Fight
Leia's vision tunnelled, rays of light tightening, tightening, into narrow beams. She heard Salla come through the front door, she felt the heat of blaster bolts zip by her skin. Chaos surrounded her on all sides, kinetic energy buzzed with shouts and movement, the heady feeling of activity in the air around her.
But Leia was not focused on the blaster bolts or the energy. She was focused on the body of the Hutt she'd killed: his eyes wide open, unblinking, the neat blaster burn between them. She felt her adrenaline leave her with a visceral rip, felt her muscles clamp down, felt her forehead break out in sweat. Her breath felt hollow, her chest felt tight.
This was not an attack of conscience. She trusted herself enough to know Grouka would have killed them all if she had not killed him first. His death was justified. She would go through the process of forgiving herself for his murder when she next had a moment to pray, to mourn, to reflect. She was very familiar with the ritual.
But this… this was sorrow of another sort; she'd killed Grouka before he could give her the coordinates she so desperately needed.
The emptiness was acute. She needed to move, needed to escape, needed to help her friends survive this disastrous encounter. But the nothingness in her chest weighed her down. Funny, that nothingness had weight in such a moment.
She blinked but did not move. She breathed in the fire of the air around her but didn't seek shelter.
A hand on her elbow, a fierce tug as someone ran by her, a whisper against her ear. The safe upstairs. One-three-three-one-six-two-six-nine-one.
Leia snapped into focus, the narrow beam expanding and the nothingness in her chest dissipating in a fiery bloom of activity. She dove to her right, hit the ground at a quick roll, and brought up her holdout blaster, ready to continue the fight.
Han lost coherent thought the minute Salla busted through the door and began firing. Instinct took charge: the whip-crackle edge of life and death and the glittering ease of violence. Kill or be killed, millennia-old reflex, the effortlessness of long practice in a galaxy that just plain didn't care.
His hand dropped to his blaster and his bolts flew, one into the neck of the closest guard and the next into his chest. He squeezed the trigger one more time for safety's sake and then turned to his next target, a porcine-faced Gamorrean.
The Gamorrean's shots went wild, blaster bolts hitting the wall behind Han. He pivoted to avoid the last bolt before the Gamorrean's blaster jammed with an audible glitch. Han brought his blaster up, ready to finish him off but stopped with a loud Wookiee growl.
Cub, your left! Chewie roared, and Han jerked to the right to avoid a meat-fisted punch intended for his chin.
Han bared his teeth at the human, pissed that Chewie had had to warn him. Han hadn't seen the guard at all, too focused on the Gamorrean. He'd never particularly enjoyed fistfights—much easier and cleaner to shoot one's enemies than mess with blood and teeth—and the fact that his group was surrounded but for Salla angered him. Could one blasted thing go right for them? Just one?
"C'mon," he said to the guard as she prowled closer. "A suckerpunch? Have a little class, lady."
She was wide and athletic, big boots hitting the floor tile in monstrous thuds. And while Han backpedalled to give himself room, he was quite ready to finish her off the quick way. He lifted his blaster and pulled the trigger—
—only to have the DL-44 knocked out of his hand by the Gamorrean he'd been hassling with before. Han grunted and pivoted, landing a solid punch. The pig went down with a crash and Han turned to see the other guard lunge for his discarded blaster. Han hopped to his left, bracing his left foot protectively over his blaster, knowing if she managed to grab it his life would get infinitely more difficult.
Luck was on his side. In the process of kneeling to grab his blaster, she didn't see him move. With a speed that surprised even him, he swung his back foot forward and kicked her in the mouth. She reared back, not falling to the ground but stunned, and that was all the opportunity Han needed. With a quick drop to his stomach, he grabbed the blaster, aimed and fired in the space of a heartbeat, hitting her in the side. She went down completely, a heavy groan on her lips.
Han exhaled and hopped to his feet. Chewie had blown another Gamorrean into the front wall of the den and was aiming his bowcaster at a human. Salla knelt near the door, one knee down, covering the exit as she stuck her right foot into the crease between floor and wall. Han guessed she was keeping the door open. Thank the stars for Salla.
And Leia … Leia was doing what Leia did best.
She was fighting on the other side of the room, next to the lilting body of Grouka the Hutt. The mob boss was hunched to the left, eyes open and unblinking, mouth agape. A neat blaster burn between his eyes. Dead as dead can be.
Han hadn't seen it—he'd been closer to the door and distracted by Salla's grand entrance—but the last time he'd taken stock, Leia'd had her blaster on Grouka. He allowed himself a quick shake of the head, ferocious pride lifting his mouth into a corkscrew smile, and tried to find the princess in the edges of the glow-lamp's shadow.
He caught her form in enough time to see a guard grab her from behind. With instinctive need flying through his veins, he took one, two, three steps toward her before he heard a decidedly unprincess-like grunt and saw the guard on the ground in front of her. Smile still in place, he stopped walking, leaned to the left and shot the guard on the ground in front of her in the leg.
The guard howled and Leia turned her head toward Han, startled. With a harsh breath she yelled to be heard over the commotion of the room. "Mind your own business, flyboy," she said.
"You are my business, Your Worship," he fired back.
Leia almost smiled—almost—and opened her mouth for a reply when her expression changed. With a heavy breath, she lunged for the wounded guard's leg, ripped a vibroblade from its sheath and hurled it at Han.
He ducked, hands hitting the ground in front of him as the blade flew over his head. Han jerked to look behind him, breathless from the drop to the ground, watching with horror as the blade nicked a human guard's shoulder, a glancing blow but one that made him pause in his tracks.
"Damn it," Leia said, and for some reason that made Han laugh.
Can't win 'em all, sweetheart.
Han shook his head and shot the guard, watching as he landed in a heap on the ground. He paused, listened keenly for the sounds of a fight: the groaning, blaster whines or indelible smack of flesh hitting flesh. When he counted to ten without any such sounds, he offered up a quick question.
"Everyone okay?"
"Fine," Salla yelled by the door.
Alive, Chewie growled.
"I'm okay," Leia said and then moved to crouch before the guard Han had shot. "This one's alive, too."
Han pushed up from the ground, swung glaring eyes around the room. "Stone?"
"Out the door the second the blasters started firing," Salla answered as she slumped to the floor. "Ten creds says he nabbed the speeder, too."
Han rolled his eyes. "What a surprise," he deadpanned. "No one could have guessed that one."
He lied for us, Chewie growled from the center of the room. Grouka would have killed us immediately if he hadn't.
"Big deal," Han said. "One lie and he's a hero, huh?"
One brave action did not make someone brave. One moment of moral clarity was not enough to rid oneself of all sins. He should know better than anyone; even if his choice to come back to Yavin 4 had redeemed him in the eyes of some, it clearly hadn't done anything to redeem his criminal past. He was still running from Jabba. That stain was on him and a good deed didn't wipe it up.
But Chewie was clearly more impressed than Han was. No, not a hero. But he kept his promise to get us in.
"He brought us here to die, pal. For all we know, he knew where Grouka was hiding and was leading us into a trap."
"He didn't know. He was just as surprised as the rest of us," Leia said from the corner.
Han pointed a finger at her, angry despite himself. "Yeah, surprised. You and I need to talk about surprises sometime, sweetheart. I didn't like all that turning-my-friends-over-to-a-crime-boss business."
Leia had the sense to look chagrined. "Later. Han, come with me. Chewie, Salla: guard the door."
And without another thought, she moved into the nearest dark corner, her silhouette melting into the shadows. Han murmured a low damn it and followed, because Force knew he'd follow her anywhere.
A/N: You're probably thinking, "Kay Arr, stop with the plot and hup-to on the making-out". And all I can do is beg you to trust me. Hang in there. We're so close. I got your back, fam. -KR
