A/N: Is there even a point?
I am so busy nowadays, but I hope I can get more fics up soon. :)
This takes place a few days after the first kiss, based on a quote from good ol' Lewis.
"To love at all is to be vulnerable." -C.S. Lewis
He speaks to me gently, carefully, knowing that it is so, so easy to tip this incredibly delicate balance that we have made over the past few days.
We have managed to get along, but now...
That kiss. It burns hot and hard in my mind, impossible to ignore. Yet that is what we have been trying to do for three days.
"I understand what you have gone through," he started softly. "I know...I know what you are trying to avoid, Leia." His use of my proper name makes me look up and meet his dark hazel eyes. They are deep with sadness, and longing, and I think vaguely that this is how I must look myself. Are we lovers or not lovers? The line is fine, and we are teetering on the edge.
"But...I think it would be for the best for you, I mean, m-us if we...if..." I blinked at him incredulously. Han Solo, at loss for words? "If we get...together. You know what I mean?"
"Together." I repeat dumbly. My knees have lost their strength and I clutch at the nearby holochess table and fall onto the bench. I put my head in my hands, elbows resting on the table, at a loss myself. "Han...I cannot...I cannot lose another."
"Another what, sweetheart?"
My breath catches in my throat, my heart trembling hopelessly. Not because of what he asked, or what he called me. But the tone of his voice when he spoke. The name has become a label of passion, of endearment, and dedication, and...well, it's inescapable. Love. Everything I have been running away from for the past pain-filled years. The defenses that I have built up, the shelter I have tried to piece together from the storm has really fallen. I want to collapse and cry, let out those tears held back for so long.
"Another person that I love," I choke out in response. "Another person that died because of me. Do you know, do you realize, how much death I have seen? Have you had your world destroyed, your family, your friends, countless innocent people, because of you?"
"Leia-"
"No? No, I expect not, aren't you just a mercenary? Money is the apple of your eye, wealth is your family. You haven't lost anything because nothing meant anything to you, and nothing ever will!" My voice rises, and I have lost control over myself. Why am I doing this, raging towards Han, who has done nothing, nothing to me?
"Leia!" he pleads, but I barrel on.
"So why should I trust the Force to keep you by my side before something else carries you away? Or maybe, since you happen to not care about anything either, as the being who controls the universe, you'll walk away from me? You're just a mindless, reckless, money-loving, coldhearted-"
"I am not coldhearted!" he suddenly screams, looming over me. "I may be a mindless, reckless, money-loving mercenary fool, but I am not coldhearted!"
Piercing silence. I squeeze my eyes shut, tears rolling down my cheeks. He is the one to break the quiet.
"I am not coldhearted, Leia." his voice is barely a whisper, breathing fast. He catches my chin with a hand and forces me to look up at him. He gazes into my eyes, dead serious. "I love you."
There.
Those three fateful words that change everything.
Or do they really?
He doesn't wait for me. He seems to know that nothing is going to come out of my mouth. He stretches, groaning, before walking out of the room.
Is that it, then? I think, and I want to be angry again, I want the fury to bubble up again and let me know that I am right. But I am drained, and all I can feel is suffocating sadness. I choose to feel angry because it is easier than feeling the ache of sadness.
He is back. He carries two glasses and a bottle of Corellian wine. He wordlessly fills the scratched, chipped glasses.
He is the first to take a swig, and he does it roughly, setting it down with a clatter. He stares at me and I return the gaze, never breaking it, even as I take a long sip myself.
"Fancy," I manage to rasp. "Didn't know you liked this stuff."
"Oh, the wine?" he commented lightly. "Nah, the ale is for me, but you know. A princess on board, she wouldn't do with the rough stuff." He meets my stare, one eyebrow raised. I pull hard on the rest of the wine and the alcohol almost makes me choke. I gulp it down, holding back a gasp and keeping my gaze directed at Han.
He lifts the bottle and fills my glass again before helping himself.
"Rough stuff?" I comment. "I've been a part of the Imperial Senate and the Rebellion at age fifteen." I take a sip, and the previous head-spinning sensation is slowly being replaced by a warm, pleasant numbness taking over my body.
He stares at me and I catch a flash of surprise. "Fifteen? You never got to be a girl, didn't you?"
"Or a kid, even." I pondered bitterly. "I must have been a fool to throw myself into everything. You cannot redeem your childhood, or your adolescence, no matter how horrible it may be."
"You never fell in love, did you?"
His question catches me off guard and I choke on the wine, coughing. He thumps my back until my lungs are able to breathe amongst the burning of alcohol.
"N-no." I respond softly, still sputtering, but I am surprised at myself. Have I really just confessed to Han Solo?
"Did...did they have suitors?"
I look up at him with watering eyes and immediately sense a flash of unguarded irritation-and what?!-jealousy?
"There were...young men. They wanted to see me but I wanted to wait until I was a part of the Senate..." I say a bit awkwardly, and Han covers up with his wineglass. "Even when they started seeing me, they were just..." I shudder at the thought of the countless men that came through. Oily, greasy, smooth men that instinctively made me wary. Tall, handsome boys with a charming smile and an unbelievably inflated ego that made her retch. Pleasant, if downtrodden males that were so naive and ignorant it made her want to enroll them to public education.
"Not right?" Han suggests. I nod immediately.
"I couldn't fall in love with them," I remark bluntly. The warmth and release of the crimson beverage seems welcome now. Oh well, I think to myself vaguely. We're both drunk. "They were not...it."
"Who would be?" he asks in a lower voice. My muddled brain tries to warn me, to slam on the brakes. We are entering the danger zone, but for once I don't give a wampa. I rest my hand on the holochess table and he reaches up with his own. His fingers massage my own, as gentle, as sensual as they had been during that first kiss. I look up at him, at those lips.
Oh gods forbid.
"Somebody who'd understand what I'm going through," I respond in an equal tone. His hazel eyes catch my own and I am utterly replete in longing. "Somebody who'd love me for who I really am, not for a title."
"Somebody who'd hold her hand their battles?"
"Yes."
He watches me for a long time and my heart slows. A tingling, hot sensation creeps up my whole body, and it's not from the alcohol.
"Princess?"
"Yes, Han?"
"Kiss me. Now."
And before I know it I have fallen into his arms, lips against mine, hands held against each other. Time is eternal as we finally have a chance to give our time to each other. The swell of passion is overwhelming and I ride it with a suddenly speeding heartbeat. Our lips break apart and there is a dull emptiness in my soul.
We have not ventured past a passionate kiss and I am trembling.
Han strokes my hair, hand around mine before he brushes his lips briefly against my forehead.
"Goodnight, sweetheart." He lets go and walks off to his cabin, leaving me alone in the room.
I stare down at the remnants of my wine, swilling it thoughtfully before downing it in one go and placing it next to Han's.
Do I love him?
Reviews pleasepleaseplease!
I have found the answer.