AN: Again, sorry. Life seems to be getting in the way. I promise I will finish this. Just bear with me. :) If you read, please review. :)
Leia took a moment to compose herself before she keyed the door to their apartment open. Alcohol always had a way of making her rather giddy. And while she didn't necessarily want that snippet of information widely passed around, it did serve as a good excuse to behave exactly the way she wanted to within the privacy of her own home.
The door opened quickly and she strode through, with slightly more grace and drama than she could have anticipated. Without kicking her shoes off, she sashayed past the darkened livingroom; tossing her shawl over the back of the nearest chair as she passed, clutching the silky evening bag under her arm.
The stairway leading to their bedroom was dark; not lit in the typical fashion, which was disappointing, but not totally unusual. It most likely meant Han was in his office, ordering some obscure – and illegal – part for the Falcon.
She made it as far as Jaina's bedroom door before her comm went off. Desperately trying to silence it, she back-stepped into the light of the kitchen doorframe.
The tiny bright blue screen flashed at her, she squinted - trying to focus.
Luke.
"Seriously?" she muttered to the offending blinking light. She toyed with the idea of answering only to tell him to go away. Luke may have nothing better to do then sit around and ponder the mysteries of the Jedi, but she did.
And she was going to find him.
Shaking her head and letting out an exaggerated sigh, Leia hit Silence and tossed the still blinking object over her shoulder into the livingroom – not at all caring where it landed – and started past the children's rooms again. She touched each one of them lightly, letting their calm and quiet wash over her, feeling any irritation from Luke's impromptu call slip away.
She came to a halt in front of Han's office and without knocking, let herself in.
There she found him, his back to her, seated in one of the large leather chairs; the floor around him scattered with data cards, flimsies and pictures.
Memories.
Everywhere.
Some his, some hers. Some theirs.
A tumbler of amber liquid sat forgotten on the desk, ice long since melted, tiny droplets of condensation creeping slowly down towards the glass surface.
Stepping in from the carpeted hallway, heels clicking on the gleaming wooden floor; announcing her presence.
Han straightened and turned, staring at her silently. He watched as she moved towards him, placing her bag on the desk as she past.
Picking her way, carefully, across the battleground of memorabilia he had all but devoured that evening.
Tokens of their life together – lay surrounding him like an asteroid field. Evidence of an existence he didn't yet have. A family he hadn't yet created with a woman he didn't yet deserve.
She came to an abrupt stop in front of him; eyes slightly glassy, feet placed slightly wider then necessary and smiled.
"General." She exhaled slowly, twirling his title over her tongue expertly, as if this was a game, and she a frequent player.
"Princess." His answer was husky, rough. His mind fogged, everything fading around him until she was his only focal point.
He gazed at her for several moments, wildly trying to commit her to memory. Desperate to not awaken from this dream. Frantic not to forget, to not move on from here, terrified to not remember her, remember them.
"You look as though you have had a good night." Her voice reached out, cutting through the fog towards him, snapping him back.
"So do you." He recovered, flashing her a grin.
"I have. But, I am willing to wager it is about to get better." She replied, lifting an eyebrow in challenge.
Han stood - data cards falling to the floor, forgotten and now, unimportant - reaching out, circling her waist, hands resting tightly around her.
"So am I." He breathed and bent to kiss her.