Chapter 7 - We Will Still Belong

Jaina sat up in bed, trying to catch her breath. The rain was still pattering on the roof outside. A flash of lightning illuminated the room, making her jump; she'd half expected to see the obscene red glow of the lightsaber from her dream.

Correction, she thought. It wasn't a dream. It was a Force vision.

She'd seen everything—the horrid glint in her brother's eye; her mother, systems away, doubled over in pain; Chewbacca's roar of despair; the horrified screams from the two young Force-sensitives watching from above. And the worst part: her father, looking upon his murderer with love, touching his cheek, then tumbling into the abyss below.

Jaina made a decision. She didn't care what Uncle Luke had to say about it. She had to try—wait, not try, never try. She had to do, to act. She quickly dressed and threw her things into a bag.

Luke opened his door before she could knock, as if he'd been expecting her. He was already packed. "I saw it," he said. He gave her a quick hug, then looked her straight in the eye before they headed to their ship. "We're not going to let him go," he promised.

"Solo's here?" Min Sakul looked incredulous. "I was beginning to think he didn't actually exist anymore."

Pamich rolled her eyes at Min's exaggeration. "Heard it from the droid himself," she confirmed. There was general agreement among the Resistance ground staff that while Threepio was annoying as hell if you got him going, he could be quite useful for gossip purposes.

Lema looked up from her comms screen. "Good thing Antilles is still out on a mission," she clucked. "Can you imagine the two of them both on base?"

"I don't know, I think I'd pay to see a good Corellian showdown," Pamich said, with a bit of a mischievous smile.

"Watch them battle it out for the heart of General Organa? Yeah, okay," agreed Min. "Throw Dameron in there to make it really interesting."

Pamich was dubious. "Oh, come on. You know Poe hasn't done anything about that crush. And it's not like he's exactly hurting for potential suitors himself," she pointed out.

"Neither is Antilles. I mean, I personally would not kick him out of the bunk for eating crackers," Min said, getting a somewhat dreamy look on her face.

"You think the General will finally take pity on Poe?" Lema asked. "That poor, beautiful boy…."

Pamich was laughing at this line of conversation. "We better hope to hell the General doesn't hear any of this."

Lema looked around furtively to make sure General Organa wasn't in earshot, and lowered her voice. "Antilles is supposed to come back tomorrow night. If Solo stays long enough, maybe you'll get that Corellian showdown after all."

"You're welcome to take a look, see if there's any of your other things you want," Leia was saying, a little louder than strictly necessary, as she and Han walked toward her quarters.

"Come on in," she continued, sounding impatient and mildly put out. She ushered him in and shut the door behind them.

As soon as the door closed, they came together, Han pressing her up against the wall as they kissed. After a few minutes, they broke apart, and Han took a step back, giving Leia a slightly exasperated look.

"When did that ever help?" he quoted. "What in the nine hells was that? I think I may have helped. A few times." If he was joking about being offended, he was only half-joking.

Leia shook her head, running her hand over her face. "Sorry. I don't know what happened. I used to be better at fighting with you." Han gave a little laugh in response.

Contrary to popular opinion, Han and Leia did not actually fight very much. Mild bickering? Occasionally. Spirited discussions? Certainly. A little verbal banter? More than a little. But not actual fights.

People who thought they fought a lot tended to fall into one of two camps: people who knew them on Hoth and assumed their fighting there (which was genuine fighting, even if it had come from a place of romantic tension) continued to be typical of their interactions; and people who characterized anything involving a discussion or a raised voice as a "fight." The latter group of people also tended to think of Leia as an unusually angry person, so neither Han nor Leia gave them a lot of credence in their thoughts.

Han continued giving her grief over their conversation in the briefing room. "And don't say the Death Star? First of all, that was two Death Stars, thank you very much. And second—Sweetheart, that was pretty hard up," he said.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Just so we're clear—are we having a real argument about our fake argument now?" she asked.

He grinned and relaxed his stance a bit. "Nah. I'm just sayin'— you used to be a lot better at this pretending thing."

She shrugged. "I don't know. Guess I'm just not very good at pretending with you," she reasoned, drawing closer to him and putting her hands at his waist. "I usually don't have to pretend with you."

He put his arms around her and kissed her forehead. "I know. I'm not great at it either."

Then he remembered something he'd said that he already regretted. "Leia—I'm sorry. That Vader thing. I didn't mean that."

They had been talking about Ben out in the open, which wasn't a normal thing for them (and why that had slipped out), but that was no excuse as far as Han was concerned. Saying that Ben had too much Vader in him, frankly, was like saying that Leia had too much Vader in her, and that somehow their son's homicidal rampages and fascist allegiances were her fault.

Leia was quiet. "There might be some truth to that," she said.

"No, Leia. No," he said firmly. "It's not true." He was cursing himself a little. "That was like something the damn holos would say."

Following the massacre, the holos had had a near-obsessive need to come up with theories explaining why Ben had done it— theories that tended to blame Leia, or Han, or Luke, or all three. (And curiously, rarely Ben himself.) But most often the blame was put on Leia. If only she'd provided a better home life, hadn't spent so much time on her diplomatic and political career. She'd been away too much, and Ben had been neglected. Ben had gone ballistic because she'd kept her parentage from him and he'd learned about it from the holos (which was patently untrue; as Han said, "We had the Vader talk before we had the sex talk"). Ben had felt unsafe because she and Han had a tempestuous relationship and a shaky marriage. They hadn't understood him, had abused him, had rejected him. They shouldn't have let him be trained as a Jedi in the first place, because of the Vader thing. They should've sent him for training earlier, because of the Vader thing. It seemed that they were doomed to fail him.

"Still," Leia began. She looked up at Han. "I've been struggling," she admitted. "I've been so focused on getting Ben back, I haven't really figured out…what happens if we actually manage to do it."

Han nodded. "Yeah. Not really a good model for this, is there?"

Leia thought for a moment, then spoke tentatively. "When Bria…came back. She made some amends?"

Bria Tharen was the woman Han had loved years before he'd met Leia. At one point, Bria had been addicted to glitterstim, and Han had been there for her when she'd gotten clean. Addiction seemed the closest possible metaphor for what had happened to Ben, for why he seemed to have become such a different person, so Leia had been thinking of Bria a lot over the last several years.

"She did," Han said slowly. "But Bria didn't murder a bunch of students and then throw in with the fascists, either."

"Or torture people," Leia added, shuddering a bit.

"Or that," Han agreed. The Bria comparison broke down a bit at this point. "All right, tell me this. If Anakin Skywalker had lived for longer than like 20 minutes or whatever after he turned back, what would you have wanted for him?"

Leia snorted. "At the time? To kill him, and then revive him and kill him again. Maybe several times."

Han gave her a look. Very funny, Princess. He wasn't normally the serious one in these conversations.

"Okay," she conceded. "He'd have to stand for his crimes. Just like the rest of the Imperials did. If he was really back in the light, he would have accepted whatever punishment he got."

"Guess that's our answer, then," Han mused.

"I know it'll never really be the same," Leia said quietly. "But I still want Ben back."

He wrapped his arms around her again and held her close. "I know. I do, too." He remembered something, and gave her a questioning look. "You weren't serious about me going after him, right? We've gotta find Luke first."

"No, I did mean that part," Leia said. She pulled back and looked into Han's eyes. "You know, one of the reasons I love you is that with you, I get to be...me. And you've always treated me that way." She gave him a gentle smile. "I think— if Ben is going to come back to the light, we have to reach the part in him that is Ben. Not the Jedi. The person. The boy who used to fix the Falcon with you, who wanted to fly with you and Chewie when he grew up. If he's going to give up that power…he needs to know that he's still someone without it."

Han nodded. That made a lot of sense, not that he was any kind of expert in redeeming Sith lords or anything. "Alright. I'll try—I mean, I'll do what I can." Han knew the Jedi were not fans of the word "try."

"Try is just fine, Han," Leia said softly.

Han suddenly felt the need to lighten the mood. Who knew what could happen on this mission, or whether they'd be able to stop Starkiller before it wiped out the whole blasted system and the Resistance with it. He'd be damned if their last private moments together would be spent brooding.

"So," he said with a smirk, "you wanna tell me some of the other reasons you love me?"

"Hmm," Leia said, pulling close to him again. "Well, of course, your sparkling wit. Your vests."

Han laughed. "My vests?"

"They grew on me," she shrugged.

"Gonna have to start wearin' those again. How 'bout my dashing good looks?"

"Of course." She pretended to think about it. "Your junky ship that flies faster than most of my fleet," she added.

"Just most of the fleet?" Han was mock-offended. "Well, just wait till I work on her a little bit more." He placed a kiss behind her ear. "How about—" He proceeded to whisper to her some particularly salacious thoughts he'd been having, and she gave a delighted little hum in response to his suggestions. They started kissing again in earnest.

Leia stopped him after several minutes, although it didn't seem like she wanted to. "Han. Wait. We're supposed to be having a reluctant reunion here. That doesn't work if someone hears us."

He kissed her again, then his breath was hot against her ear. "Maybe we're not getting back together. Maybe you're just usin' me for sex," he purred.

She closed her eyes and tried to suppress a moan. And failed. "I don't know that we have time for you to be that useful," she managed.

"I can be quick."

"Quick isn't exactly a selling point. I wouldn't lead with that."

"Look, do you wanna get laid or not?"

Leia collapsed into him, and they began laughing at each other, in spite of themselves.

"Well, when you put it that way…" Leia said, still laughing. She paused. "Is it weird that I kind of do want to now?" Han shook his head, smiling, and pulled her into another kiss.

Afterward, Leia handed him the winter coat that had been their excuse for entering her quarters together. "Go," she said. "Don't leave Chewie and Finn to do everything by themselves. I'll be out in a bit to give you an official sendoff. We can have another awkward conversation."

"Hmm," Han said, as if he were considering something carefully. Leia gave him a quizzical look.

He smiled back at her. "So," he said playfully, "what's the word on the base? You think the General and the Scoundrel will get back together?"

She smiled. "Well, I know how you feel about odds," she said, "but I have it on good authority that the General is still carrying a torch for him. So I'd say, chances are…pretty good."

He said nothing, but smiled and gave her another quick kiss before heading to the door. He stopped again for a second.

"Leia." She turned toward him. "We can stop pretending after this, right?"

"Yes. You're coming home. And we're getting our family back together."

'Cause of you
I forgot the smart ways to lie
Because of you
I'm running out of reasons to cry
When the friends are gone
When the party's over
We will still belong
To each other...

-"Underneath Your Clothes," Shakira