Heeey FF! It's been a while since I've been here. :) Anyway, this is a rewrite from something I uploaded forever ago (and deleted) on my old account. Normally I don't write stuff this angsty, don't worry! Enjoy the story~ *insert normal 'I don't own Star Wars but boy do I wish I did' disclaimer here*
The dim lights of the bar flickered as the shapes bustled around, drinking and fighting and gambling and other such activities. It was just another normal night of drinking everything away for the scum of the planet.
A hooded figure slouched over in a dark corner booth, their eyes glued to the bottle clutched in their grasp. Another drink wouldn't hurt. Anything to make the hurt go away. They lifted the bottle to their lips, and slammed it down onto the table. A sigh escaped from their lips. The ever-present ache was still there and nagging at their heart, the alcohol having done nothing to suppress it at all. Stupid krething drinks, stupid krething bar, stupid krething war, stupid krething feelings.
Once, in a life years gone, they had been somebody. Oh yes, definitely somebody. A princess to a dead planet, a leader of a failed rebellion, a sister to a jedi-turned sith. Funny how life worked out for those everyone said had so much potential. Leia laughed dully, picking up the bottle in her calloused and scarred hands. What good was potential now, when your life had been diminished to nothing more than burying your sorrows in a bottle and spending every credit to enter your pocket on another night of forgetting? Nothing. That's what.
The bottle was cool in her hands, and Leia rolled it around in them. The next minute it was smashed against the seat across from her in the booth, its contents dripping down the torn cushion and mirroring the tears slipping from her eyes. Even after so long, there was still enough emotion left in her to cry, she thought bitterly. Her lips formed into a twisted smile, and she wiped her face and expression clean and called for the bartender to bring her another bottle. Corellian ale, and make it pretty kriffing strong.
Leia's eyes were on only her order as it's set down in front of her. She flipped down the correct amount of credits –at least, it looked like enough, it might be a little extra. But who cared?- and in her haste to pop open the bottle she missed the look in the server's eyes. But the next moment the strong stuff was spilling down her throat, and it didn't matter whether she'd found an enemy or not. This kind of drink was just what she looking for. Something strong, strong enough to make her past fade behind her.
Slowly the ex-princess set the ale down on the table, her head coming to rest beside it. Everything had begun to felt so fuzzy, and it wasn't from the alcohol. No, she'd gotten drunk enough times to know that. The world was fading to black around her, and she closed her heavy eyelids. Poison, huh. I should've known.
In the darkness flashes of memories played. When Luke had first killed in front of her, using the powers of the dark side… the explosions as the Rebellion's fleets were destroyed….. the countless times her face burned from the tears pouring from her eyes at all of the death and destruction around her….
But one instance stood out, the last one to surface.
Leia was standing in the supply room. She was taking inventory, scratching numbers and letters onto her datapad. The door swished open, and she spun around happily, expecting to see a certain ex-smuggler standing there. But it wasn't him, just Carlist. Probably to check up on her. She gave him a smile, which faded away as the general came and wrapped his arms around her. "….Carlist…? What's wrong?" He didn't answer. He merely handed her the datapad in his hand, his eyes filled with sorrow. With shaking hands Leia switched on the device.
Casualty report:
Subject: General Han Solo; status: deceased.
Time of death: unconfirmed
Cause of death: unconfirmed; most likely Imperial fighters
Leia let out a cold laugh as all sensation slowly drained from her body. She had thought years ago that she'd go down with a blaster in her hand, opposing the Empire to her last breath. Instead she was spending it in a run-down bar, still grieving over her lost love, the man she'd lost; he was an ex-smuggler, an idiot, and a scruffy-looking nerf-herder, but most of all he was her Han Solo. But never again would she see his stupid grin or handsome face or hear his deep voice and feel his warmth as he hugged her and washed away her worries. Ironic, really, how it had been Correllian ale the poison had been in, Leia noted, her mouth twisting up a bit.
Eternal sleep was coming to approach Leia, and she didn't bother fighting it. There was no fighting strength left in her body. It had all died along with her heart the day he did. A familiar warmth wrapped around her, and she could've sworn she heard his voice whisper in her ear as she sunk into oblivion.
Hey, Sweetheart. Long time no see.