a/n: i really like the first part of this chapter with Chewie and then Mon Mothma. so I hope y'all like it too!
Ten
It was evening on Coruscant, and Leia was restless. She stood just inside the open door that led onto the apartment's balcony, listening to the hustle and bustle of traffic in the distance. Her fingers twisted idly in a strand of hair, and she narrowed her eyes. She'd run out of things to do; things to distract her. The significance of tomorrow was dawning on her brighter and brighter, even as the planetary sun set on tonight.
From behind her came a soft grumble, and she turned slightly, lifting her chin.
"I'm not hungry," she answered.
[I'm going to make dinner anyway.] Chewbacca answered pointedly. [And you'll eat it.]
She sighed.
"My stomach is in knots, Chewie," she murmured.
[I don't care.] He snuffled. [Han will kill me if you look half-starved when he gets back.]
Leia laughed, turning back to stare outside again. Her hands paused in her hair.
"I think you could take Han," she answered lightly.
[I don't want to have to take him.] Chewbacca snorted. [Conflicts with the parameters of the Life Debt.]
She smiled, untangling her fingers from her hair and crossing her arms.
"It would be an even match."
[Even? I'd win, easily.]
"Ah, but what about the Life Debt conflict," she retorted.
[Hmm. I'd subdue, then. Rip his arms off, to keep him from killing me.]
"I like Han's arms."
[What part would you like me to rip off, Princess?]
She turned around, grinning.
"His mouth," she teased.
Chewbacca growled at her suggestively and she shook her head, compressing her lips. She eyed him a moment, and then sighed.
"Oh, alright," she acquiesced. "I'll eat something."
He gave a soft roar of approval and ambled off into the kitchen – and she had to admit, as nervous as her gut was, it was hard to turn down Chewbacca's cooking. Particularly if he was going to do something with meat. Chewbacca was charmingly annoying about making sure she ate, and for once, she was sure it wasn't on orders from Han. Han only noticed about fifty percent of the time when she didn't eat; Chewbacca, somewhat more obsessed with food than the average human, always noticed.
She stepped away from the open door, leaving it as it was to allow fresh air into the apartment, and turned to the couch, where she'd laid out a few choice outfits from her closet. She felt silly for spending so much time debating over something as trivial as clothing, but then again, she had to occupy her mind with something other than utter panic, and other emotions she couldn't define, and choosing appropriate attire for welcoming long lost survivors of her planet was at least somewhat difficult and thus distracting.
Chewie started to warble off a song in Shriywook in the kitchen, and she smiled to herself, infinitely comforted by his presence. She had been broken of the habit of sleeping on the Falcon due to an emergency one morning; Mon Mothma hadn't been able to find her, and it was after Luke had set off with General Dodonna, so he couldn't help, Rieekan had been on the other side of Coruscant, so Mon Mothma had gone into a bit of a panic until Leia showed up at her office with no idea they'd been looking for her at her apartment. Chewbacca chose to stay over at her place instead, and even if it wasn't the same, it was different than being alone.
She supposed one of the most frightening things about all of this was coming to terms with how fragile she was when the people she relied on weren't around – without the constant movement of war and then reconstruction, she was more dependent than she realized, and she wasn't too willing to confront it.
She leaned forward to run the fabric of a red dress through her fingers once more when the door chime rang. Leia turned quizzically – it wasn't too late, but she also wasn't expecting anyone, and visitors usually commed before stopping by. She abandoned the clothing and went to the door.
"No, I've got it, Chewie," she answered his inquiry from the kitchen.
He stopped his singing, and she placed her palm on the reader for the door, unlocking it and bidding it slide open. She arched her brows in light surprise – she found herself looking at Mon Mothma. Her last meeting of the day had been with the Chief of State and everything had been in order; she suddenly felt a sense of dread grip her – an unexpected personal visit, after hours – and Mon was in casual clothing, meaning she had been at home, or she hadn't had time to get dressed again –
"Evening, Leia," she began, and then paused, concern filling her eyes. "Leia, everything's fine," she said quickly.
Leia flushed slightly – evidently her more pessimistic assumptions had reflected on her face.
"I didn't intend to alarm you," Mon Mothma continued. She raised a data pad in her hand. "Actually, I have – good news."
A smile broke across the Chief of State's face, and to Leia's surprise she looked – she looked damn near giddy, and for a woman as composed and elegant as Mon Mothma, that was intriguing. Leia stepped back and waved her hand in welcome.
"Come in," she murmured.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you," Mon Mothma said, crossing the threshold. Leia shut the door behind her, and shook her head, moving forward and gesturing Mon Mothma into the living room.
"No, hardly," Leia answered a little edgily. "Everyone I entertain personally is off planet," she reminded her.
"Ah," Mon Mothma said. "I think you'll enjoy – "
She was interrupted by Chewbacca's appearance. He peered at her, and then roared a greeting, with an added curious aside to Leia.
"He says hello," Leia translated unnecessarily – nearly everyone got the gist of a Wookiee hello. She smiled slightly, and shook her head at him. "Han's okay," she answered.
Chewbacca nodded, and tilted his head, lifting his hand and gesturing wildly.
Mon Mothma considered him politely, and then turned to Leia with a slight flush; she had never been able to pick up a lick of the Wookiee's native language. Leia was prompt with her translation.
"He's offering you dinner," she supplied. "He's cooking – you are welcome," she added, for herself. "Chewie's used to cooking for Wookiees. There's always an ungodly amount of food."
Mon Mothma smiled, but declined with a shake of her head.
"I'm afraid I have late dinner plans," she said, giving a gentle nod to Chewbacca. "Thank you for your invite, Chewie."
He shrugged and returned to the kitchen.
"I apologize again – I had thought you were alone," she said again.
Leia arched a brow.
"Well, it's not as if you're interrupting anything intimate," she said dryly. "I don't know how far the holo reporters have gone with their salacious stories, but – "
"Princess," Mon Mothma interrupted, with an amused laugh.
"I'm sorry," Leia said insincerely. "I seem destined to scandalize you these days."
Mon Mothma compressed her lips with a sigh, and turned to glance around the living area – she hadn't visited Leia's new quarters since the New Republic had really had a chance to settle down on Coruscant. The place was upscale, but much less grand than Mon Mothma had expected – in other words, it wasn't the penthouse, and it wasn't lavishly decorated. The Chief of State found herself charmed by the simplicity, but put off, as well – so much about Leia these days seemed to indicate she was forgetting where she came from.
"Let me move something so you can sit," Leia murmured, sparing a wary glance for the data pad as she moved past Mon Mothma.
She gathered a red dress, a pale blue dress, and a green silk ensemble and laid them closer together so they wouldn't be wrinkled, and she grabbed a pair of boots and a vest from the armchair – they were Han's, and she hadn't bothered to move them since he left. She also hadn't bothered to pick up anything he'd left on the floor in their bedroom, but she didn't intend to regale Mon Mothma with those details.
She folded the vest, sat down on the edge of the armchair, and waited for her companion to sit as well. After a moment of looking with interest at the dresses, Mon Mothma sat, and balanced her data pad on her knees.
"You say you have – good news?" Leia asked hesitantly.
Mon Mothma handed her the data pad.
"Jan paged in with confirmation that they're starting their final approach to Coruscant, for a landing tomorrow morning," she said eagerly. "He – he felt that since they're so close, and the press has some idea of what's going on, he'd send this along – encrypted."
Leia took the data pad, lighting it up and scanning the file. She looked up quickly – up to this point, they'd only had quick confirmation from General Dodonna that the stranded ship had been abandoned, its occupants safely secured on the military transport, and that he and Han were on their way back to Coruscant with Alderaanian survivors.
They hadn't yet confirmed who they had –
"It's a roster of the passengers," Mon Mothma said, her eyes shining with excitement. "Jan said Luke and General Solo compiled the list and verified identities, and General Solo persuaded Jan to send it along."
Leia's mouth felt dry as she looked down at the black print, the shimmering names on the screen before her – a ship manifest that, miraculously, undeniably, really, began with the name Viceroy Bail Prestor Organa.
She put her hand to her lips, scanning down slowly, taking it in – the survivors were listed by rank, up to a certain point; her heart plummeted when she didn't see her mother's name, lifted again when she saw Rouge Organa's, and she couldn't help but exclaim –
"Winter!" she gasped, noting her foster sister's name. The image swam for a moment, and she blinked back tears. "Winter," she murmured, looking up in shock. "And – Stavnist Rieekan, that's Carlist's…?"
"His brother," Mon Mothma confirmed.
Leia swallowed hard.
"I don't see – no, I don't suppose his wife would," she murmured to herself, her words disjointed – no other Rieekans, so Carlist would suffer the loss of his wife and three young sons all over again – but to at least see his brother, and take solace in that – "And Aunt Rouge," she added, shaking her head. "But – yes, she was always the more adventurous," she whispered.
Mon Mothma leaned forward, reaching out to touch Leia's knee gently.
"I know Breha isn't on the list," she said softly.
Leia didn't look up right away.
"I'm sure you had hoped – "
Leia waved her hand, clenching her teeth for a moment. When she mourned her mother again, she'd like it to be with Han – or – Gods, she couldn't believe she was even thinking it, but – with her father.
"It's to be expected," she admitted quietly. "Alderaan couldn't be without both of its rulers at a time like that, and Father was the soldier, not Mother."
She spoke almost to herself, reading further – two linguists were present, two cabinet ministers; so many others were merely crew members of the ship or names that were vaguely familiar to Leia due to their Rebellion sympathies. She closed her eyes tightly, and rested the data pad on her knees, her hand hovering over it reverently. She shook her head, meeting Mon Mothma's gaze after a long, silent moment.
"He's alive," she said, unsure if she could believe it even now, with his name in front of her – even with Dodonna and Han and Luke, all of them, swearing to her they were about to bring him back into her life.
"I never dreamed anything like this," Mon Mothma agreed with wonder, her eyes bright – and suddenly, Leia remembered how very close Mon Mothma and her father had been; they'd seen the galaxy through the decay of the Galactic Republic and the brutality of the Empire, and even if Mon Mothma hadn't been introduced to Leia until she was much older, she'd been a part of Bail's life for so long.
Leia just looked back down at the list of names.
"Winter," she said again.
It had not occurred to her to imagine anyone but her father, once given the original distress signal and the state ship; she had spent so much time refusing to acknowledge the possibility of all this that she hadn't devoted time to thinking about who else could be there. To see that Winter Retrac was alive – her closest friend, her confidant – it almost felt more exhilarating than having her father back. After all, children were supposed to lose their parents eventually, but it had been so long since Leia had a true friend by her side – at least, a friend who had known her from childhood, who knew her back then.
She handed the datapad back to Mon Mothma quickly, licking her lips.
"It's this tangible thing in my hands, but it doesn't feel real," she said softly.
"I understand," Mon Mothma replied. "I can't – truly emphasize," she admitted. "I've never known the devastation of losing a planet. I can't imagine – but Carlist said the same thing, that it still feels hypothetical, almost."
"Like I won't be able to react until I see him," Leia added in a small voice.
Mon Mothma nodded, tucking the datapad against her chest thoughtfully.
Leia sat back some, turning her head. Wind from the balcony whipped her loose hair around lightly, and she swallowed, pressing her tongue against her teeth as she ordered her thoughts – the millions of things she'd been trying to keep compartmentalized for the past few weeks threatened to overtake her, and she felt dizzy for a moment. The moment passed, and she let out a breath slowly – it was frightening how uncertain she felt, how wary; amidst the burgeoning relief, hope, and excitement, was an unfamiliar dread of facing her father – and despite what anyone might say in the future, it had nothing to do with Han, and her relationship with him.
She had few qualms about introducing her father to Han, and the concept of herself and Han. Either he would like Han, or he wouldn't, and if he didn't, he'd have to get used to it. No, it was everything else she had endured and discovered since Bail's death; it was everything from Ben Kenobi to Anakin Skywalker.
There were things she had resigned herself to never knowing, and she'd learned to live with the conflicting guilt she harbored over feeling angry with her late adoptive father – but now he was alive, and it called into question so many unexpected reactions, so many questions: was she relieved, or was she itching to rage at him, to dress him down for everything he hadn't told her when he crowned her Rebel Princess?
Han had really nailed her conflict when he asked her if she thought her father wouldn't love her anymore – no, it wasn't that as much as it was her endless struggle with making peace with a past she didn't understand and a man who was too dead to give her answers and to justify the way he'd raised her.
It had always troubled her that, after Luke's revelations about Vader, some of her emotions had been directed at Bail Organa – she'd felt betrayed, abandoned, disrespected; now he was traveling towards her, very much alive, no doubt full of answers, and she was so afraid of all that had happened to her in five years, and what he'd think of her, and how much of it might be his fault.
She swallowed hard, and turned her head, shaken from her thoughts.
"Mmhmm?" she murmured at Mon Mothma, her cheeks flushing.
"I asked if you had run into trouble selecting an outfit," the other woman asked calmly. She gestured. "These are quite beautiful."
Leia looked at the clothing, seizing fiercely on an opportunity to silence her turmoil, and she nodded, shifting in the chair so she faced the outfits more clearly.
"Did we ultimately decide ban the press?" she asked.
"Not entirely," Mon Mothma answered. "It's not an open event – we've decided Bail can lead a press conference when he's ready, after he's debriefed," she said. "But we are allowing the three most reputable stations to send media, in order to confirm the press releases we've circulated."
Since sending off General Dodonna, Mon Mothma and Leia, along with others in the government, had begun slowly teasing information until finally, a succinct press release had been sent out that indicated survivors of an unspecified imperial disaster had been rescued by General Solo on a covert mission. It answered the fervent questions about where Leia's absent lover was, and it stoked interest; Threkin Horm had made the announcement that survivors of Alderaan had been found, and the press was – well, they reacted about the same as Leia had.
Skeptically.
"Does the amount of press help determine the dress?" Mon Mothma asked, mildly amused.
Leia's lips quirked up.
"I'm favoring the red," she said, reaching out. "The cape is elegant," she murmured. The red dress was the colour of Coruscant's ruby clouds, and it emulated the ceremonial Alderaanian style she'd worn at the medal ceremony for the first Death Star.
"It's very…red," Mon Mothma said carefully.
Leia gave her a sharp look.
"What colour would you suggest?" she asked.
Mon Mothma arched an eyebrow.
"White," she answered, predictably.
Leia gave her a guarded look.
"I thought I established that I'm done with white," she said simply. "At least in the ceremonial regard."
"Leia, I think these survivors are going to find it difficult to adjust to this – wildly different world they're stepping into – "
"I think the last thing my father is going to notice when he sees me again is what colour I'm wearing," Leia interrupted. "At the very least, he'll assume you've done what you wanted to do and married me off to a strategic foreign dignitary," she pointed out.
"You're sure you aren't intending to make a bold statement right away that you aren't a little girl anymore?" Mon Mothma asked, a bit callously.
"Disorientation or not," Leia said shortly, "he'll hardly have expected me to freeze in time for five years – and Mon, he's not going to see me in a bright colour and immediately drop dead of shock. The first thing he says to me after five years is not going to be 'Ah, Leia, I notice you've been with a man.'"
Mon Mothma stared at her, and then smiled somewhat grudgingly.
"You've absorbed quite a sense of humor from the rank and file of the rebellion, haven't you?"
"I was the rank and file of the rebellion," Leia responded flatly. "Mon – you and the other former Alliance leadership members seem to think that the establishment of the New Republic means I'm going to return to the nineteen-year-old girl who elegantly shouted at Grand Moffs from the safety of the senate. You seem to think I've been longing for my place in the social hierarchy back."
"Leia – "
"Just let me finish. You look out for me, but you think I'd be relieved to recreate Alderaan and the system I was raised in. I'd do anything to give Alderaan back to my people, but nothing erases what happened in the trenches," she said firmly. "Darth Vader destroyed the false world I lived in, and then I found out he's my father," she went on dully. "There isn't any coming back from that. I won't ever be the same again. And I won't stand in front of my father tomorrow and pretend I came out of all this unscathed."
Mon Mothma swallowed hard, dipping her head respectfully.
"On that note," Leia said softly. "You might have considered that I wasn't choosing a dress for my father, but for Han."
Mon Mothma inclined her head again, and turned, clearing her throat as she looked at the options. She touched the green silk ensemble – it was comprised of loose, flowy trousers, a jumpsuit, really, and the top half left the shoulders and back exposed, with cut-outs placed around the midriff. Running her fingers over the buttery material, Mon Mothma sighed.
"At least don't wear this," she said quietly. "I see your side, Leia," she agreed heavily, her heart heavy – she'd never have wanted to see Leia damaged, and though she knew it was beyond her control now, part of her wondered if her heart really was with General Solo, or if she was just unable to move on from a youthful affair that made her feel safe. "I see your side, but I knew your father for many years, and he wanted what was best for you, always. I'm not talking about Han," she said, before Leia could snap at her, "I'm talking about the animosity I'm sure you're feeling. The first thing you asked me when we discussed Vader was if your father knew. I know this is conflicting for you."
Leia swallowed stiffly and looked at the green ensemble – she had been considering it, but she'd also questioned her confidence in wearing it.
"Han brought me that from Corellia," she said mildly, with an expression that indicated she processed what Mon Mothma said, but chose not to discuss it further. "I've never worn it."
"I can see why General Solo would buy this for you," Mon Mothma said dryly, turning her nose up slightly.
The Chief of State glanced at the vest folded behind Leia.
"So, he does live here?" she asked conversationally.
Leia nodded.
"You made him one of the highest ranking military officials in your new world order, Mon," Leia said intently, holding her gaze with a quiet challenge. "You respect him. If you could tell me why you think he doesn't deserve my affection, I would listen," she paused, studying the other woman critically. "But you can't, can you?"
Mon Mothma confirmed Leia's suspicions with her silence; she had no answer to give. She was stymied by the words, and she felt a flush of shame, suddenly. Was it aristocratic arrogance that bid her look down on Solo, was it cold political desire to use Leia as a diplomatic pawn? She wasn't sure, and she told herself to reflect upon it – but she did worry about Leia's well-being, and Leia was so young.
Leia had been so hurt by all of this, and she was really no more than a child when she was made a figurehead and a fugitive; the most significant soul-searching years of her life had been war and bloodshed, whereas General Solo had already enjoyed adolescence and early adulthood and all the privileges of it. Mon Mothma felt like she had valid concerns –
"You don't know him like I do," Leia said suddenly, quietly.
She was peering at Mon Mothma as if she could read her thoughts, and Mon Mothma drew back slightly, wary of it. She had never quite understood the Force, and she wondered if Leia might actually be reading her thoughts.
"He spent his time with the Alliance breaking rules and ignoring orders and I know you all think he almost got me killed on Bespin simply because he wanted to whisk me away on a joyride," she went on. "But you weren't there. Han is anything but careless about my life. Han cares more about my life than I do."
Mon Mothma had no chance to answer; she was cut off by a soft growl from the doorway. Chewie made his presence known, his large, warm eyes focused on Leia. She looked at him, and smiled wryly, giving him a small wink. She did not translate for her visitor, and after a moment, she straightened her shoulders, and looked expectantly at Mon Mothma.
"You're sure you don't want dinner?" she offered politely, though she did not particularly want the other woman to stay – it was hard for her to discuss her personal relationship; it had been hard enough for her to open up to Han in the first place.
But she – Leia – was the one who had decided to publicly remove all doubts about her availability, and that meant not only standing her ground, but defending it. She wouldn't allow Han to be vilified or looked down upon. Not now – not ever.
Mon Mothma understood that the offer was an empty one, and stood, her datapad tucked under her arm.
"I'll see you tomorrow morning, Leia," she said kindly, leaning forward to give her a quick peck on the cheek. She stepped back and smiled, almost nervously, her eyes shining again, and Leia squeezed her hand, nodding, taking a deep breath.
It was Chewbacca who escorted the Chief of State out while Leia turned back absently to the ensembles, her eyes narrowing with feigned concentration. She heard the door click shut, and she sat down heavily, doubling over. She put her head in her hands and rested her weight on her knees, closing her eyes tightly until she saw spots. After a moment, she felt a heavy paw rest gently on her head and start to massage her scalp. Chewbacca mumbled something in a deep growl, and she shook her head, lifting it, and turning to him.
She couldn't find the words to express how shaken she was; she only stared at him defenselessly, daunted by the prospect of tomorrow, unable to pretend any longer that what outfit to wear was the most pressing thing on her mind.
Leia chose to wear the blue dress. She felt it was a compromise. It was pale enough that its lightness perhaps mimicked the innocence of white, but it was still confidently coloured. She did her hair simply – as simply as Alderaanians got, that is – two thin ropes operating as headbands, and a loose, elegant plait that she pulled down over her shoulder. She spent the whole morning meticulously focusing on her appearance in order to avoid going into some kind of hyperactive shock.
She and Chewbacca met the delegation at the designated private docking bay, somewhat removed from the bustle of the deep inner city. It was large enough to accommodate Dodonna's military transport, but inconspicuous enough so that curious media wouldn't necessarily know exactly how to get there.
There were plenty of guards to keep uninvited press from crashing the party, anyway.
The welcoming party consisted of Mon Mothma, Carlist Rieekan, Admiral Akbar, three of Mon Mothma's assistant ministers of state – she had fifteen in total – two more generals of the Alliance, and every single Alderaanian who worked in the Embassy and desired to be there. In addition, there were four Holo reporters, none of whom had ever, in the past, stooped low enough to accost Leia with a personal question.
Yet.
They were supposed to be the most trustworthy and dignified, but she was skeptical of all reporters lately. These seemed highly unimpressed with the gathering – she sensed they believed this was all some kind of joke, or smokescreen, and she didn't blame them. That was also why she expected them to start honing in on her – a tangible story was more interesting than ships that may or may not show up carrying ghosts planets past.
"Morning, Your Highness," Threkin Horm greeted obsequiously, sitting atop his hovering chair in robes the colour of the Alderaanian flag.
Leia inclined her head, coming to stand at the head of the group with Chewbacca towering over her, looming threateningly by her said.
"The excitement in the air is electric, is it not?" Horm boomed.
Leia blinked at him guardedly.
"I think apprehension is a more appropriate word," she said finally, expressing very little excitement.
Chewbacca rumbled under his breath. He didn't like Horm anymore than Han did – or Leia, for that matter – but Leia touched his paw and shook her head slightly; no need to intimidate. Horm could be oily and pompous, but he was harmless to her. She could easily cow Horm without the Wookiee's help.
"It seems we owe your General Solo some thanks," Threkin oozed.
Leia inclined her head politely, spotting Rieekan coming towards her.
"I'll be sure to give it to him tonight," she said. She paused, and then smiled prettily. "Your thanks, that is," she clarified, after quite a substantial suggestive pause.
Threkin looked abashed for a moment, and Rieekan saved her from his reaction, taking her arm and essentially cutting Horm out of the conversation – he floated away on his suspended chair, and Chewbacca snuffled with quiet laughter.
[That was saucy, Little Princess.] He crooned at her.
She smiled a bit wryly, and clasped Rieekan's hand in hers.
"Your brother, Carlist," she began, without preamble.
He nodded earnestly, swallowing hard.
"And it was your father."
"So they say."
"And Winter," he said, knowing how much it meant to her.
Leia squeezed his hand in both of hers.
"I'm sorry about your wife – " she began, but he cut her off.
"There was no chance," he said. "But seeing any Alderaanians, any at all," he broke off, taking a deep breath. "This will be the brightest day I've seen since we destroyed the second Death Star."
Leia released his hand very gently.
"I think that's a lovely way to put it."
Rieekan smiled at her, and looked up at Chewbacca.
"How's it goin', Chewie?" he greeted, clasping the Wookiee's paw in greeting. "You ever been separated from Solo for this long before?" he snorted.
Chewbacca tilted his head, answered in a few light growls and snuffs. Rieekan lifted his brows, and then laughed, understanding most of it – at least the gist. He'd been diligent about picking up as much Shyriiwook as possible, as he considered Chewie such an integral part of their victory over the empire.
Chewbacca gestured to Leia and continued, and after squinting for a moment, Rieekan glanced at Leia and raised an eyebrow.
"He said I'm much easier to protect from death than Han," she translated, smirking slightly. She turned her head up. "Right, because I mope in his cabin all the time? Don't patronize me, Chewie," she threatened lightly.
Another stream of rumbling from Chewbacca, and she laughed outright. Rieekan watched them a moment, and then shook his head fondly – he hadn't really realized how close she'd gotten even to the Wookiee; but he supposed that made sense; Chewie was Han's best friend. It would be a pity if they didn't get along.
Rieekan turned to glance at the sky, and then looked back at Leia, folding his arms. He kept his back to the leadership and to the press, and he sighed, his jaw set for a moment. He rubbed his forehead, and then folded his arms –restless; anxious.
"I know the feeling," she murmured quietly.
He grunted, and nodded, his lips turning down in a frown.
"It almost seems sinister," he said uncertainly. "As if we've drawn them back from the dead."
"I suppose we have," she reflected softly.
She sighed, and lowered her eyes, brushing imaginary particles off her dress – it really was lovely, all shimmery Geonosian silk; it had a high colour, it bared her shoulders, except for the light cape she wore with it, it stopped just below her knee, and she wore it with silver heels. She studied herself a moment, and looked back up, pressing her lips together.
Suddenly, in a fit of nervousness, she felt lost; she blurted:
"Carlist, do you think he'll recognize me?"
She hated how juvenile she sounded; her voice was small, shaky, like a child's – she sounded insecure and worried, and she swallowed hard, clenching her teeth. Rieekan didn't seem to notice – if he did, he didn't mind – he turned to look at her, and rested his hand on her shoulder comfortingly.
"Yes, I think he will," he said simply.
She gave him a shaky, earnest smile.
But will he be proud?
"I think he'll be overwhelmed by what you've done for the world, Princess," Carlist added quietly.
She smiled at him more broadly; somehow, he'd read her mind – and not in the invasive, slightly disturbing way Luke sometimes did, but because he understood her, and he understood what it was like to go through this – at least, some of it. The very unique trauma of finding out everyone wasn't dead so many years after the wound had started to heal.
"You know what's mad?" Leia asked faintly, not waiting for an answer. "I'm standing here more eager to see Han."
Rieekan chuckled softly, and said nothing to judge or question her for that, and Chewbacca raised his paw, pointing at the path of approach. Leia followed his paw, and noticed a speck getting bigger – in moments; the original scout ship came into view and made an easy descent towards the platform. Lea heard some clicks behind her, and then Mon Mothma's Minister of the Press said very succinctly and conversationally that this wasn't the big event; this was merely General Solo.
Merely General Solo, thought Leia, amused.
As if he wasn't the person they were so obsessed with lately – she was willing to bet they were more excited about seeing her interact with him publicly than they were about these resurrected Alderaanians.
Her lips turned up as she wondered what kind of show they'd be expecting. Hell, she wondered what kind of show she was going to give. She hadn't decided yet. Chewbacca told her to scandalize the Republic, but Chewbacca could only be taken seriously half the time. She also wasn't well versed in deliberately scandalizing anyone.
Chewbacca peered down at her and tilted his head.
[You think he'd be pissed if I step in front of you and grab him before he can get a kiss in?]
Leia snorted.
"Yes," she answered. "Additional irritation if you ruffle his hair."
[You think I won't do it?]
"Oh, I think you would."
He tilted his head at her further, and she giggled quietly.
"Do it," she hissed at him.
Rieekan glanced at the Wookiee with interest.
"What's he on about?" he asked.
"You'll see," Leia said under her breath.
Carlist looked amused, but he didn't have much time to push; the scout ship was landing, and Leia straightened her shoulders – sure enough, she felt the camera lenses on her; she heard clicks, she nearly felt the flashes brighten against her back. It somehow made her angry and indifferent at the same time.
She held her breath while the ship landed and steadied itself, though she wasn't sure she made a conscious decision to do it. The ramp lowered, Wedge Antilles appeared looking as ruggedly handsome as always, and he gave a small salute to the gathering, heading straight over towards Rieekan, who stepped aside to give Leia some space. Han disembarked after him, and Darklighter after him – Leia's heart skipped a few beats as she noticed Dansra was missing.
Han already had a wolfish, brazenly smug grin on his face as he zeroed in on her and approached, and Leia gave him a demure, blithe smile in response that barely scratched she surface concerning how she really felt about seeing him again. She bit back a more enthusiastic smile when, as he got within a few large strides, Chewbacca loped towards him and grabbed him in a huge, encompassing Wookiee hug, quite literally lifting him off the ground and spinning him.
Han swore loudly, more out of shock than anything else; he hadn't expected to be mauled by his co-pilot. Leia covered her mouth with a few fingers and smiled affectionately, watching as Chewbacca stood him on his feet and rubbed a paw through his hair, causing it to stick out in odd places. Han swatted him away.
"What the hell's gotten into you, you big mass of fur," he griped, shaking of Chewbacca.
Chewbacca roared mournfully, drawing it out.
"Yeah, I missed you – you mind?" Han asked, gesturing stiffly past him at Leia.
Rieekan started laughing loudly, and saluted Han as he approached.
"Not the greeting you were expecting, eh, Solo?" he snorted, giving Leia a look of understanding.
Han threw a look over his shoulder at Chewbacca and glared, shaking his head. He came closer to Leia and she held her hands up, placing her palms gently on his chest and looking up at him. She tilted her head slightly.
"You put him up to that?" he asked, reaching up to run his fingers along her jaw.
"I've been planting rumors of your doomed secret affair with Chewie," she answered solemnly.
"So, all this time, you've just been a cover?"
She nodded, and he smirked, sliding his hand over her shoulder and pulling her closer in a hug. He seemed to inherently sense she wanted the physical kept to a minimum in front of everyone, but he still turned his head and pressed a light kiss behind her ear before pulling back, his hand running lightly over her braid.
"Miss me?" he asked, with a lopsided grin.
"Hardly," she replied, feigning aloofness.
"I like the dress," he said, his voice low.
"How much?" she asked.
He lowered his head, lips brushing her ear again.
"Show you later," he murmured.
Her hands drifted to his elbows.
"I did miss you," she confided quietly.
He put one of his hands over hers.
"Hold on to that feeling if Dodonna decides to give you a talk about me," he said dryly.
She arched an eyebrow.
"We got into it," he said evasively. "I got real uppity."
"How? You hold the same rank," she replied, nonchalant.
He looked relieved at her reaction. Still –
"Might have told him to fuck off," he warned.
"In those exact words?" she asked dryly.
He snorted.
"No," he assured her.
She shrugged.
"I don't care," she said honestly. "I said more or less the same thing to Mon Mothma."
"You said fuck off?"
Leia blushed slightly. He smiled, lacing his fingers into hers – so much life experience, and swearing still got to her.
"What're we holding back for, then?" he growled, bending to kiss her.
She caught his jaw in her hands quickly and dodged his mouth gracefully, rising on her toes to reach his ear.
"Because you're mine, not the galaxy's," she whispered.
He let her pull back – fair enough. He wasn't too keen on public viewing of their relationship, either, he just wasn't as mindful about it as her. Nonetheless, he slid his arm around her waist and reached up to mess with his hair, frowning menacingly at Chewbacca as others began to approach him.
"General Solo," Mon Mothma greeted, holding her hand out. "I trust everything went smoothly?"
He shook her hand cordially, nodding as he smoothed his hand through his hair one last time.
"Yeah, no major problems," he said gruffly.
"Welcome back, General Solo – where is Dansra Beezer?" Threkin Horm asked, looking alarmed – and clearly wasting no time.
Han didn't miss how his beady eyes narrowly glared at Han's hand on Leia's waist, and he pointedly let it drift lower, resting brazenly low on her hip. Leia flicked her eyes down at the movement mildly, and did nothing to prevent it; she did, however, turn her head and look at him, her face falling with worry.
"Don't tell me you lost the only Alderaanian we sent with you," she said, catching her breath.
"Easy, now," Han said, holding up his free hand. "She's with Dodonna. That scout ship was fine to handle without her, and she wanted to be with her people."
Leia nodded with relief – she liked what she knew of the girl, and it would have been a bitter thing to have lost her in all this. Han nudged her lightly and she turned towards him a little, but realized he was just alerting her to the press approaching. She didn't shake him off, but he watched the guarded, diplomatic mask descend on her face.
"Your Press Minister allowed us to approach, Madam Chief," one reported said, addressing Mon Mothma respectfully. "If I may – "
"I'll be fielding questions," Mon Mothma said pleasantly. "You'll notice that a military ship is on the approach now…" she began.
Leia turned to look, and took a few steps forward, away from the gathering. She heard Mon Mothma call Antilles over, and moved further away, a solitary figure standing and watching the ship growing closer. A shadow fell next to hers, and Han rested his hands on her shoulders. His touch warmed her skin, and she leaned back, looking up, the sun in her eyes.
"You met him, then?" she asked.
He nodded, hands moving up and down her arms lightly.
"Nice guy."
She laughed hoarsely, and turned, grabbing the lapels of his vest.
"Nice guy?" she quoted. "That's it?"
Han shrugged sheepishly.
"I didn't have tea with 'im, Leia," he said, a bit edgily. "I kinda kept my distance. The man's a little –distracted."
Leia pursed her lips worriedly, releasing him and turning back around for a moment. He stepped around her, blocking the view of the approaching – now landing – ship, and blocking the sun that had been in her eyes.
"Distracted?" she asked softly.
"They were all havin' a hard time with the five years thing," Han explained warily. He tugged the end of Leia's braid gently. "I think your old man's expecting to get off that ship and see you in the buns."
She suddenly felt violently self-conscious about her choice to wear colour; maybe Mon Mothma was right, maybe she'd let her anger and uncertainty get the better of her. She clenched her teeth and swallowed, lowering her head for a moment.
"He did think you were dead," Han said quietly. "He's very," Han started.
Leia looked up at him expectantly, eagerly.
"I see where you get your strength," Han said, finishing slowly. "He's probably as shaken as the rest of 'em but you couldn't tell. Winter had a breakdown when she found out you weren't dead. He spent most of the time with her."
Leia's cheeks paled.
"Winter was always unshakeable," she murmured. She put her hands on Han's chest again, pressing lightly. "Winter," she murmured shakily. "She was my best friend, Han, she was my Chewie."
"Yeah, I heard," Han said, brow furrowing. "How come you never mentioned her?"
She shook her head.
"Hurts too much," she said painfully. "Did you talk to her?"
"She was on a mission to kill Vader," Han said frankly.
Leia smiled to herself. She was gripped by nerves suddenly – there was no precedent for this, no rules of order to instruct her on how to act. Her vision swam slightly – she thought of how difficult it was for Mon Mothma, for Dodonna, to adjust to her post-war nature, to reconcile themselves with the Princess Leia on a royal pedestal and the Leia that existed before them – and this was her father, his opinion of her was no doubt unsullied, and would be sensitive to – well, sullying.
"Hey," Han said softly, touching her chin and tilting her head up until her eyes met his. "You okay?"
She compressed her lips, and nodded unconvincingly. Then, she shook her head.
"I didn't prepare myself," she admitted. "I was too busy refusing to believe it's real."
"No way you could have prepared for this, Leia," he said simply.
"I can prepare for anything," she bluffed stubbornly.
He arched an eyebrow as if to remind it was him she was talking to; not the public, not her superiors. He knew her. Her shoulders fell and she put her forehead on his chest. She clenched his shirt in her fingers, taking a deep breath.
"I can't help feeling that I'll see him and all I'll feel is…I don't know. Anger, disappointment."
Han just rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. He paused when he saw cameras pointed at them, and narrowed his eyes pointedly. He heard footsteps behind him, and was taken aback when Luke grabbed her elbow, reaching out to touch Leia's shoulder as well.
She looked up abruptly, alarmed, and he smiled.
"Smooth sailing, all the way through," he greeted, weaseling in front of Han and hugging her.
Han grabbed his collar and dragged him away, glaring at him for interrupting. Luke laughed at his expression
"Oh, come on, you had like fifteen minutes alone!"
"Alone?" Han gestured derisively at the press, and the government officials. He leered. "Besides, I need longer'n fifteen minutes."
"Watch it, that's my sister."
Leia rolled her eyes and smiled at Luke, but her eyes drifted past him – Han had thoroughly distracted her from the docking of the military ship. She bit her lip, reaching for Han's arms to steady herself. Her fingers curled around his wrists, and Han shot Luke a pointed look.
"Your sister's freaking out," he said dryly.
Luke eyed Leia, and took a step back; that was an understatement. He couldn't even define the emotions rolling off of her, but she didn't bother to block them from him. He could practically hear her slamming heart echoing in his ears. He considered her sympathetically, and then glanced around, wincing. He almost wished she'd put up her shields - she was giving him a headache.
"They're coming along – a lot of them are having trouble grasping this. Psychological effects," he broke off, shaking his head, and cleared his throat. "I'm going to help with the media," he said, leaning forward and giving Leia a chaste peck on the cheek.
She hardly noticed.
"Leia," Han said gruffly. "Leia – look at me, c'mon," he coaxed. "You should have seen him when I told him you weren't dead," he encouraged.
She looked at him helplessly, her lower lip caught between her teeth. She felt so – so – so conflicted. She felt removed from the moment, like she was in someone else's body, like this moment was too surreal to exist in. This was the tangible point at which the world she'd come to terms with, coped with, and consigned herself to, would rearrange itself in utterly unforeseeable ways.
She saw Dodonna coming down the ship with a few people and leaned forward into Han, rising up on her toes and perching her head on his shoulder as she looked at them – the returning Alderaanians.
She was unsure if she was cursed, or blessed.
And then she saw him.
There, just at General Dodonna's side; even after five harrowing years, she recognized him immediately, and the world went completely silent; she gave an involuntary, strangled gasp – and he was all she could see: her father, walking slowly, even uncertainly, towards them all.
Her nails dug into Han's skin, and he turned slightly, swallowing hard.
She heard a yell – maybe it was someone from the press, maybe it was even Mon Mothma, but it didn't register in her mind; she felt like she might faint for a moment. In those seconds frozen in time, all of her misgivings, all of her questions, her uncertainties about him and all the things he hadn't told her – all of it faded, and all she could remember was how good of a father he'd been, how much she loved him – all she could feel was a completely pure, uncensored happiness.
She wasn't sure if Han stepped out of the way, or if she pushed him; the time between her standing still in shock and her running across the docking bay towards him was a blur. She hadn't thought, in a hundred parsecs, that she'd greet him so indecorously, as if she were a child alone in the Antibes gardens, but she couldn't think at all.
"Father!"
The word came out in a choked sob, and he caught her around the shoulders when she reached him, catching his breath heavily – he was thin, and when she lifted her face, she found he looked ages older; he looked haunted and grim, and the trials of the past were etched permanently in his forehead, and the creases around his mouth – he looked at her bewildered, with disbelief, with wonder.
"Leia?" he asked loudly – it wasn't confusion, it was just – sheer shock, and she grabbed his arms to steady herself – the whip-like snap of emotions that came off of him almost physically affected her.
He took her face in his hands, shaking his head, trying to find something to say. He just looked at her, unable to speak, and she couldn't draw her eyes away, she barely noticed Winter Retrac, hanging behind his shoulder, tears in her icy blue eyes – she didn't hear Rouge Organa behind him, chattering nervously – Leia, you're alright, Leia, you look beautiful – Leia, Leia –
There was a swarm around them; flashes, talking, Mon Mothma at her shoulder, Han and Luke tensely forcing people to remain at arm's length.
Her father swallowed hard.
"Lelila," he greeted hoarsely, kissing her forehead – like he used to, just like he used to, and his voice was so comforting, so familiar, when he called her by that beloved childhood nickname that had died with her planet.
She put her arms around him desperately, anchoring him to this world, to this present, to life; she hugged him like she had the last time she saw him, the day she left on her rebel mission – without inhibition, without reservation, or thought to where she was or who could see her, she rested her head on his shoulder and began to cry.
Han did what he could to block the media's view of her, but his efforts were futile; all he could think as the fray circled around him was that after all these years of hounding her, of labeling her Ice Princess, questioning her ability to feel – Princess Leia finally succumbed to the show of emotion they had all demanded from her.
this is probably a turning point in the story (probably? obviously, but i mean more from a writing stand point) where you're either going to like how i handle it or not. of course i hope you do! and though this chapter is earlier (surprise!) than i said it would be, I still might post one tomorrow or monday.
-alexandra