IF THESE WALLS COULD TALK
Three days ago, Han and Leia had renewed their wedding vows. When they'd spoken of the 'next part of the journey,' it had a very literal meaning; they were finally moving to Corellia.
Leia and Han both wanted this, desperately. It was time for them to go forward.
The flat was completely empty; all forms of matter, hidden and visible, had been removed. The low electronic hum of home technology was absent; there were no toys and games scattered randomly throughout the flat, no dishes in the sink, no holos covering the hallway walls, no furniture.
The flat looked like hundreds of thousands of others on Coruscant; it wasn't unique in design, with its small rooms and unimaginative floor plan. That had been quickly rectified by a few shopping trips and Han's beautifully crafted wood furniture. It had quickly became a home.
Home had a special meaning for both Han and Leia. For Leia, the loss of her homeworld had left her bereft, and she'd wondered if she would ever feel at home anywhere. That had changed when they'd moved into the flat and made it their own.
It was the only home she'd known since the destruction of Alderaan.
For Han, who'd never actually had a place to call home besides the Falcon, it made him no longer feel adrift. He had somewhere to come home to, someone to share his life with. He'd never known how much he'd needed it until he had it.
There was now emptiness where their home had been, and it clutched at their hearts far more than they'd ever expected it to. Leia had felt twinges of it as they packed, but it wasn't until the flat had been stripped of everything that indicated that life took place there that it really slammed her in the guts.
"Now we might actually be able to find the holoremote without scrounging," Han quipped, trying to add a little levity. Han felt the loss as well, but he was not about to demonstrate his sentiments on that particular subject. We're moving to a better place, and it's time to get over it, he told himself gruffly.
And he felt he needed to be strong for Leia, who was clearly in pain.
"You okay?" he asked her as he entered the living room.
"It's...I didn't think it would be so hard to leave." She gulped in a breath of air and fought to keep the tears from glistening in her eyes.
"A lot happened here," Han said simply.
Both of them thought about the night they moved in. All they'd had was an inflatable mattress from the Falcon and bedding that had seen much better days. They'd sat on the floor and eaten takeaway and laughed and talked about the future, which was coming fast-they were going to be married in a matter of weeks. They'd had to take an afternoon shortly before the wedding in order to furnish the place.
It didn't take long before it began looking like a home where people with passion and character lived.
Han took Leia's hand and walked with her to their bedroom.
"If these walls could talk," Leia mused.
"I'd just as soon they didn't. There's stuff I like to keep private, y'know," Han told her, giving her a roguish smile, even if it did feel a little forced.
That bedroom had been the site of many nights of lovemaking-energetic, languid, tender, passionate, feverish, and soul-joining. All four of their children had been joyfully and lovingly conceived in this room. There'd been a baby cradle near the bed for the first several months of each child's life. Both remembered wondering if they'd ever sleep again after the babies began to arrive. Some nights they still wondered.
The beautifully made bed frame had been removed the morning after the renewal ceremony. Han and Leia had made love in the flat one final time the night before on the last remaining piece of furniture in the place, their mattress, which had now been loaded on to the Falcon.
Things really had come full circle.
"And now you know what I like kept private," Han said bravely, feeling his own heart squeeze a bit. He hugged Leia tightly.
Leia simply nodded; she knew if she said something, she'd burst into tears.
They walked into each of the kids' bedrooms, now devoid of their usual messes-and to Han's relief, the snake enclosures. The walls were empty of posters, holos, and other detritus of adolescent and childhood lives. No more hanging models from the ceiling, stuffed animals in every nook and cranny, clothing that somehow never made its way to the hamper lying all about the floor. Jaina always looking for a sweatshirt that was somehow never visible when she wanted to wear it; Jacen's pittins hiding under the bed; Anakin never being able to locate his shoes; Jarik's ever-growing pile of items disassembled and not quite put back together-all gone now.
"I sort of was hoping Jacen would leave the snakes behind for the new owners," Han remarked. Han's fear of snakes was well-known; there was little Han Solo was frightened by, but snakes topped the list.
"I think we'd be able to see them if they were still here," Leia said, trying to keep her voice from quavering. "And Jacen would never forgive you."
"I was willing to risk it. Almost."
Leia and Han both remembered when there were cribs in those rooms instead of beds; it seemed like forever and as if it was only yesterday.
The small kitchen's counters, which had always been filled with whatever didn't fit into the cupboards, were empty, the cupboards bare, the sink actually devoid of dishes and, miracle of miracles, sparkling as it hadn't in seventeen years. It was almost creepy.
"Who knew that sink was white?" Han commented.
The dining room, where so many family meals, holidays, arguments, and sheer fun had taken place, stood silent. The couple could almost hear the laughter echoing in the small enclave, the negotiations with young children over how many pieces of dinner they had to eat, the admonitions to stop sticking fried tubers up their noses, Anakin's whining over having to eat anything other than his beloved pasta, discussions about politics and piloting, annoying diplomats and irritating customers, school friends who were acting like anything but, teachers who worked the kids' last nerves, Lando's latest scams-all had been present at the table with them. The time that Luke was demonstrating his lightsaber for the kids while somewhat intoxicated during Winter Fete-and managing to clear the entire table; Han in a very intoxicated state, he and
Jacen playing Corellian drinking songs on acoustic guitars-and the kids knowing all the words to every last one of them; Leia being so tired that she passed out from exhaustion on her plate. All were part of the memories of this room.
"At least we got the scorch marks off the walls and the carpet after Luke nearly trashed the dining room with his lightsaber," Leia said, giggling a little to hide her pain.
"Yeah, and it took three weeks to get all the scorch marks repaired," Han responded, remembering what a disaster it had been to clean up after. "There's a reason you don't play with weapons when you're buzzed."
The most painful part of the flat was the hallway. Until a week ago, it had been covered floor to ceiling in holos-holos of their wedding day, of the flat as it took form, holos of the kids at every age, holiday holos, vacation holos, holos of awards, school holos, holos of and on the Falcon, everyday holos snapped just because.
Leia couldn't hold back any longer; the tears began to fall silently down her face. Han was feeling equally empty, but he didn't want to reveal it, and wrapped Leia in his arms, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head.
"This has been home for so long," she sobbed softly.
"Yeah. It has. Think about how far we've come since we first moved in here," Han said tenderly. "It's kind of hard to say goodbye, isn't it?"
"Harder than I ever thought it would be," Leia said. "It's not that I'm not happy about leaving. But-"
"We got married here. We had kids and they grew up here. We've had the good, the bad and the ugly, although I gotta say, the good's what I seem to always remember."
"I think that's because there was so much good," Leia answered, her damp face still buried in Han's shirt. "Far more good."
Han kissed her forehead, embracing her till her tears had subsided. He felt his own eyes dampen a little, but shook it off. He was a man, and in his definition, a man was strong for those he loved.
He and Leia stayed in each other's arms for sometime. Leia knew that Han was feeling what she was; he didn't have to say anything. Sometimes his old-fashioned definition
of being male was irksome, but at times like this, she appreciated it.
Finally, she looked up at him, gave a wistful smile and said, "C'mon, Flyboy. We've got a new house waiting for us. Let's go and make it a home."