Chapter 2 Lost
She knew him. After two and half years, she finally felt as though she knew him. But to know him, was to know that he'd probably never forgive himself for a bounty hunter almost killing her just to get to him. She knew he was going to leave. Leave the Rebellion, and leave her in an attempt to save her from Jabba's cronies. Except, his leaving wouldn't be saving her.
Leia hadn't allowed him in far enough for him to have any idea of that. Not yet, at least. She'd wanted to, desperately so, at times. She hadn't told him that he was the reason that she had been able to stand up and continue to lead this fight for the past two and half years since Alderaan's destruction.
He'd helped save her on the Death Star that fateful day, but what he didn't know, was that he'd saved her every day since. The connection between them was instant, magnetic and discernable to everyone around them. He'd made her feel when all hope was lost to her. Whether it was his innate ability to disagree with almost anything she said, his never-tell-me-the-odds attitude, his shoulder to cry on, the warmth of a birthday hug, the times he and Chewie had made dinner aboard the Falcon for her and Luke; Leia was alive because of him and she wanted to be alive for him.
He'd saved her from physical danger on more occasions than she'd care to admit, but the very fact that she even wanted to live after the destruction of Alderaan was down to Han. She hadn't known her heart fully at the start, but she knew it all too painfully now – now that, he too, was lost to her.
As the Falcon touched gently down and settled back in to its usual space in the hangar on Hoth, Leia fought the feeling that it would be for the last time. She grabbed a small bag of her possessions and without looking back, hurried down the exit ramp. The journey back to base had been excruciating for all of the Falcon's occupants. Han had half attempted to say something to her as they'd left the atmosphere of Ord Mantell, which began with a whispered "I'm sorry Leia". And that was enough to send her spiraling. She couldn't let him see her cry then and so she ran to his cabin, knowing that he wouldn't – couldn't follow her there. And there she stayed until they landed back in that icy hangar.
The same hangar Leia had so often anxiously awaited the Falcon, when it was due back from one of its emergency supply runs for the Rebellion. The hangar where Han so frequently rounded up and organized the rebels before instructing them on some new daring tactics he'd dreamed up; the hangar where Han and Chewie's fall-outs over the Falcon's state of repair could be heard from one end to the other. And the same hangar where her own daily spats with Han could be heard reverberating off its icy walls. The hangar where Han had swirled Leia around with his two left feet in the dead of night after an impromptu birthday party for her and Luke. The hangar where they stared at one another for a little too long because of some moment of brilliance neither of them wanted to commend the other on, for fear of 'letting on' to their deeper feelings– so instead just stared in awe.
The hangar where she had fallen in love with the site of the Falcon parked safely there… and fallen in love with its Captain.
It was all too much for her fragile heart to take. She fled the Falcon and headed straight to her quarters. She rounded the final corner with total abandon. Her hands shook so much that she struggled to get the key in the lock. The door opened as she shoved it hard, and then slammed it, shut. Her back against it, hopelessly trying to keep out the pain. Her knees weakened and she slid down. Her head fell forward into her hands and she collapsed sobbing. Throat closing, she battled for it to reopen and let her breathe. The tears were relentless and just as the grief had poured out of her in her cell on the Death Star, it was doing so again now.
