It's finallt here!
Leia knew something was wrong due to a few things. One, the perturbed look on Han's face. Two, the lack of excitement following Han's exciting buildup. And three, the subtle moaning of some part of the computers in the cockpit.
"It's not my fault!"
Leia cautiously let go of the back of Han's chair, falling back into her own. "No lightspeed?" she mocked.
"It's not my fault!"
The Imperial ship took quick notice that something with the enemy had gone awry and the moment to mock was interrupted, cut through by the sudden attack from the Star Destroyer. The Falcon rocked back and forth from the impact of the Star Destroyer's laserfire clashing against her hull and Han cursed. Leia's vision flashed with the quick explosions. She could watch most of them outside the viewport as Han and Chewie kept the Falcon dancing and weaving through the blaze.
"Sir!" C-3PO cried from his seat behind Chewbacca. "We just lost the main rear deflector shield. One more direct hit on the back port and we're done for!"
Han scurried out of his seat, shouting, "Turn her around!" as he pointed toward starboard.
Chewie growled a protest, throwing out his arms, but Han only yelled louder again, "I said, turn her around! I'm gonna' throw all power to the front shield."
Leia gaped, finally turning in her seat to stare wide-eyed and unbelieving at Han. "You're going to attack them?!"
"Sir, the odds of surviving a direct assault on an Imperial Star Destroyer-!"
Leia was losing both her patience and sanity as Han continued hurrying about the small cockpit and giving everyone orders. She came nowhere close to understanding his method. As much as she would love to have faith in Han's idiocy, her patience was running low. First, from their fight in the South Passage to his manhandling of her as they had rushed to leave Echo base, then this. Threepio was only adding to her annoyance and frustration. Rolling her eyes, she shouted at the droid to be heard over the chaos, "Shut up!"
Han sent the Millennium Falcon flying back around on her side. Leia's stomach rolled and she threw out her hands to once again grasp a chair. This time, she clamped her hands around her own, her back pressing fiercely against it. She closed her eyes and took in a quiet, short breath. Easy, she chastised herself. You can kill him later. If the Empire doesn't kill us first.
They were now hidden away. Safely, Leia hoped. Han had found a rock big enough with craters to hide the Falcon away in. Leia hoped they wouldn't have to hide here long; her patience was wearing thin with Han already.
Really, Leia found herself simply confused by Han. She couldn't make herself understand the man nor his way about life. For three years, he'd been on the brink of leaving the Rebellion and Leia had spent those three years restlessly chasing him, pulling him back in, begging him to stay. And for a while, Leia had been convinced he really would stay. Now, she felt foolish for letting herself believe that. Han had really been going to leave. He'd been walking out the door when Fate, with its impeccable timing, had brought the Empire to the Rebellion's front doorstep and sent them hurrying off. And Han had come back for her.
Leia didn't let herself consider that for long. It was ridiculous. Now, she was stuck with Han Solo until they found the rest of the Rebellion fleet and Han raced off.
Where did he even think he was going, Leia wondered? What did he have in plan? Was there somewhere he wanted to go? Somewhere he wanted to stay? Somewhere Han Solo could call home and maybe he would stay there, go his own way. And Leia would go her way. And the two would never see each other again.
That thought provoked an uncomfortable, sour feeling in her gut and Leia shook it off quickly.
Where would Han Solo go? And what would he do?
Without her? Far away from the Rebellion. Free of the Rebellion's demands. Free, unbound, and wild just like he was. Of course, the Rebellion was no place for him. A place of loyalty, hard work, determination, full of people who were striving for justice against the Empire. What did Han care? He held no regard for any form of law let alone the "legal" one. Even the Rebellion's rules were often- simply- too much for Han to follow.
Of course, he was leaving. He'd only been telling her that for the past three years.
And where would Leia be? With the fleet, running missions, building rebel cells, throwing her life on the line for the hope of a brighter future. She would be doing the same thing she'd always been doing; putting herself into the thick of the galaxy and trying to sort out all the tangles with her bare hands. And when her hands were torn up from the rough calluses, she would massage them herself, only taking a moment for herself before jumping back into the action with all she was, all she had.
That was where she belonged, where she thrived. And if Han Solo had decided that the last three years had been so horrible . . . By all means, it's about time you run off, Leia thought with a tone to her inner voice as if she were spitting it out. Run away. Run away from the Alliance, from Jabba, from responsibility, friends commitment. Run away from everything you could possibly have. That's just the way you like your life, isn't it, Solo?
For some reason that even Leia didn't really understand, she felt bitter about it; she felt upset, angry with Han.
Huffing a long, frustrated sigh, Leia pushed herself out of the copilot's seat in the cockpit and ran to hide herself away in the maintenance bay before Han could find her.
Outside the cockpit viewport, thousands of stars twinkled in the dark expanse that was known space. Some represented whole star systems while others were their own whole worlds; whole star systems and planets filled with people and things and possibilities. And space was full of them. And each glittered in their own reserved spot amidst the endless sky, known to many and home to more.
Han Solo himself had been to many of those stars in his years of gallivanting around the galaxy. He'd seen many different places, met many people and different species. But he'd never stayed anywhere for very long. He liked to call himself a wandering man; he didn't need a set home. He had the Falcon and he called that good enough. Maybe he was solo; he didn't need a posse of friends. Chewie would follow him to the ends of space and that was enough companionship to last Han a lifetime. He really didn't need much. He certainly never asked for much. Unless he'd gotten himself into a real desperate situation, that is. For example, his whole stunt with Jabba. Yeah, that didn't go well and he wasn't planning on letting that happen again. He hoped to never have to deal with a debt like this one ever again. Nor the other struggles that came with it. Honestly, to this day, Han still had yet to figure out how he was going to deal with it. He'd come up with a plan shortly prior to the time he'd told General Rieekan he was leaving the Alliance, but, of course, the princess had to mess that up too. The poor girl was going to get herself killed and she was lucky he'd still been on base and hadn't left yet. If Han had already left, the princess probably wouldn't be alive to reflect on her own stupidity.
Han shook his head. It gave him a headache whenever he considered the young, foolish princess. It gave him a migraine trying to understand her and just what she was hoping to accomplish. He understood that she must be going through some kind of awful pain since her home had been destroyed and he was pretty sure that- whatever she's been running about doing for the last three years- she was still trying to replace the emptiness in her that had existed since that horrible day. And Han could understand part of that. He knew a thing or two about pain. Now, he didn't know too much about the princess's case or how to get through to her, but he did think that someone ought to tell her that she won't be able to do anything in her dead family's memory when she was finally dead with them. Han thought that's where she was going; she was going to get herself killed and Han would be there to stand over her grave and whisper, 'I told you so'. But, sometimes, Han thought she could hardly care less about her own life as long as she was helping as many others as she could. She was selfless to the point of her own death and that both intrigues Han and scared him. It scared him for a reason he couldn't entirely comprehend, but somehow, he knew it went beyond the regular fear of one fearing any other person's death. Something about that thought when it came to Leia twisted with Han's gut and made something in him feel hollow. He recalled standing in the docking bay on Hoth, prepping the Falcon for takeoff and praying his baby wouldn't fall apart on the ride. Then, he'd heard that Leia was still in the communications center. That beautiful idiot! Obviously, he'd felt concern for her at once and hurried off to find her before she got herself killed. But what degree of concern had it been? Had he been merely concerned? Or afraid? Afraid for the princess's life?
Han laughed at that thought of his. Where on Coruscant did he come up with this stuff? Him? Terrified for the princess's life! No; he just didn't want her death on his hands. Again, he had enough to deal with without including the princess in his set of troubles. And when it came to the princess, she was a package deal; she had a whole load of problems that she came with. And Han didn't need to be involved with any of that.
So, maybe he was a loner, a wanderer. All Han knew was that he had everything he wanted.