AN: Shout-out to lajulie24 for her betawork on this project! Pairs well with some Clair de Lune by Debussy.
Her midmorning kaf break was decidedly more enjoyable when taken out on the hangar floor.
Even if she was in no mood to banter or laugh, she could let her spirits be bolstered by the hustle and bustle going around her. She'd make a stop in the center of the Rogues, greet Luke and hear about the morning's antics. Blue squadron and Black squadron were currently engaged in a (mostly) friendly competition that, while it was probably against some rule here or there, was still carrying on under the overlooking eyes of Leia and Carlist. Something about the number of training hours clocked on the simulator, high scores and team averages…Leia did her best to let them run their little game without interference from the brass.
And of course, it wouldn't be a trip through the hangar if she didn't stop to see Han and Chewie, always elbows or shoulders or knees deep in some greasy part of the Falcon. She could always expect a few teasing remarks and a wink here or there, and a full kaf cup when she rolled her eyes and reminded him that she had real work to do here, hotshot. A turn on her heel and she was back off across the hangar bay, knowing but not caring altogether too much about the extra little swing in her hips and the pair of steely Corellian eyes that were surely following her.
Sitting down after those breaks always made her feel so much better.
One particular morning, though, didn't end like that. The Blues were out on a mission, something routine and simple. They were expected back sometime in the afternoon. The Blacks were using the time to buffer their simulator scores.
Han watched Leia enter the bay from the giant doors opposite his ship. She stopped for a few moments with the Rogues, and Han hurried to find something messy and manly to get into.
He had a manifold apart when she showed up with her empty kaf mug.
"Mornin', your worshipfulness. Toss me that rag, woudja?" He pointed to the rags he'd spent the whole morning cleaning. Oh well, not like he had much to do that afternoon anyhow…besides put the manifold back together.
"How is it that you never seem to run out of junky things to take apart on this tub?" Leia asked teasingly, tossing the towel up to him on the ladder.
"Takes lots of intricate little parts for a ship this complex to run. Shielding, navcomputer, not to mention the fastest hyperdrive you'll find in a ship this size. Can't ferry around the most important leader of the rebellion in just any old bucket of bolts."
Leia missed his hidden compliment—an ensign had come to whisper something in her ear.
She paled—something Han previously would have bet wasn't possible. Her eyes grew wide and her hands came to cover her mouth. Leia set her empty kaf mug on Han's tool tray and lit out across the hangar, the ensign at her heels.
A hush fell over the whole room, and heads started turning to the Blue Squadron's empty place, praying it was anything but that.
00
General Carlist Rieekan had spent 19 years looking out for Leia Organa, as the chief of her security detail, as her personal bodyguard, and as a godfather.
When she was a toddler, he'd learned to spot her tells when it was time for a nap or when she needed to run around, burn some energy. Breha would shoot him a wink has he carried the squirmy child out into a vacant hall, let her take her shoes off, and skip and hop to her heart's content.
When she started attending balls and banquets at age 12, he would be on her arm in place of her grandfather or a consort. He could tell when she started getting restless, when to swoop in protectively if another guest was making her uncomfortable. When she started being interested in boys, he'd watch quietly from the side as they danced, trying to get used to the idea of his little god-daughter growing up.
Then, she'd taken the senate. It shocked the galaxy, a 16-year-old female senator who was the next in line for the throne of a prestigious core world. But it didn't shock Carlist. He'd had a front-row seat to her entire life-this was just the next step in her brilliance. For Leia, the transition was huge, moving away and having her hands in galactic politics. But for Carlist, it was business as usual, keeping his charge safe. He watched for her signals—get me out of this situation; give us some space; this person is making me uncomfortable. He knew her less-formal signals, too—exhaustion, hunger. Burn out that meant it was time for a weekend trip to Alderaan.
Carlist went into the rebellion right after Leia won her second term. Another one of the security team members took over his job, and Carlist went underground. It was never said aloud, but everyone knew that it was only a matter of time before Leia was under his watchful eye again as a member of the resistance.
Bail and Breha were gone now. So was Alderaan. But Leia was alive as ever, and Carlist would watch out for as long as there was air in his lungs.
The war was going miserably. Hoth was miserable. Everyone was miserable. Leia wasn't one to complain, but Carlist could see the old signs. This time though, he couldn't take her home for the weekend.
Which was exactly why he was standing over an open section of the Falcon's decking, talking to Han Solo—possibly the only living person besides Luke Skywalker who knew Leia like Carlist did, himself.
"So let me get this straight. We're going off to this planet and all we gotta do is…stay there for a few days?" Han asked skeptically, leaning on a section of pipes.
"Yes."
"This wouldn't have anything to do with the Blue squadron, would it?"
Everyone had been right, two days earlier: the Blues had dropped out of hyperspace into an imperial trap. The entire squadron…none of them had survived. He'd never seen Leia cry before…she'd walked out of the briefing room, quickly wiping tear tracks off her face.
"No. Well, not exactly. Leia's working on a big project and she's just too distracted what with…. Anyways, it's also extraordinarily top secret. Working on it through the private servers of your ship will make it much less susceptible to hackers. You up for an easy mission?"
Han looked doubtfully at the man. "You told Leia about this idea yet?"
Carlist could see the wheels turning in Han's head—it was unlikely that Leia would willingly bend to his wishes, just fly off to a remote corner for a few days of "work" without putting up some sort of fight—especially if Solo was involved.
"Leave her to me. Are you willing?"
"Sure, as long as you tell me the real reason we're doing this." Han Solo was not a stupid man.
Carlist looked at his gloved hands for a moment. "Because I promised Breha Organa that I'd look after Leia, and this is the best I can do right now." He hoped that Han would accept the half-formed explanation.
"I'll go. You're telling Leia."
00
Han wasn't exactly sure how the General had phrased things to Leia, but she seemed very complacent the day she boarded his ship with a briefcase full of classified materials.
It had been an unnaturally quiet three days. They'd pinpointed a field on a remote Rim planet, far away from any known settlement, even farther away from any imperial eyes. Han had set them down and turned on every single shielding, cloaking, and encrypting device the Falcon had. After over 48 hours without so much as a blip on the radar, he finally relaxed.
Leia was mostly occupied with her project, and Han knew better than to ask about what she was doing. Instead, he'd brought along parts for replacement and upgrade work, and he and Chewie had busied themselves with that.
Evenings were pleasant. They'd stocked up on provisions before leaving, and Han wasn't surprised that several of Leia's favorites were included. Rieekan would be pleased to know that she'd cleaned her plate each night. After dinner, there was a game of cards and a drink, and then Leia would excuse herself to her bunk after stifling a few yawns. She'd shocked him the first night by coming to dinner wearing the thickest pair of glasses he'd ever seen-their galaxy had long since had the technology to correct a person's vision with a laser. The fact that Leia hadn't had it done intrigued him-but he played down his surprise, going for the carefree, uninterested attitude he wore like a glove.
The whole routine seemed oddly domestic—a cup of kaf and slice of toast together in the morning, working separately all day, only to rejoin for another shared meal in the evening, paired with quiet conversation and fleeting looks through Leia's meter-thick glasses.
Han tried to ignore how nice it was, how easy it would be to stay in that field with her and forget about the rebellion and their poorly-waged war.
All good things had to come to end, he reminded himself, in the afternoon of the fourth day when Leia found him in the main hold and announced that her project was completed.
"Great. We'll take off just before first light. No need to risk being spotted," Han decided.
"Very well."
"I'll require your help with my secret mission tonight. 0800. Meet me at the ramp."
"I wasn't aware you had a mission," she responded suspiciously.
"You have your super-secret mission, I have mine. All very hush-hush, Sweetheart. Top secret, highly classified."
"I'm sure you can disclose some of the details. After all, I am one of the highest ranking officials in the Alliance," Leia insisted.
"Nope. Just be ready."
00
Han had spread the blanket out over the tall grasses, which bent at the weight. There was a steaming pot of kaf and two cups waiting on the corner of the blanket for them, along with a box of crackers. Light was still barely visible on the horizon, and soon, it would be night. Their distance from any settlement made the night sky brilliantly visible.
Leia met him on the ramp at the appointed time, wearing a sweater and her thick glasses. He led her out to the waiting blanket and motioned for her to sit.
"Your top secret mission is to sit in a field in the middle of the night?" she asked skeptically.
"Negative, your worship. And may I remind you, it's a secret mission. I can't reveal the details, even while it's in progress."
Leia held up her hands. "Forgive me."
Han dumped a small pile of the crackers out onto the blanket between them and munched on a few.
"I think I know why you brought me here," Leia stated.
"To smooch under the stars?" he teased. She could almost hear him wiggling his brow suggestively.
"Tough luck, hotshot. No. Out to this planet in the middle of nowhere. I could be angry with you, you know, for doing Carlist's bidding. 'Highly classified mission' my ass."
"You can get mad at me for lots of stuff, Princess, but you can't get mad at me for this. I am just the pilot here."
"Carlist thinks I feel responsible for Blue Squadron's accident."
"And…do you?"
"No. I…feel so terrible that they're gone, but I don't think it's my fault."
"It ain't. Commanders plan their training exercises. Nothin' you could have done."
"I feel...survivor's guilt, I suppose. I feel that every time something like this happens."
"We all do. Coulda been any one of us. Carlist's just worried about you," Han explained, leaning back onto the blanket and tucking his arms under his head. "Havin' someone to worry about you ain't all that bad. Look at me, even I got Chewie."
"There are plenty of people to worry about me," Leia promised. "I've got a whole army of people that think I'm ready to martyr myself," she added sarcastically. "Believe it or not, I'm really not interested in working myself to death."
Han was quiet. She got like this sometimes, telling him more answers than he had questions for. It was best to be quiet, let her talk it out of her system.
"I'm well aware of my own limits. Just because I don't eat as much as a two-meter, 250 pound man who spends his entire day running checkpoints in the cold doesn't mean I'm starving myself. And I've never been one who needs hours and hours of sleep. Just because I yawn now and then or get frustrated doesn't mean I'm trying to work myself into the grave. I'm a leader, and I'm a hell of a lot more valuable to people while I'm alive than while I'm dead."
"S'pose that's true. Most of us appreciate you pretty well alive," Han added.
"And I know when I need a break, too. But I'll be damned if someone dies because I needed a break. War means sacrifice, and that means I can't just fly off to an all inclusive spa on some tropical planet whenever I feel like it."
"The general is doing his best to look after you. Not that you need lookin' after, 'course, but...it's habit for him."
"Why doesn't Carlist 'need a break?' Or Dodonna or Madine or Ackbar? Because they're men and I'm just a frail little princess," she mocked.
"Ackbar lives on a ship made just for his species. Madine takes smoke breaks like he's got lungs to spare, and don't pretend you don't know that Carlist sits in on cards just about every night. They aren't trying to push you out on your ear, they're just trying to make sure you got a place to let your hair down. Put your glasses on, if you will. It just means you're human."
"Well, well. Alert the whole Alliance, we finally have proof that I'm not the frigid ice queen they say I am," Leia said. Han wasn't aware she knew about that particular nickname.
"Aww, your highnessness, we got plenty of proof of that. I don't think ice queens wear glasses, now do they?" he asked, hoping to lighten the mood. "Why do you wear glasses?" he asked.
"Because I have poor eyesight," she shot back, taking a cracker from the pile.
Han rolled his eyes. "I mean, why didn't you get them lasered when you were young? Hardly anyone wears glasses now, and you must wear contacts during the day, because I've never seen you running into walls or talking to trash cans instead of droids."
"My parents offered several times to take me to get them lasered. That just never...sat well with me, having my corneas scraped by a laser," she chuckled. "I was going to get it done while I was in the senate, but things started moving so fast and...well, none of our medical personnel are trained to do it. Besides, it's been sort of a ritual for me, putting the contacts in every morning and taking them out every night. It reminds me that some things never change."
They were both quiet for a moment.
"So, can you see anything cool with your glasses? X-ray vision, stars that aren't there?"
Leia sighed, sat up, and turned over her shoulder. "You can still see the light from Alderaan, if you know where to look. Four points off Arcturus, just there." Han followed the end of her finger and found the guide star, counting four points off. It was there, just as she said, twinkling. Had Leia basked in this very light before? Sat under it in a garden or looked at it through a frosted window? She turned back, looking into the darkness ahead of them.
"It's sorta like the Blues, you know? They might be gone, but we'll see their light for a long, long time."
She nodded absently, bringing her knees up to her chest and setting her chin in the cradle of her hands.
"Things are never really over. Just...over there."
00
Carlist was on the hangar bay floor when the Falcon touched down. The engines died, and the cabins depressurized, hissing jets of gasses into the wide hangar. A moment later, the landing struts descended. Leia came down first, carrying the heavy briefcase.
The light of life glowed from behind her eyes. It might not have been a trip to Alderaan, but it seemed she'd found a new home.
AN: Reviews much appreciated!