She never cried about it. Not once. And the Force knew she would have had a right to, if she could have.
But she couldn't cry. Not while she stood, trembling, pressed to Chewy's hairy body, watching in horror as Han descended into the pit to be frozen in carbonite. She hadn't been able to look away from him. His eyes were fixed on her, never breaking contact. She didn't cry as she saw the eerie orange light of the room reflecting on his shirt, steam billowing up around him as the machinery hissed and clunked in its evil work. Only then, when the rectangular slab of carbon-encased human flesh crashed loudly to the floor did she look away for a moment. But then her gaze turned back to see her lover's face protruding, his beautiful face twisted. It made her think of a grotesque parody of the statues gracing the formal gardens around the palace at Aldera. The long, deft fingers of his hands reached out from the carbon. Reaching for her. And she just could not cry for what they'd done to him. She felt numb. Frozen from the inside out, because the only thing that made her warm, made her feel really alive, was taken from her.
And shortly after that, she stood on the landing pad, just moments too late from stopping Boba Fett from taking his new prize to Jabba. Lando thought they could get Han back, get him out, but there they stood, watching the small craft's lights winking in the sky. Mocking her. You were too slow. You'll never see him again. Now what are you gonna do? Leia still couldn't cry.
No, the hours after Han was frozen moved too swiftly, were too full of stress and adrenaline to find the time to cry, even if she had the feeling. Fleeing on the Falcon with Lando and Chewy, then turning back around to get to Luke. Dealing with his severe injury, getting him stabilized on the ship until they could get him to a safe Alliance medical facility, took all her energy to concentrate. There was no strength for tears, not when a man's life was at stake.
A few days later, she and Luke stood at the vast window of the rebel ship, watching as Lando and Chewy took the Falcon on what would become a quest of many months to find Han. She thought the sight of space, which she normally loved, was horrifying. Too vast. Too many stars. Too many places Han could be. Too many stones to turn over. How long would it take to find him? Where would they have to go? What would they need to do to get him back? And the thought too horrifying to dwell on: would he, when they had him back, survive being unfrozen? She had the time to cry. Almost too much time. She and Luke weren't going anywhere, not just yet. The fear and uncertainty were enough to drown her, but she was too weary to sob in her room. It just took so much energy, and she had so little to begin with.
Later, as Lando and Chewy worked their way around the galaxy, using their smuggling and gambling contacts to gain leads on where Boba Fett was, she waited with the Alliance, working on intelligence and missions and never stopping her research into the short and long term effects of carbon hibernation. The lack of information was enough to make one scream in frustration. Almost no humans had experienced the process, and those that did had either gone insane or died. The thought of Han being lost to her forever should have brought her to her knees with sobbing, but she pressed on in spite of her fears, culling out the smallest leads. She spent hours with the med droids and compiling any medical supplies she thought might be useful to treat him.
Any time she could, she stayed on the Falcon. It was the place she felt closest to Han, filled with various memories. Mostly of their verbal sparring. There were some sweet moments here, from the long trip to Bespin. A first kiss. And many more. On that journey, she'd begun to really open up to Han, to accept and even embrace her feelings about him, letting go of some of her fear of loss in the process. Now that Han was gone, sleeping in the captain's cabin put him all around her - his books and clothes, his scent - kept him alive to her. Being in that room, there were times it almost tipped her over the edge into weeping despair. She dreamed vivid dreams of him, of them together, whenever she slept in this room. His hands all over her, doing wonderful things to her that she'd only read about before. At night she would sleep fitfully and get lost in dreaming. In the mornings, though, she would wake and remember where she was. Look in the mirror and see the bags under her eyes and the pinched skin of one perpetually tired. She would remember who wasn't there. Each morning it was almost like being hungover. But she didn't cry. She was just dead inside.
Finally, they knew where he was. Finally, they were on the same planet, with Lando having infiltrated Jabba's entourage. Things had not quite gone according to plan - they never, ever did. But there he was, on a skiff sailing over the sands, next to Chewy and Luke and Lando. He was alive, he was able to move and to speak, although his eyesight was still in question. He knew she was there, he knew she loved him. On Jabba's ship in her revealing slave garb, Leia stood at the window, watching the other ship. Even though she knew what end the Hutt had in store for her friends and lover, her heart was alive again, overflowing with joy just to see him. But this was not the time, or the place, for tears of any kind.
Now she stood in the Captain's bunk of the Falcon, looking down at Han. He was sleeping, lying on his back, arms resting on his stomach. It was a marvel, how peaceful he looked. Leia sat down on the edge of the bunk, reaching a hand over to gently caress his face. She smiled faintly to herself, recalling the time in the med center at Echo Base on Hoth when Luke was injured. "You stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy looking nerf herder," she choked out, tears suddenly streaming down her face. Her body shook with the effort to hold back. Pressing her hands to her mouth, she tried to muffle the sobs.
"Leia?" a voice mumbled groggily. She gasped and opened eyes that were swollen and blinded by tears to see Han looking up at her. "I can see you, sweetheart," he said softly, putting a hand on her arm. "I can see you."
Those words just made her cry even harder. Not concerned anymore with trying to keep quiet, she hid her face in her hands and let the months of fear and loneliness and uncertainty out. She let him make her feel again. On some level she could feel his hands rubbing her back, could hear his voice whispering her name again and again, like a chant. But the flood was not done. She just sat there and trembled and wept.
How many minutes had passed, she did not know, but she could feel the storm inside her passing. Han was trying to get her to lie down, and she let him, relaxing herself enough to be pulled down to the bunk. She felt his strong arms gently encircle her weary body, his lips pressing soft, comforting kisses to her forehead and cheeks. "Leia. Sweetheart. It's all right. You're safe. It's all right now. Nothing's going to happen to you," he whispered, stroking her hair.
Leia wrapped her arms around him as tight as she could. "I love you Han. So much. I missed you. I missed you." She clung to him, breathing him in, feeling him seep into her pores. She felt like she could never get close enough to him.
"I know, sweetheart." His voice was so low and tender, she wanted to melt. Then, after a long pause, he was his back to his usual scoundrelly self. "All your tears do wonders for my ego," he said lightly.
"I'm too tired, and you're not well enough, or I would slug you for that," she smiled, mumbling wearily against his neck.
"Then we'd better get some rest, I think. I'll look forward to you slugging me when we're both up for it."
She snuggled into his embrace, feeling herself relax more and more. Now that Han was back, and safe, she could sleep again.
She could feel again.
She could be alive again.