General.
Leia was having a difficult time connecting the rank to the man sitting at her side. She wasn't used to her brain failing her, and this was one critical juncture where she could really use a coherent thought.
"My team's ready. I don't have a command crew for the shuttle."
But no. Her brain was a panicky spiral of flattery, love, confusion and suspicion. And while this man, this wonderful, infuriating man, had always inspired a storm in her head, the circumstances were completely unprecedented.
Chewie growled, something like: You'd last five seconds if I didn't go with you.
A general. He'd committed. After three years, after Yavin, Ord Mantell, Hoth, Bespin, he'd finally agreed to join. And, beyond that, he'd accepted a commission.
General Solo.
"That's one," Han said, and her brain snapped into focus, the correct lens shifting into place. He was leading the ground command on the moon. He needed a command crew for the shuttle. It was dangerous and she was absolutely qualified to help.
"General," she said, relishing the title. He looked at her and she wondered what on earth he was thinking. "Count me in."
The secret part of her, the one with emotions, wanted to bend this into some sort of demonstration of his commitment to her, as if signing a commission to lead her Alliance into battle was a nice gesture of his intentions. That seemed ridiculous. This was war and he was Han Solo.
Still. Part of her knew this had something to do with her.
Ten minutes later, briefing concluded and all but High Command excused, Leia followed Han out of the theatre. Chewie growled about the Falcon and Leia crept between him and Han to turn in the opposite direction. "General?" she said, and then turned to look at him. "A word, please?"
Han eyed her, then shot a grin to the Wookiee. "Duty calls, pal. I'll be there in a few."
Chewie whuffed in amusement, then turned and lumbered away. Leia resumed her steady march down the corridors of Home One, heart fluttering in her chest but maintaining her cool exterior. Within moments they approached the hatch to her temporary office and then, suddenly, they were alone in harsh lights and a barren room.
Leia turned around to face him. "General," she said. "Certainly took you look enough."
His expression didn't change. "Got a little sidetracked for a while there," he said. "Would have happened sooner without my layover on that infernal dustball."
Sooner. Leia's chest felt tight. "Is that so?"
A slow smile drew up the side of his mouth. Leia had the strongest urge to kiss him. "Yeah," he said and stepped close to her. "Turns out you guys need leaders with some brains in their heads."
Her words from a year ago, before Hoth. Before he'd kissed her, before they'd slept together, before she'd told him she loved him. Twice. She nodded. "We do."
"Well, then," he said, and put his hands on her hips. "Seemed like an easy enough thing to do."
Leia closed her eyes, a little overwhelmed. She knew next to nothing about Han's past, but she knew plenty about the kind of man he was. Actions spoke much louder than words for him. So while she may have said the words, he was trying, in his own oblique way, to repeat them back to her. "Thank you," she whispered, opening her eyes and looking up at him.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close and rested his chin on top of her head. "Sweetheart, don't thank me yet. I may be shit at this."
She laughed quietly, still tucked into him. "You won't be," she said. "And when you're brilliant at it, I'll be there to rub it in your face."