So happy the scene of them finally coming together (pun intended) was everything you hoped for :) But don't get too excited...these two never have an easy path in any universe ;)

###

Towards morning cycle, Han had carefully extricated himself from Leia's arms and gone to the cockpit to change course for Naboo. Now, he sat back in the cockpit, drinking his kaffe, waiting for what the day would bring.

The door slid open behind him and he turned expectantly.

Chewbacca rumbled a greeting from the doorway.

"Mornin'."

He barked a curious question and Han stalled by taking a long sip of kaffe.

"Whadda you mean, 'what happened last night?'"

The Wookiee's long response was knowing and suggestive at the same time.

Han glowered into his cup. It was impossible to retain a modicum of privacy on a ship this small, with a co-pilot who had super sensitive Wookiee hearing.

When he didn't answer, Chewie spoke gently.

Without looking up, he grumbled in return. "So, what if I do care about her? I care about Luke, too."

He asked Han if he ever spent the night in bed with Luke then doubled over with laughter.

Han was not amused. He quickly changed the subject. "Listen, we're going to Naboo."

Chewie responded with a quick bark.

"She wants to tell her mother."

Silence fell as the mood turned somber. Neither heard Leia approach, she was just suddenly standing to Chewie's right. She had thrown on one of Han's long, white shirts and taken her hair down. Han had never seen it loose and it looked wild and abundant, rolling past her shoulders and covering her form to her waist. She looked tiny in his giant shirt that came down to her knees, the sleeves falling past her hands.

Chewie growled softly and gently placed his arms around the young Princess, embracing her for a long moment of comfort. Han watched her eyes shut swiftly as she leaned into the Wookiee's fur, both hands curling around his forearm. The open display of emotion made Han uncomfortable and he quickly looked away.

As they disengaged, Han returned his gaze to Leia as she gave Chewie a small, grateful smile through teary eyes. With a soft grumble, he disappeared from the cockpit, leaving Han and Leia to face each other.

With the sweep of a hand, she brushed a single tear from just below her eye. She bundled both hands together, fingers twining nervously, and finally looked at Han.

His eyes flicked to and fro before stabilizing on her and he felt a sudden, sharp twinge in his chest. The silence dragged out far too long. Han started to speak, found his voice a croak then cleared it noisily.

"How you feel?"

She shrugged and looked down morosely at her squirming fingers. Han watched, clueless as to what to say or do. He knew he should do something…but he felt stuck in stasis, afraid to act.

"We'll be arriving at Naboo around 1100 hours."

She nodded without raising her head, eyes large and mournful.

So many thoughts bounced around his head. He wanted to know what last night meant for them…he wanted to know what he could do to comfort her…and he wanted to know what exactly she wanted from him.

But, he was confused and uncertain and didn't know how to approach her. So, he waited for a cue from her.

"Should I send a message ahead? That we're on our way?" he asked.

Her eyes rose to his and she shook her head. "No. I don't want to alarm her. It will be bad enough when I get there," she replied in an uncharacteristic, small voice. She sighed. "I'm going to have some kaffe then take a shower. Try to pull myself together."

"I'll make you some kaffe." He started to stand.

"No." She raised a halting palm towards him. "Thank you. I've got it."

Han stopped in his tracks and placed his hands on his hips, lips pressed together. "Okay." He searched for words. "You need anything?"

For a brief moment, her eyes were vulnerable. Then, her expression became stony and Han didn't know what to think.

"No. I'm okay." And suddenly, she was the strong, impenetrable Princess again. She turned and fled the cockpit.

Han stood, staring after her. He didn't know what was going on. And he didn't know how to find out.

###

Leia's head was throbbing but the water streaming over her was beginning to soothe the headache. As rivulets of water grazed her lips, she felt her throat constrict and tears burned behind her closed eyes. She steeled herself, fingers digging into her palms, and managed to dampen her grief to a more manageable level.

She couldn't believe her father was gone, only a cavernous ache left in his place. Death was always a risk, but somehow, she had never thought it would claim her father.

His honor and wisdom were so great…tears threatened to engulf her again, but she moved her head from below the flow of water and took several deep breaths.

She didn't understand what exactly had transpired between herself and Han…her need for comfort had morphed into something else, something that mixed with her confusing feelings for Han. Grief, need, longing…all became one and she succumbed to the desire that had always lingered between them.

Right now, she couldn't begin to process it. The loss of her father was too all-encompassing. There wasn't room for anything else.

She was loathe to tell her mother the tragic news. Her eyes closed against the thought.

What if I had evacuated sooner? The thought was a whisper of guilt that tormented the back of her mind. The transport would have taken off sooner, perhaps it would have escaped successfully. They had been waiting for her, had waited until it was impossible to wait any longer. She had wanted to hold out as long as possible, always wanting to prove her dedication and fortitude, that she was willing to sacrifice as much as any other member of the Rebellion. Now, her pride had gotten her father and so many others killed. How could she live with that?

Her stomach constricted for a long moment, bile rose in her throat, and she felt violently dizzy. She placed one hand on the wall of the shower, the other on the door, and breathed in deeply for a time, until those feelings passed. With unyielding resolve, she cemented her determination to defeat the Empire, to be more hands-on and fight more directly, more personally.

Something inside her hardened and strengthened, and she swallowed all the guilt and anger swirling within. She would do whatever it took, no risk was too great. The Empire was going to fall. She would make sure of it.

###

It felt quite a bit like the last time, as Han and Leia traversed the grassy field towards the home where Breha Organa was currently residing. Last time had been a happy occasion. This time was quite the opposite and, although he had voluntarily accompanied her, he felt dreadfully uncomfortable and intrusive. He envied Chewie, who had remained on the Falcon.

Head down, Leia strode purposely beside him. She had said very little since this morning, beyond her last minute request for him to send a message to her mother, informing her of their imminent arrival.

The consequences of the night before loomed over him, but it didn't seem like the right time to bring that, or anything else, up.

In the distance, Leia's mother's small form appeared in front of the house. His message hadn't included the reason for their visit, but perhaps Breha had sensed something was wrong, because as soon as she spotted them, she took off at a run towards Leia. Immediately, Leia began to sprint forward. Han stopped, preferring to remain in the background.

He watched as the two, small women met halfway and threw their arms around each other, clinging tightly. With her back to him, he only saw Leia's head pull back, and he couldn't see Breha's expression, but he saw her hand raise to cover her mouth.

Han lowered his eyes and placed his hands in his pockets, the sober feelings of sympathy unfamiliar and uncomfortable. He didn't want to be a third party to this morbid reunion. Extreme displays of emotion never failed to send a surge of discomfort through him.

He remained in place for a time, raising his eyes periodically to find Leia and her mother still locked in a heartbreaking embrace.

###

He found her on the garden patio, standing and staring ahead at nothing, a stoic expression on her face. Sidling alongside her, he kept his hands in his pockets and aligned his gaze with hers, struggling for words. His lips contorted in a pained expression.

"How're you doin'?"

"All right." Her voice was uninflected and passionless.

"And your mother?"

She sighed tiredly. "I gave her something to help her sleep and put her to bed."

It was early, still daylight, and Han thought that attested to her mother's state of mind. He was unable to imagine the kind of attachment they must have had to Bail Organa, having never had familial ties of his own. They were silent for a time, and he wondered if Leia felt the awkwardness he did.

He chose his next words carefully. "Maybe you should…y'know, take some time off. From the Rebellion."

From the corner of his eye, he saw her head spin to face him and turned his head in response. Her eyes were small and her mouth was pinched.

"I don't need time off," she whispered angrily. "I need to get back to where I belong so I can defeat the Empire." Her head returned to face the garden.

Taken aback at her harsh response, he cleared his throat, discomfort streaking through him. "You think that's best? After what happened—"

She cut him off and turned to face him completely. "After 'what happened,' I am quite certain that this is what's best."

He turned towards her, hands still in his pockets, lips jutting out in acknowledgement. "Okay." He nodded. "If that's what you wanna do."

"That is what I want to do." The coldness in her voice, the lack of emotion in her expression caused Han a bit of alarm.

"Okay, Princess," he said carefully. Instinctively, he felt that her reaction was atypical to such a loss. His voice grew slightly hoarse with feeling. "Leia…if there's anything I can do…"

Her impassive expression did not alter. "I assure you, I'm fine. And there's nothing that I need. Except to return to the Rebellion." She returned her attention to the empty space above the garden. "Now, I would appreciate it if you would let me alone."

Effectively dismissed, he tried not to take it personally, although it stung. With a tense jaw, he gave a shrug and meandered inside, closing the door behind him. For a while, he stood and watched her with curious concern. She stood so rigidly, more angry than grief stricken. He supposed anger must be easier to bear than grief.

He wished he knew what to do for her. He was unused to being in such a position. When had he started paying attention to the feelings of others? With a sigh, he thought it had to have begun with Chewie. Damned furball seemed to have changed everything. Opening himself to caring for the Wookiee had seemingly led to caring for Luke and Leia as well. And his soft feelings for Leia seemed to be his downfall.

It came back to him suddenly, that day so long ago, that moment of intensity they had shared right there at the table so close to where Leia now sat. And later that day, the wounding words she had said to her mother, words that had flooded him with disappointment, hurt, and anger.

With a hollow feeling in his chest, he realized that some part of him had been hoping her feelings had changed. That, after all this time, having grown to know him better, she would have come to see him in a different light. That she could see past what he didn't have to the loyalty and friendship he offered her.

He hadn't realized until now that he had been subconsciously holding on to that hope. After last night, he could no longer ignore or deny it. Now, with the way she refused to acknowledge what passed between them the night before, it dealt a crushing blow to his ego. If her current situation were not so dismal, he might even consider putting her in her place. But, with the sorrow she was shouldering, he couldn't possibly do that.

He watched her, staid in place, feeling discouraged and more than a bit foolish. Frustration bubbled in his stomach and the whole situation made him feel a bit ill. Last night had given him hope for what he had secretly been wishing for all this time. Now, he had to face the fact that even after all this time, she still saw him in the same light she had from the beginning. That he was not worth wasting any real time on.

A tinge of self-loathing sweltered through him. He didn't want to care, didn't want her to matter to him. He should hate her. Yet, he still felt badly for her loss and wished there was something he could do to help her heal.

He was getting way too soft as he grew older.