Being a smuggler had taught Han Solo many things, but the first and foremost thing was self-reliance. As a result, he had learned how to survive on his wits alone, even if it occasionally meant humiliation.

That didn't seem to be necessary this time around, though. Practicality had kept the Falcon running on parts that had been developed as early as thirty years ago, so he had a few crates of things that were positively antiquated, even by Alliance standards, but were cutting edge or standard fare in this era.

There was, of course, no other reason that he could give Leia for going into what was called Invisisec by the Imperials and the Underground by anyone in the late days of the Republic.

At least, that would be the excuse he would give her if Her Worship ever decided that speaking to him was in the interest of the common good again.

None of his regular customers would be here, of course, but he was familiar enough with the area to know what back alleys to stay out of and what to look for.

It was, therefore, to his surprise that the person he settled on was a woman.

She had a head full of dark curls that were probably artificial, but cropped short so he could see a long neck marred by a burn scar on the right side. Her posture suggested that she didn't belong in some third-rate tapcafe, but he wasn't one to judge that.

As it was, she was drinking a julafizz, which seemed like too weak of a drink for someone keeping company with the scum in this area. It was one of those drinks that a polite socialite would sip at her debutante ball rather than in a room full of peeling paint and illegal narcotics.

"You look like you have a discerning eye," Han remarked as he slid onto the barstool next to her.

The brunette looked him over with a highly unamused look. "I don't like pretty-boy talk," she muttered. "What do you want?"

He'd come here to get away from Leia and was getting her attitude at every turn.

Perfect.

"I've got some business to do," he explained, "and you look disrespectable enough to make it worth my while."

She nodded. "I think that's the nicest thing someone's said to me all year," she mused. "What sort of business?"

"Rare parts," he explained. "I've got hyperdrive components from Seinar..."

She laughed inexplicably. "Kid, you couldn't afford them if you sold whatever crate you're dropping out of the sky."

"Now you're just being rude," Han chided. "I've got a YT-1300 that still has fewer miles on her than credits that I spent to get her."

She turned an evaluative look on him, but her face remained expressionless. "Is that what you spent your charm school tuition on?"

"Of course," he responded with a grin. "I was born with more charm than you'll ever know."

Finally, the smile appeared. "You've got enough spirit to make this worthwhile," she guessed. "What else have you got?"

"I don't do business with strangers," Han countered. "The name's Han Solo."

"Is that a title or a name?" she shot back. "I'm Tizar Nan."

The name caused a twinge in his chest, but he couldn't pinpoint why. "A pleasure, Miss Nan," he said formally. "Shall we go look over the merchandise?" The morning dawned clear and warm as if the light of the stars had burned the threats of the day before away. Her mind thought for just a moment that she was on Alderaan, since the scent of lornas beyond the half-open window was almost overpowering, but the scent was laced with the industrial stench that she remembered too well from Coruscant.

Some things never changed.

The knock that had awakened her sounded again and she groped for the dark red robe that she had unpacked the night before before slapping the door release.

"Lady Antilles," the guard greeted. "The Viceroy would like to see you in ten minutes at his office."

"Thank you," she said around a yawn. "Where is his office?"

It was an unnecessary question, since he was six paces to the left, fifteen to the right and the third door on the left, but the guard smiled indulgently. "I'll guide you in nine minutes, if you like."

In nine minutes, she'd pulled her hair into some semblance of order by braiding it and pulled on the most formal of the robes that she'd brought along. It was a dark green gown in a simple style that was belted with a golden cord at the waist—something that would not be out of place at a consulate, but something that would be too informal for a member of the delegation's staff. Anything more formal would be above her station.

Bail, on the other hand, was dressed in the well-tailored robes that she had always found inappropriately military. Had she been able to act as herself, she might have been able to comment on it, tease him about being a pacifist ready for war, but instead, she bowed in silence and waited for instructions.

It was much less difficult to look on him this morning, since the shock of familiarity had worn off and she felt as though she were finally on familiar ground herself. He didn't seem to mark the difference, but greeted her a similar bow and gestured her to a chair.

"You were comfortable in your new quarters?"

"I slept well," Leia agreed.

I am not comfortable among my own kind, but it has nothing to do with the level of kindness you've shown to someone who is nothing more than a complete stranger to you.

"Good," he said. "After the day's session, I'll have one of the guards show you the location of such things as the kitchen and the comm center."

"Yes, sir," she responded demurely.

"I apologize for the early hour," Bail said with a slight smile, "but there is a message that I need delivered before the morning's session and it can't be entrusted to the com units."

"I understand," she said honestly.

It had been her first duty as part of the Alliance, since she could pass along information and instructions without drawing much attention to herself.

"Who is the recipient?"

"Senator Padme Amidala," he supplied, passing over two datacards. "The directions to her address are on the second card. If you could wait for her response, I would appreciate it."

"Yes, sir," she said, executing another bow. "When I return, should I find you here?"

"No," he said quickly. "I will have arrived at the Senate by that point, so I will have one of our drivers look to your transportation."

"Thank you."

She needed little time to find Republica 500, since it had been left standing even in the days when she was a young Senator. The Senator's quarters were on the eastern end of the building and she was about to press the anunciator chime when the door hissed open.

"I'll return tonight," the man who backed out of the door was whipsering as a petite woman stretched up for a last kiss, "but if you don't let me go, I'll never get to the report on the Outer Rim sieges."

"And that's such a bad thing?" the woman teased as Leia hastily sidestepped, lowering her eyes to avoid staring.

"Bad, no," he laughed, "but suspicious. Obi-Wan would take it as a personal insult and the Council would think I was being rebellious again."

Abruptly, he stiffened and turned in her direction, eyes evaluating her as he would a threat. Cold blue eyes.

Luke's eyes.

The resemblance was unmistakable, even in the cleft in his chin. Her instinct was to gasp, but instead, she sketched a formal bow.

"Master Jedi," she greeted politely, "I apologize for the interruption, but I have been asked to deliver a message to Senator Amidala."

His mouth quirked in displeasure. "From Senator Organa?"

"Yes," she agreed.

"You look like one Organa would trust," he said cryptically.

She blnked, unsure of his intentions in saying that, but said the first truth that came to her mind.

"You flatter me too greatly."

He bowed formally, then turned to leave, leaving the Senator in the doorway. She watched his retreat for a long moment, mouth half-opened as if she wanted to call some kind of warning, benediction or an admission of affection after him, but she finally turned her gaze to Leia.

"Come in," she invited. "I don't wish to keep you waiting."

She turned and this time, Leia did suck in a sharp breath at the barely noticeable swell of her belly beneath the loose nightgown that she was wearing. Fortunately, Padme didn't hear her.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment..."

"Certainly."

Leia didn't wait for an invitation to sit--her knees seemed to give out on their own and she sank into the chair. Her breath came with difficulty as if she had been struck hard in the stomach and this apartment was certainly not helping matters.

She had expected many unusual experiences if they managed to survive the original journey to the past, but she had never expected to be granted an opportunity that Luke had been denied far too casually.

She had looked into the eyes of his father, spoken to him. She had seen his parents clearly and unabashedly in love.

The air became suddenly oppressive with the force of what would be denied. She had spoken to the parents that had never heard their son's voice, but in a few months, every trace of them would become a rumor of a memory. The love that had brought Luke Skywalker into the world would be a moot point because no amount of love could stop the evil that would come all too easily.

In four months, maybe less, all of this would be for nothing.

Vader, wherever he was, had obliterated the perfection of a love that was not weakened by war. He had betrayed and murdered the man that Luke had never been able to call Father.

Luke had every right to be here and should have been the one to find Vader, just for this moment.

For the first time, the order to kill Vader was not a burden, but something that her hatred for him demanded of her.

Luke's mother emerged, nightgown replaced by a heavy blue gown with a high waistline and a loose skirt.

"I apologize," Padme said graciously. "I had a late morning…"

"I understand," Leia said quietly. "Senator Organa simply asked that I deliver this message before the Senate session and that I return with your answer."

"Typical Bail," Padme sighed as she accepted the datacard, "always impatient on someone else's schedule."

She turned away, reading it by the morning light with shoulders hunched in some indescribable tension. Something on the datacard seemed to drain that tension away, at least in part and Padme turned back with a slight smile.

"Let him know that I will be there at the appointed hour, but that I will need a transport."

It was clearly a dismissal, one that Leia had no desire to accept, but had to.

"Yes, milady."
It was no surprise to find that the Consulate had a speeder waiting, but the shock came the moment Leia slid into the passenger seat.

"I could get you arrested for this," she remarked.

"You could," Han agreed, "but if you hadn't forgotten, the High Command probably assigned me to this mission for a reason."

"Such as your ability to make trouble wherever you go?" she retorted.

"Something like that," he conceded, "though if I recall correctly, my run-in with the Senate Guard was entirely your fault."

She at least didn't bother to deny it.

"So, I've got a job," she pronounced, "and you..."

"Have been doing business," he supplied, passing over a credit transfer chip. "Some of the spit and crating tape you claim keeps my girl together goes for a nice price these days."

"Well done," she commended. "How much persuasion did it take?"

"Not much," he retorted, feigning a hurt look. "She was very friendly."

With his usual aplomb and flair for subtlety, he'd managed to ruin the moment of victory.

"She?"

"What?" he demanded. "I took the business where I could find it."

"For the love of Taia," Leia sputtered, "for all we know, you were flirting with your mother."

His gaze, that had been drifting on occasion to register her reactions, became suddenly fixed on the passing cityscape.

"Not likely," he said gruffly. "Near as I can tell, she died about eight years before now."

Any retort died mid-thought, responded by only one thought. She was immensely relieved to know that it was genuine.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

He nodded, not quite a response, not quite an acceptance, but certainly an acknowledgment.

"And your father?"

"Not sure," he said flatly. "What were you doing at 500 Republica?"

She wasn't entirely reassured by his tendency to change subjects, but given the subject matter, it was forgivable.

"I met Anakin Skywalker," she announced instead of pressing the matter, "and his very pregnant wife."

He was silent for a long moment, obliquely reflective of the stunned silence that she had narrowly escaped upon encountering them.

"On purpose?"

"She's a Senator," Leia supplied, "and Senator Organa needed a message delivered."

"And you're sure it was him?"

"Striking resemblance to Luke and expecting his first child," she stated. "He was even heading off to talk to Ben Kenobi."

"Sounds like a Skywalker, all right," Han snorted.

The Senate was looming closer and yet he still hadn't managed to explain why he had stolen a Consulate speeder to play her chauffeur.

"Did you miss me or is there a reason you are pretending to belong to my sovereignty?"

"A few reasons," he explained. "First, I went to pay the docking fees and found that they had been taken care of."

"By the Consulate?"

"Exactly," he confirmed. "Even prenatally, Bail Organa seems to have a soft spot for you."

"You're complaining?"

"Not at all," he admitted. "It'll help in case we actually need some of those parts that I auctioned off."

"And the other few?" she prompted.

He finally looked at her again, expression having relaxed slightly now that they were on more familiar ground.

"I wanted to know what good you claim this is doing," he stated.

"In taking refuge with the Alderaanians and letting everyone else think you're a common criminal type?" she clarified dryly.

He might have retorted that she had called him a few things much worse than a 'common criminal type,' but he simply shrugged.

"Something like that."

"Well, what do we know about Vader?"

"The basics," he replied. "A former Jedi who turned on the Order and was responsible for the majority of their deaths, Anakin Skywalker included."

"Also the man who is closer to the Emperor than any other in the Galaxy," she reminded.

"Right."

"The best way to find out who is close to Palpatine," she reasoned, "is to look at the political hierarchy. I know who his enemies are, but not who comprised his inner circle."

"So, you'll be asking his enemies," Han guessed. "Makes sense."

"And don't worry," she soothed with a grin. "There's always the hope of reconciliation."

"Not if they find out about my hijacking tendencies," he teased.

It was good to see the smile back.

"What were the other things?" she prodded.

"Mostly wanting to keep an eye on you," he returned. "You have this way of getting yourself into trouble."

"HOw charming," she said drolly. "Who do you think I learned it from?"

"Luke," he suggested. "He's the only other one I know with that gift."

Without further comment, he pulled the speeder into the assigned slot and shut off the engine.

"I also managed to liberate a guard uniform," he continued unnecessarily. "Would you like me to take advantage of it and give you an escort?"

She was tempted to dismiss him with a roll of the eyes, but it was protocol for members of a delegation, even the staff, to be accompanied by a consular guard.

"Lead on," she conceded. Even more than the Consulate, the Senate box of the Alderaan sovereignty was as familiar as the air of her homeworld, so she had no difficulty in directing her 'guard' towards the box just as they were permitting the Senators to take their seats.

"Senator," Leia called, "a word?"

Bail turned, welcoming her with the smile that he used for familiar strangers and that only made her heartsick and homesick, yearning for the smile that she had known far too well. Turning to the Senator he had been greeting, he made his excuses, then gestured her into one of the conference rooms that adjoined the boxes. Han remained at attention outside, as if were assigned to the duty.

"What word?"

"She'll need transport, but she will come."

"Good to hear," he sighed, hands unclenching. "Thank you for bringing the message."

For a long moment, they stood in a silence that she could neither break nor understand. Finally, his eyes lifted to meet hers with a finally familiar solemnity.

"Where do your loyalties lie?"

To justice. To those who died unnecessarily.

To you.

"To Alderaan," she said honestly, "and to the Republic."

"The same as mine."

Of course. You taught me my loyalties by example.

"Why do you ask, Senator?" she quietly asked.

"My loyalties are to the Republic," Bail responded, "and most of the Senator in that arena don't believe that should be a priority."

"I've noticed," she said flatly.

He regaded her silently, then nodded to her datapad. "The meeting is one between those of us who are looking for an end to this war. No matter our loyalties to the Chancellor or the Senate, we want our Constitution and peace back."

It was too similar to the other things she'd heard for years for comfort and she had to lower her eyes to the carpet. Nonetheless, the tears were stinging too close to her eyelids to avoid escaping.

He turned away, arms spreading wide.

"I'm sorry," he said frankly. "I didn't mean to...lecture."

"It's a relief to hear someone else think what is in my heart," was her inadequate response.

The smile that he wore once he turned was even harder to cope with, since he was finally giving her a look that she recognized from a more private life.

"I knew you could be trusted," he stated.

Without another word, he passed her and opened the door. Han bowed slightly as he passed, then shot her a curious look as she managed to compose herself.

"Do you always cry when alone in a room with him?" he murmured.

"It's only happened once," she countered in like tones. "And he probably thought it had something to do with my loyalties."

"You'll have to explain to me sometime about loyalties that make you miserable," he muttered.

She was about to respond when his hand wrapped around her wrist, yanking her off her feet just as a blaster bolt spattered off the wall where her head had been. Too stunned to scream, she scrabbled for the blaster that wasn't there and, finding nothing at her waist, simply kept her head down.

A few heartbeats later, it was somehow over and she propped herself up on her elbows, eyes searching through the haze of shock for Han and Bail.

Han was helping Bail to his feet, both of them looking stunned, but the Senate Guards were crouched over the apparent assailant.

"For once you had your blaster on stun," Leia stammered.

"Easier to ask questions that way," Han explained.

"If you don't mind," Bail interrupted, "I have a few of my own."

"Han Solo," Han introduced myself.

"My husband," Leia supplied.

"The one we are protecting you against?" Bail hissed.

"The one who saved your life," Leia shot back.

"I have some explanations to make," Han interrupted, "but we need to decide if you're going to the day's session first."

Bail glanced at Leia. "If you'll make my apologies to Senator Turot," he suggested, "your husband and I have a few things to talk about." The man was a puzzle.

He had a face of a professional sabacc player, the manners of a Gamorrean and a name that could only have been some kind of alias. At the moment, he also seemed wholly uninterested in explaining how he came to save the life of a complete stranger.

Bail reentered the same conference room that he had vacated just moments before and gestured to the seat opposite him as he settled in. Theoretically, this less formal atmosphere was supposed to put the other man at ease, but Solo wasn't buying it. Bail would have remained standing as well, but the mere act of narrowly avoiding death seemed to have drained all of the strength from his legs.

"I owe you thanks," he said by way of preamble.

Solo said nothing, only stared back at him as if he were waiting for a sabacc opponent to show his hand. The look of strained indifference remained fixed on his face.

"Will you at least tell me why?"

"For Leia," he said flatly.

It seemed paradoxical that the man who had been detained by the Senate Guard for assault and battery twenty-hours before could claim to do it for the love of his wife with such a straight face. Then again, the man was obviously both Corellian and one to play his hand close to the vest.

"According to her reasons for pleading for asylum," Bail said dryly, "I don't quite believe that. You are in the Senate illegally…"

"That's not quite true."

Bail didn't respond, per se, simply arched an eyebrow to invite an explanation. None came. In fact, if possible, Solo looked more stubborn than ever.

"Leia Antilles came to the Consulate because she was afraid of her husband. He escorted her after illegally appropriating a speeder assigned to the sovereignty of Alderaan, to which he does not belong. He entered the Senate on falsified papers and assaulted another sentient with a deadly weapon."

Solo didn't bother to deny any of that, but his expression at least shifted from 'I don't even notice you' to one that Bail clearly recognized as 'Your point being?' It was one that Breha used with maddening frequency, but at least the familiarity of the look meant that he knew how to respond to it.

Or at least he hoped he knew.

"What part of this is 'not quite true?'" Bail pressed.

"She wasn't afraid of me," he protested. "She had every chance to call the Guard on me, but she knew that I hadn't hurt…"

"I don't appreciate lies," Bail interrupted sternly. "Please bear that in mind before you continue."

"I don't appreciate being called a liar," Solo shot back, eyes hardening considerably. "What makes you think I am one?"

"You keep making excuses to not answer me," Bail retorted.

"Politicians," Solo said in obvious exasperation. "Leia's exactly like you."

Something about that struck an odd chord, but for the life of him, Bail could not discern what it was.

"Did you know about the attack?" Bail demanded. "If you entered the Senate to protect your wife…"

"You've got it all wrong."

Bail fixed him with the look of flat disbelief that was usually highly effective in prompting a confession out of his opponents. By some strange chance, it seemed to have an effect on Solo.

"I worry about her," he said in all sincerity, voice almost rasping with the level of emotion that he was allowing himself to feel. "With a war on, things are bad enough and we don't have anyone but each other, so I tend to get overprotective. Last I heard, you've been married long enough to understand that."

It was true enough, since he'd been that solicitously overprotective of Breha since the first days of their courtship. The emerging crisis in the galaxy had only made things worse.

That didn't explain the rest of the story in the slightest.

"Why did she claim asylum?" he asked flatly.

"I don't know," Solo insisted, "but I'll leave right now if she said a single thing about me mistreating her."

His mind automatically recalled the words of her hastily-completed application that had been more of a formality than a supplication.

I am requesting the protection of my home sovereignty as a preventive measure. Certain elements in my life have become both unstable and dangerous and I cannot afford to be left without support.

"She didn't say that, huh?" Solo gloated.

"No," Bail admitted. "She used the words unstable and dangerous but listed no source for those descriptions."

"We both know I didn't go after you first," he continued. "When shots were fired, my first priority was her. That won't change, no matter how many evil things you think of me."

Bail was no Jedi, but he prided himself and thanked whatever powers there were that he had a very good sense of judgment. He had often realized the strength of pretenses and the amount of deceit that a person was attempting.

From Solo, he sensed none of that. The man was either in complete earnest or the most skillful liar to travel between the stars.

"I owe you my thanks," Bail echoed his earlier statement. "If I decided that should be in the form of employment as one of my guards, would that even our score?"

Finally, the man's expression changed. The grin was one of someone who had just won the entire sabacc pot after a long run of winning hands.

"It would help," Solo conceded.