Princess Leia Organa was mad – and the thought that it may be slightly unreasonable of her to be so only added to her anger and frustration. The target of her frustrations was, as so often before, Han Solo. And now, it seemed, he had just walked out of her life for good. Just like that. Yes, she knew that he had a price on his head, and she understood perfectly well that he would have to pay off Jabba the Hutt if he wanted to stay alive for much longer. Still, this sort of thing wouldn't be happening to Han if he wasn't such a… Scoundrel.
She sighed. She knew that it wasn't really fair of her to judge Han. She may have grown up privileged in every way, but she wasn't oblivious to the hard facts of life and that people had to find one way or another to survive, and that many didn't have any other option than to do so outside of the law. Not that she knew what options Han had had in life. She hardly knew anything about his past, and she wasn't sure that she wanted to know – but surely there were better options than to work for a Hutt. Then again, Han was after the big money – which did nothing to explain why he'd been sticking with the rebel alliance for the last three years.
She had come to believe that he had finally decided to stay, and that he was in this for the long run – and now, when he had decided that he had to leave, he had not said a word about it to her first. He had gone straight to general Rieeken to simply announce his departure, while she had been forced to overhear it. He had turned to her to say goodbye, just like that. What the hell was she supposed to do in a situation like that? Wish him a happy journey and give him a big smile? A kiss? If he was mad at him for not giving him a warm farewell, he was obviously an idiot.
And she was mad at him for trying to pry some sort of confession out of her, to make her show him some sort of affection. Just who the hell did he think he was, talking to her like that? Did he really think that he would be able to make her tell him that she was going to miss him, to make her ask him to stay because she needed him? Fat chance. Not if he was acting like that – like she owed him something. Like he had the right to be mad at her for not being willing to say what he wanted to hear.
She had never given him any reason to believe that she was interested in him in that way – or at least she hoped that was the case. She would never admit to anyone that she was attracted to Han Solo – especially not to him. He knew bloody well that he was handsome, and his ego was certainly already big enough as it was. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She could imagine how smug he would look if he knew what went on inside her head…
Still, he had somehow gotten the idea that she felt something for him, and he had seemed quite sure of himself. Or maybe he had just taken a chance, trying to get a reaction from her, a clue to what she felt. Maybe he had decided to finally try to find out if there was anything there, before he left. But why would he do that if he wasn't planning on coming back? It didn't make any sense. If she would give him reason to believe that there could be something between them, would he want to come back? She swore under her breath, cursing all these jumbled thoughts that didn't lead anywhere. To think that she would be obsessing over a man…
You want me to stay because of the way you feel about me.
That was a very curious choice of words. His voice had been filled with frustration, far from his usual casual and flippant attitude. Out of the blue, he had tried to make her confess that she had feelings for him, and suddenly it all seemed so serious. He had always been flirtatious with her, in a playful, jokingly sort of way – which was actually quite fun. It was fine if he was attracted to her, and after all there weren't many women on this base. As long as he wasn't going to be inappropriate. But he had never showed any signs that it was more to it than that.
She didn't know what to make of it. He was always so damn casual around her and seemed so sure of himself – but who knew what went on under the surface? She wasn't the only one who was an expert at keeping up a façade. Although, sometimes you could read him like an open book – the way he clenched his jaw and tightened his lips when he was angry, the way he raised his eyebrows and gave a lopsided grin when he was mocking, and the way he wrinkled his eyebrows and parted his lips when he was confused – which made him look really cute.
She couldn't know how he really felt, but there was no denying that he cared deeply about her. His actions spoke louder than any words could. Like at the core of Seymarti V, when she had nearly lost her life being thrown over the edge to the grate, saved by Scarlet Hark from falling down to the core. She remembered how Han had looked at her afterwards, how he had tried to sound casual when speaking to her, but he had been unable to hide what he felt. There had been fear in his eyes – fear that she had been lost forever, and relief and immense gratitude that she was still alive. And then, when a mass of stormtroopers had burst in and opened fire at them, he had thrown her to the ground and covered her body with his own to shield her from the blasts. His first instinct, it seemed, had been to protect her until his dying breath.
He'd left little room for her to doubt his devotion, even if it was sometimes easy to forget with the ironic and flippant attitude they usually maintained between each other. He kept insisting on calling her your worship, not because he didn't respect her, but, she figured, because he needed to remind her – or himself, for that matter – that she wasn't his boss. Because usually, he did what she told him to do. And however irritating it was when he was calling her sweetheart, she had never really felt that he was trying to push her down. He challenged her, and he knew that she could take it.
He had a hot temper, just like her, and because they were equally strong minded and stubborn it wasn't so strange that they sometimes clashed like a couple of lightsabers, sending sparks all over the place. They never grew tired of taking shots at each other, but there were also those moments when he was genuinely nice to her, without a trace of irony or even humour. And when he was, when he looked at her with concern and sympathy in his eyes, she didn't know what to do with herself, somehow afraid that he could see right through her.
There was just something about him. Or a lot of things, to be exact. There was that indomitable life force, that devil may care attitude that made him face every danger with a grin on his face. There was something irresistible about his willingness to throw himself out into chaos, ready to defy overwhelming odds. He was a survivor, and perhaps he was the most alive person she had ever met. There was also the fact that he was gorgeous, with his dark hazel eyes with an intense gaze that made her knees weak, his smile that had probably made girls fall for him all the way from the Core to the Outer Rim, and his deep, murmuring voice that was so damn arousing, but also comforting to listen to. She even liked the things that also drove her crazy – his cocky attitude, his lack of patience, and the fact that he was a wise ass.
But after all, attraction was irrelevant. It was not important what she may feel about this ruggedly handsome smuggler in tight pants and a shirt that was open way too low down in the neck, his gunbelt casually worn around his narrow hips. She had more important things to think about, and her life was complicated enough as it was. She wouldn't mess things up for the chance to run her hands through Han Solo's thick hair as she kissed him and… No, it was not important.
At first, she had not thought much about it. It was hardly strange that she would enjoy the view as Han Solo walked past with his usual swagger – but as time went by she had started to realise that she had come to think way too much about him, in ways that she would never share with anybody. Then he had started appearing in her dreams. Nowadays, Han Solo lived rent free inside her head, and most of the time he didn't bother putting on too much clothes. This was something new for her, quite different from the innocent flings she'd had as a teenager. There may be plenty of handsome men in the galaxy, but it took more than a handsome face to be attractive. And to truly want someone, that was a different thing altogether – something she had never experienced before.
But it was more than mere physical attraction. Sometimes when Han looked at her, she felt a jolt of longing in her chest, almost painful, down through the pit of her stomach. And then she wished that she could just let go of reason, of thought, of everything that was holding her back. But that was not possible. She needed to stay in control, to keep her emotions in check. She could not allow herself to be vulnerable, to want something that she might never have – or allow herself to have it, and risk getting hurt. She already had too much pain to deal with, sometimes fearing that she wouldn't be able to hold herself together under the enormous pressure she was under. She had to protect herself – but at what cost?
She felt that part of her had died with Alderaan, and in the wake of its destruction it had seemed that her hatred for Vader and the dedication to her mission was all that kept her going. She would stay alive because Vader wanted her dead. What she felt for Han made her remember that she was still alive, and very much so. It was a bittersweet feeling – it even scared her that she could feel this strongly. She had dedicated all her energy to the rebellion to stay alive, done everything to serve the cause of restoring freedom to the galaxy.
It was painful to acknowledge that she had personal needs and desires, hopes and dreams – because what could she really hope for? Could she even dare to hope for a future where she could find some kind of happiness and peace? It was hard to allow herself to dream of it when the shadow of the Empire was always there with its promise of death and destruction. It was easier when you could forget that you still had something to lose. Easier not to care whether you lived or died.
But whatever she may feel for Han, he was first and foremost her friend, and it would be better to remain that way, instead of risking making a horrible mess of it all. It didn't matter anyway, since he was leaving – did it? She should have known that he would leave, sooner or later. That was who he was. He wanted to walk free among the stars. To fall for a man like him was like begging for trouble – not that she'd had any choice in the matter. That's why they call it falling. It's not as if you choose to jump. Or climb down a bloody ladder.
She had been forced to review her opinion about Han after she had first met him, when he had taken part in her rescue solely for the prospect of profit. Still, the enterprise had been more likely to result in his death than him making a fortune, and even from the beginning, there had been signs that there was more to him than crass self-interest. In the garbage chute, when the walls had started closing in, he had tried to help her climb the wall rather than to try and help himself, and when the walls had finally stopped moving and they realised that they were not going to die, he had pulled her into an embrace out of pure joy to still be alive.
But what had stuck with her the most were his crass words: "I'm not in it for your revolution, I'm not in it for you – I'm in it for the money!" And then, after she had thought that he was gone forever, he had returned to join in the attack on the Death Star – for no other reason than that they needed his help. Some sense of loyalty had apparently gotten the better of him and made him turn around. And for the past years, he had fought for the rebels with as much courage as anyone could ever ask for.
However, she had never believed that he would ever truly become part of the rebel alliance. He had gained her trust and proven his loyalty again and again, and no one could deny his courage – but he had always been his own. He was never going to be an idealist – that much was clear. He was capable of great loyalty to people, not of serving a cause. The thirst for freedom was certainly something that he could understand, even if his idea of freedom was quite different from hers. He wanted to live life on his own terms, and not even the Empire could stop him from doing just that. He did not want to answer to anyone or obey any authority, which made his affiliation with the rebel alliance complicated, to say the least. He didn't like to be bossed around – which was one of the reason they clashed.
And now, just when she had come to believe that he would actually stay, he had come to announce that he was leaving. And she did not even know if she had the right to be angry. He was an idiot for not giving her any warning, but when he had turned to her to say goodbye, there had been an almost shy look in his eyes, as if he was anticipating what she was going to say. He must have sensed her coldness in the one word she uttered, and he had stormed away in anger. But what was she supposed to do? What was she supposed to say? Why did he have to make everything so… Impossible?
A part of her felt that she should let him go, and then forget about him and get on with her life. Perhaps that would be for the best. It would be easier to forget – but her heart rebelled against the thought. How could it be for the best to let go of someone she cared so much about? It was her fear that spoke to her, her frustration over the fact that she didn't know how to deal with her feelings – and she had taken it out on Han, even if it wasn't exactly his fault that he was the object of her desires. The irrationality of it all made her even more frustrated and mad. She felt stuck.
She couldn't let her anger and her pride get the better of her, but the thought of going to Han and try to talk to him seemed impossible. What would she say? Most likely, she would just end up making things worse. The easiest would be to do nothing – but that meant letting him go. But if she didn't go to him now, she might very well never see him again. Well, he would probably need some time to make that beloved tin can of his ready for take-off. And surely he wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to Luke? She wondered if he had come back yet. Han had said that he was going to go to check on a meteorite.
She lifted her right arm and activated her comlink, dialed Luke's code and then spoke into the transmitter.
"Luke? This is Leia. Luke, do you copy?"
There was no answer.
"Luke – do you copy?"
There was only silence.