AN: Have a good weekend!

The problem, Leia mused as she finished the rest of her toast and honey in the darkness of their small shared office, watching out the window at the morning commuter traffic zipping by, was that Luke had been right.

Or at least, almost right.

The Republic really had been her life. Han was always gone. Always. They had kept him from her. It was obvious then and it was blatantly obvious now. It hurt too, now that she knew why they had done what they did. Keeping her as the bargaining chip tucked securely up their sleeve, the council had mildly tolerated her 'affair' with Han.

She snorted angrily. Affair indeed. In the reflection of the large city, she could see the redden angry face of General Dordonna standing in front of her, spouting off about honour and duty and the safety of the galaxy and the Republic and whatever else he could think of to throw in her face. Offhandedly belittling her relationship with Han, a relationship which had continued regardless of the hurdles which were thrown in the way of it - for the last five years. One of - if not the most difficult and fundamentally important pieces of her life. Affair. Yes. That pretty well summed up the Council's opinion of her and Han. Dirty and sordid. Something to entertain for a while until a better offer come around.

She could also see Mon's white ashen countenance in the glass in front of her. "I know, Leia." She had said. Leia drew a quick breath in blinking to shatter the vision of her mentor standing to her side, feigning sympathy and understanding. Mon had never taken to Han. Never in the five years she had been with him had Mon tried to hide her dislike, her contempt even. She didn't know, nor did she care. Lies. Some dark small voice inside Leia's heart whispered to her. It was seductive, the soothing whispers, deep and calming. Pressing against her already frail wall of self-doubt and insecurity, begging to be released a little further... to allow herself to feel angry, betrayed even. These were colleagues. Friends. People she trusted. Comrades she had bled with.

False allies - all of them. Her chest heaved, and her mind clouded darkly.

They had used her. The darkness pressed forward a fraction further, swirling in a small vortex inside her heart. Powerful and seductive. They had all lied.

"No." Leia said to her reflection after a moment, pressing the dark back inside herself quickly, ashamed and scared of what she had just touched. "It doesn't matter any longer. I'm free." She whispered, the words sounding too loud and far too large in the small room.

Free.

Was this how Han had always felt? This terrific sense of overwhelming freedom? It was unsettling but at the same time, oddly comforting.

She hadn't been free in... she frowned. Perhaps she had never been truly free.

For the first time, she stood at the centre of her own life.

"So, now what, Princess?" she muttered to herself.

"I could offer a few suggestions, if you like." Leia smiled and turned. He was close to her, standing an arms length away, fingers casually hooked into his pockets, sly grin on his face. She didn't reply. Content for the moment to simply watch him. She hadn't heard him approach, lost as she had been a moment ago in her own fragile future.

"Luke's gone." He finally said, words soft - as if speaking to an injured creature, which she supposed she was in a way. A small, sad creature who had just been cast out of something she loved. No, that wasn't right. Not cast out. Outmaneuvered. That was it. Her strategy had been wrong from the start. She had allowed them to look upon her and him with contempt, disdain and reticule. She had accepted their dislike and choose to live with it, instead of fighting for change. Maybe she had been tired of fighting. Maybe she had convinced herself it didn't really matter what they thought. Maybe she had tricked herself into not worrying about it.

Han had known. He had been on the receiving end of scorn for so many years. And through all of it, he had never pushed her into action on his behalf. Never was he outwardly angry or annoyed or even hurt. He was hers. And perhaps that was really all that mattered.

She stared at him for a moment longer. Tracing the lines she knew so well. Han cocked his head at her slightly, gently questioning her silence.

"I don't know what to do." She whispered, as if unveiling a tremendous deep secret. The unsettling feeling of that dark lusty voice still hung heavily in her chest. Leia had thought she had come to a tentative type of truce with her heritage, with the unsavory truth of it all. Luke had a way of looking at it which she would never have - a positive wistful vision of what his life was like. It would never be that way for her. But in her own way she had managed to carve out a small acceptance for it. Now however...

"Me neither," he replied softly. It wasn't a helpful response, but at the same time Leia was relieved. It made her feel very much less alone, interrupting her downward thoughts and pulling her back to what really was important. But then, she always felt that way with him.

"It's not over, is it?" she sighed, sliding into the armless office chair, curling her legs underneath herself. Han chuckled. "You mean, do I think they'll just let you go? No. I don't. Not without a fight."

"I'm tired of fighting," sliding a hand across her neck and looking again out the large window. She was tired. Bone-tired. They both were.

"Leia." he snapped her attention back to the determination set firmly across his features. He came to crouch in front of her, taking her hands in his and squeezing firmly. "I will always fight for you. If this is what you truly want."

A lone tear slid down her cheek. Of course he would. He would always fight for her. They hadn't cared about that, about them. She wasn't important enough to her own people for them to take this moment into consideration. He squeezed her hands again. "What do you want, Leia?"

"You." She answered quickly, simply. Echoing her words from that late night on Bakura, when he stood behind her, posing the same question. She had been scared that night. Not of him. But of what they would mean to each other, of having something that couldn't be stolen away, something beyond tangible knowledge that she was loved.

He smiled then, releasing a breath she hadn't noticed he had taken, and pulled her to her feet, kissing her forehead. "Alright. First thing's first. We need a new home."