It's a Hard Life
By Serena
A/N: Very different from the stuff I normally do. Written for a challenge on the Force(dot)net Fanfic boards.
Summary: Total Han/Leia oriented - more intense than the stuff I usually write. It's very AU. You'll see what I mean. :)
Disclaimer: This has been a production not in any way affiliated with Mr. Lucas. If I owned Star Wars... I wouldn't be writing fanfiction. Well, maybe I would. Who knows? :)
Merry Christmas, everyone!
The first time he sees her, he's immediately attracted like a strong magnet to her large, doe-brown eyes. They're filled with fire, defiance, and a stubborn bravery that sets his heart racing. Clearing his throat, he steps forward and adopts a neutral tone, contrary to his inner feelings. "You must be the famous Princess Leia," he says, sounding almost disdainful. "You're shorter than I expected."
She glares up at him. "You have no right to hold me here," she snaps. "I'm a member of the Imperial Senate –"
"Don't try to play games with me, Your Worshipfulness," he drawls in return, interrupting her because he knows that if she keeps talking in that passionate way with that beautiful mouth, he'll be inclined to kiss her to shut her up. "I know that you're a member of the Rebellion and that you're on your way to have a little meet-and-greet with another Imperial senator to talk about Imperial strategy."
She straightens, but she barely reaches his chin. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about, Commander," she says airily, every inch a regal Princess of Alderaan. "I'm on a diplomatic mission to Alderaan."
"Yeah, right. And I'm a smuggler with a Wookiee for a co-pilot," he snorts sarcastically. He nods to the stormtroopers holding her. "Take her to the holding cells."
Her lips part in a snarl, and she growls, "You won't get away with this!" And she struggles valiantly against the two – no, now three troopers holding her.
Impressed with her, he laughs again. "Well, we got a little spitfire on our hands, boys!"
"You son-of-a-Hutt!" she screeches, still struggling.
"And see if you can shut her up while you're at it," he calls after them. As she disappears down the corridor of the Star Destroyer he's currently stationed on, she glares back at him one more time. He gives her a lopsided grin and salutes loosely, mockingly with two fingers.
Then, she's gone. And his heart is accelerating.
Whoa. That's never happened before.
He happens to be the one going to try interrogating her first. For some reason, some odd reason, he doesn't feel inclined to use the mind probe. Well, he's never liked that kind of thing in the first place. But to stick needles into her pure, unblemished, silky-white skin…
He straightens his collar and descends into the cell. She's there, sleeping. Or maybe faking. Either way, she looks absolutely beautiful. Her eyes are closed, her thick lashes barely touching her cheek that's tinted with a bit of rosy pink. Slowly coming up to her, he feels an urge to reach out and brush a hand over that cheek. But he pulls back before he does it and frowns.
He needs to stop this. Now.
"Hey, Princess."
Her eyes flutter open, and she blinks. When she sees him, she bolts upright and glares up at him. There's that fire again. He swallows involuntarily.
"What do you want?" she snaps.
"Listen, I need answers," he says. "I need to know who else is involved in the Rebellion, and where the base of operations is."
"I wouldn't tell you even if I knew," she sneers.
He sighs. "Look, Your Worshipfulness, it's either me you talk to or it's the needle-bot. I really don't wanna hafta give you that."
"What should it matter to you?" she demands, rising to her feet in an attempt to stare him down. Unfortunately, her height doesn't help her much in that department. "You're an Imperial officer. You don't care what happens to me."
He shrugs. "Look, I'm just tryin' to help you out here, Princess. But if you're not gonna talk to me…"
"I'd rather talk to a Wookiee," she snaps.
He grins and says, "I can arrange that."
Her eyes narrow but she doesn't reply. The battle of wits has begun.
Getting a sudden idea, he grins. "All right, how 'bout this. Sabbacc – best outta four hands, straight. If I win, you give me some answers – if you win… I promise I won't use the probe droid on you."
She looks momentarily startled at his offer but quickly scowls. "I don't trust Imperials," she says.
"I don't trust us either," he replies. "But it's either this or someone else is gonna take over my position as interrogator. So what's it gonna be, sweetheart?" He smiles, knowing he's backed her into a corner.
She's conflicted – he can see it on her face – her young face. She can't be older than twenty, but she's probably been through more than most people twice her age. Another thing he admires about her – she's not afraid of challenges, not afraid to face the danger despite the risks. He hopes she won't be afraid of this one.
"I'm not going to gamble secrets that could decide the future of the entire galaxy away," she finally fumbles indignantly. "I don't gamble."
He laughs. "Really. C'mon, Princess. You're gambling with your life. You knew the stakes when you decided to go against the Empire." He slowly starts toward her, and she backs away. But he keeps advancing. "You knew the risks, and you played our bluff." She hits the wall, eyes wide, and he halts only inches away. "So maybe it's time to up the ante," he adds in a low voice.
She swallows, her eyes flickering over his face, trying to read him and his intent. He is so close. So close. He can smell her perfume – is it lilacs or roses? He can feel her breath on his neck and face, tingling his senses. Her warmth radiates from her body, and he finds himself wishing he could wrap his arms around her and hold her to him. Her cheeks are flushed from her furious anger and now… maybe something else.
Nervously, she licks her lips, and he inwardly groans. He could easily kiss her right now.
What is he doing?!
Finally, she breaks the pregnant pause. "I'm not going to tell you anything," she whispers, and that spark of determination returns.
He grins. "What's the matter, Princess? Afraid of a challenge?"
Now she looks even angrier. Her fists clench at her sides. "Afraid? Of course not."
"Good." Reluctantly, he breaks away and tries to calm his rapidly racing heart. Adopting that lopsided grin once more, he says, "I'll give you a few hours to think about your strategy, Princess. Sabbacc isn't a kid's game."
"I've played it before," she grumbles.
His grin widens. "Good. Then maybe you won't be completely blown out."
Her eyes narrow at his jab, and she retorts, "Don't flatter yourself, Commander."
Han. My name is Han.
"Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart," he says arrogantly, and leaves the room, internally welling up with excitement. She's going to play – and if he holds his cards right, she'll give in. But why does he get the feeling that she's not going to be as easy as he thinks?
The memory of her closeness pops up, unwanted, and he sighs. He'll never be able to sleep tonight.
What he doesn't know is that she won't be able to sleep, either.
The first hand of Sabbacc he wins easily. She says that she hasn't played in a while and that her skills are a little rusty, and he tells her that excuses won't work with him. Her eyes light up with that beautiful fire, and he almost leaves the room because he's afraid he'll reach across the table and take her hand or brush away a stray glossy brunette wisp of hair away from her face.
She beats him the following two hands.
Halfway through the fourth and final round, he realizes that he's losing.
She leans forward and says, "Let's make a deal."
Intrigued, he leans forward, too. "Oh, yeah?"
"Yes. If I win this last hand, you help me escape."
He lets out a burst of surprised laughter. But she isn't laughing. After a second, he says, "You're serious."
"Yes." Her steely determination is a wonder.
"Well, look, Princess, I got a job to do. And if it's known that I'm helping beautiful young Rebel Princesses to escape, then I might be in some hot water."
"No one has to know. Just… forget to lock the door or something."
"Oh, so you're gonna get all the way from this cell to one of the hangar bays without being seen?" he asks, incredulous. "Sorry to burst your bubble, Your Worship, but there aren't many women on this ship. You wouldn't make it outta this place five feet without being spotted."
"There is such a thing as a disguise, Commander."
Han. It's Han.
"Like what? Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?" he teases.
She shoots him a deadly glare, but he doesn't mind. "You're one of the most insufferable people I've ever met," she snaps.
"Why thank you, you too. But enough talk, let's see your cards."
"You first, Commander," she dares.
He smirks and lays his cards on the small table he's had brought in here. "Well, see if you can beat that, Princess."
She stares at his cards and slowly lays her down on the table. The smirk disappears from his face as he sees that she's beaten him with merely one card.
"See if you can beat that, Commander." Her proud, dignified, yet quiet tone belies the fact that her eyes are triumphant shining with glee and victory. Smug victory.
Kriff.
"Lucky hand," he grumbles, sweeping up the cards in his hands.
She scoffs. "Please. Sore losing doesn't become you, Commander."
"I'm not a sore loser." He rises, feeling agitated for some reason. "It was just a lucky hand."
Rising, she squawks, "What, that's it? That's all you have to say?"
Glancing back, he throws her a grin. "Sorry, sweetheart. Haven't got time for anything else."
Turning, he leaves the cell, wondering what to do next. The way her eyes glare at him… the deep, emotional fury tinted with a hint, a slight hint of something else…. He almost shudders with unfamiliar emotions.
He needs to stop seeing her before this gets out of hand.
Before he actually considers freeing her.
He avoids seeing her for a few more days. And when his Captain informs him that Princess Leia is scheduled to be executed soon, his heart plummets. There's nothing he can do to save her.
He hates to have to tell her the news as he opens the door to her cell. Shame to kill someone as beautiful as she is. Not to mention the fact that she plays a wicked hand of Sabbacc.
And that's all, really. She doesn't mean anything else. She is the enemy.
Just… the enemy.
She's pacing her cell, going back and forth, but when he comes in, she scowls and marches up to him. "Where have you been?" she demands, brown eyes flashing in irritation.
Startled, he manages to smile at her. "What, miss me, Your Worshipfullness?"
Her eyes widen, and she backs away with a low growl. "Would you please stop calling me that?"
He shrugs. "Sure, Leia."
Leia. Her name just rolls of his tongue like he was meant to say it every day for the rest of his life.
"Ugh, you make it so difficult sometimes," she snaps.
"I know, I really do."
She retreats to the back wall and leans against it, folding her arms over her chest. "So why did you come back?"
"Uh…" He's momentarily distracted by the way the lights of the room reflect off her eyes. Mentally shaking himself back into focus, he says, "Well, I got some good news and bad news."
"Oh?" She raises an eyebrow, looking every bit the politician that she is. He doesn't like it. Much.
Kriff, he's falling. This isn't good.
"The good news… you beat me at Sabbacc." He smiles lamely. "Not many people have done that before."
"And the bad?" She holds her breath, he can see it, waiting tensely.
"The bad." He rubs the back of his starched collar and scowls. Kriffing Imperial uniforms. He's never been able to stand them. "The bad news is… well, since you're not telling us anything, you're scheduled to be executed shortly."
Her eyes slide shut, and her head drops. He swallows. But a moment later, she opens her eyes, her tear-filled eyes, and looks right at him. That stubbornness is present in her expression, though. That defiance is still there.
Her eyes, however, bore into his; and he feels unnerved. It feels like she's digging right into him, seeing right into his mind and his heart. He feels uncomfortable but says nothing.
"I knew it would happen sometime," she says softly. "Eventually."
"Look…" He moves forward, reaching a hand out to her. "If you would just tell them something… they might let you go."
She smiles. "Commander, it's the Empire. I'm a prisoner of war. We both know I'm not getting out of here alive."
He hates that sudden defeatist tone. She's never used it before. "Well… you did win that last Sabbacc game. Guess I owe you something."
"Right." She leans back and studies him. "So now that I've won, what now?"
He rubs his chin. "Well, there isn't much I can do for you at this point," he admits. "I can guarantee no mind probe for you at this point, at least not on my watch. But sooner or later, you're going to have to give us some answers. I'm not one for torturing, but others are." He swallowed at the thought of her being brutally, mercilessly beaten. "I have a feeling that they're going to try to get answers out of you the hard way before the execution. A date hasn't been set… yet."
"So that's it?" Her eyes were tinged with tears, but none fell. "You're not going to help me escape?"
"Can't, sweetheart," he says with a sigh. "Still got a job to do."
Kriff. Kriff this job. Kriff the Empire.
She looks down, her lips pressed together tightly. He can tell she's trying to desperately hold it together. "I understand, Commander." She looks up. "I understand that you have duties. I understand that you work under a tyrant who easily kills his own men if it gets him forward another inch. I understand that the Empire is an evil axis of power that tries to blot out everything opposed to it. But that's why I'm here."
"Princess, with that kind of talk, you're gonna get yourself killed."
Her brow furrows, and she rises to her feet and begins pacing rapidly. "How can you do this? How can anyone do this? It's evil!"
"That's life for you, Princess," he tells her reluctantly.
"What kind of life is this?" she exclaims, throwing up her hands in frustration. "What kind of life do we live in?" She shakes her head.
"It's a hard life, Your Worship," he says in a grim, wry tone. "Learn to live with it."
"Easy for you to say," she shoots back bitterly. "You're not the one with a death sentence."
"We all got a death sentence one time or another," he replies with a bark of laughter. "Yours just happens to be a little sooner than mine."
She glares at him. "You don't care about anything… or anybody, do you?"
"Look, sister, don't play all this psychoanalysis with me," snaps he, pointing his index finger at her. "You're the one who's answering the question. I'll be the one asking them, got it?"
Studying him, she says, "Why are you doing this?"
He doesn't know what to say.
She presses on, "Why do you do this when I know that you're as anxious to be free of this place as I am?"
He sneers and turns away. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" she challenges.
"I don't want my freedom."
"You're lying."
Damn it. He hates how she can see right through him. It unnerves him.
"All right, so maybe I do. But I can't spend the rest of my life looking back wishing I'd done something different. This is what I got now – I can't change that." He turns back to her, feeing helpless and annoyed – more with himself than with her.
Her gaze is unreadable. "Yes, you can. You can choose."
"Not for me, Your Worship." He can't bring himself to call her Leia right now.
"Of course you have a choice," she insists. "There's always a choice."
Furious at his own inability to give her answers, he growls and storms out of the cell. But before he can leave, she asks him a question in a soft voice.
"What's your name?"
He freezes but doesn't turn around. After a moment, he continues up the stairs. The door rolls shut behind her. Breathing deeply, he leans against the door of her cell.
Damn it. He's falling in love with her. And he can't bear, can't bear to see her die.
It's a full week before he sees her again. A full week that's driving him crazy. He can't stop thinking about her. At least nine times he's made his way to the detention area but doesn't go into her cell. He's too afraid. Afraid of what he's feeling. Afraid of her. He's never met anyone like her before. No one has made him feel this way. And it scares him.
Kriff. He's even dreaming about her.
Eventually, he can't take it. Finally, he realizes what he has to do.
He has to let her go.
He cautiously steps down into her cell to find her wrapped into a ball, arms around her knees, and her chin resting on her kneecaps. She looks up at him as he enters. To his alarm, he finds dark circles under her eyes and realizes that she hasn't been sleeping. Her hair is askew, no longer perfectly pulled back as it once was.
She's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
"Is it time?" she murmurs.
Swallowing, he nods. "Yeah. It's time."
She rises to her feet. "All right."
"Listen, I…" He trails off when she steps up closer to him and touches her fingers to his mouth. They're even more soft and smooth than he'd thought. He falls silent, anxious to let this moment continue.
"It's all right, Commander," she says softly. "I know you've done the best you could."
"It's not my fault," he says lamely, instantly regretting it once he's said the words. "No, wait, it is. You were right… Leia. I don't…"
"It's okay," she quiets him. "I know." Her hand moves to his hair. "You're a stuck-up... half-witted… scruffy-looking… nerfherder, you know that?"
He frowns. "Who's scruffy-looking?"
She grins and brushes a chestnut strand of hair away from his face. "Must've hit pretty close to the mark to get you all riled up like that, huh?" she teases.
He smiles and says after a moment, "The name's Han Solo."
Her smile widens, lighting up her whole face. "Commander Han Solo… I think Captain has a nicer ring to it."
"Yeah," he says. "Me, too."
He takes her hand in his and looks down. "Leia, I'm sorry."
"Yeah. Me, too."
"Listen… I wish things could've been different," he says, heart clenching. "I mean… do you think a Princess and a guy like me…"
She laughs. "You mean a Rebel and an Imperial Commander?"
His brow furrows, and he says in a sober tone, "No. Just a woman and a man."
Her breath catches, and he knows she can see what's so clearly written across his face and in his eyes. He knows because he can see it in her eyes, too. Now, he brings a hand up and brushes it across her cheek, relishing its silkiness, and brushes some hair back to see her more clearly.
A beat.
They draw together, arms wrapping around each other, lips crashing onto lips. It's all pure emotion… pure feeling. Anger… frustration… pain… sorrow…
Love.
His hands move up her back to her tightly pulled-back hair. He pulls out the pins, and her long, glossy hair winds through his fingers. Her hands move around his neck. Their lips dance together for the first and last time, all the warmth, heat, and passion pent up releasing in the kiss. Tears run down her cheeks, hot tears that he kisses away before returning to her mouth. Soon he finds that his own tears are mingled with her own; and the wet, salty liquid drops down to their lips and meshes with the kiss. They both know they'll never see each other again.
An eternity passes.
They slowly, reluctantly pull away and gaze at each other. Her eyes are shining with something he's never seen in them before, causing him to bend down and lightly caress her lips once more with his. Foreheads touch, and eyes close. The only sound in the room is their breathing.
After a long moment, he steps back, and she releases him. His hands move from her hair to her hands that twine with his. Words are not necessary. Everything has been said already.
She inhales, exhales deeply, and gives him a watery smile. He returns it.
"Don't get all mushy on me," he says fondly, quietly. "So long, Princess." He squeezes her hands and manages to tear himself away from her. She stands there, watching him as he climbs the stairs and closes the door behind him.
He can feel her eyes on him as he leaves.
The next morning, a small ship mysteriously disappears from the hangar bay. Later they discover that the Princess is missing from her cell. Her cell door has curiously been left unlocked, thus allowing her to escape. Afterward, they find an unconscious stormtrooper lying in a storage bin. His uniform has been confiscated.
Making his way to his quarters, he watches the tiny ship disappear into hyperspace in a small flash.
Captain Han Solo. That does have a nice ring to it. Who knows, maybe I'll have a Wookiee for a co-pilot someday, too. And maybe a Princess and a guy like me...
He grins and loosens his collar.
So that's it. Maybe. Actually, I'm thinking about expanding this. But we'll see. Reviews are more than welcome. ;)
Hope you enjoyed it.
- Serena