Their Story in her Eyes
A Star Wars Fan Fiction
Author's embarrassing but necessary note: Back in the dark ages, when dinosaurs walked the earth and fan fiction was composed on typewriters then photocopied for distribution, a convergence of cosmic proportions occurred—a little movie called Star Wars (just Star Wars, no episode anything) came out and I discovered the existence of fan fiction. I hunted down and read everything I could; which was tricky since there was no Google to use. I kept thinking 'I could do that, too' with every story I read. But I was young and cowardly and never wrote anything. Fast forward 35+ years. I'm no longer particularly young or particularly cowardly. Here is my very first Star Wars fic. I hope you enjoy!
The first time he saw it there, he didn't see it. He didn't see it the second, third, or fourth times either. But really, who could expect him to? He was only one man, after all, and Han Solo was already dealing with much more than he'd bargained for. First, there was holding off Jabba the Hutt and his semi-competent hired gun Greedo and evading those Imperial slugs chasing after his charter passengers. Then—then keeping himself, and Chewie, and the kid, alive to get off that kriffing battle station. Oh, and that's not including rescuing that ungrateful, impertinent, self-important princess at the same time. And finally, at great personal and monetary risk, bailing out Luke Skywalker; yanking his hopeless farm boy butt from the brink of certain death so the kid could blow up said battle station. So, how could he be expected to notice the story in Leia Organa's eyes?
The celebration showed no sign of winding down. The newly minted Hero of Yavin wobbled on his stool as he downed the latest in a long string of Corellian ales.
"Han! Buddy! Why aren't you celetrate...celbate...uh, celebrating?" Luke grinned like an idiot as he overbalanced on his seat. Chewbacca's arm snaked out to steady the young man, keeping him from toppling face first onto the worn stone floor.
Han grinned back. "I have been, kid. But I like being able to stand up."
Luke's face grew serious. "I can stand up just fine," he declared. Matching the action to his words, he rose with the exaggerated care of the seriously impaired—and fell into Wedge Antilles' lap.
Han barked out a laugh. The kid probably'd never drunk anything more potent than a fizzy before tonight. "Enjoy the party, kid!" he called out, turning to push his way through the revelers, heading for the exit. Chewbacca called a questioning growl to his departing friend, but Han merely raised a hand in response.
He needed some quiet and he needed some fresh air. Not that the thick, malodorous atmosphere of this moon counted as fresh, but beggars couldn't be choosers. At least it was quieter out here beyond the hangar doors.
But it wasn't quiet. Han listened to the squeaks, squawks, chirps and growls emanating from the jungle beyond the hangar and shivered. He'd always preferred a nice, crowded, industrial world to all this nature business. Well, pretty soon he'd be back in civilization. He figured he and Chewie could slip away early tomorrow, before the medal ceremony. They'd be back on Tattooine in a day, Jabba'd get his money, and he'd be a free man. He couldn't see a down side. Well, the kid's feelings might be a little hurt, but Luke'd get over it.
He watched a shooting star slip behind the disc of the planet Yavin, its streaking tail an unnatural, vivid green. It wasn't a star at all, he realized, just one more piece of the Death Star burning up in the planet's atmosphere. Good thing Yavin was an uninhabitable gas ball, otherwise there'd be a whole lot of unhappy beings crushed under falling debris.
A movement, much nearer at hand than the remains of the battle station, had him reaching for his blaster. Han didn't think any Imps had made it to this moon, but you could never be too careful. Warily, he squinted into the dark, catching sight of a white clad form. He holstered his weapon and relaxed his tensed muscles; it was a friendly form. Well, at least it wasn't a stormtrooper, but he wasn't sure if the individual was friendly. Princess Leia Organa leaned against one of the ancient stone buttresses.
She looked tired, disheveled, and uncharacteristically fragile against the backdrop of the old temple. Her eyes were directed at the sky, but seemed unfocussed. Probably had too much to drink, Han thought. Kids and parties. She didn't notice when he walked over to her. Or she was ignoring him.
"Hey, your Worship, you're missing the party!"
Leia jumped at the sound of his voice, one hand moving to tuck stray hairs back into those ridiculous buns she wore. Han grinned at the universal feminine gesture.
"Good evening, Captain Solo."
"You're missing the party," he repeated. He watched in fascination as she straightened her small frame, morphing from untidy child to haughty Princess in one fluid movement.
"I needed some time to think," she responded. "Not that it's any of your business." How could someone so short manage to look down her nose at him that way?
"You're right, it's not." Han wiped the smirk from his face before Leia had a chance to see it. This was the perfect time to tell her. "None if this is my business, Princess," he continued, "so tomorrow Chewie and I are taking off." She looked up at him now with resignation in her dark eyes. And sadness? Nah, not sadness. "Well, I do want to thank you..."
She didn't finish the thought. A brighter flash in the night sky drew both of their gazes upwards. As quick as it flared, it burned out. Leia shuddered.
"It's just another piece of the Death Star," Han reassured her. "They've been flaming out all night." He looked back down at her, surprised to see grief in her face. "I thought you'd be happy." Then he remembered, she'd seen her whole world blown to pieces that probably looked just like that the day before yesterday. Probably best to change the subject, he thought. "Your mission succeeded; your rebellion is moving right along."
"Is it?" She turned back to face the jungle.
"Huh?"
"Yes, we stopped the Death Star; it will never destroy another world." There was pain buried in the steel of her voice. "But Emperor Palpatine still controls the galaxy. And if the Empire didn't know where our base was before, they do now."
"Yeah, they probably do," Han conceded with a humorless chuckle.
"They're going to come for us, it's only a matter of time. We've got to evacuate." Leia waved a hand in the direction of the victory party. "Half the people in there figure we've already won. They're getting ready to go home to their families—their lives. It's not like this is a real army. These people volunteered to help us destroy the Death Star. They figure they've helped. I can't blame them, and I can't stop them from leaving."
Han studied the Princess. That's where she should be, he thought, home. She was just a kid; she should be trying on clothes and talking about boys, not leading a rebellion. But she didn't have a home anymore, except for the rebellion, did she?
"You just need to explain it to them," he suggested. "Tomorrow, when they're all together for that medal ceremony..."
"I don't think I can."
"Well, why not?" Han asked, his voice indignant. As far as he'd seen, this Princess could do anything.
She stepped away from him, looking down at the loamy ground. Han watched as her shoulders hunched and her figure seemed to shrink. When she looked up again, her eyes were bleak.
"Who am I to tell them anything? I'm a princess, a figurehead. Spoiled rotten and used to getting my own way." Leia's voice trailed off.
Han was surprised at the sudden surge of fury he felt, hearing the defeat in her voice. He wondered why. After all, she'd just voiced his own opinion of her.
"They need a fighter to convince them," Leia continued.
"Hey, your Worship, I've seen you fight plenty!" he protested.
She lifted her head; her eyes sparked. "Yes, with you!" she retorted.
Han stepped back, hands raised. "Hey, take it easy, your Worship," he said with a crooked grin. "No need to get snippy!"
"I have fought with you." Leia said to herself. "I've fought alongside you." She ran her fingers along the stone of the temple. "If you could stay, just until I have a chance to talk to the volunteers, to convince them to stay on. That would be a big help." She looked up into Han's eyes. Her eyes were big, and brown, and beseeching.
A suspicion, newly born, wormed its way into his mind. She was going to try to suck him into her rebellion. "No way, sister!" Real fear showed in Han's face. "Chewie and I have got to go. I have business that needs to be taken care of." Yeah, paying off Jabba before someone—correction—someone else, came gunning for him.
"Don't worry." It was Leia's turn to smirk. "I don't expect any commitment from you." Han rolled his eyes. "If you could just hang on long enough to get your medal." Leia smirked again. "So people can see that anyone can make a difference."
"Hey!" he objected. What did she mean, anyone? She was damn lucky he'd been around to save their skins!
"You said it yourself," she continued, "I need to convince them to stay. They need to believe they can make a difference. Like you made a difference." The Princess voice was reasonable now, all traces of goading gone. "How hard can it be? You walk up to me, accept a medal, smile."
It was Han's turn to look away. She had no idea what she was asking—or how hard it would be for him. Memories of his short, less than illustrious military career prodded at his consciousness. All his youthful dreams of glory… He batted them back to the dark recesses of his nightmares.
"No, Princess," he objected, "I can't..." He sounded weak and pitiful to himself. He hated that. "I have to go," he continued in a firmer voice. "I have business that needs to be finished." Han turned to look into the jungle; he didn't want to see the plea in Leia's eyes.
"I understand that," she answered. "It would just be for a few days."
A touch, so soft he thought he imagined it, skimmed across his wrist. His head snapped back. Leia wasn't looking at him, but he could see her fingers twitch at her side. So, maybe not so much of a kid as he thought.
"Just for a few days," she repeated. Their eyes met, and there it was—fear, loneliness, despair, and a glimmer of hope. The skin on his wrist burned where her fingers had brushed it.
"I suppose I can stay for a little while."
The kid looked ready to burst from excitement. He was living proof that Corellians could cure a hangover as well as they could cause one. Han shook his head. He didn't even want to think about how many ales the kid drank last night. It was a good thing he kept a supply of sober-tonic on the Falcon. Not that he ever needed it, of course.
Luke straightened his jacket for the umpteenth time. "You're looking pretty good, Han," the kid commented, glancing at the other man. "I bet the Princess will be impressed."
Han ran a finger around the collar of his one good shirt and grimaced. "Well, I didn't dress to please her." Chewie rumbled a caustic comment to his friend. Han tilted his head up, glaring at the Wookie. A signal from an officer stationed near the doorway indicated it was time for the ceremony to begin, ending the impending argument between the two.
Walking between the rows of soldiers and pilots standing stiffly at attention, Han wished he'd never agreed to this whole medal event. He didn't need one; he certainly didn't want one—let the kid take all the credit! Only Chewie's solid form and warning rrummph kept him from making a quick escape.
When they finally made it to the raised dais at end of the interminable aisle, Han noted that the Princess had changed her hairstyle. The braid coiled atop her head certainly suited her, he thought. She wore a different gown, too. Her home world had been destroyed, geez, how many white dresses could she possibly have stashed away? However, he found the low cut bodice and curve skimming fabric, er, pleasant. She looked like royalty. It was only when she reached over to take Han's medal from General Dodonna that he saw her swallow nervously. He was sure no one else even saw it. As she looped the ribbon over his head, he gave her an encouraging wink; her answering smile lit her entire face.
Yeah, he'd stick around for a little while longer.