A.N.: Well, it's been two weeks but here it is. I'm not sure how I feel about how it turned out, but I think it accomplishes what I need, so . . . Sorry.
Leia had gotten a better night of sleep when Han had forgotten to leave her bed. Not that she'd ever admit that to him. She woke up early, just as the sun was starting to come through the room's viewport. The moment Leia was thinking clearly, disentangled from the confusing throes of slumber, her mind was back on Han and their "discussion" from the day before. The week thus far had been a blur of jumbled feelings. Like an impossible knot, Leia couldn't sort out every emotion she was feeling and what each one individually meant. It was all Skyriiwook to her; she understood not a thing. Until last night's big reveals.
Han's frantic concern had slammed down on Leia like an unexpected slap to the face. Except it was a good surprise. Whenever she thought back to the previous day's words, she first felt alarmed, maybe a bit afraid, but she couldn't ignore the odd jubilation sweeping over her in response to this new revelation. Leia felt it safe enough to decipher Han's responses as positive to her own accusations.
He cared about her.
That simple, plain statement reverberated in Leia's mind, echoing like the pleasant song of a Felucian bird. Its trilling tune was stuck in her head, but Leia didn't mind its eternal presence there. It warmed her to her core- her core which she protected with thick, defensive walls, blocking off, preventing access. But Han had managed to slip past her defenses. Now, however, he seemed to be retreating. The problem with that was simple: Leia didn't want him to.
She hated this game they played. She hated the endless cycle, of going through the same routine performance. Scruffy-looking nerf herder, ignorant self-obsessed nexu trainer. Over and over again, it was the same thing. One leap forward, five steps back. Do you care about me? Do you love me? And then he was gone, this time retreating from her. Usually, it went the other way. This small variation in things was not enough to please Leia. They always got so close, one of them reaching out, their fingertips brushing against something spectacularly new and amazing in the scariest yet most delightful way. Their touch would graze the surface, sending ripples across the pool, showing insight to what they were about to grasp.
Then, just like that, it vanished from sight, throwing both of them back, so far away from each other. Leia felt as though, since the last few cycles, she'd been thrown too hard and now she was suffering from the whiplash. Finally, she was trying to put an end to the game, but Han was still shaking the table no matter how loud she yelled out. It frustrated her to tears. She wanted to ask why he always did this to her, but he didn't always do this. It was usually her. Now, however, Leia understood what it felt like to be standing on the other side when the iron curtain came down. It hurt like she hadn't been expecting.
She had never thought that Han could hurt her like this. It made her confront her vulnerabilities and Leia Organa did not like being vulnerable let alone admitting that she was vulnerable and seeing those holes in herself. She was supposed to be strong, impassive, untouchable; but Han had found ways to touch her, finding her gaping holes and thrusting his hands in. It terrified her when he did this, leaving her so exposed like she'd never covered herself in the first place. But she always did and he always got through anyway.
While this way of his had always dismayed her, Leia now found herself wondering . . . how bad was it, really?
She supposed it wasn't so awful being around him. She could tolerate running missions with him for the Alliance. She'd even gotten used to being stuck on the Falcon for extended periods of time, as long as a few weeks. Leia could handle his presence when he didn't mean any harm, those rare occasions when he was just there. It wasn't so awful even when he was comforting her- okay, so the occasion had come up once or twice. Leia began to realize that she was dancing on a very fine line. She'd been exploring her way around, looking for the line. Now, she'd found the line and the question came into being if Leia wanted to see what lay on the other side.
This side- wasn't so bad. Throughout their time on Corellia so far, Han really had been nothing but generous, showing his care and concern which was seemingly a big stretch for him. And what had Leia done? She'd denied him. And now he had her questioning it.
How dare you do this to me, Solo! She cursed him, throwing an arm across her bed and smacking the mattress. The room was silent. There were no grizzly snores occupying her sleepy attention as they floated up from the floor. Leia didn't like silence. She recalled her room on Alderaan, home. For as long as she could remember, she'd never been able to sleep with silence. She'd always had this big, purple fan sitting on the nightstand, blowing noisy air across the room. Winter had hated it and begged Breha for her own room which she had been granted. That had been an adjustment; Leia hadn't liked sleeping by herself either, but she'd grown up and gotten over it. She was an adult and she could handle a night by herself. But kriffing Han Solo was getting to her, setting off her nerves, sending weird messages to her brain, and had her questioning too much to reprocess. Her brain seemed to be warning her, overload . . . overload . . . overload. Leia silently yelled back, I can't help it!
Great. This was just what she needed- a head full of Han Solo. Like that annoying song that made everyone turn off their holo frequencies when it played. Except, Leia's dial seemed to be broken, so it was still stuck on this insufferable song. Sorry, Princess. Your Worship, Worshipfulness, Highnessness, sweetheart.
How dare you, Han Solo. How dare you render me defenseless. How dare you find your way in. How dare you make me feel bad.
Still, her unanswered question remained near the forefront of her mind. Her and Han's relationship had always been their own special kind of complicated, but it hadn't occurred to Leia that Han's feelings went a little beyond what she'd ever thought. She had now established that Han did in fact care about her; really, Leia had already known that, thought maybe not to what degree. But now there was a new question to ponder and interpret: did Han love her? Part of her regretted that she'd asked. Did she really want to know? Did she really care? Yes, she did. Much more than she wanted to.
The last thing Han had wanted to do was let Chewie get wind of anything that had been exchanged between him and Leia in the past week. Therefore, the wookiee was not to hear a thing about today's "exchange" which meant that Han couldn't wake him up. Which meant that just to play things on the safer side, Han didn't go into the Falcon. He rested outside, close to the hull. The cold night air nipped at his skin, but he tried to ignore it. But the little insects of the night were out chirping, whistling, taking full advantage of night's calm silence. Han hated insects, big or small, and he especially hated them when they interrupted his sleep.
Grumbling about the cold and the noise, Han sat on the hard paved ground with a flask of Corellian spiced ale (not his favorite, but he wasn't in the mood to enjoy alcohol). Of course, he knew that all these little things didn't bother him that much. While they all truly irritated him, they were more of distractions for the moment. The one thing that was really bothering Han Solo was Leia Organa.
She was completely reckless, stubborn. First, her idiotic recklessness had nearly killed her on Hoth, forcing Han to have to come after her and save her skin before she tried dying a martyr in an ice cave that no one would ever want to dig through just to her find her body. So, he'd been taken her with him to escape the ice ball and now they were stuck together. Or, really, Leia had nowhere else to go. Now, she had to pick a fight about everything. Why couldn't she just let the subject drop? What did you say, Han? Why did you say that? What do you mean? She just had to pick and pick and demand and fight about everything!
He threw back his head to take a long swig of his ale, then dragged his hand down his face with a longer sigh. He hadn't wanted to leave Corellia- it was too nice being back, but it was reckless to stay. Even if the bugs hadn't picked up their trail, why wasn't Leia all for staying on the safe side? He didn't want to stay here if there was a chance that he'd put her in harm's way. What was her deal?
And then she'd had to press.
Did Han care about her? Well, even he couldn't deny that much anymore. Maybe that had been the driving force that had made him stay on Hoth that long. Maybe that was what had kept Han from leave the Alliance. He tried to tell himself that it was only because she was so reckless, he really didn't want to see her get hurt and- with the path she was running- she should already be dead. Han didn't think that he needed to protect her because he understood very well that Leia could hold her , he just thought that she needed rescuing from herself.
On cue, the quiet rustle of light footsteps broke through his thoughts. He looked up to see her coming. She was dressed in her pajamas, a light robe pulled tight around her. She hugged her waist with cold, her jaw chattering. She had the courage to hold his gaze as she approached; it bore no iciness but was soft and gentle. "Mind if I join you?" she asked.
"What do you want?"
She frowned, appearing to be hurt by Han's first words to her. "I think we need to talk."
Han threw out an arm to indicate the hotel. "We just were talking. Whaddya' want to talk about now? Huh? Why don't we talk about you?"
"I'm sorry, Han."
He laughed shortly, his tone devoid of all humor. "Yeah, I bet you are."
"I really am."
Han stumbled to his feet, glowering at her as he pushed past. "Well, I think it's a little too late for that, sweetheart.
"Look, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but I can't apologize for anything more than that because-"
"Because what? Because you yelled at me until I started spilling out my deepest, darkest, sweetest secrets? Sorry if I got upset, but no one sent me the invitation to the sleepover before arriving."
Leia forced back the sigh she was about to utter. Crossing her arms over her chest, she shot back, "You think I want to be stuck here with you?" She shook her head. "You know, you make it so difficult sometimes."
"Well, I'm so sorry I'm not the smooth-around-the-edges, devoted general you're looking for."
"And I'm so sorry that I forced you to stay around. Next time, I'd suggest you listen to your own twisted conscience and run away while you still can. Be careful! I might force you to stay."
"Hmph! I'm gonna' leave and you're going to miss me when I'm gone. But I'll be far, far-"
"If you were actually going to leave, we wouldn't be here."
"Well, ain't that just too bad? I'm sure you would much prefer to be dead on that kriffing ball of ice."
Leia was about to object with 'no one asked you to stay', but quickly remembered that that was very inaccurate and she herself had asked him to stay. In fact, she'd begged him to stay. And Han had come back for her.
Do you care about me?
Yeah. I do, Princess.
Leia's stomach was tying itself into knots and she was starting to feel sick, so sick. She was so tired of this. The endless cycle, the same banter, and for all the same reasons- something neither of them could fully grasp. Leia could feel her fingertips grazing the surface once again, the cycle reaching its height before its dramatic fall. She was so sick of the cycle. "Tell me when you and Chewie get repairs done," she spat at him, her voice icier than Han had ever heard it. "Then, you can finally leave just like you want."
