"Oh! I'm so sorry, Princess, I didn't see you there," said Wedge Antilles, taking a step back from where he had literally bumped into Leia. The two of them were walking the corridors in the Liberty, a Mon Calamari transport that was currently crammed full of Hoth refugees.

Leia's face went red in embarrassment. "It's all right, Wedge. It was my fault. I'm afraid I'm a little...distracted." How is that for an understatement? She was more than distracted. She was caught in an uncomfortable stage between grief and stubborn disbelief.

It had been no more than five hours since she and the others had returned to the Rebel fleet and informed them of all that had happened. Emotions ran high. Luke hadn't taken long to make friends with most of the pilots. In three years he had gained a reputation as a reckless but skilled pilot with an easygoing nature, bright smile, and fierce loyalty. He was well-liked and would be missed terribly, especially by Rogue Squadron.

Wedge nodded, his green eyes lowering a little. "Same here, Your Highness. Everyone's pretty much in shock." He shook his head slowly, as if he couldn't believe it.

"I know." Leia's voice wavered. She struggled to keep her regal bearing. Her mind told her that Luke was dead, but her heart denied it. No...I'd know if he was gone. It doesn't feel right. It went against all logic, but that was how Leia felt. "How are the pilots doing?"

"Like I said, they're all in shock," answered Wedge quietly. He reached behind his shoulder. "Some are taking it harder than others...especially Rogue Squadron. Hobbie, Terin, Janson...Janson's taking it pretty rough. He's the youngest and...well, this is first time he's known someone that's..." Wedge shook his head, as if he couldn't say the word 'dead'.

"How about you?" Leia wanted to know. Wedge had known Luke since the Battle of Yavin and had grown to be one of Luke's best friends.

"I'll...be okay." Wedge pressed his lips together. "It's war. You lose good people all the time. It's just harder when it's-" Wedge's voice wavered and he looked away, clearing his throat and blinking at some kind of moisture in his eyes. "What about you, Princess?"

Leia turned away for a moment. "You're right, Wedge...it's war...and it is harder when it's someone you know...someone you're close to..." She closed her eyes and shook her head. But he's not gone... "Take care of yourself." She moved past him, first at a walk, and then a slow jog.

Then Princess Leia was running, not caring who she crashed into on her way to her quarters. Anyone who saw the tears in her eyes thought it was because the Rebellion had lost its best pilot, and she had lost her closest friend.

No one knew it was because her heart still told her Luke was alive, but her reasoning said otherwise.

Instead of returning to her quarters, Leia found herself heading for the hangar bay. She didn't know why.
It was supposedly lights-out, but Leia knew she'd never be able to sleep. She wandered through the hangar until she came upon a familiar junk heap of a starship.

Do I really need Han that badly? wondered Leia as she shuffled up the loading ramp of the Millennium Falcon. She had always thought of herself as a strong woman. She'd never wanted to depend on anyone, least of all a scoundrel from Corellia. Romance was too much of a complication to bother with. Why would she need a man to lean on?

I don't need him...but I do. Leia shook her head at her confusion and prepared to knock on the closed door. She was surprised when it opened before her and there was no one on the other side. A pair of feet shuffled away, and then someone sat down heavily in the main hold. It didn't take much imagination to guess who it was.

Leia rounded the corner and found her hypothesis was correct. There sat Han, barefoot, at the dejarik table nursing a glass of amber brown liquid. A bottle of the same liquid, missing its label and half full, sat at his elbow. Vest, boots, and holster had all been discarded in various places. Chewbacca sat nearby keeping watch over his buddy.

Leia frowned. Is he drunk? It didn't take long for sympathy and grief to be replaced by disgust. "How did you know it was me?"

Han shrugged, tracing the edge of the glass with his index finger. "Call it a hunch." His words weren't slurred, but they were being enunciated carefully. Clearly at least some of the bottle had already been consumed. Just how much remained to be seen. "So...what brings a pretty girl like you to a rotten corner of space like this?"

Leia's shoulders fell. "I came to see how you're doing...I guess this answers my question."

Han made a sarcastic face and raised the glass. "Oh. Well, let's see...we got chased outta a brand new base, got chased all over the place by the Imperials, lost the hyperdrive, landed on some cloud planet, got turned in by a sorry excuse for a friend, and lost the best man the galaxy's ever seen to the worst man the galaxy's ever seen." He scowled. "Yeah, I'm doin' great." He spoke through gritted teeth and downed the half-glass of amber liquor in a single gulp.

Leia crossed her arms. "So you get drunk."

Han scowled and pointed his index finger at her. "Hey, I'm not drunk. Don't you go gettin' ideas." He turned away and fiddled with the glass. "If I was drunk, it wouldn't hurt anymore."

"Han, don't hide your feelings in a bottle," pleaded Leia. "I know how you're feeling-"

"No, you don't!" Han barked, rising from the table and pointing a finger in her face. "You have no idea how I'm feelin'. I never had any family. That kid was the closest thing to a brother I had."

"What, do you think I don't feel just as bad as you do?" Leia demanded, her voice breaking. "Or did you forget that I lost my entire planet?"

Han stared at her, breathing hard. His expression faded and he shook his head. "No. I didn't forget." He turned away and sat down hard at the table. "Whaddya expect me to do?"

Leia sat down hard next to him, shaking her head as tears returned. "I don't know, Han. I'm not even sure what I expect of myself anymore."

Han stared into his empty glass. "Why Luke?" he rasped.

"He wanted to be a Jedi," answered Leia in a fading voice.

"Yeah? Well, to hell with the Jedi!"

"What?"

"They're what got him into this mess in the first place! It hadn't been for that Ben character, he'd still be on Tatooine-"

"That's right. And the troopers would have killed him, the Death Star would still be here, and I wouldn't be alive."

Han flinched at the truth behind Leia's words. Slowly he touched Leia's shoulder. "I'm sorry. It's just- I can't-" Han's voice broke, and he turned away so she wouldn't see his tears.

Leia pulled the stubborn smuggler into a tight embrace, feeling tears of her own run down her cheeks and onto his shoulder.

Han wept quietly, swearing under his breath. "Luke...why'd you have to jump in like that, huh?"

Leia nodded. "I know, Han...I miss him, too." Why couldn't she tell Han her belief that Luke had somehow miraculously survived?
Neither he nor anyone else would believe her. All Leia could do was pray that Luke wasn't suffering.