a/n: I apologize in advance.
Twelve
Leia was slightly disoriented when she awoke on the sofa in the living room. Pushing her hair back gingerly as she sat up and blinked sleep out of her eyes, she turned her head and stared in confusion at the open window – it was still a soft, red sort of daylight outside, and – she was still in her Ambassador garb, she noticed, glancing down. She pulled some hair away from her face and stood up – she'd left the Courts slightly early today, exhausted from the efforts of the opening War Crimes tribunal, hoping Han was around. He hadn't been at the apartment or at the Falcon's docking bay, though – she'd turned on the holovision to monitor what they were saying about the Alderaanians and she must have fallen asleep.
She turned away from the window and almost tripped over a pair of Han's boots – so he'd come home while she was napping? Strange that it hadn't woken her up. She bent to neatly place them somewhere less potentially hazardous, and then tapped the holopad she'd left on the table to check the time. She gasped aloud – it was nearly eighteen hundred standard.
Leia straightened up hastily and nearly ran out of the living room towards the kitchen – there were all kinds of grocery bags filled with produce and meat on the counter, so Han had done his due diligence in that respect – but where was he?
"Han?" she yelped, sounding more panicked than she meant to.
She heard him yell something back from the master bedroom, and followed his voice. She gathered the obnoxious train of her official dress in her hand and looped it over her arm for better mobility. She found Han in the bathroom, rubbing his hands over his jaw. He'd clearly just finished shaving, and on top of that, he was fresh out of the shower; his hair was wet, and he hadn't put a shirt on yet.
"What's wrong?" he asked, eyeing her curiously as she peeked into the bathroom and then sidled up next to him.
She glared at him narrowly, sparing a moment to look at her frightfully disheveled appearance before she reached out and pinched him hard in the ribs.
"Hey!" he protested, dodging away from her. "What'd I do?"
"It's nearly eighteen!" she admonished. "Why didn't you wake me up when you got home?"
"Well, Princess, I had no idea you were feeling that deprived of my presence."
She pinched him again.
He took a full step away from her and grabbed her hand gently, neutralizing her pinch capability.
"Use your words, Ambassador."
She lifted her chin and wriggled her hand away.
"Han, Winter's going to be over for dinner tonight – "
"Yeah," he said slowly. "At twenty."
"—and I don't know what I'm wearing yet – "
"You've got two hours!"
"—you haven't even started cooking – and is Chewie coming? He never answered, I meant to call him – "
"It'll take me an hour to make dinner," he tried to interrupt calmly.
"My hair is a mess – you know how long it takes to do my hair – and who's going to brush it if you didn't give me enough time – "
"Two hours, Leia!"
"But I have to pick out an outfit, and shower, and make-up – and if you're cooking dinner, you can't brush my hair, and it will take twice as long – "
"Leia!" he interrupted, looking at her incredulously. When she finally fell silent, he shook his head, running his hand over his face in disbelief. "Why are you having a meltdown?"
She looked abashed.
"I'm not having a meltdown," she retorted hotly, placing her hands on her hips. The excess dress material she'd been holding swooshed to the floor. "You should have woken me up!" she protested.
He frowned, shaking his head.
"You didn't even move when I walked in the door," he said.
"Which is why you should have – "
"No," he interrupted emphatically. "You don't sleep well. I'm sure as hell not going to wake you up when you're dead to the world." He snorted, and turned back to the mirror, moving closer to her and leaning forward to examine his shaving job. "You got time, Leia. Dunno why you're acting like you've never met this girl before. You grew up with her."
Leia folded her arms across herself protectively, compressing her lips. She stayed quiet, thinking about her impromptu nap – he was right; she never slept well. It hadn't even been a nightmare that interrupted her just now, she'd just come out of it naturally, and that was rare – rare to wake up because her body felt she was rested rather than at the behest of an alarm clock or because of a nightmare's assault.
Her lips turned down slightly, and she sighed softly.
"But I'm not the person she grew up with," she murmured, lowering her eyes. "It's been so long, and I'm so…different."
Han reached behind him and took her arm, tugging her forward. He stepped back, lifted her up, and perched her on the sink facing him. She leaned forward, gripping the edge of the sink, and stepping forward he got caught in her skirt. He glanced down and gathered the material up in his hands, eyeing it a moment. He raised his eyebrow.
"I don't know why I wore it," she said, flushing. "It's ceremonial Alderaanian, but it needs to be hemmed," she trailed off, as he moved the material aside and stepped between her legs. He moved his hands over her knees under all the cloth, leaning closer.
"Do you need help taking it off?" he asked seriously.
She smiled.
"Han," she began, lifting her hands and putting them on his shoulders. He leaned into the touch, pressing his lips to hers.
"Don't spend two hours tryin' to be the person Winter remembers," he murmured, pulling back slightly. He gave her a pointed look. "It won't do you any good." He started to kiss her again, and then paused, narrowing his eyes. "You'd better stop doing it around your father, too," he added.
"I'm not," she protested half-heartedly, turning her head away.
She closed her eyes to avoid his gaze – he was right; she was on eggshells around her father. She played it close to the vest; she didn't discuss her personal life because she wasn't ready yet, and there was so much going on, and she kept telling herself after the press conference, when things died down, they could address things other than publicity and politics. She was keeping Bail firmly at arm's length; Han wasn't even sure she'd taken a moment to be truly alone with him other than the few hours she'd taken the night he returned.
"Leia, Luke told me he's read your file," Han said flatly. "He knows the Death Star was bad."
Leia shook her head, turning her gaze back on him.
"Half of what happened isn't in that file; you know that," she said hoarsely.
"You don't have to tell him anything you've told me," Han retorted.
"What if I have to?" she whispered. "So he'll understand why I am – why I'm this way?"
Han grit his teeth, his brow furrowing.
"What the hell do you think is wrong with you, Sweetheart?" he asked quietly. He hadn't known her before the Death Star; he hadn't known the young, naïve, and infinitely more optimistic Princess of Alderaan, but in Han's life experience, nothing about people ever changed that much, not once they were grown, not once their personalities were set – life happened to them, and it eroded falseness, or it convinced true nature to be embraced in spite of societal expectations or duty or self control, but people, fundamentally, at the core, were made of what they were made of.
"I don't think anything's wrong with me," she responded hoarsely – unspoken, she implied she still thought Bail would. She paused, and licked her lips. "There's a core aspect of Alderaan, of its people: it's a softness. Not weak, but gentle. A strong belief in peace, hope; it's so rare to find a jaded Alderaanian," she said, and he stared at her, mesmerized – he never heard her talk about her planet, not like this; not with such nostalgia and admiration. "He's like that. I don't have that anymore. I don't think I ever had that," she whispered, "and I can't conceal it anymore."
He lifted his hand and touched her cheek lightly, considering her a moment.
"Leia, I think we just found a stranded ship full of jaded Alderaanians," he pointed out. "You may be surprised."
She didn't look convinced, and he figured that was because there was something he didn't understand about the pervasive tradition of the Alderaanian culture, the people she'd grown up around. He gave her a small, encouraging smile, and she smiled back, tossing her head to shake hair out of her face.
He tilted his head, suddenly uncertain.
"You don't think you'll have to tell him all the gory details to convince him why you're with me?" he asked warily.
Her eyes widened, and then softened quickly, and she shook her head, squeezing his shoulders.
"No," she murmured. "No, no – Han, I," she paused, swallowing hard. "Han, I think I would have fallen in love with you in any universe. No matter what happened. I'm not...I'm not only with you because I think I'm too damaged for anyone else."
His brows went up, and he ran his thumb over her jawline, humbled for a moment. He shook his hair, and she made a face as droplets of water cascaded on her. He grinned.
"That's what I like to hear," he drawled, leaning in to kiss her.
She laughed quietly, kissing him back, but gently pushed him away. He gave her a mildly annoyed look and went in for another kiss, targeting her throat when she tilted her head up to escape.
"Han," she laughed. "You'll get me all wet."
"That's the idea," he murmured in her ear.
Leia blushed and lowered her head to his shoulder, resting her arms around his neck limply.
"You're so filthy," she hissed, scandalized.
He grinned, pressing a capitulatory kiss to her ear and pulling back a little, perhaps only surrendering so he could see the prudish pink tint to her cheeks – damn, he loved her; everything about her. When she was screaming at him for some asinine stunt he pulled on the Falcon, and when she was in his arms like this, all his, and his alone.
She gave him a deceptively sympathetic look.
"Maybe if you had woken me up when you got home, we'd have time for this," she teased.
"Is that a challenge?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Two hours is a lot of time."
"More than you need."
"Hey! When have I ever – "
"Tatooine?"
"Oh, c'mon, I'd been in carbonite for a year –"
Leia sighed, shaking her head at him, exasperated. She bit back a grin.
"No time," she insisted. "Hair," she reminded him.
"Here, let me comb it for you," he said, lifting his hands and sliding them back through her dark locks suggestively.
"Han," she growled, leaning back. "Han!" she squealed, trying to sound stern, but bursting into laughter instead. She lowered her head and allowed him a few kisses before sternly straightening her shoulders and composing herself, pressing her knees pointedly into his sides.
"I want this to go well," Leia said, placing her palms on his chest and gently holding him at arm's length. Well – it was really at wrist's length – when she pushed, he didn't move far. He smirked at her, running his hands over her legs.
"Hey," he said. "I make excellent first impressions."
The look on her face was priceless – a winning mixture of dubious, doubtful, and downright mocking, and he laughed, clearly remembering his first impression on her – and on Luke, for that matter. On anyone, really. Han's idea of a great first impression was everyone else's idea of 'he grows on you.'
"She's all but my sister, Han," Leia went on earnestly, and to that, he nodded.
He had no intention of doing anything that would recommend him poorly to Winter Retrac, especially since he knew how much she meant to Leia. He refrained from pointing out that Leia's people – people, in this instance, meaning those who revered her as a Princess – tended to doubt him, or discount him, on their own, even if he was perfectly well behaved.
Leia sighed quietly, her hands falling from his shoulders, resting loosely on her knees.
"Do you know what I needed more than anything in those years after Alderaan?" she asked him quietly, reflecting on how lonely she'd been – there were so many unimaginable dimensions to the kind of loss she'd suffered then.
"Me?" he suggested, ducking his head and kissing her shoulder.
He sensed her rolling her eyes, and she leaned back out of reach of his lips, bracing her arms behind her. The back of her head rested lightly against the mirror as she eyed him wryly, and arched an eyebrow.
"I don't even need you now," she said coolly. "You're painfully annoying," she retorted.
He gave her a winning pout, and she bit back a smile. She sat forward again, slowly, her shoulders hunching forward. She twisted her hands in her lap.
"I needed a best friend," she said. "A girl to talk to."
She'd never quite gotten anything like that back. The women in the leadership were colleagues; she respected them, and was friendly with them, but she didn't stay up all night gossiping with them, or watching racy movies on the forbidden channels just to see what the fuss was about. The women in the rank and file answered to her command, and forming friendships within that power dynamic was infinitely difficult – and besides, she'd been so terrified of connecting emotionally after Alderaan, that it was a miracle she ever opened up to Han.
"You could have talked to me," he pointed out. "We coulda got this," he gestured between them, "rolling a lot faster."
She blushed.
"No, I needed someone to talk to about girl stuff."
"I like girls."
"You were the stuff I needed to talk about," she said, exasperated – there were times she had needed Winter so, so badly. Winter would have helped her work through what she was feeling about Han – and if she couldn't help all the way, Winter would have nicked a bottle of wine and convinced Leia that whatever she said when she was drunk was how she really felt – maybe if she'd had Winter, the whole process of surrendering to Han wouldn't have been so troublesome.
He arched his brows and smirked at her.
"I knew I was getting under your skin," he gloated. "Even then."
"Yes; exactly like a parasite," she retorted dryly.
"Now, Your Highness," he admonished sternly. "That's not very diplomatic."
"Shut up, Han," she laughed softly, slipping her arms around his neck. Her eyes met his fervently. "This is important to me," she reiterated.
It was a test case, really – she viewed it as such, he knew she viewed it as such. Other than her Aunt Rouge and Bail, Winter was the most important person from her past life, and her opinion of Han – her reaction to him – would help Leia gauge how her guardians would react, and it would give her experience in integrating the two worlds. She was desperate to reconnect with Winter, and she could talk more freely with Winter about what Bail might think about Han.
Han nodded, and touched his forehead to hers briefly. He kissed her quickly and stepped back, ruffling his hand thoughtfully in his damp hair – she was right; he needed to get dressed and start cooking, and she needed to get ready. He held out his hand, and helped her down from the sink.
"Chewie's out with Luke," Han said suddenly, remembering her earlier question. He slipped past her and headed for the closet. "Said they might stop by later."
"I'd like that," Leia said, reaching for the zipper that ran down the side of her gown. It was cleverly concealed among the flowy material, and she tugged on it gently, careful not to rip anything. She smiled fleetingly. "I could pair them up and merge my adoptive family with my biological one," she joked dryly.
"Not so fast, that pilot, Dansra? She's after Luke," Han snorted. "She said – listen, Leia – "
"What do you think I'm doing?"
"No, really listen – this is great – she said that Luke, kid Luke, is some kind of legend –"
"Oh, the nurses. Yes, I know."
Han, holding a clean shirt in his hand, turned and stared at her, affronted.
"How did you know?"
"Women talk."
"You talked about that kind of stuff with alliance nurses?" Han asked skeptically.
"No, but I spent a lot of time in hospitals," Leia pointed out, "and there was a time when Luke and I didn't know we were related, and people thought we were a good match, so there were times when I was – um, I was told it would be worth my while," she said. After a moment, she wrinkled her nose, pursing her lips. "I really didn't care to hear about Luke's sexual exploits."
Han furrowed his brow, and made a face – he could imagine why. Even if he wasn't her brother, Leia wasn't amenable to vulgar conversation, at least not in that sense, and not with mere acquaintances.
"Well, Dansra or Winter, I do wonder sometimes if he'd like to find someone," she trailed off, pausing with the zipper on the other side. She frowned, hesitating, and then looked up, watching Han button up his shirt and shrug a vest on.
"Vader," she blurted, her eyes wide.
"What?" Han asked sharply. He glanced at her, and did a double take. "What about 'im?"
"Father – he knows, he obviously knows," Leia said, swallowing hard. "Winter won't know. About Vader. We've put it out publicly that Luke and I are siblings but – Vader – "
Han crossed the room, straightening his vest, and caught her eye, shaking his head.
"Leia, she won't care."
"You don't know that. You don't know her," Leia said quickly, compressing her lips.
Han frowned.
"No," he agreed. "I don't. You don't have to get into that tonight, you know," he reminded her. "And look, Leia…" he broke off, and sighed, unsure how to proceed – he'd never been particularly good with words, not like she was. "When you told me, about Vader?" he said, folding his arms. "Remember?"
She nodded.
"Remember what I said?"
She laughed, a choked, soft little sound, and nodded.
"Rough deal," she quoted hoarsely.
He smiled sheepishly, and shrugged. It hadn't been elegant – but he'd been in shock, and he didn't think anything he said was going to make her feel better – and of course, he'd said more than just that in the moments following.
"'Cause that's all I thought," he swore. "Didn't even cross my mind to think less of you until you asked me if I was still in. I just felt terrible that you had to deal with that."
She smiled a little, thoughtfully lowering the zipper the rest of the way. She reached up to her neck, fiddling with the back of the dress until a button came loose, and then she loosened some of the elaborate ribbon work.
"You can't help who your parents are," he said flatly.
The mere idea of telling people, even Winter, even those very close to her, still made her skittish, but on some logical level deep down she knew he was right – she couldn't blame herself, nor could anyone else blame her, for an accident of birth. Someday, when it all came out, she was sure some people would – but Han was no doubt right about those close to her; they'd never write her off because of it.
"Dinner will go fine, Leia," he said confidently, his gaze decidedly not focused on her face – he was impatiently waiting for her to drop the dress to the floor.
She held the material up a moment longer and then let it fall, moving her shoulders when necessary to get the dress to drop down the rest of her body so she could step out of it. Left in nothing but the undergarments she'd been wearing, she stepped away from the pooled material and basked for a moment in Han's admiring gaze before she stepped into the bathroom and hid herself behind the door.
"Hang that up, will you?" she requested sweetly. "Too bad you already showered," she sighed.
He gave her a pained look – was she really going to take the rest off behind closed doors – ?
Leia flashed him a smug smile and shut the door with a soft click. He heard the water running, and he raised his eyes to the ceiling – kriff she could be a tease sometimes, and it always caught him so off guard, considering her usually demure nature. Like the time he came back from work one evening to find her posed on the couch in his vest, and absolutely nothing else. He took a moment, again, to relish the fact that he got to have Leia like no one else ever saw her.
Despite her concerns about the alleged lack of time Han had allowed her by letting her sleep, Leia did manage to situate her hair in a way that satisfied her almost perfectly. She'd abandoned the intricate, tight braids she usually favored – she'd gotten into the habit of binding her hair up as close to her head as possible while serving in the Rebellion, and that habit had stuck – and chosen to go for a style she'd worn often at the University of Alderaan – before she was a senator, and subject to ceremonial dress.
She used carefully placed pins to pull half of it up, and then used a wand to curl some of it and let it fall down over her shoulders. It was simple, but it also had the effect of looking unusually glamorous and blown out; her father used to tell her, grumpily, that it looked slightly overdramatic – his word for too sexy – when she wore it like that.
Of course, sixteen-year-old Leia had just smiled sweetly at him and said: "Good."
When twenty-four-year-old Leia asked Han how it looked, he glared at her and told her it wasn't fair for her to look like that when they were having company and he couldn't do anything about it. She took that as approval, and paired the hairstyle with a sleeveless, high-necked red blouse and black pants.
"I see you put on your nicest ten thousand year old vest," she remarked, searching idly through the cabinet for liquor to offer.
"You want me to go put on the one that's only nine thousand years old?" he retorted smartly.
Leia smiled, studying the label of a white wine punch from Naboo. She shook her head, and glanced over at the ensemble. Han had two kinds of clothing: smuggler chic, and New Republic military uniform. He wouldn't be caught dead in his dress uniform unless he was at a formal function, which essentially left only one option.
"I'm only teasing," she murmured, now examining the label of something Chewbacca had given her last month. She uncorked the top and smelled it, her brow furrowing. "Is this even okay for humans?" she muttered under her breath. She replaced it, and pulled a safe bottle of Corellian red towards her.
"I'll go put my uniform on if you go take your clothes off," he suggested, shooting her a devilish look.
She sighed, focusing pointedly on the label of the wine bottle.
"I don't know what's gotten into you tonight," she chastised primly. "You act like you're deprived."
"You came out dressed like that!" he accused.
"This is a demure outfit, Han."
"It's the hair," he whined. She looked like one of those nymphs from ancient fairy stories; the ones that only wore strategically placed leaves for clothing.
"You can wait," Leia told him, batting her lashes.
He glared at her, and she laughed, stepping away from the counter. He could have such a one track mind – and why it had to be tonight, when she wanted him to really impress Winter –
"You're very spoiled, you know," she said.
"Am not," he retorted. "You've been turnin' me down all afternoon."
"It isn't as if it's been days since we've had sex, Han - "
"It feels like it," he lamented dramatically.
"Oh really? Then would you kindly tell me who I was with this morning?"
He grinned at her roguishly.
"That doesn't count; I was half asleep."
She feigned a highly affronted look.
"Well I'm sorry I'm so boring – "
He crossed the kitchen in two strides, catching her face in his hands. He looked down at her sternly, his thumbs drawing little circles on her jaw.
"There's nothing boring about you," he said huskily.
Suddenly her exasperation with his advances melted away, and she nearly forgot why she kept putting him off in the first place – it did feel like it had been forever, come to think of it, and if his eyes kept glittering at her like that she was just going to melt at his feet like, like –
"Stop looking at me like that," she whispered.
"Like what?" he asked, all his concentration clearly focused on continuing to look at her like that. "You'd better get used to it, Your Highness. I'll be lookin' at you like this for the rest of your life."
She blushed, shivers creeping down her spine – good shivers, infinitely good shivers. She had no time to formulate a response; the bell to their apartment rang. She gave a small gasp – a sharp intake of breath, really, and stared at Han, eyes wide.
"You going to get that?" he prompted.
"My face will be all red," she hissed, though she stalled because she was anxious, nervous – because this was the moment someone from her old, destroyed life was going to meet Han for who he really was – not a Republic General, not a hero of the Rebellion, but her Han. And on top of that – she'd hardly had a moment alone with Winter since the rescue.
She cleared her throat and stepped away, leaving him in the kitchen – he said dinner was all but ready; he was just waiting on the cut of meat in the oven. She was infinitely glad he was cooking; if he hadn't offered, she'd have hired someone, because the one thing her many tutors and mentors hadn't thought it would be useful to train her in was culinary arts. She'd learned to cook enough to survive in the trenches, but she wasn't particularly talented in that department.
Moments later, she stood at the door, her palm lingering over the access pad. With a quiet, deep breath, she authorized it to open, and found herself face to face with Winter. Winter wasted no time in giving her a smile – her icy blue eyes glittered, and she nearly threw herself over the threshold into a hug.
Leia stumbled back from the force of it, generally used to a more reserved Winter – but when she steadied herself, she hugged back fiercely, pressing her face into Winter's shoulder. The door slid shut, and after a moment Winter lunged back, pushing her shimmery blonde hair back – she'd woven ribbons throughout hers, very much like she used to.
"I've wanted to do that since the moment I saw you," Winter said, holding Leia's shoulders tightly. "But there were always so many people, or cameras, and even after years on a ship, I can't break the habit – "
"Dignity, girls, always dignity!" Leia mimicked her father impeccably, and Winter hugged her again, looser this time, and quicker.
"You look wonderful," Winter said earnestly. "Aunt Rouge can't stop talking about it, you know. We're inundated with the political developments and the reality we missed and Aunt Rouge pesters Pasha to death on how different you look – "
"Different? And what does he say?" Leia asked, almost worriedly.
"Oh, he ignored Rouge; you know he always does – he said it's hardly surprising you look like your mother, though that might be an indication the pressure is getting to him – you don't look a thing like Breha."
Leia pursed her lips curiously – interesting slip of her father's indeed – who was it she looked like, exactly? She filed the thought away for later, reminding herself to mention it to Luke. She took Winter's hands and squeezed them.
"Father, crack under pressure?" she asked skeptically.
Winter laughed quietly, her face somber for a moment. She sighed.
"He's been through so much," she said.
"So have you," Leia remarked quietly – she'd been through the same; the planet's destruction, the long exile on the lost ship.
Winter lifted her shoulders as if to ask – what can be done? – and shook her head, returning Leia's look.
"As if you haven't?" she asked softly. She licked her lips. "I've read it all. You know I can't forget it. You did it, Leia. The Empire, destroyed."
"It wasn't just me," she said. "We all paid a heavy price," she added, pausing thickly for a moment. She shook her head slightly. "This isn't what tonight is for, Winter – that's all you've been getting lately; it's all I've been reliving," she said.
"Ah, I know," Winter said earnestly. "This is a – oh, hello," she broke off politely, removing her hands from Leia's automatically – it was a reaction to unfamiliar presence; Winter, like Leia, had been trained to refrain from showing affection and intimacy in the presence of non-family members. Leia watched as Winter's shoulders straightened elegantly, and she inclined her head patiently, waiting.
Leia turned slightly, angling herself so she could look between the two of them easily – Han had come down the hall, and he leaned against the wall silently – Leia guessed she should have better planned the logistics of how this was going to go exactly, particularly since she hadn't actually told Winter it would be more than just her.
Leia narrowed her eyes at Han for his casual appearance, and he shrugged – he'd felt shady just idling in the kitchen, like he was hiding – or eavesdropping. He returned Winter's mildly curious gaze, and after a moment she looked at Leia quizzically. Leia took her elbow and pulled her towards Han, inclining her head.
"Winter, this is Han Solo," she said neutrally, stopping in front of him – Winter was taller than her, and didn't need to tilt her head up so much to study Han. "He's joining us for dinner."
Winter nodded simply.
"Yes, I know who he is," she said, extending her hand. "He rescued us. Even an average mind wouldn't forget," she remarked, clasping Han's hand in both of hers once he accepted the handshake. She smiled, reserved. "General Han Solo, commissioned before the Battle of Endor. One of the first to accept a commission in the interim, and then coalition, Republic military."
"He doesn't like the title," Leia remarked lightly. She'd introduced him without it to keep Winter from calling him general. Everything about the military reminded him of his illusion-shattering Imperial Academy experience, and the hierarchy was the worst part; Han didn't even like those serving under him addressing him with reverence. That and – if she didn't introduce him officially, maybe Winter would take the hint that he wasn't here in any official capacity.
"It's an honorable title," Winter said, squeezing his hand before retracting hers and holding them in front of her gracefully. "Particularly for someone whose original claim to fame was making the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs."
Han arched his eyebrow and glanced at Leia; she held up her hands.
"I didn't prep her."
"She didn't," Winter agreed amicably. Without looking once at the bloodstripe on his trousers, she continued. "Corellian, court martialed from the Imperial Academy for intervening on a slave's behalf, unscrupulous smuggler turned slightly less unscrupulous freedom fighter," her eyes narrowed critically, "instrumental in the destruction of the first Death Star and," she paused somewhat dramatically, "one-point-eight meters tall."
Han glanced at Leia again, and noticed she was giving Winter a withering look.
"You scare people when you do that, you know," she said. "That hasn't changed." Winter smiled, and Leia turned to Han, folding her arms. "She has an eidetic memory; photographic, and autographic," Leia informed him. "She remembers everything she sees and hears. No exceptions."
Han eyed her warily for a moment and then said, somewhat callously:
"That sounds like a curse."
To his surprise, Winter's face brightened, almost delighted.
"It is an absolute curse," she said, and before he could question why she was so pleased with his opinion, she went on: "You are one of the only people to recognize that. Most people envy me."
"Yeah, well I got things I'd like to forget."
"As do I, General Solo."
"Just Han," Leia reminded her.
Winter inclined her head to acknowledge that, and turned to Leia, pursing her lips matter-of-factly.
"You knew I'd remember him," she said. "Why are you introducing us?" she asked simply.
Leia bowed her head a brief moment and looked back up, holding Winter's gaze carefully. Winter tilted her head, waiting, and Leia cleared her throat softly.
"I'm not introducing him as a public figure," she told her. "Han lives here."
Winter blinked.
"Are you still a prime target for assassination?" she asked, looking at Han, but speaking to Leia.
"Am I…what?"
"Is he a live-in bodyguard?"
Han laughed, genuinely amused – she'd just read a file full of fairly significant assignments he'd had over the past year of the New Republic, and she asked if his current responsibility was babysitting an Ambassador? It was entertaining – though he hoped it didn't indicate she was about to freak out when Leia corrected her.
"He's not a bodyguard, Winter," Leia retorted.
"Well," began Han suddenly, only to be given an icy glare by Leia.
"If you make an offensive joke, I will shoot you."
He shut his mouth. Winter looked at him with interest for a moment.
"Winter, are you being deliberately dense?" Leia quipped.
Winter abruptly arched one eyebrow suggestively, and glanced away from Han, her face turning a slight pink. She inched over towards Leia, ducking behind her and resting her chin on her shoulder. She wasn't being dense, she just hadn't wanted to make assumptions that offended Leia. Comically, she stared at Han with wide eyes for a moment, an almost school-girlish look, and she turned her face toward Leia's ear.
"Is he your lover?"
Leia lifted her eyes to the ceiling. She nodded.
Winter looked at him critically, her cool eyes intent. She still grasped Leia's shoulders, clearly somewhat unsure how to proceed – she looked torn between decorum and dragging Leia aside and asking her a thousand questions. Han looked back at her for a moment, and then flicked his eyes to Leia silently – should he say something?
"This wasn't in the file," Winter said abruptly.
"The briefs were strictly political and informative," Leia said, gently shaking Winter off. She stepped away and tilted her head at her. "Personal information wasn't necessary."
"Reading General Solo's file was like reading an action novel. This would have made it better," Winter retorted. She paused. "Unless it's a secret." She stepped closer to Leia again. "Is it a secret?" she hissed, eyeing Han curiously. "Are you a secret, General?"
"It's not a secret," Han answered. "She's too famous for it to be a secret."
"Oh, but wouldn't you know that we learned the art of discretion at a very tender age," Winter responded smartly.
Han arched his brows at Leia. Leia flushed, and gave Winter a mildly annoyed look – well, at least she seemed to be taking it well.
"The media has currently been focused on resurrected Alderaanians," she said, "or it would have been the first thing you saw on the holos – it's one of the reasons the information you've been inundated with has been somewhat controlled so far."
"Reading between the lines, I take that to mean Pasha doesn't know," Winter deducted correctly.
Leia took a deep breath, letting it out quietly.
"Pasha?" Han grunted, wary. Was there someone else important he had to be evaluated by?
"It's - Alderaanian for, ah," Leia paused, trying to translate appropriately. "Uncle, sort of, but more an affectionate term for a guardian who is unrelated by blood - it's what she calls Father," she murmured - Alderaanian culture had terms for foster parents that were used when the child remembered their biological parents and didn't want them replaced in word or deed. Leia swallowed, and shook her head, turning to Winter.
"He's – immensely overwhelmed," she said tensely. "I didn't think it was the most pertinent thing at the moment. Acclimating the lot of you to the new world order takes precedence – '
Winter was nodding, a mischievous glint in her eyes, though she kept her face solemn.
"I understand, Leia, I wouldn't want to tell him about my ravishing, scoundrel paramour, either," she said, deadpan.
Leia glared at Winter through her lashes – but she had to bite back a genuine smile, because even as the other woman teased her, she felt comforted, she felt like she was home; she'd missed having a friend – a sister – and her worries that they'd be strangers, fractured forever, were evaporating with every word out of Winter's mouth, every smug twitch of her lips. Still, she felt she had to reiterate –
"It isn't a secret," Leia said earnestly. "Han's permanent. I just know that…it will all be a shock. It's," she paused – she couldn't decide how her father was going to react; he was a good man with an open mind and a deep belief in the value of people's actions over their social standing, but he was also a descendant of a line of dignified monarchs, and she wasn't sure – "In his mind, time hasn't passed. I'm still nineteen."
"In all of our minds, Leia," Winter said, her voice shaking slightly. "The malfunctions on that ship and the cosmic fluctuations – we had no idea we were stranded for five years, we couldn't imagine – everything is still so fresh," she finished, the glint in her eyes fading. She grasped Leia's hands, and then looked over at Han. "I wondered why Bail wasn't here tonight," she said, more to Han than anything. "I think he was…disconcerted that he hadn't been asked, when I mentioned it, but I understand," she looked back to Leia. "I've never seen him like this. It's like he doesn't know who he is."
Leia nodded; she understood all too well how that felt – it was everything she'd gone through after the Battle of Yavin, when she'd been a displaced refugee of a lost planet, somewhere between damsel in distress and soldier, unsure what her path was going to be. She felt a pang of guilt to hear her father had been unnerved not to receive an invite, but when she'd seen him yesterday he had been in a bad place, and she just wasn't sure he was ready.
Han cleared his throat.
"He's got a hell of a talent for hiding it," he said dryly, thinking of the Bail Organa he'd met on the ship – commanding presence, a trustworthy face, clearly in control of his people and his person.
Winter nodded.
"He'd never show weakness among those he leads," she said quietly, and Han turned his eyes on Leia thoughtfully a moment – the trait sounded familiar to him. While he looked at her, trying to discern silently if she thought he was making a good impression, Winter leaned closer and said something unintelligible to Leia – and it was only when Leia's expression clearly indicated she'd comprehended that Han realized Winter was speaking Alderaanian.
When after a moment of heavy silence, Leia answered in her native tongue, Han's jaw nearly dropped – he'd never heard her speak Alderaanian before. To his knowledge, she hadn't spoken it since the day of the Disaster, not to him, not to Carlist Rieekan – not to anyone. He didn't comprehend what she said, of course, but it seemed like such a good thing for her – and it made him happy, somewhere deep in his chest, because he knew how much the pain of losing her home could devastate her, and finding the strength to speak the language again had to be something beautiful.
"Hey," he spoke up gruffly. "Anyone ever tell you that's impolite?"
"I'll repeat it in Basic," Winter said archly.
"She asked if you can leave now so we can talk about you," Leia supplied.
Han looked taken aback.
"You're kicking me out?" he asked, affronted.
Leia gave him a brilliant smile that was somehow hesitant, and somehow hopeful. She approached him and put her hands on his chest in surprisingly intimate gesture, considering they had company. Her back to Winter, she gave him a wildly appreciative look, and shook her head.
"No," she corrected. She couldn't seem to stop smiling. "Finish dinner, is all."
He feigned suspicion, and then snorted.
"Yeah, I'm just your personal chef, I get it," he said – he had finishing touches to see to, anyway, and he'd caught the tail end of some of Winter and Leia's conversation earlier; she sounded so at peace, and right now, she looked excited, eager, and he wanted her to embrace that.
He held up his hands and then, boldly, leaned down and pressed a swift kiss to her temple before shooting Winter one last glance and retreating back to oversee dinner – he'd pick some better liquor than she'd distractedly selected, too.
Leia watched Han retreat, and held out her hand, gesturing that Winter should proceed with her into the living room. Winter looked around at the apartment with interest, her gaze lingering on the expansive balcony window before she sat down on the sofa next to Leia. She reached out and placed one hand on Leia's knee.
"Is he really your lover?" she asked in a hushed voice. Her eyes sparkled mischievously.
Leia felt her face get hot.
"Yes, Winter."
"He's very good-looking."
Leia gave her an amused look, inclining her head politely.
"Well, I can't take credit for that, but thank – "
"No, Leia, he's really incredibly handsome," Winter went on insistently. "He looks like a—a—a holovid star."
Leia sighed, biting back a smile.
"Winter, please – don't tell him that," she requested a bit dryly. She arched one brow lightly. "And are you implying it's a shock I snared someone that attractive?"
Winter laughed good-naturedly.
"Not at all, I'm thinking of all the eligible bachelors your aunts and your father plied you with back on Alderaan – none of them looked like that," she reminded Leia.
Leia did smile, but it was a somewhat sad one. Those eligible men from Alderaan – all of them were dead, and the ones from the Imperial courts had never turned her head, anyway. She didn't quite feel ready to tell Winter about what a scene she'd made at the reception for the Hapes delegation – Winter had always had quite the crush on that prince.
"He's much older than you," Winter said curiously.
"It doesn't feel like so much," Leia said quietly. "He grew up slower than I did. It's like we met in the middle," she reflected. Han had struggled in his youth, to be sure, but when she said he grew up slower, she meant he grew up free, and wild, and he'd never had the weight of a thousand lives on his shoulders.
Winter pulled her hand back, and looked over her shoulder.
"I should have known, from reading his file – from reading yours," she sighed. "There weren't more than two or three missions you didn't run together. Him, Chewbacca, and Luke Skywalker," she remembered.
"We racked up quite the expensive bounty," Leia said dryly. "Han had bounties from the Empire and the Outer Rim gangsters."
"What an honor," Winter laughed. She leaned back tensely, resting her cheek on her hand. "He volunteered to come for us, they say," she said. "Did he do it for you?"
"It's a complicated story," Leia deflected.
"I want to hear it all from you; not from a file – all of it," Winter said quickly. "The courtship, everything," she continued. "I'm so starved for the kind of conversation we used to have – "
"Oh, Winter, you have no idea – "
"I do, though, I do," she reminded Leia. "I feel torn between needing to know everything that's happened and gone on and to take a position in the government and wanting to sit in a room with you and be teenagers again."
Leia looked at her defenselessly.
"I'll never feel like a teenager again," she said, apologetic.
Winter took her hand again.
"Neither of us will," she agreed. She took a deep breath, and sighed, squeezing Leia's fingers. "I knew you were in trouble when they told us you were dead," she lamented. "Pasha did, too. While we were stranded, we worried – in his wildest dreams, he didn't think they'd ignore your diplomatic immunity, he didn't," she said. "I thought he was being naïve," she broke off.
"It happened a long time ago," Leia said quietly. "All of it. He – needn't blame himself. It wasn't anyone's fault – "
"Oh, he thinks it was," Winter said. "Leia, I don't want to start off this night badly, but if I were you – I know you," she said quickly. "I know how things weigh on you; I can turn my brain off because I have to, but you don't – you never do. I've been told Luke Skywalker is your brother – "
"I know that," Leia said quizzically, her voice soft. "It's in the file."
"Yes," Winter agreed. "But I didn't learn that from the file. Pasha told me. On one of those long days on that ship, he told me who Luke Skywalker is, and he told me who you are, so if you're sitting there thinking about how to tell me – I already know," she assured her. "About," she looked over her shoulder, leaned forward, and lowered her voice. "About Anakin Skywalker."
Leia said nothing, her shoulders set stiffly. She looked at Winter silently for a long time, and then cleared her throat.
"You know who Anakin Skywalker became?"
Winter nodded, and Leia didn't know how she felt – relieved, horrified, embarrassed? Betrayed, even – betrayed, because no matter what the circumstances were, her Father had broken down and confessed this to Winter, to Winter, but he'd never thought to tell her – even when he sent her up against the Sith Lord himself; even when he saw her off to the Senate in the midst of them.
"Don't you see?" Winter asked. "In his eyes, it's all his fault. It's why he asked you to head the mission with Ben Kenobi. He thought you were safe from Vader."
Leia looked at her with a blank expression, and turned her hand over, clasping Winter's fingers.
"I don't want to discuss this," she said simply. "But you - you needn't whisper; Han knows."
She couldn't think about that right now – she couldn't think about how much of a pawn she'd been. It was – it wasn't a shock that she'd had a part to play, as a Princess she'd always known that, but she was on the verge of realizing she'd had less control over her destiny than she'd ever thought, and it brought her dangerously close to seeing her father as a puppet master. She'd hardly - she'd hardly ever blame him for the things Grand Moff Tarkin had authorized, but to even begin to think he might have been cavalier with her – but no; he couldn't have been – he hadn't expected her to be intercepted, captured.
"Leia?" Winter asked softly.
Leia shook her head, her hair dancing down her back.
"I've been carefully controlling the environments my father and I meet in," she said. "You know that – I've wanted to ease everyone into it – you, him, Aunt Rouge," she listed. "It's for political reasons, as well as personal," she explained. "My life is so…different. Finding out about – Vader," she said, "it changed the way I – viewed a lot of things. And now, discovering you all alive," she paused. "Don't think I'm unhappy to have you back," Leia finished shakily.
"I don't," Winter assured her. "He's older than us. He's less resilient," she said smartly. "When Alderaan exploded, everything fell apart, his carefully laid plans – whatever they were, whatever he and Ben Kenobi were colluding on – they didn't foresee that. You're scared of what he's going to think."
"Yes," Leia said emphatically.
She leaned forward, putting her other hand over Winter's.
"I asked you here to feel out the reaction – you've been with him, and you've had the same mind set as him, and the others," she explained. "There's so much that I need to discuss with Father, and the added – pressure of what he might think of – "
"General Solo?"
"Yes," she agreed in a small voice. "General Solo," she murmured. "Winter?" she asked. "What will he think?"
Winter shook her head.
"I can't answer that, Leia," she sighed. "General Solo has – his record is stunning, and Pasha was never much of a snob or an elitist," she mused. "But I don't know. He's really lost. And I have to ask – because even when you're at the Embassy or the Senate, you're not wearing white – are you married to him?"
The question felt absurd to Leia for some reason, and it brought out a smile. She shook her head, and laughed wryly.
"We're not married," she said, her shoulders relaxing. "Though I suspect – well, he mentioned it would be easier if we were," she joked softly. "Mon Mothma and the others have been trying to make a match with me, but I'm not – well, as I told you earlier; Han is permanent."
"Is he going to marry you?" Winter asked.
Leia hesitated – she'd never even told Luke that she and Han had agreed to get married, and she'd rarely discussed it with Han since that fateful moment on Corellia. Something stalled her for a moment, something simple, and oddly innocent – she'd always dreamed her engagement announcement would be different than this. Still, she found no point in lying to Winter, and no real reason to put off the answer.
"He's asked me to marry him, yes," she answered finally. "I've told him I will." She paused. "We've been…cleaning up the dregs of the Empire. There just hasn't been time."
Winter looked at her thoughtfully a moment, and then smiled brilliantly.
"But that's so exciting!" she nearly shrieked, yanking Leia's hands forward. "Oh, Leia, I can't tell you what Pasha's going to say – it might be a shock for him, since General Solo's – but who cares about his background, from all I've seen he's a good man and you get to marry for love!" Winter looked at her excitedly. "Did you ever think that would happen? Purely for love?" Winter swallowed quickly and kept going. "I know there are more important things in the world right now, but – you're going to marry someone!"
Winter's wonder and excitement was infections, and until this point, it wasn't something Leia had dwelled on – there was too much struggle in the world. She smiled at Winter though, her face lighting up, and she nodded – no, she'd never quite imagined being married to someone she chose with no strings attached, without even the slightest political reason behind it; and while she might have dreamt of fairytale love while she was a small child, by the time she was in her teens she'd been almost cynical, ambitious – and far too aware of her duty to House Organa.
"In spite of everyone," Leia assured her. "You'll like him when you get to know him, Winter," she said.
"I already like him," Winter said seriously. "I trust your taste – tell me, is General Rieekan losing his mind? He was always so protective of you, even after you were of age – "
Leia laughed.
"No you – Carlist loves Han, he's – honestly, I got to know Carlist so differently while we worked together, sometimes I think Han convinced him to push us together – Jan Dodonna, on the other hand – "
"I imagine Threkin Horm is beside himself," Winter laughed.
"Mon Mothma doesn't like it either, but she's quite upset her plans to use me as a treaty with Hapes fell through."
"I would gladly disguise myself as you, as I have so many times before, and marry Isolder of Hapes if it comes to it," Winter said dramatically.
Leia grinned at her for a moment, and then lunged forward and hugged her, pulling her impossibly close – it was so wonderful to have her friend back, so much a balm for her soul to have this comradery again; she felt like bursting into tears, and she felt an optimistic elation – if things could be like they were with Winter, they could – they could be like this with her father, couldn't they?
Ah, but it was different, it was infinitely different. Her father had always found it difficult to let her grow up, at least when it came to her personal life, and to have to face it all in one rush rather than gradually – she just didn't know.
"I'll be on your side," Winter promised. "If he wants you to break things off with General Solo."
Leia nodded, but she pulled back.
"That won't be an option," she said simply, but firmly. Deep down, so much of her apprehension stemmed from the possibility that she might be asked to choose, and as she'd told Luke – her choice, though difficult, was already made; she loved Han, there was nothing unsuitable about him, and any disapproval from her father or others stemmed from places of prejudice, not righteous concern about Han's character.
Han had proved his integrity to the Alliance a hundred times over, and she wouldn't be disloyal to him – she wouldn't.
Not for anyone.
Clasping her hands, Leia swallowed hard.
"The Alderaanian Press Conference is in a few days," she said. "When that's said and done, when things settle with the media – there will be time for these things."
"Will you be there with us?" Winter asked. "There's been some uncertainty – "
"Mon Mothma and I are still discussing it," Leia said evasively. "We want to focus to be on Father and the few other high-ranking officials, and the press can be so aggressively interested in me," she paused. "I have a preparatory meeting with him tomorrow with the Alderaanian council – it's all been so impersonal so – "
"Strange," Winter breathed.
"Strange," Leia agreed. "The world turned upside down, again. Everything I thought I knew, everything I'd come to terms with," she shook her head, and threw up her hands, indicating an explosion.
Winter nodded slowly for a moment, but she smiled.
"But you won the war," she said, breathlessly. "No matter what unfolds next, it's in a world without the Empire."
Leia took a deep breath, and nodded – it was so optimistic, so refreshing, to look at it like that – and these moments with Winter were giving her strength, strength to face her father about the way her life had gone, strength to face all the questions she had to ask, and had to hear the answers for.
Han entered the room, clearing his throat pointedly.
"You drink, Winter?" he asked.
"Do I drink?" she repeated, arching pale brows. "General Solo, I spent five years on a ship with the same people, and no outside communication. I could drink for the rest of my life."
Han smirked.
"Get in here, then, there's dinner and some of that infamous Malastare moonshine on the table."
Winter rose, giving Leia a sly look, and Leia followed, folding her arms as she followed Winter towards Han. Leia gave him a gentle, appreciative look over her friend's shoulder, and Winter stopped in front of Han, glancing down at his trousers.
"The Corellian bloodstripe is infamous," she remarked, "even without the eidetic memory, I'd have pinpointed your home planet."
"Is that so?" Han retorted.
Winter inclined her head, and shot Leia a look wickedly.
"Of course," she said. "I saw it constantly growing up."
"Winter," Leia admonished suddenly, blushing. She realized in a second where Winter was going with this story.
"Hasn't Leia told you about her childhood fascination with the Corellian holo-drama Moonjockeys?"
Han lifted his eyes slowly, gleefully, to Leia's mortified expression.
"No," he said carefully. "She definitely hasn't." He knew the drama – it was about Corellia's infamous pilots, a sickeningly over-hyped, glamorous, slightly soap-operatic romantic serial.
Winter put her arm out, grabbed Leia, and pulled her forward, hooking her elbow together.
"Well as we get to know each other, we'll have to see what else Leia hasn't told you," Winter teased.
Han folded his arms, and looked at Leia smugly.
"I like her," he asserted impishly.
Leia swallowed hard, and narrowed her eyes at him.
"Please remember," she threated softly, "that more often than not, Chewbacca takes my side."
Her meaning was clear – it would be easy to get the most embarrassing stories out of Chewie if she really wanted to. Han tipped his head in a gesture that seemed to acknowledge the challenge, and gestured for Winter to lead them into the kitchen. As she passed him, he reached out to Leia, pulled her to his side for a moment, and kissed her temple – this was one big step down; one leap on the way to really delving in to everything with her father, and regardless of what happened there, it made him fiercely happy to see a light in her eyes that had never quite been this bright since he'd known her, a light Winter seemed to have rekindled.
Buoyed by the pleasant way things had gone last night, Leia was in an unusually upbeat mood the next day while performing her duties. Rieekan and Luke both noticed it, primarily when she smiled twice during their meeting when she generally didn't smile at work at all, but they merely shared a look and didn't comment on it.
It was General Crix Madine, back on Coruscant on a brief leave from his station in the Western Reaches, who decided to put his foot in his mouth.
"I have to say, Princess, it's nice to see you so happy," Madine remarked, leaning forward to take the kaffe refill Luke had just offered him.
Rieekan had asked Madine in on a briefing about the Alderaanians, as there were a fair few Alderaanian refugees in the Western Reaches. He was set to take information back to them directly from Leia and the Alderaanian Council – he had several Alderaanians on his military staff, as well.
Leia looked at him neutrally and lowered her hand from her face; she'd been pressing her fingers thoughtfully to her lips while she read over the psych analysis of one of the oldest Alderaanians rescued.
"Do I usually look unhappy, Crix?" she asked.
He stared at her, and then shook his head hastily.
"No," he said.
Luke snorted. Leia gave him a look.
"Well, unhappy's not the right word," Luke teased her. "More like bi – businesslike," he said, hastily changing his assessment mid-word.
Leia glared at him darkly, slightly amused by the scandalized look Tyr Taskeen had just shot Luke.
"What?" Luke asked him. "I'm her brother."
"This is an official meeting," Rieekan said sternly.
"No, it's not," Leia remarked. "When Horm leaves, we all drop the formalities," she added under her breath.
Rieekan and Luke exchanged amused glances again, and Rieekan found it hard to hold his tongue – Madine was right; she seemed extremely happy, and Carlist had the ridiculously childish urge to point at her, and grab Luke, or Tyr, or someone, by the shoulders and shout 'this is how she used to be!'
Leia flicked through the file, and sighed, clearing her throat.
"These results are all over the place," she murmured.
"Yes, it's very…eye-opening," Tyr remarked, nudging his glasses up. He, along with several other scientists, were involved with all of the medical evaluations, physical and mental, of the Alderaanians, and he'd brought along psychological reports to the council meeting that had just officially ended.
"There seem to be varying degrees of acceptance," Leia remarked.
"Ah, yes," Tyr agreed again. "Even in those who guessed – who understood what had happened to Alderaan – the full realization now is weighing on them."
"Understandably," Luke said, sitting down. He stirred the kaffe he'd made himself. "They can't go home."
Leia, hardened to that realization already, said nothing as she closed the file and laid it gently on the table. She put her fingers back to her mouth thoughtfully, lightly brushing her lips, and then curled her hand into a fist, resting it on her shoulder.
"I can't recommend a generic way to ease that realization," she said, looking up and making eye contact with the Alderaanians first.
Tyr nodded, holding out his hand.
"Well, most of us wouldn't ask you too, it's too personal a thing," he mused quietly. "There's comradery in losing the planet, but individual grieving can't be given some sort of guideline, or code." He paused. "One of our psychologists is suggesting you speak to them specifically about that. A speech of some sort."
Leia looked at him patiently, listening.
"If they can see you surviving, hear how you got through it – "
"You say that as if I have," Leia interrupted quietly. She shook her head, looking away from him. Her eyes fell on a window in their conference room, and she shook her head again. "Tyr, you know what happens to survivors," she said.
"Yes," he agreed.
Leia lifted her eyes to the ceiling. Carlist set his jaw – he knew just as well as they did; either the survivors of Alderaan killed themselves, or they found a way to move on.
"It has barely been two weeks," Carlist said gently. "The adjustment period is more than just accepting the true reality of Alderaan's destruction, it's that on top of the Empire being gone, on top of being back in real time, in a world where their leader – has no power, essentially."
Leia considered him a moment. The Alderaanians were like their own faction; they'd been ruled by Bail Organa before, and these few survivors had exclusively been his people for the past five years – but now they were inundated with a structure in which he wasn't making decisions at all, and though she'd carefully tried to hide it, Leia was sure they had realized she was having difficulty relating.
She shook her head.
"Time," she muttered. "It's all just going to take time – the younger ones are more resilient," she noted. She tapped the stack of files. "That's why Winter is starting to thrive more quickly – for people like my Aunt Rouge, and Father – it's a double hit."
"There's nothing tangible we can do," Tyr said, rubbing his jaw. "We just keep supporting them – they'll pick up; they'll start living lives."
"It's imperative the network doesn't fail them," Rieekan said.
"It won't," Leia said. "House Organa's off-world holdings can fund housing, rehabilitation," she said. "That's simple. We'll administer to them the same way we have all of the diaspora – and Crix, I'm sending a complete roster with you. There's such a minimal chance anyone on your staff, or in the Reaches will know someone found alive, but there's no harm in trying. Particularly since several of those found had military training off-world – they may know the Alderaanians who joined our military after. If they do, you're to send them on personal leave immediately so they can see their friends or family."
What had happened to Alderaan had stricken a desire for revenge into so many of the survivors, but it hadn't cracked the pacifist shell of them all. Leia postulated that the ones most likely to know people who had accompanied her father to fight for her on the ill-fated day Alderaan exploded were the ones serving in arms.
Tyr Taskeen started to get up.
"I'll excuse myself – if you don't mind, I've actually got to go by the courts to testify," he trailed off, shaking his head angrily. Members of Tyr's family had been tortured by the Empire for information on his whereabouts; Leia knew the memory haunted him – like her, people he'd loved had been hurt by his decision to fight.
"Good luck," Carlist offered, as Tyr saluted hastily and went out.
Luke leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily. He glanced around, and furrowed his brow.
"It's strange how quickly the media frenzy is dying," he remarked. "I haven't heard too much about Bail – "
"It's boring," Leia said flatly. "They survived, we rescued them, they're back, Alderaan is still gone – that's old news," she listed, "and until the press conference, while we're hiding them, the press doesn't care – it isn't salacious enough."
"They're also consumed with the War Crime Tribunals, even the trash channels," Madine pointed out. "Hell, the reports I have gotten in the Reaches haven't mentioned General Solo for four days."
"Four whole days?" Leia repeated dryly. She rolled her eyes and whistled under her breath.
Madine grinned.
"My troops are getting bored," he joked.
Leia arched an eyebrow, but his remark about bored troops reminded her of something, and she cleared her throat, gesturing between Rieekan and Madine.
"Can one of you tell me what this is about Han's assignment in the Western Reaches?" she asked carefully – she didn't want to come off like she was about to manipulate state issues for personal reasons, but Han's orders had come as somewhat of a surprise.
Apparently, Rieekan thought so, too, because he said:
"Huh?"
"I take it you didn't issue his orders?" Leia asked.
Madine frowned.
"I'm s'pose to be getting some reinforcements, but I didn't think it'd be another general," he said, slightly exasperated.
"I thought Han was on the ground here, in charge of fleet modifications," Leia went on. "When he finished the combat tour against Zsinj – "
"He…is," muttered Carlist, frowning. "Why would we send Solo to the Western Reaches? That mission is rooting out Imperial hideouts, its not actively hostile," he thought to himself.
Leia grit her teeth, and put her palms out, glancing at Luke tensely.
"I don't want to sound paranoid," she said grimly, although she sensed a pretty significant ulterior motive, "and you know I make it a point not to influence decisions based on my personal needs or desires, but because of that, I'll find it irritating," she said the word pointedly, "if I discovered someone else is manipulating things a certain way," she paused. "Do you understand, Carlist?"
"If you're asking me if Dodonna gave the order, he probably did," Rieekan said flatly. "As Commander in Chief, he's the only full-fledged general who outranks me, and I usually command Solo."
Leia compressed her lips – she'd suspected as much this morning when Han told her he'd been issued orders to the Reaches overnight.
"He might think he's doing you a favor," Rieekan tried. "Han can be pretty…volatile."
"If he was needed in the Reaches, I'd shut my mouth," Leia said sharply. She looked at Madine pointedly, and Crix laughed.
"I can handle the Western Reaches without Solo," he snorted. "They're not nearly as unstable and overrun as the Outer Rim, and Calrissian and Akbar have a pretty good handle on that – but if Dodonna wants to make his meddling less obvious, tell him to send Solo to the Outer Rim."
"We avoid sending Han to the Outer Rim officially," Luke spoke up seriously.
"Right," Madine muttered. "Why's that again?"
He'd forgotten that Solo usually only ended up back in his old stomping grounds if he was undercover or in his personal ship. He'd always thought it was odd, since Solo knew the area so well, but he never really questioned it.
Leia sighed dramatically.
"Because he owes everyone there money," she said, "and I'm tired of rescuing him."
Madine grinned broadly.
"Well, listen, if tellin' 'em I don't need reinforcements that grand won't work, tell 'em they can't put two Corellians in charge of one fleet," he drawled. "We'll end up dueling over our manhood and kill each other."
Luke laughed.
"That's an exaggeration," he said, at the same time Leia said: "Yeah, sounds about right."
Luke gave her a bemused look, and she tucked a strand of loose hair back into her braid, frowning at Rieekan for a moment.
"He's not put me in a very good position doing something like this, and I don't think Mon Mothma would enjoy it, regardless of what she thinks of Han. The last thing I need right now is Han off somewhere he isn't needed getting himself killed."
"Crix just said the Western Reaches are fine," Luke soothed.
Leia looked at him pointedly.
"And you know as well as I do that if Han is bored, he will get into something that will kill him."
"Eh, he usually comes out okay," Luke pointed out.
Leia rolled her eyes and sat back, shaking her head.
"Carlist, use whatever excuse sounds plausible – they need him for an award ceremony or something, for the rescue," she said.
"Princess, please don't make me give Solo another award," Carlist grimaced. "Once was enough."
"Just a fake award. Just pretend he's getting an award."
"Han'll love that," Luke snorted.
"Han will do what I tell him to do," Leia said menacingly.
Madine laughed, clearly content just to enjoy the exchange. He got up after a moment, brushing off his wrinkled uniform, and abandoning his kaffe mug on the table.
"I've got to stop by for a meeting with Viceroy Organa," he said. "Haven't seen him yet – what a miracle, you know?" he mused, stepping away.
He gave Luke and Rieekan formal salutes, and Leia a small bow, before he excused himself, and Rieekan, though reluctant, was the next to get up.
"I need to weasel in a meeting with Jan before he cements Solo's orders – I'm glad you brought that up, Leia – "
"If he thinks for one second it's for selfish reasons – "
"Who cares if it is?" Rieekan interrupted a bit sharply. "You recused yourself from the decision of whether to rescue your father," he snapped, though the irritation in his tone wasn't at her. "No one can question your integrity. And Han deserves to be around when you tell Bail about him." Rieekan paused. "You are planning on telling…?
"No," Leia said, deadpan. "I was going to keep it a secret forever."
Rieekan blinked at her, and then smiled.
"Very funny, Your Highness."
She smiled back lightly.
"Carlist, I'm not ashamed of Han," she said quietly. "If anyone else is, that's their problem."
Rieekan nodded, and bowed his head before exiting the room, leaving her alone with Luke. Her brother sipped his kaffe quietly for a moment, peering at Leia over the rim of the mug, and then set it down and blurted –
"Bail thinks Han is your personal pilot."
Startled, Leia blinked at Luke like he'd grown a second head, and then narrowed her eyes.
"And why would he think that?" she asked dangerously.
"Oh, I didn't tell him," Luke said hastily. "When I was – working with him, when he was first going over files, he assumed that. He said he came by your apartment and Han was there and he assumed he was your personal pilot."
Leia sat forward.
"What did you tell him, Luke?" she demanded.
"Nothing!" Luke whined. "I told him you trusted him, that's all. And that I trusted him. But," Luke tried not to smile, failed, and then covered his mouth with the kaffe mug to hide the second smile. "He is concerned that Han might be trying to seduce you without you realizing it."
Leia glared at him.
"I'm serious, he said that. He noticed Han doesn't call you by your title."
Leia continued to glare.
"Leia," Luke laughed, lowering his mug. "I'm not teasing, I'm serious!" Luke amused himself laughing for another moment, and then composed himself, feigning a concerned, serious look. "Have you considered that Han might be trying to seduce you?" he joked.
"He does keep getting into bed with me naked, but I hadn't thought anything of it."
Luke drew back, giving her a look.
"Ew, you made it less fun," he accused.
"I used to spar with the Emperor himself, Skywalker," she said coolly. "You will never win a verbal war with me."
Luke frowned mulishly, accepting that such a thing was probably true. Looking at him, Leia sighed, and looked down at her lap. She turned in her chair, and slowly leaned forward, cupping her hands around her chin and staring at Luke.
"He's doing alright, isn't he?" she asked.
Luke spent more time with him than she did, right now. She didn't know if she believed it was because she was busy, and they were trying to keep things running while also debriefing the Alderaanians, or because deep down she was avoiding him. Because she was scared of him, of her resentment of him, of what he'd think of her, and of feeling as emotionally out of control as she had when she'd first seen him again.
"He's more than ready for this press conference, Leia," Luke assured her. "There's not much left to figure out about it – just whether or not you're going to be there at his side, or watching from the sidelines."
The role reversal seemed so powerful when he said it, and maybe that's what had been bugging her all along. Her father was a child in this new world order, and she was the seasoned veteran, and she didn't know how to navigate that – not when he, clearly, still thought her a child – he had to, if he thought she'd be silly enough to not see flagrant seduction when it was parading around in front of her.
She took a deep breath, looking down at the table. She hadn't decided if she would be present at the press conference or not – she needed to discuss it with Mon Mothma again, she needed to ask Han what he thought – she could – she could even ask Winter.
Time felt like it was going impossibly quickly, and impossibly slowly at once, and somehow, it felt simultaneously absurd to have him back, and absolutely normal; some days she couldn't get a grip on herself, and others, he was just in the back of her mind, an afterthought – oh yes; Father is back, I should touch base with him.
She swallowed hard and looked up at Luke, smiling tiredly – she didn't know why, but she felt distinctly like things could come to a head, finally, once the press was dealt with; once the interest faded, and the Alderaanians were forgotten again, just like they had seemed to be so quickly after their home world met its end.
...I apologized at the beginning because I think I'm about to get yelled at by a lot of people for the lack of Bail/Leia. next chapter!
also, just a quick note: this story is AU, so it's not following the EU novels (i mean, obviously) but what i'm saying is, the Empire is being referred to as "gone" because in my iteration, the Republic has consolidated enough control to ensure they will keep it, and are in power in all significant sectors. The remaining Imperials are now the outnumbered insurgents.
-Alexandra