Leia woke to a deep, carrying voice. "Grab that edge, Luke. The rig should pop out clean."
A screeching of metal on metal made Leia cringe into her pillow.
"Huh. Some fool riveted—okay, a little coaxing..." Leia heard a whack, then a grunt of triumph.
Leia squinted at the ticking Timex next to the iron bedstead. Already nine? She'd always been an early riser, organized and dynamic. Blearily, she scrubbed at her eyes. It was partly graduation, she supposed. Throwing herself into the last of her schoolwork, her exams, had saved Leia's life after the loss of her parents, of her home. But then school ended. And then came Starwood, with its sedatives. Leia had soon learned to hide the pills under her tongue, then spit them out, but she wondered if she was still feeling their effects.
"We'll trim the flanges later. Kid," Han crowed, "this thing's gonna blow 'em right off the road."
Leia rose. She'd slept insensibly for almost two days, and she felt groggy. Gingerly Leia moved across the cabin's sleeping loft towards the open windows. She clearly heard Luke's question: "How are you and Leia getting along out here?"
With exaggerated enthusiasm Han replied, "Wonderful girl!"
"Come on," Luke chided.
Leia watched Han emerge from under the hood of Luke's car. He wore an olive-green sleeveless undershirt and another pair of those distinctive pants, these ones khaki with gold stripes. "Ahhh, Leia hasn't given me any grief. She kinda frowned when I moved into the trailer yesterday, that's about it." Han wiped his greasy hands on a rag tied to his belt. "It's weird. I've only known her a couple days, but-"
"But what?"
"I dunno, Luke. She's kept to herself. I was expectin' more, you know, more of a scrap." Han sounded...what was it, Leia wondered? Equal parts concerned and disappointed.
Luke sighed. "She's not herself yet."
Even from the window Leia could see the worry on Luke's face, and ached to be the cause of it. Her pride smarted, too, though neither man sounded as though they were pitying her.
"What's Leia like when she's 'herself?'" Han bent back under the hood, as though disinterested in Luke's response. "Toss me that wrench—no, no, the torque wrench."
"She made us jump out a window," Luke said, handing the tool over. "Maybe you remember."
"So that's how Leia comes standard? Full of lip and cussin' out doctors?"
"Not the swearing, no. But she's always been...well, assertive."
Twisting his wrist against the wrench, Han began to laugh. "I still can't believe...I mean, you meet Leia and she's so little and pret—" Han coughed. "Uh, prissy, and then she calls some guy a pissworm-"
Luke chuckled. "You like her."
At her window, Leia drew in a breath.
Han looked sharply up at Luke from R2's inner workings. Luke smiled serenely, implacably back at Han. After a moment Han gave a half-shrug. "I guess I do, kid. It was either that, or kill her."
"Leia might still kill you," Luke teased.
"Yeah, well," Han's voice tightened with effort as he worked at a bolt. "So be it. That'd mean Leia was 'herself' again, right?"
Leia smiled a small, private smile, though unaware of it. Then she looked down at herself. She was swathed in her father's old bathrobe, which she'd put on two days ago, craving his safety. Blinking back tears, Leia pictured her mother, Breha, saying: Lift up your chin, darling, and go on. Bail Organa's own cure for suffering was, Nothing a swim in the lake can't fix, Lelila.
"All right, Papa," Leia murmured. "You're right, Mama, that's enough."
Leia reached up to her braid, began to undo it. First, she'd take a bath. Next, she'd get a bathing suit. And then, she'd figure out the rest of her life.
XXXXXXXXXX
Han knelt on the cabin's front porch, probing a sagging plank near the hammock. The screen door squeaked, and Han looked up to see his small landlady step outside, blinking in the sunlight. Han gulped water too fast from his army canteen. Leia's thick brown hair was pulled into a damp but tidy ponytail, and she was wearing an old-fashioned, knee-length filmy dress. Too fancy for the woods, Han thought, but damn did it look nice, lavender silk pouring over her hourglass shape.
"I found some of my mother's old clothes stored in the closet," Leia said with an uncomfortable laugh, crossing her arms in front of her neckline. "They're from the '30s, I think. But I don't have anything else." She glanced at Luke, perched on the porch railing. "There are some of Padmé's clothes, too. Would you mind-"
"Of course I don't mind, Leia. Go ahead." Luke said warmly, feeling a rush of affection for his thoughtful cousin. Breha and Padmé had been identical twins, small and slender, just like Leia. Leia could have worn their clothes interchangeably, Luke none the wiser that some had belonged to the mother who died just after he was born. It was typically empathetic of Leia to ask Luke, first, before she went ahead.
Leia noticed Han leaning on one raised knee, inspecting the weathered boards. She crossed to look, wincing at the dark softness in the wood. "That looks...bad?"
"Yeah, it's spongy," Han said. "Whole porch needs to be torn out."
Leia raised her eyebrows with just enough doubt that Han felt provoked. "Nothing I can't handle," Han said, with heat. "So you can put away that little look."
"It's not you," Leia said, uncertainly. "It just seems like so much work to finish before winter."
The cabin was actually in decent shape, Han explained. Sure, the porch was soft, the roof and outside walls badly needed new shingles, and the galley kitchen's cabinets were wrecked. A new oil heater had to be installed before winter. He wasn't sure about the wiring, yet, but it helped that Leia's parents had never had the electricity disconnected. The building's foundation was sound, the structure sturdy, the plumbing decent. It was a nice place, Han concluded, gesturing at Leia Organa's land, the meadow and woods and pebbled lake beach, filling with an oddly proprietary approval.
"I figure I'll start tearing off the shingles next week. Get Chewie out here to help on Mondays, when the diner's closed."
"Oh, I couldn't ask Chewie to spend his day off-"
Han grinned. "Aaaah, don't worry about the furball. You'll be makin' his day if you bring him out here, believe me. Chewie likes work and he loves the woods."
Leia hated to feel the recipient of charity, but she sensed that Han was telling the truth. Still, she resolved that she'd find some way to repay Chewie. She adored the giant, hairy, quiet cook; since he'd opened the diner a year ago, Chewie had treated Leia with courtesy and humor. She had loved to study in the big booth at the back of the diner, and he would often bring her tea and a slice of pie. Chewie made the best pie in the world.
Leia's stomach audibly growled.
Luke and Han looked up from their happy conversation about the Falcon. Han's eyes danced.
"Luke, I don't wanna scare you," Han stage-whispered. "But there's something in these woods, kid. Something hungry."
Leia mock-glared at her laughing cousin. "Han," Leia asked with glacial dignity, "will you be going to work at the diner, this afternoon?"
"This afternoon?" Han demanded. "Hell no, Princess, we're goin' right now. I don't want some camper findin' my bones with dainty little teeth marks on 'em."
Luke was overjoyed when Leia giggled in spite of herself. It was her real laugh, Luke knew, and to hear it was a deep relief. Luke also didn't miss how Han's face lit up before he re-assembled his ironic mask.
"Luke?" Leia asked. "Do you want to come along?"
Hopping off the railing, Luke shook his head. "I'm going to work with my father this afternoon." He didn't meet Leia's concerned eyes.
"Oh yeah?" Han asked, standing. "That what got him happy enough to spring you this morning?"
Luke gave a rueful grin. "I'm not sure Father is ever happy, exactly. But yes, it got me off grounding."
"Nice trick. What's your father do?"
A shadow passed over Luke's face. "He's the head of Empire Industries. He wants me to go to work for him in the fall."
XXXXXXXXX
Han was weirdly tongue-tied as he drove. It was hot in the truck and Leia smelled warm and sweet, the breeze loosening strands of her ponytail. He ordered himself not to look at her again; his face felt like it might melt off if he did. Maybe he was sick. Yeah, that was probably it, maybe he'd got a little sunstroke. That sun was sure bright beaming off the lake.
To break the silence Leia asked Han about his jacket, which he'd left tossed across the seat. Had his father been a pilot, in the Second World War? She had a way of asking this, Han noticed, that signaled not nosiness, but genuine interest in other people and their lives. Somehow he didn't feel the same reticence, with her, that he normally did.
"No," Han said. "Well. Mayb—no." Leia looked at him curiously. He shrugged. "I found it in a thrift shop. It bothered me that someone just—dumped it there. Like it was nothing."
"Are you interested in flying?"
Leia was so polite, Han felt like he was being interviewed by some diplomat. An extremely attractive diplo-
"Yeah." Han blurted, and then shut up, for fear he would say something crazy. He really wasn't feeling right, warmish and dizzy. But it was a true response: Han desperately wanted to learn to fly. That's why he wanted to go to Florida, there were so many small charter outfits there. He was going to get his pilot's license, then fly vacationers and cargo around. Getting paid to fly was the closest thing to happiness as Han Solo had ever imagined in his life.
Until now, dummy, Han's mind-voice said, and what the hell was that supposed to mean?
Leia held up the jacket, studying it. Han's memory clicked. He said, "I forgot. There's something in the inside pocket."
He inclined his chin at Leia in a 'go ahead' gesture. Warily, Leia looked at him. "Why am I thinking of that stupid gag, you know, with the can of peanuts, and when you open it a stuffed cobra pops-"
Han smirked. "Relax, Your Worship, I ain't big on snakes." Still watching the road, Han reached out himself; Leia watched his long fingers work deftly into the inside pocket, withdrawing a small red object. She gasped.
"My notebook! How-"
"I grabbed it, right after you pulled that paratrooper bit."
Leia looked at Han for a long, searching moment. He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, but he felt a heat gathering in his neck.
"Thank you, Han," she said, with feeling. "I hated that I'd left anything of myself in that horrid place."
"Yeah, I get it. When I was a bo-" Han swallowed. "Hey, fuck those guys, right?"
Pure poetry, Solo, said the voice in his head. Damn it! Since when was it hard for him to talk to a girl?
But Leia didn't seem to notice. "The first week, I mostly slept. They gave me pills. I took them, at first. I—I was dealing with something..." She trailed off.
"Luke told me," Han said, quietly. "I'm sorry."
Leia nodded in simple acknowledgement, tucking loose hair behind her ear. "The worst part, for me, was there was nothing to do. I mean nothing—the library was a single shelf of Bibles and old farmer's almanacs. So I stole this from the stationery closet. Made notes, things that struck me." She looked thoughtful. "I don't know what I'll write about now."
Han, seeking to cheer her, put on a comical falsetto. "Dear Diary, I met the most charming, handso..."
Leia scoffed, rolled her eyes. But she smiled. Han winked back.