We have changed.
Han couldn't help thinking this as he washed himself clean of carbonite debris. Since the Corellian's friends had succeeded in rescuing him, the team was now supposed to have some time off. But Leia had mentioned the Rebel Alliance's find: a decommissioned Imperial Shuttle, the perfect opportunity for deactivating the shield of the second Death Star.
Perfect timing for me to return to consciousness, thought Han sarcastically. He rubbed his forehead and studied all the unfamiliar bruises on his face through the mirror. "Not that I'd turn the Alliance down, since their own sacrificed their lives for me." And he sincerely meant it.
Lando had promised Han a quick game of sabacc as soon as the latter had finished getting changed, and so – in no time at all – Han made for the central room on the Falcon.
What surprised him was Leia's presence among Lando and Chewie, all seated at the game table.
"There he is," Lando warmly greeted him.
"I thought I'd learn your smuggler addiction," Leia chimed in. "You're in for a dull game. I've never played competitively in my life."
"Ah, don't worry," reassured Han. "Being frozen for a few standard months is sure to have impaired my sabacc skills." The three of them chuckled.
Han took a seat next to Leia; during the entire game, he couldn't help but to glance in her direction. She appeared much more different than he'd thought – more mature, if for her that were possible – and he noticed the weariness of her eyes. On countless occasions, Leia caught him staring at her, but it comforted her: the familiar presence of a friend she'd lost for much too long...
When they'd finished, Chewie and Lando (the winner) dismissed themselves from the table and let Leia and Han be alone. Silence ensued as they put the sabacc deck away and straightened up the table.
Han realized that he hated the absence of sound. It evoked in him a distasteful memory of the last things he'd heard before the carbonite had consumed him: the horrible hissing and screaming machines as they'd caroled for him in his last conscious moments.
This reverie had caused Han's countenance to turn ominously distraught. Leia figured he was reliving his nightmare, yet she decided not to inquire about it. Glancing at the cleaned-up table, she sighed and wondered aloud, "Is it sad that I hadn't played a game since before the war?"
Snapping back into the present world, the Corellian shifted in his seat and looked into her eyes. "I don't think it doesn't make sense," he confessed, "but I guess the fact that we've been so damned busy fighting the Empire makes it sad." His lips formed a painful half-smile, but she was staring at his hands, which were scathed like she'd never seen them before. Suddenly Leia felt paralyzed by a resilient wave of tightness in her throat; she wanted to believe it was her imagination, but the tears stinging her eyes proved this was real.
If I'm feeling free to almost cry around him, she thought, then we have changed. Both of us.
But Leia couldn't break completely. Her heart ached for his answers to her most thoughtful of questions. The woman blamed the agitating state of the war for her eagerness to hear stories and thoughts from him, but as she glanced unashamedly at him – fully concerned on her behalf – the words slipped from her mouth.
"Do you ever think about what you'd have done? If there'd been no war?"
"Yeah, definitely," Han returned, his deep tone of voice compelling Leia to listen further. "I'd have still been enslaved to the life of the smuggler, that much is easy to guess." The Corellian rested his elbow on the table and leaned forward. "Thanks to your message to Ben Kenobi, I was spared from an eternity in that hellish cycle." His eyes had been aimlessly scanning the table, but he now fixed them upon Leia's face, in recognition of the serious nature their conversation had attained. The Princess smiled at Han's humor.
"So you feel that you're better off the way things turned out?"
"Well, the carbonite was a low point," joked Han; Leia responded with an awkward grin, marveling nevertheless at his ability to make fun. But the witty man she'd known prior to their recent separation was clearly a more solemn version of the former. His sarcastic air disappeared when he asked her in all sincerity, "What about you?"
Leia stared at him for a moment, then breathed in the space-cold oxygen and noticed their surroundings. This room is especially dim, she suddenly realized.
It took her a second to form words – the more she pondered her tampered-with life, the more sour she felt – but finally Leia gained composure. "When I consider a life unburdened by war, I imagine a life on Alderaan. My father would probably have found someone of royalty for me to marry, and by now..." Her imagination was inspiring chills through her body. "It frightens me to wonder about such a life," she confessed.
Han only nodded. Now he, too, wished to hear his companion unleash her every thought: mostly because she had never done so to him, and it fascinated Han to learn more about the Princess of Alderaan's life as royalty. He knew better than anyone else what hardships the non-royal life brought. Leia was soon shaking her head, overwhelmed by their discussion; at this, guilt sunk into Han's chest like toxic smoke. "Sorry, I...forget how some have lost much more than –"
"It's not as if my losses are greater than anyone else's," Leia interrupted. "After all..." The grief she had borne internally for years were finally spilling out in the form of heavy tears: yet another sign to Han that she trusted him enough to show weakness. Although Han offered his hand for hers, he knew she wouldn't accept it just yet; moments after the gesture, Leia proceeded – through a stifling of tears – to explain her sadness to Han.
"The true thing I mourn for is something I unknowingly gave away for too many years. I became a senator at fourteen, and before then I wouldn't miss a political meeting if it meant my only other option were to play with little kids."
"You wanted to follow the mature crowd, the people with power," offered Han.
The woman nodded. "They were the action-takers, the people who could make decisions and benefit the population. I looked up to them, I wanted to be one of them. And Father was such a respected politician... When he praised me for my own political accomplishments and contributions... It meant everything.
"But in all that time, I was never a child. There were child-like activities I frequently enjoyed, and yet my mind wouldn't stop worrying about politics...about what steps Alderaan or the senate needed to take next. And there went my childhood years, without truly indulging in the joys of childhood itself."
If it had been possible for the dimness in the room to turn almost pitch-black, this had transpired during Leia's speech. With such an absence of visibility, she was convinced she'd been talking to the room, to the receptive atmosphere of the Falcon. And then there was silent Han, having absorbed the woman's honest tale enough to be reminded about his own lack of childhood. His parents hadn't been a part of that picture, and without Chewie and the life he had found on Kashyyyk, Solo knew even his measly success as a smuggler wouldn't have existed if he hadn't had that luck.
Nerves got the best of Han; he couldn't respond – had no clue how to respond – leaving silence to dwell peacefully in their midst. Finally, the idea emerged in Leia's mind that she had made a mistake in confiding in her friend. "Forgive me if that was something you didn't want to hear," she apologized.
Han shook his head. "To lose something that precious, and to talk about it – that requires no forgiveness," the Corellian pointed out gently. What little light they had in the room shone upon Leia's face right now, and he couldn't help but to remember her heartfelt attempts at consoling him on Bespin, before their separation. "I may not know exactly how you feel about losing your formative years, but I do wish my younger days had been more innocent." He rubbed his forehead, quickly piecing together the memories he desired to share with her.
After several minutes of describing the abandonment, loneliness, and final refuge on Kashyyyk among the Wookiees, Han figured it was time to retire for the night. "I've kept you from getting some much-needed sleep -"
"No, you haven't," Leia protested. "I wouldn't have been able to sleep. But you should; today must have felt like an extension of that day on Bespin."
"In some ways, yes," admitted Han. She hadn't needed to explain the implication of that day, and this communication (or lack thereof) comforted Han. Leia's face was now hardly visible, but her steady breathing was hard to miss among their respectful quietude. Smiling only slightly, Solo added with humor, "The second half of the day proved itself far more rewarding." That got a chuckle out of Leia.
"Speaking of which," she began, "did Lando tell you what happened to Jabba?"
"No. What happened? Did he sink into the Sarlacc pit with the rest of his scum and slime?"
Leia suddenly acted out what had been her victory earlier. Her right hand cupped around her throat, she clenched her left fist and pretended to pull on the restraint of her other hand.
"You're lying." Han couldn't believe her. He knew she had it in her – there was no doubt about her strength – but this was too perfect to be real. When Leia finished her demonstration and burst into laughter, Solo was beside himself. "Damn it, Leia! How could I have missed that? Of all days to have temporary blindness..."
Once their chairs were empty and gently pushed back into the game table, Han drew closer to his friend and gestured for an embrace. The Princess obliged without hesitation.
It was a brief moment, but as soon as they parted Han made sure to express his gratitude for Leia's sacrifices. "I'm not sure how I'll properly thank you for the pain you endured today. Well, for any hell you went through to get me rescued."
"Worth every minute," commented the other happily, albeit the exhaustion had crept into her voice. Han put an arm on her shoulder – he had never truly recognized his comparably towering height until this had happened – and answered with the subtlest flavor of wit, "Glad to hear it. Now try to get some rest."