I was hoping to publish this first chapter on Monday, by Tuesday at the very latest but getting it to a point where I felt it worked proved to be a complete nightmare. I've gone back and forth over how to start it, where in the timeline to start it, whose perspective to write it from. At times I really considered just giving up on it completely. But, finally, it's done and it serves its purpose in the grand scheme of things in this story.
So the prologue I posted on Sunday will be the midway point of the story; a lot is going to happen before it reaches that point, as well as after it, and this first chapter goes right back to the beginning, to a little over a week after the events of ANH where everything is very new and very confusing for Han and Leia. This is really introspective and is just establishing everything, which might be why it was such a chore to write at times, but things will start to progress fairly quickly after this. Hopefully you'll get a sense here of where Han and Leia are in terms of their mindsets early on in this AU.
Leia Organa hated Han Solo.
She'd known him for little over a week, barely any time at all. But she hated him.
Or at least that was what she tried to convince herself.
Having been the youngest senator ever elected to serve in the Imperial Senate, Leia had experienced enough over the course of her brief political career to believe that she had encountered the most obstinate of beings, had dealt with the most insolent of characters that populated this galaxy that she was striving to make better.
But she'd never encountered anyone as perplexing, infuriating and intriguing as this belligerent Corellian that had hurtled headlong into her life.
He was a walking contradiction, an enigma that she suspected would take decades to unravel; he played the part of a self-involved mercenary and yet had done something in his life to earn the steadfast devotion of a Wookie that rarely left his side; he claimed to care about no one and nothing except himself and his precious ship and yet had placed both at great risk on more than one occasion in aid of herself and the Rebellion; he professed to having every intention of leaving the Alliance and yet remained with them four days on from the evacuation to their new base on Drongar.
He was simply beyond understanding; utterly infuriating yet endlessly fascinating.
And Leia wanted him to stay. So much that it terrified her.
It was ridiculous to feel so strongly about someone she really didn't know, someone who exasperated her to the extent that Han did and who claimed to have no interest in either her or the cause to which she was devoted.
At times, it felt as though they would never manage to navigate a rational, meaningful discussion. Instead, they engaged in pointless little battles of will; he'd make fun of her, take amusement in how much his absurd nicknames would irritate her, so she'd fire back with insults of her own. It could go on and on, back and forth for hours until one of them, usually Leia, would finally lose patience and storm off.
She knew that the simplest solution would be to simply stay away from him; it wasn't as though they had anything at all in common. Fate had contrived to throw them both together but there was nothing now to prevent them from going their separate ways. Leia would always be grateful to him for the part he'd played in freeing her from Imperial captivity but Han had made it clear when they'd met that he wasn't interested in, and didn't particularly want, her gratitude. He'd demanded a financial reward in return for his good deed and the Alliance had seen to it that he'd gotten a substantial one so any debt between them was now settled.
But Leia still found herself drawn to him, inexplicably and unnervingly.
She had really tried to convince herself that she did hate him, that someone like Han could have no real purpose in her life. And yet she was desperate to understand him, was sure that there was far more to him than the mercurial facade he presented to the rest of the galaxy. She wanted to piece together all of the fragments of his complicated character, to make him see that his life could have a real purpose if he only allowed himself to care about something other than his own interests.
So, she supposed, she didn't really hate Han at all; she hated the effect that he had on her.
He wasn't like Luke who was earnest and straightforward. Luke wore his heart on his sleeve, didn't hide behind biting sarcasm and aggravating cynicism. She could depend on Luke, count on him to share her ideals and trust that he wasn't going to just walk away from the Rebellion, from her, at any given moment. She cared about him, appreciated the connection that they shared.
Luke was dependability personified; Han was risk.
And Leia was not prepared to gamble or waste her time on risks at this point in her life, not after having endured and lost everything that she had. She wanted Han to stay but was determined that she would not ask him to do so; she wanted him to want to stay, though she knew that he never would.
And she suspected that the longer he did stay, the more it would hurt her when he left.
Because Han would leave, that was inevitable.
And when he did go, Leia knew that she would take it as rejection; a rejection of the Rebellion and everything it stood for, rejection of everything they'd gone through together and the impact that it must have had on him, rejection of her.
So Leia guarded herself against that. She lashed out with the intent of hurting him and she knew that there had been at least a couple of occasions where she'd succeeded and he had withdrawn away from her as a result. Even if she didn't really hate him, she could pretend to hate him, try desperately in vain to convince herself that she didn't care if he left because the intensity with which she wanted him to stay was too unsettling to comprehend.
It wasn't as though Leia had the time to spare for thoughts of Han Solo in any event, not when her responsibilities to the Rebellion were so extensive and demanding.
She'd arrived on Drongar fully aware that her presence was not entirely welcome. Several members of High Command, Davits Draven chief among them, had not bothered to mask their contempt for her; as far as they were concerned, Leia was a child being allowed to indulge in a fantasy of having something to offer in the realm of adults, an upstart politician who had no place on the front line of their escalating war against the Empire.
So, as she did whenever she was so unwisely underestimated, Leia had set out to prove her doubters wrong.
She worked tirelessly and diligently, from dawn until dusk, grasping eagerly onto any assignment or task that was available.
Work brought welcome distraction from the grief that was an interminable ache in the pit of her stomach, the shadow that she could see lurking behind her eyes every time she looked in the mirror. By day she could pretend that it wasn't there; bury it beneath stoic professionalism. But at night it took hold of her subconscious, manifested itself in nightmares that were so powerful, so viseral, that she would awaken screaming in terror.
So Leia fought off sleep. She would retire to her quarters at night with reports that needed to be analysed, plans that needed to be approved and signed off on by a member of High Command. She sustained herself on tasteless ration bars and endless cups of the strongest caf, would do anything it took to keep herself awake for as long as was possible.
The stifling humidity of Drongar offered some assistance in that.
Whoever had drawn up the plans for this base and overseen its construction had not possessed the common sense to have had environmental controls units installed in the personnel quarters. So night brought no respite from the unceasing heat of the planet's tropical climate.
Whereas as a growing number of the Drongar staff were threatening mutiny unless High Command did something about the situation, Leia had no problem tolerating it; given the lingering threat of having to relive her ordeal aboard the Death Star if she allowed herself to sleep, she found enduring the humidity a perfectly welcome alternative.
And rather than concern herself with the hazards of the local weather system, she was concentrating on a far more pressing matter.
As she pored over star-charts and diagrams of interstellar shipping lanes, Leia was drawing up plans for the first official mission that she hoped to lead on behalf of High Command. The recruitment of supply pilots that would transport weapons, construction materials and food to Drongar had been made a priority and Leia, with the backing of Carlist Rieekan, had requested the opportunity to head up the operation herself, aware that she had no room for error given the already low opinion that some of her colleagues had of her capabilities. Having been granted an opportunity to prove her worth, Leia was determined not to fail.
She'd already identified a planet of interest: Ord Mantell, one of the most prominent trading posts in the Mid Rim. Now she was drawing up her proposal to begin the search for pilots there, hopeful that she would find at least of couple of potential recruits who could be trusted with the location of a covert Alliance base, when there was a knock at her door.
Glancing at the chronometer on her desk, Leia saw that it was much later than she had realised. Luke and Rieekan had taken to checking on her intermittently over the past couple of days so she assumed that one of them had come to make sure that she had eaten at least one square meal that day or was stopping her work for long enough to have a proper night's sleep. But she was surprised that either of them would still be awake to call on her at this hour.
Upon the door sliding open, her stomach clenched involuntarily.
It was Han, leaning casually against the wall.
"Evening, sweetheart," he said brightly, as though him seeking her out at this time of night was perfectly normal behaviour. Leia noticed that, in spite of the heat, he'd exchanged the black vest he'd worn since she'd met him on the Death Star for a dark blue jacket and thought, bizarrely, that it made him look smarter, more professional; more like an officer than a smuggler.
Perhaps sensing that he was not going to be extended an invitation to enter her quarters, his customary smirk faded slightly and he shifted a little awkwardly on his feet, placing one hand inside a pocket of his jacket. The other, Leia noted, was tucked behind his back as though he was hiding something.
"You mind if I come in for a minute?" he asked. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about."
She had half a mind to tell him no, that she wasn't in the mood to deal with his nonsense. But her curiosity to know why he had come to her now gave her pause; against her better judgement Leia stepped aside, allowing him to move past her and into the room.
"Nice place you've got here," he said jovially. Taking in the bed, desk and one closet, he grinned. "Very...roomy."
Leia bit back a sharp retort, resisted the urge to snap at him to get on with whatever he wanted to say and then leave.
"You working at this time of night?" he asked, taking note of the charts and datapads that spanned the surface of her desk. "Wow...you really don't quit, huh?"
"You said you had a reason for coming here?" This man could push the limits of her patience to their brink so quickly.
He smirked at her and she fought against a sudden impulse to slap it off his smug face. From behind his back, Han dramatically presented a small, ancient-looking contraption. Upon closer inspection, Leia realised that it was an air cooler.
"I found this when I was cleaning out the storage lockers on the Falcon earlier and thought you could use it," he explained. "Needed a little work to get it going again but I put in a new motor so it should be alright for you now."
Leia stood slack-jawed, stunned into silence. She would never have expected him to make such a selfless gesture, to have thought of her when he'd found the air cooler and then fix it for her benefit.
Without a word, she took it from him and placed it on her desk. Powering it on, she closed her eyes in relief at the feel of the chilled air against her skin; she'd tolerated the heat without complaint but nonetheless appreciated not having to put up with it any longer.
"Much better, huh?"
Leia nodded. "Thank you," she said quietly.
He made a motion with his hand as though he was brushing off her gratitude. They stood in awkward silence for a moment, Han rocking slightly on the heels of his boots while Leia braced herself against her desk, watching him expectantly; she could sense that he hadn't come to see her simply to give her the air cooler and so she waited for him to speak again.
"You mind if I sit down?" he finally asked, gesturing to her bed.
There was something unnerving about the idea of him sitting there, where she slept, but Leia chose not to voice it. Instead she shrugged, feigning indifference, which Han clearly took for permission as he moved to sit on the edge of the bunk while Leia sat in the chair at the desk.
He'd taken notice of one of the star-charts that she'd laid across her pillow earlier, a map of the Expansion Regions on which she'd marked the various spaceports and outposts.
"This have something to do with you looking for pilots to run supplies for your revolution?" Han asked, gesturing at the chart.
"How do you know about that?" As the assignment hadn't yet been officially authorised to proceed, no one outside of High Command should have known about it.
"The kid told me about it earlier," he answered with a sly smile. "Come on Princess, you should know by now that Luke can't keep his mouth shut about anything."
Leia cursed herself. She had confided in Luke about the mission she was planning but she hadn't expected that he would go running to Han to tell him all about it. She made a mental note to be more careful when it came to discussing confidential matters.
"Don't be mad at him," Han continued, having noticed her obvious annoyance. "He's worried about you...seems to think that your pals on High Command are getting on your back about it all, that Draven's giving you a hard time."
"I can handle it," she snapped.
He narrowed his eyes slightly and Leia withdrew into herself in response, uneasy that he appeared to be scrutinising her. The last thing she needed or wanted was for Han Solo to start casting doubts over her usefulness in the Alliance so she tried to maintain an expression of indifference, hoping that he wouldn't push the matter further.
"I don't doubt that," he finally said quietly. He motioned to the datapad at her desk on which she had been drafting her proposal to High Command. "What've you got so far?" he asked.
"Not a lot," Leia admitted shortly.
He nodded, rubbing his hands together absently. She got the impression that he was turning over something in his mind and working up to telling her about it.
"I think that this is something I might be able to help you out with," he finally said with a sigh that seemed almost of resignation.
Leia was intrigued but determined not to jump to any conclusions just yet, not until she understood what this offer of help might entail.
"How" she asked in a purposefully passive tone.
He leaned forward on the bed, bracing his elbows on his knees. "I have an old friend," he answered, "someone that I trust. She runs a place over on Takodana, knows this galaxy better than anyone. If you're looking for good pilots that you can trust not to sell your little operation here out to the Empire then I reckon Maz will help you."
Now it was her turn to scrutinise him. He seemed genuine but in the short time that she'd known him, Leia had come to understand that a man like Han Solo did nothing for anyone unless there was something in it for himself.
"How much?"
"Huh?" Han frowned, seemingly confused. "What do you mean? How much for what?"
"How much is this going to cost the Alliance, Captain Solo?" Leia asked.
His nostrils flared; she'd annoyed him.
"So it's back to Captain Solo again, huh?" he snapped in response. "You're only formal with me when I've done something to piss you off so what is it this time, Your Worship? You don't want my help, is that it?"
"That depends on what you're hoping to receive in return for your help."
"Well, sweetheart, what are you willing to offer me?" he sneered, looking her up and down in a way that caused her to flush and look away from him. She hated it when he did that, hated that it provoked such an involuntary reaction from her. It felt like a personal weakness, one that only Han could exploit.
They sat in tense silence for a moment and Leia could feel him watching her even while she kept her own gaze fixed on the opposite wall of her quarters. She hated that another discussion between them, one that started out as uncharacteristically civil, had devolved so quickly into sniping at each other, was irritated that she had caused it by suspecting and accusing him of having an ulterior motive.
"Look," he finally said in a voice that was unusually quiet and restrained. "I'm not asking for anything here, alright Princess? It would only take me a couple of days to take care of everything. You could just tell High Command that you came to me about this, appealed to my charitable side and I agreed to go and talk to Maz." He smiled in what Leia thought was intended as self-deprecating. "See, I'll even let you take the credit for this Your Worship, you can tell them it was all your idea."
"Why?"
It took a moment for him to respond. He initially pursed his lips as though biting back a retort that might lead to another argument before he shrugged one shoulder half-heartedly as though he was trying to affect some casualness even while he wanted to be sincere.
"Because it's not a problem," he eventually answered. "And I don't like the thought of you working yourself into the ground trying to impress idiots like Draven when I can handle this for you pretty easily."
Here, Leia thought was the contradiction; both gestures that he'd made tonight, first the air cooler and now this offer of help, were as frustrating and confusing to her as they were selfless and touching. There was no hidden agenda, no ulterior motive, no self-interest; this was the man that she suspected he truly was, the man that was buried beneath all of the bluster and bravado. In that moment, she felt the impulse to embrace and hit him in equal measure, didn't know whether to thank him or grab him by his jacket and just shake him.
"I thought you were desperate to leave," she said quietly. "There's nothing stopping you now."
"There won't be anything stopping me in a couple of days," Han retorted. "Just figured I that I might do one last nice thing for you to remember me by."
Leia quirked an eyebrow at that and he chuckled in response.
"So, what do you say?" he asked. "You trust me to handle this for you?"
She did. Leia knew that she would trust Han even if she had been able to bring herself to hate him, even though she couldn't depend on him not to hurt her later on. It was something she couldn't explain, a trust that was instinctive and implicit.
So she nodded.
Han's expression brightened slightly in response and Leia thought that he seemed almost relieved, as though he may have anticipated that convincing her to accept his help would be more difficult than it had proven.
"Alright then," he said, tapping the palms of his hand rhythmically on his knees and rising to his feet. "I'd better get back to the Falcon then, there's a few more things me and Chewie need to take care of before we get going. I was thinking we'll leave in the morning, get this over with."
"I'll ask Rieekan to authorise everything for you," Leia replied as she too stood up.
"You do that, sweetheart," he smirked. The swagger, it seemed, was back. "And I was thinking that I might ask the kid to tag along with us." At Leia's quizzical look, he continued. "Maz is into all of that Force...stuff that Luke won't shut up about so I figured if she could answer some of his questions about Jedi and whatever the hell else the old man filled his head with, it might get me some peace and quiet."
"I think he'd appreciate that," Leia said gently, aware that Han was motivated far more by Luke's interests in this instance than his own, even if he chose to pretend otherwise.
He was a puzzle that she needed to solve, in whatever time she had left to do so, or she'd spend the rest of her life analysing everything he'd allowed her to know about him and questioning whatever else that he might have otherwise withheld.
It didn't matter that this strange dynamic between them was as frightening as it was intoxicating; Leia knew in that moment, with more clarity than at any other point since they'd met, that she had to find a way to convince him to stay.
"Before I go, there is actually one thing that I want for helping you out," he said in a low voice, snapping her thought process. "One thing you can do for me."
Leia didn't like the sound of that and when he took one small step closer to her, her heart leapt slightly and she felt her body tense as she lifted her eyes to meet his.
"Get some sleep, Princess," he murmured on with a small smile, "you look exhausted."
She laughed, more out of relief than because what he'd said was funny. He winked at her, just as he'd done at the medal ceremony and Leia felt the same unsettling twisting sensation in her stomach now as she had then, before bidding her goodnight and stepping around her, headed for the door.
"Han!"
She was unable to suppress the insane urge to throw caution to the wind, to just ask him to stay.
But the question died in her throat as the sight of his expectant face. And a different thought came to her.
"I want to come with you."
"To Takodana?" he asked and Leia nodded.
One corner of Han's mouth turned downward slightly and, for a fleeting moment, she sensed irritation and wondered what about her desire to join him on his trip had caused it.
"Thought you said you trust me, Your Highness."
"No!" He'd clearly gotten the wrong idea, assumed that her wanting to go with him to Takodana meant that she didn't trust him to handle things in the way they needed to be, and she scrambled to set him straight. "No, Han, that's not it, not at all." She hesitated, trying to find the right explanation to placate him. "I-I just...I think I just need to get away from here for a little while."
He narrowed his eyes and scrutinised her for a moment.
"You sure that's a good idea?" he finally asked.
She shrugged. "Why wouldn't it be?" she replied. "Is this place you're going to dangerous?"
Han laughed. "Sweetheart, let's not pretend that me saying yes to that question would stop you coming." His smile faded and he looked almost pensive. "We both know that you can handle danger just fine."
Leia wondered whether that might be as close to a compliment as she was likely to ever receive from Han Solo. But she had to admit, if only to herself, that she felt some pride at having impressed him with the way she'd handled herself on the Death Star and later during the evacuation from Yavin.
He exhaled heavily. "Well, if you really want to come then I ain't going to stop you," he said nonchalantly. "Clear everything with Rieekan, pack a bag and I guess I'll see you at the Falcon in the morning."
He turned to leave before pausing and glancing over his shoulder. "Night, Leia," he said quietly and then he was gone.
He'd used her name. For the first time since they'd met, Han had called her by her actual name. She didn't know why but it felt strangely significant, like some kind of marker of progress that had been made between them tonight.
Han Solo had known a lot of women over the course of his life.
He'd liked most of them. There were a few that he hoped to never lay eyes upon again. And there had been one or two that he would admit to having loved.
But none of them, not even the one or two that he'd loved, had ever intrigued him as Leia Organa did.
Since they'd taken off from Drongar, she'd been like a talkative shadow, following him around the ship. When he'd calibrated the pressure gauges that he and Chewie had recently installed in the circuitry bay, she'd sat cross-legged on the deck behind and nattered on about her career in the Senate; when he'd rewired one of the Falcon's damaged compacitors, she'd talked about High Command and all of the issues she had with it; when they'd loaded the washer unit in the galley after dinner, she told him about some of her plans for the future of the Rebellion.
And while she'd talked, Han had listened.
Not to humour her or simply to be polite; he'd listened, really listened, to everything she'd said because he was genuinely interested in everything she'd had to say.
It wasn't as though he was going to be rushing off to take the oath and sign the Alliance pledge now; there was absolutely no chance of that ever happening. They'd touch down back on Drongar just long enough to let her and the kid get off the ship and then he and Chewie were headed straight to Tatooine to settle the debt that had hung over their heads for far too long.
But hearing Leia talk about the Rebellion with such passion, such intensity had stuck a chord with him. He understood now how she'd managed to get herself elected to the Senate before she would have been old enough to vote on most systems. When she spoke, she drew you in without you realising, made you believe that her little revolution actually had a shot of succeeding.
By now, he couldn't deny even to himself that something about this particular young woman had really gotten under his skin. Leia was a fascinating mix of contradictions; strong yet vulnerable, selfless but stubborn, wise beyond her years yet still youthfully naive and idealistic. Han had never met or known another being like her in all of his years of crossing for one corner of the galaxy to another.
He liked her. He knew the way he acted towards her sometimes might make that hard to believe but it was true.
He really liked her. He might even go as far as admitting, if only to himself, that he cared about her.
Han liked and cared about the kid too but Luke was an entirely different proposition to Her Worship; Luke was simple, in a good way. What you saw was what you got, he was a good person with good intentions, all wide-eyed and innocent but you still got the sense that he was a lot tougher and more resourceful than he looked.
Leia, on the other hand, was a challenge.
And there were few things that Han enjoyed more than a good challenge.
The problem was that Leia seemed to regard him as just as much of a challenge as he did her. He could sense it when they got into one of their arguments, when she'd get so riled up that she'd get personal. But he knew, even if she hadn't realised it herself yet, that she wasn't really trying to hurt him with her insults; she was using her own preconceptions to poke at him, to try and provoke him into revealing something about himself that he might otherwise prefer not to. Han guessed that that was something she'd picked up from being involved in politics, the art of getting an opponent to reveal their hand while she kept her own cards close to the chest.
No one, not even Chewie, had gotten the measure of him as quickly and as accurately as Her Worship had. And it unnerved him, at times made him want to keep her at arm's length rather than risk unintentionally playing right into her hands.
But, at the same time, part of the reason he antagonised the princess, provoked her into their little squabbles, was because he knew she needed an outlet, someone she could get angry at and just vent. He could be that for her, could handle it in a way that someone as sensitive as Luke probably couldn't.
And he did it because he was the only person around her who seemed to have noticed how perilously close she was to falling apart.
She wasn't sleeping much, he could tell that just by looking at her. Han doubted she was eating properly either; Luke said that he and Rieekan were trying to make sure that Leia ate at least one meal a day but that she usually had some excuse ready to get out of going to the mess hall with either of them. There'd been a couple of times when Han had noticed her just wandering around the base with a kind of glazed look in her eyes, as though she was a million parsecs away.
He was amazed that Leia had been able to hold herself together for this long given what she'd been through. She put on a brave act but he knew that she was treading a very thin line between self-preservation and all-consuming grief. She'd buried everything, all that she felt about her family and Alderaan, behind the facade of the strong and stoic young leader that she presented to the rest of the galaxy. If that facade cracked, she was primed to emotionally combust.
And Han would be damned before he let someone like Draven prove to be her undoing, not while he was still around to stop that happening.
That was why he was here now, on his way to do the Rebellion one last favour.
But he wasn't going to see Maz for the Alliance's sake, not really, although he'd let Leia think that if it made her feel better to believe that he might just secretly be a revolutionary at heart.
Her Worship needed a victory, something to get High Command off her back and prove that she had something to offer, as much to herself as well as to Draven and the rest of them. And while he was sure that the research she'd been doing when he'd gone to see her last night would probably have found a few decent leads eventually, he also knew that Maz would be able to recommend at least a couple of decent pilots who'd be reliable enough to help the Alliance out.
So he was doing this for her, not the Rebellion.
And then, once it was done, he'd be gone and Leia would need to find a new outlet to keep her emotions in check.
She was strong; that had been clear from the moment that he and Luke had sprung her from her cell on the Death Star. Han just hoped that, at some point, she realised that she didn't always have to be completely infallible for the sake of everyone around her.
The navicomputer beeped, marking that another hour that had passed in their journey and bringing him back to the present. Checking the readouts, Han noted that they were only a few hours from Takodana now. It was the ship's night cycle so everyone else had retired to the crew cabins to sleep; Han had drawn the short straw with Chewie so he was stuck on watch duty.
Han rubbed his eyes and yawned, struggling to stave off the exhaustion that was beginning to weigh heavily.
With all the repairs that he and Chewie had had to do over the past four days, ever since they'd landed on Drongar, he'd barely had time to nap, let along get a proper night's sleep. The Falcon had taken a hell of a lot of damage in the evacuation from Yavin; the shield generator had needed to be repaired, the navicomputer had been knocked offline, the lateral thruster had taken a hit. And then, between fixing all of the major damage, there'd been so much rewiring and fusing to get through, circuitry boards that had needed to be replaced, systems that had had to be rebooted and reprogrammed.
The kid had been good enough to help out. Luke had picked up some mechanical skills back on Tatooine, working on his landspeeder and skyhopper, a lot of which had been transferrable enough that he'd been able to pitch in on the Falcon, handling a few of the minor jobs while Han and Chewie got on with the more urgent tasks.
The only drawback with having Luke help out was that he wouldn't shut up about things that went way over Han's head; the Force, training to be a Jedi, life advice that Ben Kenobi had given him that sounded to Han like absolute nonsense. So he'd had no choice but to assign Luke work that would keep him as far away from Han as possible.
It was either that or kick him off the Falcon entirely.
The only thing worse than having to listen to Luke talk about the Force was having to endure him fawning over Leia.
Han had to admit that the two of them were a pretty good match; they were similar in age, got on well enough already that you'd have thought they'd known each their entire lives, shared the same ideals, had the same revolutionary spirit. It was a good story...The Rebellion figurehead and the hero that had blown up the Death Star...the rebel princess and the rebel pilot. Han figured that it was bound to happen at some point. They were already so comfortable around one another, affectionate, were always disappearing off somewhere to have their private little heart-to-hearts.
He just hoped that when it did happen, he would already be long gone and wouldn't have to bear witness to any of it.
And that made him feel absolutely pathetic.
It wasn't that he thought of Leia in that way; that would be ridiculous. Sure she was beautiful and smart and charismatic and tough and resourceful. And she was the most intriguing woman that Han had ever known, the most challenging being he'd ever met.
But none of that meant that he though of the princess in that way.
After all, he barely knew her.. She was younger than him, could drive him absolutely crazy at times. They came from entirely different backgrounds, had entirely different outlooks on the galaxy, their lives were headed in two completely different directions.
He did feel an unfamiliar sort of protectiveness toward her that he guessed had something to do with how they'd met; he knew enough about Imperial interrogation techniques to intuit that she had to have been put through hell on that battle station, although she'd never shown any inclination of wanting to discuss it with him or, as far as he knew, anyone else. So he reasoned that it was perfectly natural to feel protective of her, that any decent being in his position would feel the same way.
But that was as far as it went, as far as it would ever go.
Kest, he thought to himself, I really need to get away from that blasted Rebellion.
Chewie kept needling him, accusing him of going soft since they'd met Luke and Leia and while he'd argued that nothing could be further from the truth, he was starting to think that there might be something to Chewie's observations. And the solution to that was simple: leave, as soon as he possibly could.
He'd hung around longer than he'd ever intended, done more for the Alliance than he'd initially been willing to do. But he'd had a life before he'd firstcrossed paths with the kid back on Tatooine and he was just about ready to get back to it, to put everything that had happened since they'd met behind him and move on.
All that he needed to do now was avoid being subjected to any last-gap recruitment pitches from either of his young passengers in whatever remaining time he had left in their company. Not that his decision to leave could or would be changed even if one of them did try to convince to stick around; he just didn't want to have to deal with that sort of thing
Rising to his feet and stretching, he decided that a cup of strong caf was in order.
Leaving the cockpit and making for the galley, Han grumbled to himself that there would be no drawing straws to decide who stayed up on watch for the return trip to Drongar; Chewie was doing it, whether the Wookie liked it or not.
Entering the main hold, massaging a painful crick in his neck, he stopped dead in his tracks.
The princess was lying curled up on the banquette in the corner, engulfed by the thick woollen blanket she must have dragged out here with her from the cabin she'd retired to earlier. Han could just about make out the curve of her nose amongst some flyaway strands of hair that had come loose from the thick bun she'd tied it in. Moving a little closer, careful not to make any noise that might wake her, Han saw that she appeared to be in a deep sleep; he could hear the slightest hint of a snore and chuckled quietly. Why was she sleeping out here?
She looked younger, Han thought, relaxed and unburdened.
He tried to ignore the strange twisting sensation in the pit of own stomach, to no avail.
Kest!
He continued on to the galley, thinking he might pour himself a whiskey; he needed something a hell of a lot stronger than caf now.