I've often wondered why Han Solo is still around when the rebels are camped on the ice planet Hoth at the beginning of 'The Empire Strikes Back'. This story is my explanation for why he didn't do the sensible thing at the end of 'A New Hope', take his reward to go and pay off Jabba. Although the Star Wars empire belongs to George Lucas, this story is dedicated to jzhanfan, as it is very much inspired and influenced by her lovely (though sadly not yet complete) story 'Three Long Weeks'
Han and Luke have rescued princess Leia from the first Death Star, but it takes them more than a day to get back to the rebel base on the moon of Lavin and during that time relationships between the characters develop.
"So, do ya think a princess and a guy like me….?"
Han Solo had been joking when he asked the question, knowing he would get a rise out of his young friend. Even so, he'd been taken aback at the vehemence of Luke's reaction; the torch which the kid was carrying for their newest passenger burned more brightly than he had realised.
Maybe the joke was on him though, as he was unprepared for the surge of anger which Luke's dismissive response provoked. As long as he got his money, why did he care what the princess thought of him.
Besides it wasn't exactly the time or the place to be contemplating romance, or even just plain sex. He didn't want to begin to analyse why he was giving Princess Leia Organa a second thought. If he had any sense, he would be concentrating on getting to Lavin, offloading his passengers and getting out of there with his reward before the entire Imperial Fleet came after them.
Even as he adjusted the instruments and set their course, he found her image drifting into his mind - a lovely vision until it was tempered with her harsh words. What was it about her that had this effect on him? Okay she was brave, he admired that. Resourceful too, that was another point in her favour. Yeah, and attractive, undeniably attractive. He felt a rush of heat at the thought of how her wet Senator's robes had clung to her shapely figure after their escape from the compactor.
It was just a shame that she didn't seem to feel the same way about him; he strongly suspected that behind that ridiculous hairstyle was a beautiful woman just waiting to be revealed.
The ships' instruments were indicating an eighteen-hour journey time to their destination so, belatedly remembering his manners, Han decided to attend to the comfort of his passengers.
"Hey kid, howdya like Chewie to show you how to fly this thing?" He turned to the boy in the co-pilot's seat.
Luke's expression lit up with excitement, bringing a smile to Han's face. He'd judged that right. He summoned his Wookie friend and co-pilot to the flight deck, along with the irritating protocol droid Cee-Threepio. He doubted Luke had learnt much of the Wookie language on that backwater Tatooine, so he'd need a translator.
"I'll leave you to it then, I'm just going to check that our illustrious passenger is comfortable." He left without responding to Luke's scowl, as the younger man realised that he had been outmanoeuvred.
Leia was also scowling as she stalked off down the corridor. She'd met some arrogant, self-centred men in her time – it was only to be expected as she was one of the youngest members of the Senate, and a woman in a man's universe – but Han Solo was something else. How in space Obi-Wan and Luke had ended up travelling with him, she couldn't begin to fathom.
The thought of Luke brought a smile to replace the scowl. He was so sweet, and so obviously smitten by her. She was quite happy to bask in his adoration. Even so, there was something very naïve about it. She was willing to bet that he didn't have much experience with women.
That train of thought led inevitably back to Captain Solo. She had absolutely no doubt that he was very experienced with women. A couple of times she'd caught him looking at her with a gaze that made her shiver inside. 'Honestly, Leia,' she berated herself, trying to dismiss the traitorous thought of how good it had felt when they had briefly hugged in celebration of their narrow escape from the Death Star trash compactor.
All in all they were the most unlikely rescue party, but against the odds they had pulled it off. She was alive…
Without warning she collapsed to her knees, her body racked with sobs, unable to hold back the emotions. Mother, father, her younger brothers and sisters were all dead. One minute they had been getting on with their lives and the next: disintegrated. Her grief was so all-consuming that she didn't hear the approaching clang of boots on the metal walkway, and it took her several moments to realise that someone had crouched down beside her.
"Hey, Princess," a familiar voice said, but with a gentleness of tone she hadn't previously heard from him. He didn't waste his breath asking what was wrong, but just slipped an arm around her waist to help her to her feet. "I'll take you to the galley, you can sit down comfortably and have a drink."
Leia forced a smile through the tears.
"Thinking about Alderan, huh?" Han asked, as he sat her down in the small eating area and poured a steaming hot mug of kaffe.
"How did you know?"
"I didn't think you were the kind of girl to bawl her eyes out just because she'd got a bit of grease on her best robe," he responded, with that heart-stopping grin of his.
She couldn't help but respond with a weak smile of her own. "My robes do smell pretty high, now you mention it," she said, wrinkling her nose in a gesture of disgust.
"There's a fresher in my cabin, you can take a shower if you like, and use the auto-valet. We've got a long flight to the rebel base, you should get some rest."
"I'm fine," she replied, trying to ignore the tears that threatened once again. Why did he have to be so nice all of a sudden, and why should that make her feel so sad.
Han watched as her inner turmoil was played out in the expressions on her face. He regretted his earlier arrogance, even though he knew her grief had nothing at all to do with him. He wasn't a cruel man, and he didn't want her to think badly of him. It was crazy that he should even care, considering that in a couple of days he'd be halfway across the galaxy and he'd probably never see her again.
"Come here, sweetheart," he murmured softly, and slid along the seat to put an arm around her shoulders.
Leia responded instinctively, not even stopping to think what a bad idea this was. Turning into his embrace, she slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her face into his shoulder. Her sobbing grew stronger, even as he gently stroked her back with his free hand.
He had no idea how long they sat there; he didn't even care that she still smelled of the Death Star's foulest refuse. All he could think of was how soft and warm her body felt in his arms. He lowered his head and brushed his lips softly over her cheek.
Leia soaked up the comfort that he offered. Just for a few minutes she didn't care that he was a heartless mercenary; right now what he was offering was exactly what she needed and she accepted it gratefully. A part of her wished that she could stay there for ever, just having him hold her, but that just wasn't her destiny. She was Leia Organa, last princess of Alderaan, and with that title came a responsibility that lay all the heavier now.
"I've made your shirt all wet," she said, forcing a smile as she pulled away.
"It needs a wash," Han replied with a shrug. "Come on sweetheart, you need to get some rest, you've been through a lot."
That was the understatement of the decade, Leia thought, as she let him take her hand and lead her back along the corridor to his quarters. He didn't know the half of it. She hadn't said anything to Han or Luke about the tortures she had suffered at the hands of Darth Vader. She wasn't sure she would ever share that knowledge.
Han's cabin was surprisingly spacious. The Falcon was the only real home he had, so he'd extended his sleeping quarters into the storage bay to give himself room for a double bunk and an extra -large fresher with a real water shower. It was also, to Leia's critical eye, surprisingly tidy. She had to admit the bed looked very inviting. It had real bedding, not the standard issue sleep-sac she'd become used to on her senate missions.
She realised that Han was watching her with an amused look in his eyes, and composed her features into a serious expression while he explained where the facilities were. He dug a shirt out of one of the lockers and handed it to her.
"I'll leave you to it then, I better check on the kid," he concluded, but before turning to leave he took her hand and brushed his lips across the palm. "Get some sleep," he ordered firmly.
He returned to the flight deck to find Luke still engrossed in his flying lesson. Han stood silently in the doorway watching as the kid followed Chewie's instructions. He was a quick study, Han decided. That battle with the Tie fighters hadn't been a fluke after all.
"You're doing great, kid," he said, stepping forward, "but you and Chewie should get some rest. I'll call you in a few hours. Chewie will show you where the spare crew bunks are."
Han savoured the silence of the empty flight deck, interrupted only by the occasional beep of the instruments. He certainly wasn't where he'd expected to be. Sure he'd needed a ticket out of Mos Eisley, and a well-paid one at that. He was on his last chance from Jabba and didn't like to think about what would happen if he didn't return to that evil slime-bag soon with the credits he owed him.
It was true that he hadn't banked on earning this money the hard way. An escape from the Death Star and the rescue of a princess hadn't figured in his plans, but the money which both feats would bring him would be enough to pay off Jabba, and then some.
'If money is all you crave, that is what you shall have', Han winced as he recalled the princess' bitter jibe. It was alright for her, he thought, unkindly. He had no doubt that she had lived a privileged life, with retainers to attend to her every whim.
'Snap out of it, Solo,' he berated himself. He'd chosen to leave his family, while she'd had hers torn from her in the most brutal way possible. He had no right to judge her.
It didn't stop him from thinking about her. He tried to concentrate on practical matters: would the credits he'd earn from this mission be enough to pay off Jabba? Should he go straight back to Tatooine once he'd dropped off his passengers, and if not what were his options? However hard he tried though, the image of the princess kept creeping back into his mind. He was sure that four hours had never passed so slowly.
Eventually the exhaustion caught up with him. He would need to rest before they arrived, particularly if he wanted a quick turnaround. Setting the controls to auto-pilot, he set off to find Luke and Chewie.
Han was pleased to note that they both smelt a lot better. The Wookie must have gotten himself a wash-down somehow, and Luke's clothes had been through the auto-valet. He would need t clean up too. If Leia was sound asleep, he could sneak back into his quarters and use the water-shower. The lights were dim as he entered the room. He stopped for a moment and heard her low even breathing.
As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could see that she'd taken the shirt he'd offered her to sleep in. She must have shrugged off the covers in her sleep and it had ridden up to her thighs revealing a pair of shapely legs. She'd undone those ridiculous buns and her luxuriant brunette hair was spread over the pillow.
Han took a step closer and leant in, breathing in her perfume. She must have found the scented wash left behind by a previous lady-friend of his. Great, he thought, that would just reinforce her view that he was a heartless womaniser.
He took his time in the shower, successfully washing off every last vestige of the Death Star, but less successfully trying to stop himself from thinking about the woman now sleeping in his bed.
When he finally got out, she had turned over in her sleep and was facing him. The baggy sleep shirt had slipped down off one shoulder, revealing her creamy soft skin and the faint swell of her breasts underneath the fabric. She looked so peaceful; it was all that Han could do to stop himself from reaching out to touch her. As he watched, she sighed and turned over again, snuggling up against the wall.
Without giving himself any more time to think, Han reached for a pair of sleep pants from his wardrobe, and hauled himself up into the bed. He smiled at the thought of the dressing down he'd be sure to get when she woke, but he didn't care. It was his ship and he certainly wasn't going to spend an uncomfortable few hours on one of the benches in the galley. This bunk was big enough for two he thought, as he put a pillow between himself and the princess to give at least a semblance of decency. Within minutes he was asleep.
