AN: I am so, so thrilled to start this, but a few things before we do: Regarding New Hope, IN by the wonderful Cicatrick: There are a few similarities between her amazing story and this one, namely that they are both about Han and Leia and are set in mid-Century US. However, as we get going, you will find that those are about the only similarities. No plagiarism is intended, and we spoke about this previously and I was given the go-ahead to publish. Thanks, Cic! Next, regarding some touchy themes appearing later: Leia is a politician in the 1960s. She deals with racism and sexism. I hope I have handled this with the grace we have come to expect of her. Finally, this is not meant to be a retelling of Star Wars. I just really liked the idea of Han and Leia in the 1960s. So while you will definitely recognize some of their exchanges, it's pretty doubtful that you'll be able to track your way through the OT. Thank you so, so much to Reading Writing Watching and to Captainskysolo for beta-reading! With that said, I give you "Before They Were the Solos."
Prologue
"Daddy, don't forget the milk."
"Thanks for reminding me, baby." He slowed the car down and pulled into the grocery store. It was raining and he put his arm around his daughter, tucking her into his jacket and out of the elements. The clerk waved at the familiar duo and he called a greeting to the man.
"I love you, baby. You know that, right?" he asked out of the blue.
"Yes, Daddy. I love you, too." he hugged her tightly, almost desperately, with one arm for a moment.
"Good. Baby, your Mama is out of ivory soap. Will you go get her a new package, please?"
"Yes, Daddy," she replied, pulling her arm out from his and starting for the other side of the store where the personal items were kept.
Panic suddenly swept over her in waves and everything became unclear…confusion, laughter, screaming…blood. Her father was nowhere to be found. There were people everywhere, talking to her in garbled language. There was blood everywhere, and her heart began beating faster, and somehow she knew that the blood would lead to her father…there was a white sheet thrown over something on the tile floor. She was simultaneously looking at the scene from her perspective and from above. She reached out to lift the white sheet and someone screamed at her, a thousand loving hands pulled her away before a single black-gloved fist reached through the cloud and began winding her in the sheet and soaking her long coat in blood.
She sat up suddenly, chest heaving to replace oxygen. She was still tangled in a sheet—her own bed sheet. The floral-patterned quilt was on the floor. She snapped on the cone-shaped lamp on the table beside her bed, the small bulb lighting up the golden walls with a warm glow. Glancing around the room, she grounding herself. The dresser was in the corner by the closet covered with the lace doily and her jewelry, her bookshelf in the corner piled high with and surrounded by stacks of books. Her desk under the window, covered with papers and folders and briefings. Flowered curtains that matched her bedspread drawn over the window. A braided throw rug covered the floor. No blood, no crowded supermarket, no hands. Just a nightmare.
A glance at her golden alarm clock told her the time: 3:56 am. She knew from prior experience that she wasn't likely to get back to sleep.
When her roommate woke up at 6:30, she found a note on the kitchen counter. S- Couldn't sleep so I scrubbed the kitchen floor. Ran out of soap at 5 so I went to work. Have a good day, I'll be home late. -L.