was saying. “You have to take care of her.” Yes, she needed Chewie now, and Chewie probably needed her just as much. She was willing to admit that, although she once would have bristled at the idea of needing anyone. Sure, she was capable, and she could take care of herself. But people, friendships, love—that was something capability couldn't replace, no matter how high she built her walls.

It wasn’t just that, though. Shaking herself out of her terror, Leia guessed what Han was getting at. She drew close to Chewie, reaching out to stroke his fur. The Wookiee had sworn a life debt to Han; he would never betray that, except to protect someone else who he felt came under it. With a slight shock, she realized that she was now one of the rare few.

“You hear me? Huh?” Han prodded.

Chewie let out a desolate yes.

Han turned to face Leia. Suddenly, his lips were on hers, and she reached out towards him desperately, kissing him with everything she had left. For a moment they slowed down time; defying their enemies, denying the end.

And then he was torn away from her, the taste of his lips still on her tongue. He stood on a platform that had risen in the central cavity, and his eyes didn’t leave her.

Vader was going to take him from her, like he had taken everything else, and as in her nightmares, she was powerless. They were weak and surrounded; there was no way out.

There was nothing she could do, nothing that wouldn’t make it worse.

But there was something she could say. The words formed deliberately, without hesitation; echoing throughout her entire being, a shout flung to the farthest stars. She no longer cared about anyone else knowing. She no longer cared if it caused her pain. She no longer cared about regrets, because she was finally, absolutely certain that she would regret it a lot more if he never heard the truth.

“I love you,” she said.

Han looked at her gravely. There was no hint of surprise; only love. “I know.”

The warmth of his reassurance and the freedom of the truth flooded her heart. It mingled with the agony of loss, both comforting and painful. They loved each other, and now, they would lose each other.

I know.

Past conversations flickered through her mind.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know if it ever came to that, you’d do somethin’ to save me if you could.”

“I would.”

“I know.”

The Ugnaughts unbound his hands. The platform began to lower, slowly, inevitably. Their eyes locked onto each other, filling with tears, and they never let go until the moment the machine hissed, Han’s head was thrown back, and steam billowed up around him.

She turned away, burying her head in Chewie’s fur. The Wookiee let out an anguished wail.

“What’s going on?” Threepio demanded. “Turn around! Chewbacca, I can’t see!”

The machine whined loudly, and she looked to see a claw-like structure descending from the ceiling. She forced herself to watch as it latched onto what was below and slowly began its ascent, bringing with it a large, human-sized block. Her throat was constricting, her mind spitting denials. She grabbed onto Chewie’s arm and clung to it, and he pulled her close.

The Ugnaughts examined the block, and then—casually, as if it were of no consequence—they pushed it over. It hit the floor with a clang. Leia flinched. Han’s features could still be seen; his hands were raised as if to protect himself, and his face was caught in frozen agony.

She trembled. She couldn’t weep now. Not in front of Vader.

Lando crouched beside the carbonite block—beside Han.

“Oh, they’ve encased him in carbonite,” Threepio remarked, having finally gotten a good glimpse. “He should be quite well-protected; if he survived the freezing process, that is.”

Lando finished examining the data panel in the encasing. Then he rose up on his arms to look at his old friend with his own eyes. Leia waited, hardly daring to breathe.

“Well, Calrissian, did he survive?” Vader inquired.

“Yes, he’s alive,” Lando responded, not moving. “And in perfect hibernation.”

Relief swept through Leia, and Chewie gave her shoulder a squeeze. There was still hope, however small.

“He’s all yours, bounty hunter.” Vader turned to the Ugnaughts. “Reset the chamber for Skywalker,” he commanded.

An officer approached. “Skywalker has just landed, milord.”

Leia caught Chewie’s eyes worriedly.

“Good,” Vader responded. “See to it that he finds his way in here.”

Her eyes traveled back to Han’s still, petrified form. She stared at it, trying to commit every feature to memory. She never wanted to forget. Not him, and not what they’d done. Fury filled her; fury that they would do this to him, fury that he had been separated from her, fury at the sheer, incomprehensible horror of it all.

Then grief came rushing in, and the fury was overwhelmed.

Lando finally finished his reverie. Rising, he marched over to Leia and grabbed her arm. Without even a sideways glance, she pushed him away.

“Calrissian,” she heard Vader say, “take the princess and the Wookiee to my ship.”

“You said they’d be left in the city under my supervision!” Lando argued.

“I am altering the deal. Pray I don’t alter it any farther.”

Vader swept out of the room. Leia didn’t watch him go. Her eyes were still frozen on the one she loved.

For the first time, she allowed a few silent tears to fall.

Chapter Text

In the end, they had taken him away as unceremoniously as they had locked him in carbonite. At a hand signal from Fett, the Ugnaughts activated the repulsors on the carbonite casing. Within a minute, he was gone, and Fett with him.

Leia felt hollow.

Lando approached them, a strange, almost regretful look on his face. He reached out to grab Leia’s arm again, then thought better of it. “Come on,” he said.

Four stormtroopers and an officer flanked them as they followed Calrissian out of the room. Several paces down the hall, they were corralled into a turbolift, which took them back to the gleaming upper levels. The corridors were eerily empty, entirely devoid of the bustle of people that had been there earlier that day (she supposed it was still that day, though she wasn’t altogether sure). Clearly, the Imperial presence in the city had its people spooked.

She glanced at Chewbacca. If they were to break free, it would have to be soon. She wasn’t sure where Vader’s ship was docked, but she doubted it was far. Thankfully, her strength had returned. She was tired and weary and weighed down by grief, but her body at least seemed to have recovered well enough.

She heard a soft, distant series of beeps, and she frowned, her heart leaping into her throat. Was that…?

The sound of blaster fire crackled through the air, followed by more beeps.

Luke!

He was here, with Artoo. She had to find him, had to let him know—

She was saved the trouble of trying. Apparently, they were still being used as bait. The officer nodded abruptly to Lando and the troopers, and they turned back the way they had come. The blaster fire grew closer. All of a sudden, the officer grabbed her and held her in front of him as a shield, pulling her toward a dark maintenance hallway along with the others. Leia’s heart pounded; surely that was Luke, surely—

There! There he was, peeking out from behind a wall. “Luke!” she screamed. They were pulling her towards the door; she grabbed onto the frame. “Luke, don’t; it’s a trap!” The officer tugged her inside; she struggled, broke free, and managed to grab the doorframe once more before he got hold of her again. “It’s a trap!”

Roughly, her captor pulled her inside. They were forced into a run down the corridor; moments later, they turned swiftly into another one that led back out to the main halls, slowing once they reached the light again.

Luke knows, she thought, her heart comforted. He might still come after them, but at least he’d be prepared. Now, she and Chewie had to figure out how to get to Han.

They approached an intersection, and she heard footsteps. She barely had time to blink before they were surrounded by Cloud City security guards. Lando shoved the officer towards one of the guards and began collecting blasters from the stormtroopers as Leia looked around in astonishment.

“Well done,” Lando said to his cyborg aide, handing him two of the blasters. “Hold them in the security tower, and keep it quiet,” he murmured. “Move.”

Within a few seconds, Lando, Leia, Chewie, and Threepio were alone in the hallway. To her surprise, Lando handed her two more blasters he was holding and went to work on Chewbacca’s cuffs. A sudden rush of anger flowed through her. After all he’d done, was he going to try to play the hero now?

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“We’re getting out of here.”

“I knew all along; it had to be a mistake!” exclaimed Threepio.

“Do you think after what you did to Han we’re going to trust you?”

With a snarl and a curse that Leia could not quite translate, Chewie escaped his bounds, his paws immediately latching onto Lando’s throat. The man’s eyes widened. Futilely, he reached up his hands to try to pull the Wookiee’s off. “I had no choice,” he croaked.

“What are you doing? Trust him! Trust him!” Threepio urged.

But all Leia could see was red-hot rage. This was the man who had betrayed them to the Empire. This was the man who had led them straight to Vader, bringing her nightmares back to life again. This was the man who had done nothing while they spent hours in torment. This was the man who had stolen Han Solo from her. They had trusted him once; they would not do so again. Nor would he be forgiven.

“Oh, we understand, don’t we, Chewie? He had no choice!” Spite and sarcasm dripped off her tongue.

«Liar!» growled Chewie. He shook the man, sending him to his knees.

“I’m just trying to help!” Lando’s voice came out in a wheeze.

“We don’t need any of your help,” she replied imperiously.

“Haaah… haaaaaaah….” He could no longer form words, apparently. Good, she thought. He would pay for what he’d done.

He continued croaking the same syllable, and suddenly, she frowned. “What?” she demanded.

“It sounds like Han!” Threepio declared.

Chewie must have lightened his grip slightly, because Lando managed to get out a full sentence. “There’s still a chance to save Han!” He struggled, choking out the words. “At the east… platform!”

Leia froze, uncertainty flooding through her. She blinked back her fury.

What were they doing? They were better than this. This kind of revenge, this kind of mercilessness…. She swallowed.

Whatever the case, Lando knew things that could help them find Han. “Chewie!” she pled, her voice urgent. Without waiting for a reply, she sprinted off in a general easterly direction. Whatever strange temper that had come over her was quickly fading, replaced by a deadly focus: to find and save Han. In a moment, she heard Chewie’s footfalls behind her.

“I’m terribly sorry about all this!” the droid called out behind them. “After all, he’s only a Wookiee!”

“Wait!” cried Lando. “You’re going the wrong way to get to the platform!”

Leia turned, hands on hips, an eyebrow raised. Lando coughed as he rose to his feet. “We’ve got to go this way, then curve around! I’ll show you.”

Without a word, she followed.

They ran.

Lando led them down a number of passageways she didn’t recall seeing before. While she was unable to let go of the thick resentment she felt for him, Leia was admittedly grateful for his presence now. They could have wandered for hours around Cloud City before finding the right platform.

As they ran, she caught glimpses of color through the windows. When they emerged from the tower they were in, running alongside it on an outdoor walkway, she got a full view. It was sunset, and the whole sky was ablaze with rose and violet. It seemed to mock them with its beauty; wholly apathetic to their terror and tragedy, and yet somehow at the same time emblematic of the hope Leia still dared to cradle in her heart.

Could they make it on time? Could Han still be saved?

Losing him now would be catastrophic. Boba Fett would likely deliver him straight to Jabba, and she had no doubt that Han would not be treated mercifully by the Hutt. If they didn’t rescue him before then… she forced herself not to think about it, instead counting her steps, focusing on breathing evenly as she ran.

She thought of their time together these past few weeks; how rare and precious it had been, how far they’d come together. The healing conversations they’d had, the kisses they’d shared. How much she loved him. Han might have been a scoundrel, but he was her scoundrel, the scoundrel she needed, the scoundrel with a hero’s heart. He was brave and foolhardy and compassionate and ridiculous, and she loved him. She thought of his sideways smile, how it lit her up, and his hazel eyes, so honest and vulnerable even when he was trying his damnedest not to be. She thought of how he always cared, no matter how much he claimed otherwise. She thought of him coming back, always coming back—for her, for Luke, for his friends, for what was right.

Now she was coming back for him.

They rounded a corner, and she heard a series of beeps as they ran under an archway back into the tower.

“Artoo, Artoo! Where have you been?” Threepio cried from behind her, and Chewie let out a roar of greeting. She barely paid attention, so focused was she on running after Lando. Surely the platform couldn’t be much farther.

They hurried along another corridor lined with windows looking out onto the deepening dusk, and finally they reached a security door. Lando typed something into the controls, and it opened. As soon as the door had risen high enough, she raced out onto the platform, heart pounding… and stopped short. A small ship was already lifting off. Raising the blaster rifle Lando had given her, she fired on it relentlessly. Chewie, beside her, did the same.

It was too late.

Heart constricting, she watched, powerless, as the ship flew off into the twilight, carrying Han far away. It dwindled down to nothingness, and then it was gone.

He was gone.

“Chewie, they’re behind you!” cried Threepio in alarm. Blaster bolts rang out from the hall. Cursing the Empire, she turned and ran to one side of the door for cover. After a moment, Lando ran around the door and into a side hall, and the rest of them followed, dodging enemy fire. Artoo, who had been rolling around and beeping with both excitement and confusion, zipped along after them. She could hear the stormtroopers’ heavy footfalls close behind.

“This way,” Lando called.

Thankfully, the corridor wound enough that the troopers could get no clear shot at them. A few seconds later, they came upon an intersection; to the right and up a short flight of stairs was a turbolift. Leia halted. The troopers were too close; they wouldn’t make it... quickly she leaned back around the corner and fired off a shot, downing one of them. Hopefully that would delay them for the split second they needed. Chewie growled worriedly at her to hurry, and she ran up the stairs to join the others in the lift. Lando punched the controls. The door swept shut just as a few more troopers began to run up the stairs after them.

They let out a collective sigh of relief.

“Where to now?” she asked Lando as the turbolift dropped downward.

“Back to the Falcon and out of here,” he replied. “We’re not far.”

Leia’s heart sank, but she nodded. Luke would be fine, she told herself. He was fully capable of taking care of himself, and he had brought his X-wing. Meanwhile, they had an entire detachment of stormtroopers on their tail. If they were caught, that would be the end; there would be no chance of rescuing Han, and likely no chance for them to escape again, either.

Han.

She forced back a fresh wave of tears.

They sprang out of the lift when it opened, Lando leading the way down the hall and around a corner. He stopped at another door, pounding at the controls. It didn’t open. “The security code has been changed,” he griped as Chewie came up and banged on the door.

“Artoo, you can tell the computer to override the security systems!” Threepio suggested.

Artoo beeped cheerfully and approached the console. Leia’s eyes followed Lando, meanwhile, as he walked over to another one. After entering another code, he took out a comlink. “Attention,” he announced, his voice carrying over the building’s speakers. “This is Lando Calrissian. The Empire has taken control of this city and I advise everyone to leave before more Imperial troops arrive.”

Leia’s brows knit. That was… surprisingly noble of him. She would have done the same.

Without warning Artoo began to spark, smoke pouring off of him as he cried out in mechanical distress. Chewie pulled him away from the terminal, and Leia frowned in consternation. Fortunately, the little droid seemed to recover quickly.

“This way,” interjected Lando, starting off down another hallway, and the rest of them followed.

“Well, don’t blame me,” she heard Threepio say. “I’m an interpreter; I’m not supposed to know a power socket from a computer terminal!”

Turning into a main corridor, they found themselves in the middle of a mass of panicked people running this way and that, carrying various belongings. Winding their way through them, they ducked out of the passageway and made for another security door. A blaster bolt sounded behind them; Chewie, guarding the rear, fired back. Leia turned around to join him as Artoo made for the second door’s console. Stormtroopers were swarming into the hall now; she and Chewie dropped them to the ground, one by one.

Artoo beeped in triumph. Leia heard the sound of the door opening, but she kept on firing. Anger and grief surged through her. She watched as if in a dream as more and more stormtoopers fell to her blaster bolts. Lando’s hands gripped her shoulders, pulling her away. She shook him off but backed down the hall after him, still shooting at the ones who had been complicit in so much pain. Finally, she slipped out of the doorway and ran for the Falcon. When she reached the ramp, she turned again to provide covering fire for the others. More troopers fell. Others came up to take their place; they dropped, too.

Justice.

There would be justice for what they had done. Tears stung her eyes.

“Leia!” Lando yelled from the other side of the ramp. “Go!”

She shook herself out of her trance. This won’t help Han, she realized. It wouldn’t help any of them right now.

Reluctantly, she turned and ran into the ship.

Chapter Text

I’m sorry, Han. I’m sorry we didn’t make it in time. Leia sat in the pilot’s seat—Han’s seat—and steered the Falcon away from Cloud City, feeling as if her heart had been torn apart.

He was gone.

It’s not your fault, the memory of his voice echoed in her head. She almost argued back out of habit, but then she stopped herself.

He was gone. Blaming herself wouldn’t help him now, nor would it help her. And… he was right. She knew that, deep down. Vader had done it, just as he’d done so many unspeakable things before. Vader would pay when the Rebellion won. In the meantime, she would fight with everything she had for that victory.

And she would fight with everything she had for Han.

She glanced at Chewie, who was sitting silently beside her in the co-pilot’s seat. “Anything on the sensors?” she said softly.

«Nothing,» he replied. «They are not chasing us yet.»

“Only a matter of time,” Lando muttered from behind them.

She knew he was right. There would be at least fifteen minutes worth of atmospheric and sublight flight before they made it to a point where they could safely jump to lightspeed—maybe more. Plenty of time for the Empire to try to cut them off. At least, she told herself, they had a head start.

She guided the Falcon over the top of a particularly dense cloud, black against the slowly dwindling fire of the sky—

And then she froze; her hands mechanically guiding the Falcon forward, her mind tugged elsewhere. An image appeared: a figure hanging from a vane on the bottom of the city, nothing but endless clouds below. A voice: Luke’s voice, in pain.

Leia, he was saying. Hear me, Leia.

“Luke,” she whispered.

The image dissipated. But she knew without a doubt that like her dream, it was real.

“We’ve got to go back,” she told the others.

“What?” Lando said, incredulous, Chewie echoing him.

“I know where Luke is,” she said, calling on her royal voice and all its commanding influence. She looked Chewie in the eye, silently pleading for him to believe her. Luke was in danger; there was no time to spare.

“What about those fighters?” Lando questioned.

«How do you know where he is?»

“Chewie, just do it!”

“But what about Vader—” Lando had hardly started saying the words before the Wookiee turned around and gave him a threatening roar. “All right, all right!” he said.

Chewie trusted her. Warmth spread through her, even as they turned the ship back towards danger, and maybe death.

She knew what she knew; the how didn’t matter right now.

They may not have been able to rescue Han, but they sure as hell weren’t going to leave without Luke.

The underside of Cloud City was deep violet, faint with the last echoes of the setting sun. Leia’s eyes scanned it, searching.

Maybe she was being ridiculous. Maybe the torture droid’s drugs had left her hallucinating. Or maybe all the trauma was finally, truly, catching up to her, shredding what was left of her sanity. But she wasn’t ready to give up hope just yet.

“Look, someone’s up there!” Lando pointed.

And there he was. A little to the left and ahead, clinging onto a weather vane, just as she’d seen it in her mind.

“It’s Luke,” she said. “Chewie, slow down—slow down and we’ll get under him. Lando, open the top hatch.” She heard the cockpit door open as Lando went to follow her orders.

Luke. What had happened? Even from here she could feel the pain radiating off of him. “Easy, Chewie,” she said, and together, they maneuvered the Falcon until it floated right underneath the vane. She saw the indicator light for the top hatch blinking. Suddenly, another sensor lit up. Several small ships were dropping around the rim of the city and heading their way. She looked closer; they were definitely TIE fighters. “Lando?” she called, her voice urgent.

“Okay, let’s go!” he replied through the comm, and they sped off. Ahead, three more TIEs came into view.

She heard the sound of the cockpit door again, and she got to her feet, trusting Chewie to take charge of the Falcon.

Oh, Luke.

He stood there in the doorway, supported by Lando. His face was bloodied and bruised; his eyes haunted. She rushed to him and buried herself in his arms as Lando went to take her place in the cockpit.

“Leia,” he whispered. He clung to her as if clinging to life itself. She held him tight, hoping that somehow through her embrace she could impart the strength, courage and comfort he needed. It felt good to hug someone, after everything. She hadn’t since—

Abruptly, tears stung her eyes again.

She swallowed down her grief. She could deal with it all later; right now she needed to take care of Luke. Gently, she slipped out of the hug and eased him down the hallway to the crew quarters. Helping him onto the right-hand bunk that had been fitted with medical equipment, she quickly analyzed his wounds. The burn on his face looked painful but not threatening; she could treat it later. More immediately, he needed fluids and possibly a blood transfusion; he was clearly on the verge of collapse. Her eyes traveled down and stopped short. She gasped.

His hand. He was missing a hand. Suddenly, his symptoms of shock became very clear.

Swallowing, she forced back the familiar crescendo of panic regarding needles and hooked him up to the fluids generator, trying to stall the shaking in her hands. Next, she turned to rummage through the med cabinet. Finding what she was looking for, she knelt beside his bunk. That put her a little low, but she needed to be steady—right now, with the beating the ship was taking from the TIEs, the gravity emulators weren’t exactly at top performance. She examined his wound again. It was completely cauterized, she realized, so there would be no need for a coagulant. As gently as she could, she daubed the stump of his wrist with an antiseptic. He tensed, moaning. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Carefully, she placed a bacta patch over the wound, then she wrapped the whole lower arm in a protective bandage.

When she was finished and satisfied that there were no further injuries that demanded her immediate attention, she pulled a blanket over him and grabbed a compress, soaking it with cold water in the ‘fresher. Coming back to his side, she dabbed at his forehead.

The ship lurched; a particularly bad one. She looked up, concerned. Glancing back at Luke, she leaned down and kissed him lightly. The gesture felt instinctual and familial, meant to comfort, and she did it without much forethought. But immediately she felt a twinge of guilt as she remembered the last, awkward kiss she’d given him to spite Han, and his strange attempt to kiss her before that. She hoped he wouldn’t mistake this one for anything more than it was, if he remembered it later.

Right now, though, the pilots needed her help. “I’ll be back,” she murmured. Setting down the compress, she rushed back to the cockpit. They’d emerged from Bespin’s atmosphere and were finally approaching a suitable hyperspace jump point. Unfortunately, Chewie and Lando were busy turning the ship in barrel rolls to avoid TIE fighter fire. In the distance, a massive ship came into view. “Star Destroyer,” she said, pointing. Executor-class, no less. She cursed under her breath. The grav emulators trembled once again, and her stomach lurched. If they continued to get worse, Luke could be even more seriously injured.

Chewie growled at her to set the lightspeed coordinates, and after a brief moment’s thought she reached up to enter them. The Kaliida Nebula would be a fairly easy sequence of jumps from here. She’d rendezvoused with members of the Alliance there after Mako-Ta; perhaps there’d be a scout there for her to make contact with now. At the very least, it was a good place to hide and plot their next course, provided that they stopped along the way to check that they weren’t being tracked.

“All right, Chewie,” Lando said. “Ready for lightspeed.”

“If your people fixed the hyperdrive,” she muttered half-sardonically.

«It was fixed when Han checked,» Chewie assured her.

She saw a light flash green on the panel, and she sat down. “All the coordinates are set. It’s now or never.”

“Punch it,” said Lando.

The stars remained tiny, frozen points of light. They sat in stunned silence as the whine of the failed hyperdrive filled the cockpit.

Leia and Chewie looked at each other, then over at Lando. At that moment, another blast rocked the ship. Chewie exploded with curses. Leia fell back in her seat, her head in her hands.

Of course it’s not working, she thought. How could they have expected anything else?

“They told me they fixed it!” Lando seemed even more shocked than the rest of them. “I trusted them to fix it!” he shouted. “It’s not my fault!” She heard banging noises as he charged around the cockpit, looking for something, anything, that he could do to help. Chewie brushed past her on his way out; to dig in the bowels of the ship, she presumed. He nearly knocked Lando over in the process.

Sighing, she moved forward to take charge of the controls.

It was a trick out of Han’s book, pulling the ship in close to the Star Destroyer at an angle where the tractor beams couldn’t lock onto them (she hoped). The TIEs were following them still, but they were free, for the moment.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a chill ran down her back. She heard the door open and looked up to see Luke wandering in, staring out the viewport at the Destroyer. “It’s Vader,” he whispered. The familiar clench of anxiety came at his name. She felt cold.

Luke sat down beside her, muttering deliriously. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she heard him say. Frowning, she tried to ignore him for now and focus on flying the ship, avoiding the TIEs and keeping out of the tractor beam’s range. She knew she was unlikely to succeed. Executor-class Destroyers had particularly powerful tractor beams that would be hard to evade; more likely, the Imperials simply hadn’t finished readying them yet. She felt as though a hand were tightening on her throat. Vader, in that ship, and them, stranded here….

All of a sudden, she was thrown back in her seat. From the back, she heard Artoo screech, and a light started blinking furiously on the panel in front of her. Hardly believing her eyes, she reached forward, breathless, and grabbed the hyperspace lever, pushing it forward.

The stars outside the viewpoint lengthened, coalescing into woven light.

Chapter Text

The Kaliida Nebula was about six hours away, not counting the brief stops they’d have to make every few hours to switch hyperlanes. Lando had once again joined Chewbacca at the Falcon’s helm; they had both insisted in no uncertain terms that Luke and Leia get some rest, promising they’d comm if they needed anything. She was tired enough not to argue.

Immediately after the jump to hyperspace, Luke had sat frozen, staring out the viewport into the whirling star tunnels. He’d glanced at her when she offered him a hand, looking for all the universe as if she were his only tether away from the maw. Silently, he’d let her help him back to the crew quarters, and once more she shakily attached the fluids line and pulled a blanket over him.

He was gazing up at her again, now, eyes wide and hollow. “Leia,” he whispered.

Tenderly, she brushed the hair from his forehead and reached down to clasp his remaining hand, squeezing it. She perched on the edge of his bunk. “I’m here,” she said softly. “You’re safe now.” Slowly, his eyelids began to flutter, and he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

She sat there for a long time, weariness bleeding into her bones, listening as his breathing grew deeper. Finally, when she was fairly certain her movement would not wake him, she slipped her hand carefully out of his, turned out the light, and walked over to her bunk, curling up on top of it without bothering to remove the blanket.

The pillow smelled like Han.

She thought of him laying there next to her, his fingers tangled in her hair. She thought of the hungry kisses she had never wanted to end. She thought of easy laughter and healing tears, of potent words and new openings.

She thought of the bed on Cloud City, and how they’d never have the chance now to find out if she’d regret it. She thought of his rending screams, of coils and needles and agonizing pain. Of Captain Orffa’s leers, her ripped shirt, his broken neck as he lay on the other side of the room. Of Vader’s hated mask, cold and merciless. Of throbbing rage. Of helpless grief.

Of finally saying “I love you.” Of the one she loved, turned to stone and torn away.

All the emotions she’d been trying to hold at bay rushed in. Her defenses crumpled, and the first tears came in like a flood, violent and inevitable. Burying her face in the pillow to muffle the sound, she wept, her body shaking with sobs. She wept until every breath came as a gasp; until she could no longer imagine what it was to not be weeping. She wept for Han, and for Alderaan, and for every loss in between. For a galaxy full of loss, cracked all the way through with the cruelty of it.

Long after her tears ran dry, she lay there, face still buried in the pillow—Han’s pillow—breathing in the scent of him. She wasn’t ready to let him go.

She wouldn’t let him go.

She would find him, somehow.

Slowly, exhaustion crept up on her, disarming her resistance just as her tears had done earlier. She gave into it with a mild sense of relief, letting her eyes close.

I don’t regret it, she thought as she began to drift off. Sleepy astonishment at the realization gave way to the certainty that she had always known this, somehow, despite her fears. I don’t regret loving him. Not one bit. As much as this hurt—and oh, how it hurt—she would gladly love him and lose him again.

Then sleep took her, carrying her far away into blessed nothingness.

She was woken up what felt like minutes later by the chime of her comm.

Lando’s voice was on the other end. “We’ve stopped at Terminus,” he said. “We need you up here to watch for Imperials while we search the ship for homing beacons. We’ve got her pretty well hidden behind a moon, but it’s a race against time until they find us.”

Trying to keep any bitterness out of her voice, she gave her consent and stumbled groggily toward the cockpit. Lando gave her a look when she arrived—she must have looked like hell, with red-rimmed eyes and smeared makeup—but to his credit he didn’t say anything, only giving her a nod on the way out. Chewie was already gone. She moved to sit in the co-pilot’s seat, but changed her mind halfway there, instead opting for the captain’s. Curling her legs beneath her, she leaned back into it, smelling its faded leather and a hint of old cologne. She scanned the starfield carefully, glancing at the sensor displays afterward for any signs she might have missed. There was nothing; only stars. On the other side of the moon, she knew, the sky would be filled with ships of all kinds. Terminus was a busy world; she hoped that, as such, it would distract the Empire long enough that they wouldn’t find the Falcon.

She shifted in her seat, anxious. Finding the homing beacon would likely take Chewie and Lando awhile—they had to suit up to examine the hull, after all—but she wished they would hurry and be done with it. Normally, this would have been made a much easier exercise by simply scanning the hull via the ship’s sensors, but the Empire had certainly disabled that function. Or rather, they probably just hadn’t bothered to fix it—it was, after all, one of the sensor systems that had been damaged during their escape from Hoth.

The minutes ticked by. Fifteen minutes passed, then half an hour. A light freighter moved into view. She stiffened, then relaxed again as it jumped to hyperspace moments later.

Forty-five minutes. Her eyelids drooped; she pinched her arm to stay awake.

Finally, she heard the door open behind her, and Chewie came in with a roar. «We found it,» he said. He was triumphant, but his voice was laced with sorrow. She knew enough of him now to hear it. She caught his gaze, and he sat down next to her. For a minute, they looked out on the emptiness together. «You should go back to bed, Little Princess,» he finally said, his voice gentle.

“You sure you don’t need sleep?” she whispered.

«I will,» he said, «but I have strength left to spare, and I was not hurt as badly as you. Go sleep.» She nodded and got up just as Lando came through the door. She didn’t look at him as they exchanged places. Hazily, she walked back to the crew quarters, fell in her bunk, and was once more lost in unconsciousness.

Leia’s eyes flickered open. How long had her comm been beeping? Yawning, she sat up, flipping on the light over her bunk, and froze as all the memories of the previous day flooded back in. The deep ache in her chest nearly knocked her over, and she fought off the urge to lay back down and forget everything again.

Luke. She had to make sure he was okay. She glanced over towards the other side of the room; there he lay, as still as a stone. Alarmed, she leapt out of bed and lurched over to check on him. His chest rose and fell, and she sighed in relief. He was in a deep sleep. That was good.

Feeling her heartbeat calm again, she sat back down on her bunk and answered her comlink. “Yes?” she croaked, her voice hoarse.

“Just wanted to let you know we’ve arrived at the Kaliida Nebula,” said Lando. “Whenever you’re able, I’ll let you take over and see if you can reach that contact of yours. Could use a little shut-eye myself.”

“Of course,” she said curtly. “I’ll be right there.”

When she arrived, Chewie was once again nowhere in sight. She felt a pang in her chest, thinking of his grief. At least, she thought, he was getting some sleep, too.

Lando nodded awkwardly to her as they switched places again and left without a word. For a minute, she stared at the glowing pink clouds outside the viewport. She knew he’d be just a comm away, but still, she was nervous. The nebula could be perilous. From time to time, it was home to migrating neebray mantas, which could do some serious damage to ships. Moreover, if the Empire had somehow found out about this checkpoint—

She felt her throat constricting and her heart pounding, and she stopped the thought short. Yes, the Empire had caught up with them a few too many times recently—she had good reason to be fearful of that. But she should be wary, not paranoid. This was the best chance they had to make contact with the Alliance. Straightening, she set a Rebel-coded message to broadcast at intervals to the surrounding parts of the nebula, then she took the Falcon on a leisurely tour through the cloud tunnels.

An hour later, she had a reply. It was also in Alliance code, and it gave her coordinates to meet nearby. She tensed. The Empire could have cracked that code since she was gone, they could have found out about this location, they could have—

She forced herself to breathe slowly. “Chewie,” she said into the comlink, “I’m making contact. I may need backup if it’s not who I think it is.”

The Wookiee yawned, but he didn’t hesitate. «I’m coming,» he said.

Soon both he and Lando joined her again in the cockpit. She felt bad that they’d only had an hour of sleep, but she supposed there was nothing to be done.

Well, mostly bad. She didn’t feel all that bad about Lando. As far as she was concerned, he could suffer. He sat behind her, keeping watch as she and Chewie maneuvered the ship to the meeting point.

Finally, the clouds in front of them parted, revealing an X-wing.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” the pilot whooped upon seeing their ship. “I was starting to think I’d never see that hunk of junk again! Is the princess there?”

Leia breathed a sigh of relief. “Hi, Wedge,” she said, transmitting the codes to confirm it was her.

“Good to hear your voice, Princess,” he said. “High command’s been going out of their minds. They figured if you survived, you’d make your way here. Lucky you found me now; they were beginning to think it was a lost cause. We probably wouldn’t have been patrolling out here much longer.”

“Thanks for waiting,” she said.

“Where’s ol’ Han?”

All the words seemed to dry up in her mouth, and she sat silent for a moment. “He’s gone,” she said finally, her voice quiet. Chewie let out a mournful wail.

She heard Wedge exhale. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice full of genuine grief. “Sending you the jump coordinates now.”

Within a few minutes, they’d left the bright clouds of the Kaliida Nebula behind and were headed home. It wasn’t truly home, of course—Home was Alderaan, and that was gone forever. These days, though, the Alliance had become the only home she could claim to have. But whatever familiarity it offered, it would be empty without Han.

“Hey,” Lando said from behind her, startling her. She didn’t turn around. “Chewie ’n I have been talking and…” he faltered for a moment, then he went on. “…We’re gonna find Han and bring him back. We’ll leave for Tatooine as soon as we can get fueled and ready.”

She leaned back in her seat. “You got a plan?”

Chewie responded. «We have some ideas, yes, but we wanted to talk with you and Luke and hear yours, too.»

Leia nodded slowly. “We’ll discuss it when we get there, after the briefings. I don’t want to put too much strain on Luke before then. He doesn’t even know what happened yet.”

“Sure thing,” said Lando.

She clenched her teeth to avoid telling him to shut up. Instead, she shifted her focus outside, watching the whirlwind starlight.

Somewhere out there, Han was trapped, but alive. And somehow, they would find him and bring him home.

A warmth grew inside her chest; the fire of hope.

Chapter Text

She talked to Luke before they reached the Alliance; she waited until he was awake again and starting to ask questions. The look of shock, horror, and grief on his face when she told him about Han nearly made her weep all over again. Soon, though, he was all determination, somehow her sun once more despite the pain that still haunted the hollows of his face. “We’ll get him back, Leia,” he said, grasping her hand in his remaining one. His eyes flickered to the side, staring unseeing at a spot on the wall. “We’ve got to trust the Force,” he murmured.

The Force. She closed her eyes, prepared to swallow down a wave of bitterness that never came. Instead, she was left with a vague sense of emptiness, sadness, and confusion. Perhaps it was their nothing-short-of-miraculous escape from Bespin that had softened her resentment. The Force had certainly seemed to… intervene, somehow, what with that vision she’d had of Luke. She let out a breath.

Was he right? Could the Force be trusted? Was the Force truly, as her parents had told her—as she herself had once believed—at work in the galaxy, ensuring hope and light would never be fully lost? Luke seemed determined to think so, despite whatever he had suffered; despite whatever heaviness he wore on his heart that made her fear he might crumple.

Relating what had happened to Alliance Intelligence and the few present members of High Command after their arrival on the Remembrance was just as difficult as her conversation with Luke and far less rewarding. She was quizzed about every aspect of their escape from Hoth and their subsequent ordeal on Bespin. She found she couldn’t look anyone in the eyes as she told them about the particular torture methods the Empire had used this time, both sanctioned and unsanctioned. And it took every ounce of her resolve to keep from breaking down as she relayed what had happened to Han.

For a moment, her eyes darted across the table to Rieekan. He was looking at her with such sorrow, understanding, and compassion that she somehow wanted to both shrink away from him and fall crying into his arms like she’d once done with her parents as a little girl. He caught up with her in the hallway afterwards as she walked back to the Falcon to grab her things. “Leia,” he said, “If you need anything—if there’s anything I can do—”

“Thank you, Carlist,” she replied, echoing his informality.

He paused. “I know Intelligence wasn’t too happy about Chewbacca and Calrissian’s plans to leave for Tatooine, but I want you to know I’m behind them all the way.” He lowered his voice. “Han Solo was a good man,” he said, his eyes piercing Leia with a meaningful stare. “Don’t give up hope. We’ll do what we can.”

Nodding, she swallowed down the lump in her throat. She doubted the Alliance would ever be able to spare the resources to mount a rescue operation for one person, but she appreciated Rieekan’s support anyway.

“For so long I thought… I thought…” He stopped, shaking his head, and smiled at her wistfully. “I’m just glad you’re back.”

She smiled back at him. It felt foreign—had she smiled at all since Bespin?—but somehow her heart felt a little warmer.

After she had located her packing crates from Hoth and moved into her new quarters, she headed for the conference room she had reserved for her meeting with Luke, Chewie, and Lando. Their plan didn’t take long to formulate—by necessity, it wasn’t much of one; not yet. Chewie and Lando would scout ahead on Tatooine, locate Han, and figure out what they were up against. When the time was right, Luke and Leia would join them for the extraction. If High Command will let me, Leia thought cynically. If I let me. She was already feeling the pull of her duty to the Alliance and, along with it, the familiar impulse to sacrifice all personal desires.

She frowned, remembering where that impulse had gotten her in the past. She’d had no hope, then—for the Alliance, yes, but not for herself. It had not gotten her far. While she would still gladly lay down her life for the Rebellion, she could no longer neglect the things that made life worth living in the first place.

Somehow, she’d have to fight for both. She’d just have to figure out how.

The next day, after giving Chewie a goodbye hug—«Take good care of yourself, Little Princess,» he had said—she headed to Luke’s room in the medbay.

It was still too soon, she knew, for them to talk much about what had happened. Aside from the knowledge that he had fought Vader on Cloud City, she still didn’t know the details about what haunted him, and she didn’t ask. Likewise, she didn’t yet feel able to tell him about what had blossomed between her and Han on the trip to Bespin. Somehow, though, she felt that he already knew, and that comforted her.

Mostly, they were silent, taking solace in each other’s nearness. Now, in their suffering, they seemed to understand each other more than they ever had before.

The medical droid returned to activate the brand new prosthetic hand Luke had received the night before. Leia watched, mildly intrigued, as it ran a series of tests to ensure the hand had been calibrated correctly.

Artoo and Threepio, now whole, gleaming, and happily reunited, had come to visit, too. They stood uncharacteristically silent in front of the large window, looking out on the newborn solar system nearby. The protostar at the center burst with brilliant light, illuminating the vast clouds of dust and matter that ringed it. It was a spectacular sight.

Once again, Leia wondered at the depth of the droids’ sentience. Emotion and appreciation for beauty were not things one normally expected in a droid… but then again, homesickness and a longing for companionship weren’t, either, and she had learned that lesson well to the contrary.

“Luke,” Lando’s voice broke through the comm, “we’re ready for takeoff.”

“Good luck, Lando,” he replied.

“When we find Jabba the Hutt and that bounty hunter, we’ll contact you.”

“I’ll meet you at the rendezvous point on Tatooine.”

“Princess,” Lando said, his voice growing somber, “we’ll find Han. I promise.”

Another rush of emotion filled her at Han’s name. There’d been so many of those lately, threatening her with sudden tears, and she hated it. Better this than being numb and hopeless, she thought. Better this than never having loved him.

“Chewie, I’ll be waiting for your signal,” Luke was saying. “Take care you two. May the Force be with you.”

«Until our branches entwine again, cubs,» said Chewie. «I won’t be around to rip the arms off your enemies for awhile, so don’t get into too much trouble!”

Leia almost laughed, and Luke grinned back at her.

She missed Han’s laugh.

Her smile fading, she walked over to the window. He was out there, somewhere. The distance between them seemed impossibly far, the search impossibly long. There was a chance he was already gone forever. There was an aching hole in her heart that she wasn’t sure could ever be healed.

Luke came up beside her, and she glanced at him.

He knew. He understood.

He wrapped his arm around her, his new hand gently squeezing her shoulder. She leaned into him, taking a deep breath.

Whatever happened, she would be brave. She would love. She would live.

She would open herself up to a galaxy of hope.

And someday, she told herself, it would all be worth it.

It was worth it already.

The Millennium Falcon rose in front of them, soaring away into the stars.