AN: Aaand, over two months later! Not nearly enough kudos to Mara/swimmergirl71 for continuing to beta for me and working so hard on this chapter. (Mara, I'm so sorry I'm so lazy!)

Sunday, Dec. 7, 1941

As soon as the Sunday morning's service was over, the Corusca Diner was full, a lively buzz hanging over the dining room as the small tables filled quickly, and more littered the front counter. This afternoon, Leia managed to get a spot up front, arriving ahead of the crowd to secure a seat beside Mirax and Iella. "Come here, honey!" Mirax cried, patting the seat between her and Iella as she thrust a bottle of Coke high into the air. "I got you a pop and it's still cold, aren't you glad?"

"It's cold outside!" Iella scowled, hugging her own mug of steaming coffee between both hands. "The two of you have a serious problem. I couldn't drink a cold pop now!"

"Hand it here!" Leia laughed. "I don't think I'm quite awake yet."

With a gleeful smirk, Mirax set a bottle wet with perspiration before Leia. "Drink up, my dear. The day is young, and you look like you could use an extra boost this afternoon."

"I woke up early," Leia complained, scrunching her nose. "Some nightmare …" She shook her head. "Then, I couldn't go back to sleep."

"That's too bad," Mirax shook her head over her bottle. "Drink up, and wake up. The day is still young." Playfully, she elbowed Leia, then turned back to the counter. "We-edge! This poor girl needs food!"

Iella's eyes bulged humorously. "We haven't even been served yet!"

"Fifteen minutes!" they all heard Wedge hollering from the back, feet stomping as he made his way from the hidden kitchen. "We've been open fifteen minutes and Hobbie just turned the burners on." He turned a scowl on Mirax. "Unless you'd like your patty cold?"

"The lettuce and tomatoes should be cold," Mirax decided, tilting her chin up in deep thought. "It would provide a nice contrast to my well-cooked hamburger, don't you think?"

Wedge shook his head. "Iella and Leia will get the first two off the burner."

Iella smiled, turning doey eyes on her boyfriend.

"But no guarantee yours will be as cooked." He gave one last scowl, then sauntered around the counter.

Iella laughed at Mirax, but her head tilted in disapproval. "Do you have to be so harsh to him?"

"We're joking! He's not a softy; he can handle it!"

"Even so," Leia warned, "mind your manners." She nudged back. "He's still worried about Wes."

Mirax grimaced. "I don't want to think about where he could be."

Leia had no response to that, and so she turned away, facing forward in her seat and sucking mindlessly on her striped straw. In the background of the diner's commotion, the radio was on, jazz tunes and swing filling the small spaces of quiet, but the local stations were mostly drowned out by the louder jukebox as the quarters came rolling in and new melodies played. It was a joyful chaos that encompassed the dining room, laughter billowing like happy clouds and forks and knives clinking to attest to a good meal.

Mirax and Iella talked over Leia, conversing jovially, laughing, calling across the restaurant when acquaintances entered. Leia was silent, wary. Wedge returned, depositing a plate for each woman. "Do me a favor and hurry up this time," he muttered. "I promised Mr. and Mrs. Darklighter I'd help them find and put up a tree."

"Ooh!" Iella's interest piqued. "What did you find her?"

"I don't know yet."

"You haven't even found them one yet?"

Wedge shrugged innocently.

"Well, you ought to find them a real nice one after all the trouble they've gone to for the both of us. Get them a real nice Douglas fir."

"Oh, don't worry," Wedge shook his head. "I'll stop next door and get them a real live spruce."

"It's not funny! Do you even know how you're going to haul that over to their house? That little Chrysler of yours certainly won't do."

As if to beg for mercy and forgiveness, Wedge turned to Leia. "Han has got that Ford, doesn't he? That nice truck?"

Leia nodded. "I'm sure Han would be more than willing to help. You could call the shop in Richville and you can ask him."

"Yeah. Yeah, I might have to."

As soon as Wedge left the counter to wait on the other tables, Mirax spun around to toss Iella a glare. "Oh, please! You abuse the poor man more than we do!"

Leia sighed to herself, drowning out the bustle around her. Someone had paid the quarter to have the juke play, and the warm, bass-baritone timbre of Bing Crosby filled the diner with his rendition of "You Are My Sunshine". It clashed with the orchestral movements floating from the radio just across the lunch counter. CBS, she thought she'd heard earlier, was covering the New York Philharmonic concert. But the strings were lost to Crosby's vocals as the upbeat tune continued on, echoing the diner's mood. Not quite out of interest, Leia strained to hear the radio. A crescendo hit suddenly, the violins and violas joining forces with the low strings to reach their struggling climax, and Leia gasped involuntarily, her breath lost to her as the strings created together a chord of suspense. Like the trek up a mountain, their sound climbed, higher and higher, tangling Leia up in anticipation. But then the sound seemed to cut out and Leia leaned closer to hear.

Someone started to sing to the jukebox and Leia felt herself growing irritated. "I can't hear the radio," she complained, mostly to herself, but Mirax looked her way and frowned. "What could be playing on the radio that's got you so interested?" she teased. "It's only a concert."

Leia shook her head. "I wanted to hear the radio." She leaned further across the counter and Iella gasped, pulling her food out of the way. She huffed a sigh, casting a long look over her shoulder. "Shut the jukebox off!"

"Leia!" Mirax hissed, tugging on her collar and pulling her back. "Get down, would you? What's so important on that blasted radio that-!"

"Shh!" Leia put a finger to her lips, swatting her friend away. "Someone, turn that music off! It sounds like there's a news bulletin!"

"Leia," Iella waved at her. "It's just the concert-"

"But I don't hear them playing!"

"Hey, alright!" Wedge hollered from the other side of the diner. "Just turn the music off, would you?"

Finally, the overwhelming music cut out and the drone of the radio filled the diner.

"-on the principle island of Oahu. We take you now to Washington."

A news bulletin.

Nervous whispers flitted across the dining area as a heavy sense of unease filled the patrons. Someone hushed them just as a new voice took over on the radio.
"The White House is now giving a statement. The attack apparently was made on all naval and .. and on naval activities on the principle island of Oahu."

It was quiet. It was so quiet, and Leia didn't think it should be so quiet. Something was wrong. Nothing about this was right.

She covered her mouth with a hand as if to stop any sound from escaping between her lips, though she could hardly utter a cry. She could hardly think over the harsh pounding of her own heart as it seized with shock. Disbelief. No. No, it couldn't be real. Hawaii- Hawaii was so far away; how could it be so close?

Suddenly, Mr. and Mrs. Darklighter were leaning over the lunch counter, joining the mass crowd around the small radio, adding to the silence.

"A Japanese attack upon Pearl Harbor naturally would mean war.

At that moment, someone, some patron in the restaurant gained their senses as a throaty cry broke through the pregnant silence. Then, came the cries, and several women sobbed into handkerchiefs as the broadcast continued, the announcer's voice as broken as their hopes.

"We have just now received word that our defenses at Manila, capital of the Phillipines, have also been attacked."

"Oh, God!" someone cried, an ugly gurgle from the bottom of everyone's souls.

"Change it!" another scorned. "Come on! Won't someone change the channel? Can't you tell no one wants to hear this?"

But no one responded to the angry man's pleas. Her hand shaking, Leia reached for the dial on the radio and changed the channel. The radio erupted with static cheering, an enthusiastic voice announcing a football game. A player was just rounding up to the 50-yard line when the call broke through. "We interrupt this broadcast to bring you this important bulletin from the United Press flash Washington. The White House announces Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor."

She turned it again.

"This is CBS in America calling Honolulu. Go ahead, Honolulu. …" Static. Silence. Waiting. Hoping, praying, swearing, believing- or wishing. "This is CBS in America calling Honolulu. Go ahead, Honolulu. …"

No one breathed.

"Go ahead Honolulu. …"

But the sound of a pin dropping would have echoed in the diner's uncustomary silence.

"We should like to now try to call in- Manila, the capital of the Philippines Commonwealth. Go ahead, Manila. … This is CBS in America, calling Manila. Go ahead. …"

Manila. Where was Manila in the Philippines? What was on Manila, anyway? Leia knee the answers, but they were stuck in the back of her throat, desperately clawing for a way out.

"We regret that we are unable to contact either Honolulu or Manila. We return you now to William L. Shirer in New York."

"Oh, God," came the new cry- a different woman. "Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, dear …" The rest was lost to the burgeoning cacophony of cries.

That was enough, Leia thought, but she lacked the strength to turn it off. She was paralyzed by her mounting shock, and she fell limp in her seat, nearly crashing into Mirax behind her. She'd forgotten her friend was there, or that Iella was still at her other side. She'd forgotten about people, about true fear, about words, into all it came crashing at once.

"Oh, my Lord," Mirax muttered, stumbling to her feet and pulling Leia with her. She seized her jacket, tripping across the floor, eyes glassy and red. "Oh- oh ... Oh!"
Then, they all seemed to breathe at once, no relief in the notion whatsoever, but they were breathing- and with breathing, feeling returned.

"We-" Mr. Darklighter choked on a cry, pushing himself away from the counter. He had a towel slung over his shoulder, already damp with grease. He took it into his hands, wringing it fiercely, pulling on it between his fists until the old man's knuckles were white. "We're closed for the day," he called across the dining area, voice shaking tumultuously. "Go home to your families."

But Leia was stuck, couldn't move. Feeling was still returning. "Come on," Mirax murmured to her, pulling on her arm. "Come on." She took Leia's hand, and Leia turned slowly to look at her, catching a glimpse of her face, her puffy, red eyes. "We gotta' go home. We have to go home!" She yanked on Leia's arm, reached out to Iella, and tore out of the diner.

She should have gone home. If only to ease her parents' worries, she should have allowed Mirax to drive her home as she'd offered, but Leia had refused. Instead, she'd taken the keys to Mirax's car, taken her home, and promised she'd have the car back by that evening. Understandably concerned, and still grief-stricken, Mirax had hesitantly complied.

The drive was a blur and her own intentions were shrouded in half-awareness; it wasn't until she caught sight of the Richville public library at the end of the street that she grasped what she was doing.

Leia pulled the car over to the curb, keeping her distance from the mechanic shop while she tried to steel herself. She gripped the steering wheel in both hands, maintaining a white-knuckled hold while she waited for her own breaths to even out. Each one came with a shudder, threatening to send the first tear down her cheek. "Get ahold of yourself!" she muttered with furious distaste. Then, for the shortest moment, when Leia caught a single breath, enough to fill a moment of silence, she remembered the radio to her right and the nonstop news broadcast that had been playing since she'd left the diner with Mirax.

"The Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor from the air and all naval and military activities on the island of Oahu, the principle American base on the islands. That was Secretary Early's message. Short while later, he dictated another message. A second air attack has been reported. This one has been made on the army and navy bases in Manila, and here's a last-minute Associated Press flash from Honolulu: a naval engagement is in progress off Honolulu with at least one black enemy aircraft carrier in action against the Pearl Harbor defenses."

Leia shut the radio off with an aggressive punch before stepping out of the car and slamming the door shut. She couldn't decide what she was mad at, the source of her sudden contempt. She didn't think she felt sad anymore; her throat was no longer clogged up with grief. She was frustrated, tired, afraid.

What was she doing here? What had brought her here- now? She should- she should be home, she knew. In the safety of home with family. Instead, Leia found herself standing outside the mechanics shop where Han worked, still dressed in her Sunday best with a ketchup stain on her blouse from leaning across the lunch counter at the Corusca. She could hardly pay the stain any mind, could scarcely think her way past the day's nightmarish events.

Dazed and preoccupied, Leia started up the sidewalk to the shop, heels clicking to the pattern of an uneven heartbeat as she tripped forward, seemingly drunk on her feet. One step, two more. Up the path she went, struggling to find her way through the fog surrounding her thoughts.

She burst into the shop, eyes searching the lobby for him even before the door could close behind her. She was greeted with solemn, gray faces, a mood not at all unlike that of the diner, which she'd purposefully left behind. But no one spoke a word to her, and when she remained similarly silent, the long faces turned back to their radio set in the corner of the room, huddled closely as the same broadcasts continued. Leia searched the enraptured group for him, but he wasn't there.

The drone of the news enveloped the room, each different broadcaster's voice sounding like one. But just outside the lobby, Leia thought she heard sounds more native to the shop, and she followed the beacon of hammering and angry curses until she found Han alone in the garage. Half of him was hidden beneath his own truck, only long legs poking out from beneath the vehicle, a toolbox and a whimpering Chewie at his feet. The big pup whined softly, resting his head atop Han's bent knees. He looked up when Leia approached with big, hopeful eyes, ears perking up as she came to a stop near the truck. He let out a soft woof, turning to his owner as if begging Leia for help.

"Hush, Chewie!" Han gently kicked his leg and Chewie ran off to circle Leia's legs.

"It isn't his fault," Leia admonished softly, without real infliction, reaching down at her side to stroke Chewie's fur, reassure him.

The clinking and clanking from beneath the truck finally stopped and Leia waited until he revealed himself to her, dragging himself out from under the Falcon. When he came out, Han's brow dripped with perspiration, his lip quirked as he panted, squinting in the bright winter sun. He glanced up at her, surveying Leia from foot to head. "Aren't you cold?" he asked.

Those were not the first words she'd been waiting for. That wasn't what she'd come to hear him say and it angered her. Was she cold? Was she cold?! Only then did Leia realize that she'd forgotten her jacket in Mirax's car, but even that realization did nothing to take the edge off her mood.

Leia shook her head. "I'm fine. What about you? I mean to say- how are you?"

He raised a brow at her as he stood, smirking for the briefest second before he brushed past her, leaving her with a kiss on the cheek as he passed. "'M fine, sweetheart."

"Just fine?"

"What are you doing here? Have you had lunch?"

"I'm not hungry," she lied. She wasn't sure she could eat now.

"Hmph," Han made the sound deep in his throat. He crossed the garage to a workbench where he'd left a half-eaten sandwich and he took a generous bite of it before turning back to his work. "You can have some," he offered around a mouth full of bread, turkey, and mayonnaise. "If you want."

Leia shook her head, raising her arms to hug herself. "I … I came to see you."

Han chuckled, lowering himself back under the truck. "So, you didn't come to see Chewie?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Talk to me?"

Leia peered around anxiously. Where was the radio? She almost missed its droning. But, for once, the garage was quiet, nearly silent.

"Have you heard the news?" she asked. "Where's that radio? You're always listening to the radio."

"What about the news?" Han muttered, wiping his greasy hands on a damp towel.

"Well, have you heard? About Hawaii?"

Han shrugged. "Sure, I have."

"You have?"

"It was only on every radio station."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Well, don't you care?"

"Sweetheart, we're a long ways from Hawaii."

For a second, she could only look at him. Leia was still too shocked, too dazed to think as quickly and ask him- Wasn't he afraid? Wasn't he worried? The fact was that this wasn't about Hawaii, and everyone knew it. Even as she'd been hit with the tragic news, the various radio personalities announcing updates on Pearl Harbor and Manila, Leia had somehow known, had been able to understand that the implications of the day's events extended far beyond tiny Pacific islands. Like the traveling destructive force of an earthquake,ripples of war radiated from their epicenter, growing, then slamming into a sleeping nation, causing irrevocable change and loss. Leia's greatest fears. "I don't think it matters how far away Hawaii is," her voice nearly trembled as she spoke. "The point is that it's an American territory. American soil. Han, we've been attacked. This almost certainly means war."

"The whole world is at war, sweetheart. It was just a matter of time-"

"I don't think you understand-"

"Their problems, our problems. Took long enough for us to get pulled into the mess. I'm surprised it took so long."

"What about you?"

He stared at her. "What about me?"

"What if you get sent off? What if you have to leave?"

Han merely shrugged, quickly turning away and back to his project.

"That's it? You don't have anything to say about it?"

"What do you want me to say, Leia? If Uncle Sam calls, I promise I'll kindly show him the door and stay right here!"

"You know that's not what I mean. If we could just talk about this, Han-"

"What do you want to talk about, Leia? There's a good chance it's gonna' happen."

Leia frowned, suddenly feeling very dejected. "Why are you yelling? I'm not mad; I'm just trying to talk to you. I'm not mad, so why are you?"

"'M not mad."

"It's hard to believe that when you're yelling."

Before Han could even gather words to defend himself, however, Chewie gave another whimper. This time, it was longer and harsher, sadder. Slowly, he sauntered up to Han, rubbing his great head against Han's leg. He continued to whimper until it became a cry, a plea to Han for something.

Leia was sure she'd never seen a creature so distraught before; wide, dark, mournful eyes caught hers, glistening with heavy tears. He continued to cry, a high-pitched whine emanating from deep in the pup's throat. He nudged at Han with his nose, still flicking his head back to Leia, begging-

Leia asked Han, "Why are you ignoring it?"

"Do we have to just sit in it all day?"

Leia caught a glimpse of a flicker of movement. At his side, Han moved his hand, his large palm settling over a piece of stationary- covering it as though to hide it from her view. She stared at it, wondering what on Earth Han would possibly be hiding. Trust. She wanted to trust him. She wanted to believe that he would never keep a thing from her. He wanted to be with her, didn't he? Just as much as she wanted to be with him. And that meant that he trusted her, right?

Before another unstated promise could flicker across her mind, Leia threw herself over his arm and snatched the paper from beneath his hand. As her fingers touched down on the light material, Han pressed his hand firmly against the sheet and a piece of the corner tore when Leia took it into her hands-

And her heart fell to the floor, shattering into a million tiny pieces.

"What is this for?" She stammered, a great cry of despair stuck somewhere in the back of her throat, or lodged deep in her chest. She held the sturdy paper with both hands, staring at it as if in the hopes that her vision was blurred and she'd be seeing correctly in just a moment- and this would all- disappear before it even was. "What do you have this for?"

"Leia-" Han interjected, but Leia shook her head. No, not 'Leia'. 'Leia' meant that he was serious, that everything happening right now, everything in the area, everything about this single moment- was as real as the pain slowly eating at her. She wanted him to smirk and call her 'princess', reach for her hip and call her 'sweetheart'. She just wanted him to take the sheet from her, laugh, and assure her that none of it was real, that she wasn't holding a recruitment form for the military in her hands.

"What is this?" She repeated, thrusting the paper in his face. "Why do you have this?"

Han braved himself against the counter, daring to meet Leia's gaze. "You said it first," he responded. "I guess I agree with you. We can't ignore it."

"So, you're going to sign yourself up to get killed?"

"Leia, be reasonable. Don't think I went into this without thinking."

"Oh! So you have thought about this. For a while? Before today? Why didn't you bother to warn me that you'd be leaving at the first sign of trouble? You said you would stay!"

"They're gonna' need men, Leia."

"No! I need you, Han! I need you right here!"

"You know what's gonna' happen soon enough, Leia? We'll be in the war, too, and they'll be calling numbers faster than anyone else can count. And I'll be gone eventually."

"Then, why sign up? Why volunteer to be the first to die?"

"I've never had a purpose, Leia. I've never done anything with a purpose beyond my own selfish needs. I've thought about enlisting before. Before I came here, before I even met you. I wanted to do something, pick a side, be a part of a cause, something that will be every bit worth it in the end. I want to do something that matters. And I want it to be on my own free will."

But Leia's gaze was just as bold, even fiercer as her irises came alight with flames. "So, you are going to leave."

Han's surprise flashed across his face quickly, disappearing as fast as it had hit. He shut his mouth and, instead, reached for her, reaching out to caress her face.

Harshly, Leia slapped his hand away.

"I don't want to leave you."

She shook her head and backed away, looking ill as she stared back at Han Solo. "Shut up. Just… don't talk to me."

"Leia-" he groaned.

With a snap, she jerked free of his grasp, jaw suddenly trembling. "You said you would stay."

"I'll come back to you."

"You shouldn't be leaving at all."

A slight frown crinkling his brow, Han leaned towards her. "If you got the chance- to do something that would finally feel right to you- would you hold yourself back?"

"Yes, if it took me away from you."

"But I'll come back."

"In a casket with a flag draped over it. And when they look for your family and see that I'm the only one here for you, they'll leave your cold body at my doorstep. "

Han reached to kiss her temple, but she grimaced and he retreated. "I'll be counting the days before I get to hold you again. And I hope you'll forgive me before I go."

Winter was growing colder. The colorful trees of fall were already dead, their autumn leaves buried beneath growing mounds of snow. Now, the streets were blanketed in a thin layer of white, glistening in the moonlight which ended each day earlier than the last.

The frosty wind nipped at Leia's cheeks and nose, blowing her black skirt around her legs. She hugged herself tightly, hurrying up the sidewalk to the front door of her family's home.

"Lelila!" her mother cried upon her entry. "Where have you been all afternoon? Papá and I have been worried sick!"

She waited for an answer as Leia stormed in, and it grew quiet enough that she could hear the radio droning on in the living room. She hummed to herself, ignoring the rambling of the news broadcaster.

"Lelila?"

Up the stairs, locked away in her bedroom. She fell onto her mattress, too defeated to stand.

Another voice, now subdued with sadness, regret, fear. She'd left the radio on again.

"Lelila!"

"President Roosevelt is expected to address the nation early tomorrow."

Her little radio sat atop her dresser. The little Firestone Air Chief. It droned on. No music, no concerts or symphonies; it was driving her mad.

"Lelila!"

Leia walked over to her dresser, eyeing the little radio set carefully. She took it into her hands, disconnecting it from the wall, and she carried it with her across the room, cradled it in one arm as her fingers fumbled with the latch on her window.

"Lelila!"

The window finally slid free, bursting open with a gust of frosty wind. Leia closed her eyes against the cold, dry air, stretching her arms out the window-

And the Firestone died in a bank of snow.