She had only worked up the courage let go of his hand in the last half hour, and she was already looking for him.
It felt like an eternity ago that her brother had touched an open flame to the body which had held the spirit of her son, and she had watched with red-rimmed eyes as it consumed - what? Anakin's body, yes, but the hopes, dreams, frustrations of herself and the man standing protectively next to her. Seventeen years of silent prayers, of conversations, of hugs and hair tousles and arguments and the occasional slammed door. Seventeen years of all-consuming love and ignoring the nagging feeling of not being good enough, and of just hoping that they were trying hard enough - all gone.
And Jacen - him too? Her hand had snaked behind her, grabbed his, and he had squeezed tightly, and not let go.
Until half an hour ago. She padded outside of the tent they had been assigned, and found him, dusty great coat protecting him from the worst of the evening chill, leaning against one of the solid upright beams that held the awning in front of the entrance up. He had his neck tilted, gazing up and out, at the dark night, the worlds beyond. He turned his head slightly, chasing a constellation or some other thing, and she saw his eyes flash wonder behind the grief, with a somehow childlike desire for the skies, and for his ship, and for the freedom beyond gravity.
After everything, all the adventures and struggle and loss, he still longed for the stars.
She approached him, ran her hand up his back, feeling his spine curve gently under the coat, and continued up to squeeze lightly where his neck dipped into his shoulder. "Hey."
He glanced behind him, pulled his lips back in a resigned non-smile. "Hey." He reached behind him, took her hand from his neck, and pulled her against his side. "Okay?"
Yes? No? She didn't know what to say, so she settled for a low hum that could have meant either, and nestled against him, her arm coming up around his waist. "You?"
She felt him shrug minutely, and he turned his head to rest his chin on top of her head. His answer was the same hum, and his throat vibrated against her cheek. She closed her eyes - right here, at least, she was safe.
She felt his chin swivel slightly, felt his gaze turn outward again, back to the night sky and the planets that lay outstretched beyond. "Planning your next move?"
He grunted. "Just looking. I never did look properly."
"Too many dogfights to worry about?"
"Too many princes." She felt him smile, and poked him in the side. "Watch it, mister." Han let out a low chuckle, and immediately tried not to feel guilty about it. His boy - both of his boys, most likely - were gone. Laughing felt wrong.
He slipped back into silence, swallowing hard against a sudden flutter in his throat, pressed the bridge of his nose against her forehead.
Leia waited until he had forced the lump in his throat away, before murmuring that it would be okay. Her voice was low, steady, confident. He didn't know if he believed her, but he wanted to.
And then it was all too much to think about, so he shook his head slightly, and changed the subject.
"How's Jaina?"
She held the silence for a few seconds. "She's angry. Luke's worried about her. He said he was going to talk to her." She hugged him more tightly. "I'm worried too. I understand how she is feeling, but still. Hate is a dangerous emotion for her."
Han was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, she could hear something in his voice that was a mix of pain, and regret, and something fervent underneath it all. "You know, when the kids were growing up, i always hated that there was this huge part of who they were that I would never understand, never be part of. I'm so proud of them, Leia, but it's like I was only ever having half of a conversation with them. Part of me wanted to have what they have, to know the Force, just a little, or, I don't know. To be a Jedi, just so I could... Be a real father for them."
Leia started to protest, but he pulled back from her enough to see his face, and his jaw was set, his eyes dark, shot through with tears and grim determination. "But with this, this whole thing? Someone has to hate them Leia. I know that hate is of the dark side, and it can destroy Jedi. I get it, I do. But they - " he shook his head and swallowed hard, caught her eyes with his. " They need to be hated, Leia. They deserve it. I can do this for him. I know you can't, and Luke can't, and Jaina and Jacen - " the last name caught in his throat - "but I can. And, I don't know. Maybe this is something I can do for him that no one else can."
She opened her mouth to protest, but stopped herself. Truthfully, she wanted to hate them, the alien race that had taken so much from both of them. Maybe it wasn't right, maybe she should talk him out of it. But she could feel his body underneath his coat, tense with righteous anger and readiness - to fight, to rail against the pain inflicted against so many worlds and people. To burn with a deep and pure hatred that would never rest until she, and him, and the kids, were safe again. If he could, she knew, he would throttle every last Vong with his bare hands and airlock them straight back to their own galaxy.
And she loved him for it.
She turned into face him, and his arms came around her, and she hugged him tightly, smiled against his chest. A tear worked its way from under her lashes, and she sniffed loudly through her smile. "Okay, Han. You can hate them, since I can't."
He dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. "Just don't tell Luke."
"Deal."