His arm around her shoulder was warm and steady, and she leaned against his body, grateful for the strength. In front of them, across a brilliant area of space, the Millennium Falcon stretched. She couldn't hear it, but she conjured the memory of rumbling metal and the whine of powerful engines as the ship grabbed hyperspace. It caught, and there was a brief pause, a flash, and it was gone.
Along with Chewie - her last physical link to Han. And with Lando in the pilots seat. She didn't know how she felt about him, but she definitely knew he didn't belong in that chair.
Especially not after borrowing Han's clothes. A mangled emotion tightened her eyes and throat, and she swallowed. The air around her felt oppressive and dry, and somehow horribly empty. Dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry...
Luke glanced down at her, frowning. He must have picked up on her mood, though she didn't know how. She didn't want him to see her face, wonder why she seemed so irrationally upset to have lost Han. After everything he'd just been through, most of which he couldn't bring himself to talk about (and as Han had affectionately nicknamed the young man The Babbling Idiot, that was worry enough in and of itself), she didn't want him to find out now of all times that she hadn't chosen him. She turned her face into his side, hiding her face as she tried not to cry.
Which turned out to not be a very good plan. She failed miserably and her tears quickly dampened his light hospital-issue uniform. He tightened his arm around her, leading her to sit on the edge of the bunk. Silently, he handed her a soft cloth to wipe her eyes, and waited patiently, allowing the slightly embarrassed silence to stretch out over several long moments.
Han, she thought, would have forced her to talk about her problem by now. Somehow he knew that confrontation was the best way to deal with her, to prevent her from bottling her emotions up. Experience had taught him that if left unchecked, she would to ignore her feelings and remain stubbornly professional until the smallest incident would trigger a bewildering emotional explosion of sadness, frustration, and anger, which had once resulted in a certain Corellian smuggler catching a coffee mug in the temple.
She missed him desperately in that moment. She wanted someone to yell at. Luke, well, he was too nice to yell at.
Stop it. Stop comparing them. She glanced up at Luke, who was waiting in patient silence, compassion framing his gaze, and felt a stab of guilt. Here he had just gone through the loss of a hand, and other things he couldn't tell her about yet, and she was judging him because he didn't infuriate her so much she wanted to hurl crockery at him.
His compassion disarmed her. She had to tell him about her and Han. He deserved that much. She couldn't lie to him after everything they'd been through together. Not after all the times he had confided in her.
A rebellious part of her mind reported that simply neglecting to tell Luke about Han wasn't technically lying, but she ignored it. As uncomfortable as it would be, better he find out now than simply wonder for the - months? years? - until they found Han.
She licked dry lips. "Luke," she started. "I need to tell you something. Han and I…" Her voice caught on the words.
Luke quirked an amused eyebrow at Leia, and in that moment he looked impossibly mature. "Are involved?" he finished for her.
Well. That was certainly an anti-climax. He didn't look upset. He didn't even look surprised. He just sat, his arm still around her, offering quiet support as she sat for a few moments making odd noises as her mouth and brain refused to co-operate.
"How did you know?" she managed finally.
Luke chuckled a little. "Leia, I know Im young, and I know there's many things I don't know a lot about. But I've got eyes, and a brain, and occasionally I use them together."
"But we didn't… I mean, we never …not until after Hoth" ... He couldnt have known. Could he? Had Han sent him a smug message from the Falcon? It would be just like Han to break a galaxy wide comm silence order just to gloat.
Luke ducked his head a little, sheepish, and she saw the young farmboy again in his face. "I knew probably before you did. I know Han liked you just as much as me, even if he wouldn't admit it. But you ... he was the only one you ever looked at like you might like him back."
She winced a little. "Sorry."
He shook his head, that calm smile playing over his features. "Its okay. Really. Its not your fault you were both so busy hating each other that you didn't realise you didn't."
Some of the tension left her body. Someone else knows. Finally, someone she could talk to about Han. About her and Han. That felt good, and vaguely exciting. And while she suspected Luke may have felt slightly uncomfortable with discussing the immaculate ways in which Han fit into his pants, it was nice to not have to hide around him.
"I miss him," she said, and her voice cracked.
His arm, still around her, squeezed lightly. "We'll get him back."
From him, it didn't sound like a lie.