Thank you to everyone still enjoying this story :)
Some quiet time...
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Lying in the comfortable bed, satiated and at peace in the dark, Han had one arm splayed across Leia's bare back. She was curled up against him, lying on her side. Her legs tangled with his, one arm reaching around his torso to return his embrace.
They had made love slowly, sweetly, savoring every caress and sensation, bodies in transcendent harmony. So many emotions blazed through him. He had never imagined that sex could have so much meaning or inspire such strong feelings. He could not have put it into words had he wanted to.
In the fading twilight of their emotions, Han found a sense of security that he had never experienced before. Her hair was sprawled all around them and he brought a dark handful to his face and pressed his lips into it, inhaling the heady scent that seemed to fill him.
"So much hair," he whispered intently. "It's so beautiful. You're so beautiful."
Her head rose from his shoulder and her eyes were dark with emotion, lips curved upwards into a small smile. He smiled back before her head returned to rest against him.
Her earlier questions about his past were haunting him, and somehow, a certain sense of safety permeated him. Suddenly, in the near-darkness, with Leia in his arms and her gaze aside, it did not seem so scary to talk about matters that he normally avoided.
"I left Corellia when I was sixteen," he began in a deep, low tone. "I never looked back. And I don't wanna look back now. It's not that I don't wanna talk to you about it…it's that I don't even wanna think about it. It's like another life, like it never happened."
His eyes were on the ceiling and he felt her head shift to look at him. A long moment of silence ensued. "Things must have been really difficult for you to feel that way."
The softness of her tone stirred something profound inside him, but he just shrugged. "I just don't want you to think it's about not talking to you about it. I just don't talk about it, ever." He had the strangest sensation, as if a dam were about to burst inside his chest, a crest of emotions straining it, threatening to splinter it.
One hand caressed his chest as she spoke softly. "I wish I could erase every bad thing that ever happened to you."
He found her comment touching, but fidgeted self-consciously. For a fleeting moment, it almost seemed as if she could. But, life did not work that way.
"You know, sometimes, it helps to talk about things," she suggested quietly.
"Not this time." He couldn't keep the hardness from his voice.
"What if…I share one thing about my past with you, and you share one thing about your past with me?"
He tossed her a dubious look. "What're you gonna share? How many presents you got for your tenth Birth Right? How many personal servants you had as a child?" He knew he sounded resentful, yet couldn't help it.
Hurt softened her eyes and puckered her brow. It tugged at his heartstrings.
"I'm sorry," he quickly sputtered, averting his eyes.
"It's okay," she said a bit too quickly.
"What'd you wanna tell me?" he asked more gently.
Her head moved quickly from side to side and her eyes slid away. "Never mind."
Now, he just felt like a guttervrelt. "No, c'mon, tell me."
"It's not important."
"It is, it's important cause you wanted to tell me. So, tell me."
"Forget it." Irritation was blending with the hurt in her tone.
In this way, Leia was proving to be like every other woman Han had ever known. He lowered his voice to a deep, imploring rumble. "Please, Sweetheart." He nuzzled into her neck. "Tell me. Pleeeease?" Never before had he pleaded for anything.
Her body slackened slightly and he knew his efforts were not in vain. Her hand brushed the skin of his neck and she made a soft, supplicant sound.
"All right," she finally acquiesced.
He squeezed her tightly to him for just a moment then backed up and gazed at her expectantly.
With a raised brow and an air of confession, she spoke in a serious tone. "I'm not a real Princess."
Puzzled, he felt his eyebrows join just above narrowed eyes. "What do you mean, you're not a real Princess?"
"I'm not a Princess by blood."
"How's that?"
"I'm adopted."
"You are?"
"Yes." She gave him a funny look.
He took a moment to contemplate her confession. "Huh."
"What?"
He shrugged. "Nothing. I just didn't expect it."
Silence lingered between them.
"So, who are your real parents?"
She stiffened in his arms. "Bail and Breha Organa are my real parents," she answered defensively.
Han was taken aback by the spark of anger in her eyes. "Okay, sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."
She nodded without meeting his eyes and he felt her body relax again. There was a sudden sadness in her expression and Han could easily guess why.
"You okay?"
Eyes still averted, she nodded again. "I miss him," she whispered.
He gathered her close and held her tight against him, felt her melt into his comfort.
"I never thought I would be doing this alone. I always thought Father would be here to guide me."
Having never had family, or anyone to "guide" him, Han couldn't imagine how she felt. But, he had seen the bond between Father and Daughter and knew that the loss left her suffering. He had no idea what to say to console her, so he just held her, rubbing soothingly at her back.
"I can't stop blaming myself," she confessed in an anguished whisper.
At that, he gently pushed her to arms' length, glaring incredulously. "What? Why would you blame yourself?"
She grimaced as tears sprang to brighten her eyes. "The transport was waiting for me. Had I made it sooner, maybe we all would have made it away."
"Or maybe you'd all be dead," he countered flatly.
Her eyes grew wider and a single tear pooled on her lashes. "But, it's possible—"
He didn't allow her to finish. "Don't. Don't do this. You can't change it and you can't blame yourself."
Her chin rose stubbornly. "I can if it's my fault."
"It's not your fault."
"Well, then whose fault is it?"
"The Empire's."
A frustrated breath hissed from her lips. "Well, of course the Empire. But—"
"Stop. That's it. It's the Empire's fault. It's not yours, and deep down you know that. So don't put that guilt on yourself cause it doesn't belong there."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Cause I'm looking at it from the outside. It's too personal for you, you can't see it right. I'm being objective."
"Oh, it's not personal for you?"
"No."
"You don't think your perception is colored by the fact that you care for me?"
Her words gave him pause and he hesitated a moment to consider them. "No."
She gazed searchingly at him for a moment. "No, you don't think you're biased? Or no, you don't care for me?"
He realized he had never said the words to her, had always assumed his feelings were obvious. But, she was looking at him with such hesitant expectancy, and he realized she needed to hear the words.
It had been a long time since he had been able to deny the tender feelings he had for her. Now, he swallowed while simultaneously feeling breathless.
"Of course I care about you." His voice came out coarser and gruffer than intended, hackles raising against the admission.
A small, pleased smile graced her lips, momentarily easing her sadness.
"And no," he added, needing to dispel the emotion of the moment. "I'm not being biased."
She sighed deeply, all pleasure disappearing from her visage.
"I don't want you thinkin' that way anymore," he declared.
She nodded without looking at him and he pulled her close again, laying back against the pillow.
"It's your turn," she said softly.
"Huh?"
"It's your turn to tell me something about your past."
Oh, he thought dismally. He contemplated saying he had never agreed to that, but knew it would result in an argument. "Whadda ya wanna know?" he asked in a stilted tone.
"Whatever you're willing to tell me."
He looked down at the woman in his arms, able only to see her forehead and the slope of her nose as she snuggled into him. Never had he contemplated sharing anything of significance with a woman before. What the hell was he going to tell her? Stray memories flitted through his thoughts. He finally settled on something fairly harmless that women were always questioning him about, yet he never allowed them to know the truth of.
"Wanna know how I got this scar?" He fingered his chin.
Her face turned up to him and she smiled, wide and grateful. "I would love to know that."
Having never talked about it before, he found it difficult to start speaking of it. "So, uh, when I was a kid, I got into a lot of fights."
"You? No way!" She chuckled lightly.
He berated her with his eyes, then smirked to let her know he wasn't serious. "Anyway!" he said more loudly, turning his eyes to the ceiling. "This one time, I was wandering the streets by myself and this kid, he was a little bigger than me and he picked a fight." The details came back to him then: the boy and his friends, calling Han out for being one of the orphans in the boys' shelter; following him and taunting him, while Han tried to mind his own business. When they surrounded him, he had realized there was no way out but to fight.
"Why?" Leia asked.
He looked at her as if she were crazy. "Whadda ya mean, why?"
"Why did he pick a fight with you?"
"That's just what boys do."
"They do?"
"Yeah, Princess. Not everywhere's peaceful like Alderaan."
She seemed to digest this news with a measure of embarrassment at her own naiveté.
"So, this kid was with his friends and they surrounded me. I put up my fists, ready to fight, then the big kid threw a rock at me. I didn't see it coming and it cut my chin up. After that, I saw red, jumped on him, and beat the hell outta him."
Silently, Leia pulled herself to lie on top of him and brushed her fingers softly against the scar. Eyes closing, she placed a soft, lingering kiss on his chin.
The emotion her gesture imbued in him took him by surprise and his eyes fell shut. For just a moment, it was too much. Then, her lips left his chin and he recovered himself enough to smile at her.
"Thank you for sharing that with me," she whispered meaningfully.
Han just nodded. It hadn't been as hard as he had expected.
"You didn't get any synthflesh for the cut?" she asked curiously.
"No."
She smiled. "I'm glad. I like your scar. It's sexy."
Han laughed out loud.
"Who cleaned you up when you got home?"
Inside, he tightened up. "I cleaned myself up," he answered gruffly, avoiding her gaze. He could feel her eyes on him, could almost hear the question rise to her lips. When he finally looked at her, there was something akin to sympathy in her eyes and his stomach clenched. He was relieved when she placed a light kiss on his chest then rested her cheek against it.
"A lot of women asked me about the scar. I never told anyone the story before."
"I must be special," she teased.
He struggled for an appropriate response. "I think you know you are," he replied brusquely. A companionable silence settled over them for a time.
"How many women have you been with?" she asked suddenly.
Jolted by the question, he looked at her, frowning. "Why?"
"I'm just curious."
If there was one thing Han knew, it was that this question was always a trap and should never be answered under any circumstances. He shrugged. "I dunno."
"More than ten?"
"What does it matter?"
"I'll take that as a yes. More than twenty?"
"Leia…" His tone was low with warning.
"Yes, again. Wow."
He sighed, frustrated. "Look, I don't keep count."
"Must be a very high number then."
He rolled his eyes and her finger moved to lovingly trace the scar below his chin.
"Well, you know how many men I've been with." There was a hint of teasing in her tone.
He grabbed the hand at his chin and gave her a pointed look until her eyes fell away. Turning on his side to face her, he rested his head on one raised hand and placed his other arm around her.
"It doesn't matter how many women I've been with."
In the low light, Han could just see the uneasiness in her eyes, the way her mouth was almost frowning.
"What is it?" he asked in a somber tone. "What's this about?"
She hesitated for a long moment, fingers moving to lightly trace his collarbone. "I can only assume…you've been with a lot of women." She paused with a small sigh. "I have nothing to compare to. I've never even kissed any man but you."
He tried to suppress the smile this news imbued, was unsuccessful, but she did not look at him.
"But, with all the women you must have been with…" she continued. "I can't help but wonder, considering my lack of experience, how I compare to all those women before me." Her cheeks were now aflame with color and her brow was tensed, eyes lowered intently.
"Sweetheart," he crooned, finding her confession endearing. "I'm not comparing you to anyone."
Her expression did not change. Han placed a light finger beneath her chin and forced her eyes to his. She had never looked as diffident as in that moment.
"Trust me," he said. "You're very uniquely you." He smiled widely.
She raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"
"It means no one could compare to you. And as you know, you're special." He was grinning at her and he watched her eyes soften, a small, pleased smile at her lips.
It struck him how true that statement was. When…if he left, no one could possibly affect him as Leia did.
Stray memories flew through his mind, random nights with nameless women, a number of whom he saw more than once, many of whom he didn't. Once, there had been one who had captured his attention for a brief period, making him think that perhaps she might be worth his time…but, the thought hadn't lasted long and Han had quickly moved on.
No one had ever made him think twice about staying in one place. No one, save for Leia.
But, what would he be staying for? What kind of future could she have with him?
He was a smuggler, a criminal, with nothing to offer her. Surely, there would come a point when she would realize she could do much better than him.
"What's wrong?" she asked abruptly.
Han realized his consternation must be showing on his face. "Nothing, why?" He affected his most casual tone.
"You looked far away. And not in a good way."
He flashed a lopsided grin. "Trust me, right now, nothing is bothering me."
Her responding smile was tentative then became more genuine. "That's how I feel when I'm with you. Like nothing could possibly bother me and everything in the galaxy is just right."
Han had no idea how to respond to such a sentiment. He brushed it off. "Too bad it's not that simple, we can't just make the galaxy okay." He knew it was a rather negative response, but he couldn't imagine what else to say.
"We will someday," she said wistfully.
Inside, he balked at her use of the word 'we.' Outwardly, he ignored it, knowing it would lead to an argument. He grinned wickedly. "So, how come you never kissed anyone before me?"
A faint blush powdered her cheeks. After a glance askance, she replied to his smirk. "There was just no one I wanted to kiss before."
"Hm. Guess that means I'm the most gorgeous guy you've ever seen," he said smugly.
Leia rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her smile. "You're certainly the most gorgeous guy your mirror has ever seen."
He laughed shortly. "I never woulda guessed that was the first time you kissed someone. You blew me away."
"I did?"
"Yep."
"Wow," she exclaimed quietly to herself.
He chuckled softly and took her chin in his hand. "And you've been great at makin' me crazy since." He kissed her soundly and his voice grew throaty. "Gods, each time is better than the last." He kissed her more slowly, tongue gliding sensuously against hers. He pulled back and looked at her with serious eyes, pondering his next words.
"What?" she asked, half self-conscious, half mocking.
He forced out the words before he changed his mind. "You don't ever have to worry about being compared to someone else. I've never wanted anyone like I want you." He was surprised by the sincerity of his own tone.
She blinked in seeming surprise. Then her eyes closed and after a moment, she moved closer to him and wound her arms completely around him. Her embrace felt soothing and he realized, with a jolt of vulnerability, that he was beginning to trust her. It sent a quiver through him and he swallowed against it, feeling daunted by the intensity of emotion.
It had been ages since he trusted someone, then along came Chewbacca, earning his trust flawlessly. Now, this young woman, whom he had doubted for so long, had wormed her way into his heart, and now threatened everything he had ever believed.
He seemed to be flailing and falling, whether he liked it or not. Something deep inside urged him to trust Leia to catch him before his heart splattered to the surface, leaving him shattered.
Could he have faith in his instincts?