Here
A/N: I need a break from neo-Lockean philosophy for a minute. In case you haven't noticed I've started to play a little game with lines from Star Wars and The Office. So continuing on with my little game: "I'm sure Luke wasn't on that thing when it blew." That's what she said.
Disclaimer: I'm just playing with George's toys. I'll be careful and give them back, I promise.
Summary: Leia ponders Han's leaving the Rebellion. Han ponders his staying. Sometime in between ANH and ESB, set on Hoth, maybe the South Passage?
"And if you have to leave; I wish that you would just leave; 'Cause your presence still lingers here; And it won't leave me alone..."
Evanescense, "My Immortal"
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Today is a day, like so many days now, that I can't stand you anymore. You walk around here, Captain, with your manly swagger and your sly smirk and your biting sarcasm and think that you're making me fawn over you like a little schoolgirl. Well, I'm not a little schoolgirl, Captain. I'm a leader of a movement to bring freedom to all worlds across this massive galaxy and I don't have time for such trivial things like attraction and love. And with every smile and every wink and every little suggestion you throw my way you make me angrier and angrier. Grow up, Captain. You're an adult.
"Hey, Princess," you say, as if that's my name. It's not, Captain. It's not even my title anymore. You must be a Princess of something, and when that something has been shattered into millions of tiny pieces with one fell swoop and all of your people are seared into oblivion I don't think you can any longer qualify as royalty. And you can't call me Senator, either, because there is no longer a Senate. It was dissolved away, corroded away, like metal in acid by that foul, foul man that calls himself Emperor and wages war and death on so many of us.
And you can't call me Leia, because it's all that I have left and it reminds me of all that I have lost.
But you call me anyway. "Hey Princess, have dinner with me." It's not even a question. It's a statement. An order. Are you off your rocker, Captain? It is I that will do the ordering around here, not you. I might consider such an occasion if I were invited, but not ordered. And I don't know why you'd suggest such a thing, anyway. Dinner is no longer an occasion, Captain, it is not a luxury to which we are privy. We are on a hidden base, if you haven't noticed, on yet another god-forsaken planet, if you haven't noticed, and all the food we eat is carefully rationed by droids that won't be tempted to hoard our limited supplies for themselves. If you haven't noticed.
"I'm busy," I tell you, which just makes you give me that crooked smirk that I hate so, so much. "No you're not," you say. How could you even know, Captain? Do you keep a record of my schedule? You don't even give me a chance to say anything before you've stepped in front of my path like you so often do with your quick stride and long legs as if you're making fun of me for being short. "Please?" Please? I didn't know you had even any semblance of manners; I was unaware that this word is in your vocabulary. "I'll cook for you."
What?
"Cook? With what? Stealing our rations, are you, Captain?"
"Now look, Princess, I haven't stolen nothing. Chewie and me have got a lot of food stores on the Falcon and I thought that you might enjoy something other than the slop you get here."
I'm suspicious of you, Captain. You're being kind to me. Almost. What's up your sleeve?
"All right. I suppose I could make one meal."
You give me that smile again. The crooked one. The happy one. I like that smile even though I'll never tell you.
"Good. Come with me."
"Now?"
"Yes, now."
"Where?"
"The Falcon."
You put your hand on the small of my back, guiding me gently down the frozen hallways in the direction of your hunk of scrap metal that you call a spaceship. Gently? Captain, I didn't know you could act as such. But your touch is...is it exhilarating? I'm careful to avoid the glances in our direction as we walk. Our relationship, as I'm sure you know, has become something that is quite the topic of hot gossip on this frozen rock. And to tell you the truth, I'll let it slide because at least these soldiers that have given so much can have something to think about, if even for a moment, other than impending doom at the hands of the Imperial Army. I have no vacation in my own thoughts, of course, because our relationship is torture for me. Is it for you, Captain? There has never been a man in my life that I have found so incredibly vexing. You drive me up the walls. But you're still a dear friend and maybe something even more. You're so attractive, Captain. I'm sure you know that, but of course I'll never tell you for fear of fanning the flames of your already oversized ego. But you somehow have managed to wiggle your way into my daily thoughts and I find my mind wandering, constantly wandering, in your direction.
Captain, you're quiet as we walk, which is another change from your normal demeanor, your perpetual mouthiness. Have you run out of things to say to me, Han, or is something bothering you? I steal a glance at you as we walk only to find you watching me intently with your gold-green eyes. I feel myself flush and turn around quickly and I am thankful that we have arrived at the Falcon. And your ship, Captain, smells less like the heap of junk that it is and more like...like food. Wait.
"You've cooked already." I wheel around to look at you with your smug smile and arms crossed across your chest. You shrug.
"I knew you'd say yes."
Infuriating. You're infuriating.
"How did you know that I'd say yes?"
"Ah, c'mon, Princess, I knew that you'd never pass up a chance to have dinner with me." You lean in close to me, your face inches from mine, and I can feel the blood rise to my ears. Am I angry? Am I excited? You look at my lips as though you want to kiss me, but then you smile and lean back. You're not crossing any boundaries? "I know you," you say, and walk past me into the galley of the ship.
"Sit," you say, motioning to one of the tattered old benches next to the table. I comply as you begin ladling food onto serving dishes and setting two plates on the table. "Nerf steak."
"Nerf steak? Where did you get find nerf steak on this planet?"
"It's the only thing Chewie'll eat so we keep it on the ship. He eats it raw, but I thought someone of your status might be worthy of a little more preparation."
I feel a little smile dance across my lips and I notice your reaction. It's just the slightest of change of color in your eyes, so subtle it could easily be missed. But dare I call it delight?
"Eat," you say, motioning to my plate.
"Maybe I should see you try it first. You could, after all Captain, be trying to poison me."
I can't believe that you have the audacity to look hurt. But ever must you have the last word.
"I'd thought about it." You smile as you take a bite of nerf. "There. You see? I'm still here."
"Ah. Well, I suppose it's safe then."
You watch me intently as I take a bite of this little meal that you've prepared. It's delicious. Who knew that you could do this?
"It's very nice, Captain. You can cook and you can pilot a tin can."
"Yeah, I'm about the perfect man, ain't I?"
I'm ever so slightly inclined to agree with you. But you'll never know.
We eat quietly for a moment or two and then a sudden sense of foreboding overtakes me. I have to stop. I look up at you to find you watching me again, but your expression has darkened. But your eyes are still so green. Sometimes it's hard for me to look into your eyes for very long. They're the same color as the green sea that lapped against the shores behind my father's house on Alderaan. They shimmer the same gold that the waters reflected in the warm afternoon sun. I cannot look into your eyes sometimes, Captain, because looking into them is like looking into my home and it makes me sad and I can't breathe because I miss it so much.
"I need to talk to you."
Your voice is low and it has lost the playful tone it held. You are suddenly very serious and I know that I was right in my feelings of dread.
"About, Captain?"
You shake your head.
"Han. It's Han."
I nod, but I feel as though words have left me.
"I have to leave."
I know.
I'm not going to look at you, Captain. I'm not going to find another reason to hurt when I look into your eyes.
"I have to go. It's been three years. I don't just have a price on my head anymore, I have a death sentence."
I know that you're watching me earnestly, willing me to understand. The truth is, Captain, I do understand why you have to go. But I don't understand why you're here. Why did you come back? You had your money, you were on your way, and I never would have had to think about you again. But now you're here, you've been here for years. You're my friend now, maybe even more than that. You're my family. You and Luke are the only people I have left in my life that I know care about me, truly care about me. Everyone else sees me as a leader, a figurehead, a princess. Even Luke idolizes a little bit, but you, you Captain, you don't see me like that at all. You treat me as an equal, you look past the pomp and see me, only me. No one has treated me that way before and I put on a big show for everyone but the truth is it means more to me than you'll ever, ever know.
You came back for whatever reason and you became my friend and now you're leaving. I've known for so long that this is fleeting, that you'd be leaving one day, but each day you stayed was another day I pushed the thought further and further from my mind. And yet each day you stayed was another day I knew, just knew that the day you left would be one of the most difficult days of my life. Do you know what you're doing to me, Captain? You're ripping my family apart all over again. What consolation is a Rebellion if so few people care about you as a person, not just as an icon? The truth, Captain, is that I wish you would have left a long time ago, that you would just leave now and get this over with because I just can't stand the waiting any longer.
I must have been silent for a while because I startle when you lay yet another gentle hand on my shoulder.
"Leia." Your voice is quiet, pleading.
"Please don't go."
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