"It is a period of civil war. Rebel spaceships, striking from a hidden base, have won their first victory against the evil Galactic Empire. During the battle, Rebel spies managed to steal secret plans to the Empire's ultimate weapon-" Luke Skywalker glanced out the window of his apartment, pencil poised to pen the perfectly ominous name for the Empire's ultimate weapon.
It was a moving van that had caught his eye, causing the skinny ex-farmboy to leave his in-progress novel to investigate. Pencil and paper hit the floor as he darted out the door, racing for the stairs.
The moving van was a conspicuous shade of pink. With giant letters reading 'Princess Moving' on the side, it wasn't any surprise that it distracted Luke, but what did shock him was the petite, young woman getting out of the van.
An older woman rounded the van, "We should find the building manager," she said.
"Um, hello!" Luke gave an awkward wave to the pair, and they swiveled in his direction.
"You're a little short to be a building manager," the younger one said, crossing her arms.
"What? Oh, no, I'm Luke!" he stuck his hand out, "Luke Skywalker. I just live here."
"Leia Naberrie," she said, shaking his hand firmly, "And this is-"
"Her aunt, Mon Mothma," said the older woman, "And do you know where we might find the building manager? Leia's moving in today."
"That would be Lando Calrissian. He isn't here today, but he gave me your keys!" Luke produced a pair of keys from his pocket, "And the building rules."
He handed Leia both the keys and a slightly crumpled piece of paper and she exchanged a quick glance with Mon Mothma.
"Why don't you start getting the boxes out of the trunk, and I'll check out your apartment," Mon said, nodding to Leia.
"Sure," was the chipped answer.
Luke tried not the stare at the gun shape budge on her hip as Mon walked into the building.
Leia opened the back of the van, pulling out a box.
"Do you need any help?" Luke asked.
"I'm fine, thank you."
"So..." Luke shifted from one foot to another as Leia started setting boxes on the ground, "Are you from around here?"
"No. I'm not from around here. Look, Luke is it? I'm sure you're very nice, but I need to get these boxes unloaded and-"
"Chewie wait!" a voice called before a giant, brown dog bounded past. Hot on his trail, Han Solo, smelling faintly of pizza, ran past, tripping over boxes and crashing into Leia!
With a yell and a scream, they both went down, Leia pulled over atop of Han. He blinked up at her, "Why hell-o there."
"Watch where you're going!" Leia cried, pushing off of him.
"No need to get your panties in a twist," he said, and glancing behind her, added, "Princess."
"What? How dare you!?" Leia bent to look through her boxes, "You and your giant walking carpet could have broken my things! You should watch where you're going!"
"Well, maybe you shouldn't leave your things in the middle of where I'm running!" Han snapped.
"Guys, hey guys," Luke held up both his hands, "It's okay, nothing got hurt-"
"Leia!" Mon ran out of the apartment building, hand on her hidden gun, "Is everything okay, I heard shouting."
Leia glared at Han, "I'm fine. Just meeting the locals."
"Wait," Han looked from the van to Leia, "You're not moving in here are you?"
"I am."
And with that, Leia picked up a box and walked inside.
"Wonderful girl," Han reached down to pick up Chewie's leash, now that the dog had returned, "Either I'm going to kill her or I'm beginning to like her."
Leia sat in her new apartment with every light on. The curtains were drawn and her hand gun was in a safe under her bed. Carefully, she laid every picture of her family on the floor, like she'd done for the past week since she arrived.
Her father. Her mother. A Christmas picture when she had braces.
They were charred and brittle, so she handled then with care as Leia carefully tucked the photos back in her little safe, under the hand gun. Then she got up, walking past Agent Mothma's number tacked up on the fridge, past Luke's house warning card, into the kitchen.
She put her mug of tea in the microwave. Sleep held no escape and she wasn't about to feed the fires of her nightmares by turning on the stove.