He threw back the whiskey in the glass as he stared at the brunette at the end of the bar. She felt out of place in this bar in Tatooine. Not rugged enough to part of the landscape. But she threw back her glass, showing off pale skin at her throat surrounded by brown hair.
It reminded him of the girl he once knew, two years ago. Tough, fiery and full of passion. He missed her.
The woman at the other end of the bar had a companion slip up to her, placing a hand on her back as she ordered two more drinks. Downing one of them in one gulp, before turning to her companion.
He couldn't see her face, as he turned back to his drink, taking a sip.
He sat staring at the bar. It took a few moments before he realized a person had sat on the barstool next to him, pushing another drink in front him. He didn't glance over at his new companion or take the drink.
"I hear you're good at moving freight," the soft voice said.
"It depends on who's asking," he replied, throwing the back the rest of his drink.
He then turned his gaze on who occupied the other barstool. A brunette with shoulder length hair, the same one from the other side of the bar.
"A good friend," she replied, turning to face him.
It was then he realized who he was looking at. Two years hadn't aged her much. Her skin was still pale. Her hair still brown, but shorter. Her eyes held steady, but something was behind them.
"How did you know where to find me?" he questioned.
"I have my sources, Captain," his companion replied.
"And what is a girl like you doing on a planet like this?'
"That's confidential."
He looked her over. Short t-shirt, tight pants and boots. It made her blend in, but something about her posture didn't.
"And what's in it for me?" he asked.
"You'll get paid, if that's what you are asking," she replied with steel in her voice.
He nodded and picked up the drink she had placed in from him. "And where are we going?"
"That too is confidential."
His eyebrow shot up. "You want me to move freight not knowing where I'm going or who I'm meeting?"
"No, that's silly. If you agree, you'll be informed on a need to know basis of what's going on and where the shipment is going."
"A need to know basis," his voice climbed a little.
"Shooosh," she whispered. "It's a simple yes or no, Captain. Are you in or are you out?"
He look at her, her eyes wiped of any emotion. "When did you cut your hair?"
"I didn't do it," she replied as if the topic was one not going to be discussed.
"Ok, your Worship, I'm in."
-
Two years, since he had last left Hoth. That long since he last saw her. Now he stood at the end of the ramp to the Falcon waiting for his freight.
But all he saw was her, walking towards him with her companion from the bar. A blaster on her right hip, looking confident with every stride. Aware of all the movement around her.
Her eyes never left his, confidence radiating from them. And something reignited in his soul. Two years...
Chewie spoke to him, but it fell on deaf ears. His eyes turned from hers to her companion, realizing now it was a reunion of sorts. Because there standing before him was Luke.
He nodded towards him, but turned his attention back to her.
"So where's the freight?" he asked her.
"We're the freight, Captain," she responded like it was obvious. "We really should get going."
"I didn't agree to take on passengers."
"Promise to be as silent as freight, Solo."
"Knowing you, I doubt that."
Anger rose in her eyes, he could still get to her. And he liked it. He liked how he could start a fire in her eyes with just a few words.
"We don't have time for this," her companion said. "We must go."
She nodded, breaking eye contact with him and striding up the metal ramp to the awaiting ship.
Chewie moaned. It was going to be a long flight.
-
In his dreams he always saw her in dark bar, wearing a crimson dress and dancing with another man. Her hips swaying with the music, but her eyes would always be on his while her body was attached to someone else. She would always smirk at him, but never made her way to him. No, she was always wrapped in someone else's arms and looking straight into his soul.
Now she was here, sitting across from him. No other man besides Luke with her.
He hadn't searched for her after dealing with Jabba. The Hutt had held him in confinement for months, using him as entertainment. Probably hoping he would die, but he didn't. He never understood why he was released. He always thought he would be Jabba's slave or die within his grasp. Maybe rot in his cell.
But a year later, he was released with Chewie into the hot Tatooine sun unable to see because he had been in the dark all those months. He never knew why they had been release and never asked.
-
He stared at her across the table. She was drinking a Corellian ale, her eyes intent on the datapad in her lap, her legs crossed under her. Her short hair falling in her face. She'd occasionally bring the amber bottle to her lips, sip and go back to her reading.
His eyes never left her form. And she never looked at him. Always at the bottle or to the datapad never to him. Then she moved to lounge on the couch, propping herself in the corner and placing her bottle on the floor. Her eyes met his and then back to her datapad.
"Why were ya'll on Tatooine?" he asked.
"Business," Luke answered.
She didn't comment, she kept studying her datapad.
"It's a risky place for rebels," he continued, prodding for more information.
She stretched out like she owned the place, not intruding on the conversation.
"We were safe," Luke said.
"It's covered in Imperials, how did you get in?" he countered, watching her. Her eyes never left her datapad, seemingly indifferent to the conversation.
"The force."
She smiled at that.
"That's not going to get you very far," he countered.
Her eyes glanced at him and then at Luke, rolling them. Was she waiting for the right moment to join in?
"How long have you been on Tatooine?" he asked.
She looked up at him then. "A little over a year," she said before going back to her reading.
"A whole year? What's a girl like you doing on a planet like that?"
She didn't answer.
-
The stars blurred together in the cockpit. She had been on Tatooine for a whole year. And she hadn't seen her. How could he not have seen her?
And her hair. It was gone. But still her eyes held a fire. Maybe she had warmed up a little after he left.
Maybe she had changed a little.
-
It would take them four days to get back to Hoth. Four days with her. He shook his head trying to get her out of it. The images from his dreams. The looks she always gave him there. The way her lips always smiled at him like he was her everything.
He walked back to the galley to find her asleep in the lounge. Her datapad on the holotable.
She looked small curled up there. Smaller than he remembered her.
His hand went out to move hair from her face. It's then he notice the redness on her neck. The raw skin. What had she been doing on Tatooine? And what had she been doing there a year?
-
She was sitting in the copilot's seat staring at the stars. Her arms around her legs.
He opened his mouth but didn't know what to say. It had never been easy for them before he left and it wasn't easy for them now that she was here. She hadn't eaten breakfast or lunch. Just continued reading her datapad.
She had left Chewie and Luke to their game earlier and he had been working on some repairs.
He went and sat in his chair. He watched her close her eyes not looking at him. He watched her draw in a deep breath.
He turned his eyes to the black galaxy flying by them.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
He was surprised by her voice. Soft, but concerning. He looked at her, brown eyes staring at him, watching his every move.
"I'm fine."
She nodded.
"What were you doing on Tatooine?" he asked.
She shook her head, not looking at him.
"Was it confidential too?"
She shook her head.
"Will you answer any of my questions?"
She didn't answer as she pushed herself out of the chair. He grabbed her right arm and in the soft light he saw it on her pale skin before she tugged her arm out his and was through the cockpit doors.
-
She didn't touch dinner. She sat at the table, but said nothing. Chewie pushed a plate in front of her, but she shook her head. Luke had tried to push her to eat, but she left it untouched.
"You should eat something," he said to her.
"You don't need to worry about my well being, Captain," she replied coolly.
"You haven't eaten all day," he countered.
"Once again, you don't need to worry about me."
"Why were you on Tatooine?"
She closed her eyes and exhaled.
"Han..." Luke warned.
"Why were you on Tatooine? What's the big secret that's going on here?"
"Han..." Luke warned, again.
Her eyes opened, narrowing at him. The anger simmered inside her eyes, but she still said nothing. Did she not trust him?
"It was a bold move going back to a heavily tracked Imperial planet," he stated not looking anywhere but at her. "I'm not going to drop the topic until someone gives me some damn answers. Or do you want to talk about your hair? And how Alderaanian women rarely cut their hair?"
"And what about you? You going to share about how after a year of freedom you never went back to the Alliance? We can only talk about me. What about you? Are you willing to discuss those topics, too?" she spat at him, holding his stare.
How did she know? He had wanted nothing more than to go after her the moment he was free. But he was sure she had moved on to someone more on her level.
"Have you been following me?" he responded after a few seconds.
"Again, I have my sources," repeating her words from the bar.
He looked at her scanning her right arm for what he had seen earlier, but it was covered up by a longer shirt now.
"Looking for something?" she asked, bringing his eyes back to her face.
He pushed up his white sleeve from his left arm, exposing the burned "J" on his forearm. Her eyes left his and stared at the brand on his arm. She closed her eyes, pushing up her black sleeve on her right arm before laying it down on the table.
And he saw it again, the same "J" marking her pale skin. His fingers went out to touch it, tracing it ever so lightly. It was newer than his, still red while his had scarred over. His brain neurons started firing, realizing what it meant for her to have similar scar.
He grabbed her wrist then. "What did you do?" he said, carefully and quietly, trying his best to stay calm.
She shook her head and he slammed his fist on the table. "What-did-you-do?" he said, stressing every word.
She looked at him. Her eyes widening. "WHAT DID I DO?" she yelled. "I saved you and Chewie's asses from rotting in a cell for years to come! I saved you from years of torture and abuse!"
"I didn't ask for that," he yelled back.
She stood up, while he still held on to her wrist. "No, you didn't. But I sure as HELL wasn't going to waste my life, knowing somewhere you were possibly dying and needed help. That if it wasn't for me or the Alliance, that maybe you would have paid back Jabba on time with little trouble. That because of the three years you spent with us, Jabba increased the bounty on the both of you. "
She snaked her left hand out of her pocket, brought out a tanned piece of paper and slammed it on the table between them. She ripped her right hand out of his grasp and left the galley.