Han's fingertips were on her elbow, insistent and protective. They passed wall hangings and doorways, colors and shapes. Their feet made no noise on plush carpeting or their boot heels clicked on tile. Murmurs of spoken words drifted around her, voices male and female, greetings and questions.
Leia let Han lead her, aware of little except the lighting was either harsh or soft, the voices loud or polite. Her eyes were wide and distant, focusing on something unseen, far off in the middle range. Her lips were parted, her expression frozen and blank. As they walked she replayed Rieekan saying it again and again, so sorrowful, there's no seat for you right now, always followed by the same thought what just happened?
Han steered Leia through the labyrinth of the palace corridors and levels, eventually making their way to the roof. He held her elbow, noting how she glided stiffly by his side, as if walking were an automatic response to his touch on her arm. She would have no memory later of moving through the palace, he knew.
The same thing had happened to him once, when they brought him from the brig to the hearing for his court martial. He remembered them coming to get him, and then suddenly he was in a court room, standing for the oath. He had stared dumbly, thinking how did I get here? The walk through the building, the speeder ride, it had all gone by unawares. As soon as he was standing in the court room, there was another layer of thought. How the hells did I get here? The impulse to save the Wookiees hadn't been a decision; it had been a reaction. Then boom, boom, boom; one after the other; pieces of his life fell away. A dream, a commission, a career.
Leia was watching pieces of her own life fall away now. At least I did it to myself, Han thought. I caused my own downfall. She's been blindsided. She was in shock, he knew. She'd come out of it, he had faith of that. Hell, he had managed it. Sink so low there's only one way to climb, and that's up.
The Palace corridors were full of beings. He brushed shoulders with Alliance personnel, making eye contact, daring them to react. They spoke as he passed, usually addressing Leia. "Your Highness," they greeted respectfully. Han kept a brisk pace, Leia in stride with his, leaving no time for the Alliance member to notice she had not responded. On every level a section was corralled off. These areas were very crowded, and Han's eyes raked each face, burning them into memory. Many held holo cameras and wore press badges. They barked Leia's personal name and took pictures, and Han scowled at their familiarity and disrespect. I'd like to take that camera and smash it in your face. Those in front were pushed from behind, and it took a moment for Han to register that these beings were on-lookers, beings curious about the celebrity of the New Republic. They wanted to catch glimpses of Mon Mothma, the Liberator, the ex-Senator Organa.
Finally they reached the rooftop. "Liberator! Liberator!" Han heard almost as soon as the door let him through. The crowd was held back just off to his right. A camera flashed and Han shot his arm out, pushing the photographer hard. He ignored the shouts, and stood blinking in the natural light of day.
A sentry stopped them. "Captain Solo," he told Han. "General Rieekan comm'd up, granting permission for the use of a speeder." He handed Han a flimsi and stylus. "Just need you to fill out this requisition form."
Cameras continued to flash. Han was jumpy. "You can't kick them out of the Palace?" he indicated the gawking crowd. He scanned it again, remaining vigilant, in case another crazy gunman decided either of the pair were too dangerous to the former Empire to allow them to remain among the living.
The sentry was sympathetic. "Public Relations says it's a form of demonstrating the democratic movement and that we have to let them gather. They go through a check point, though." He cast a careful eye to the crowd, seeing his compatriots were keeping the peace.
"There's a PR department now?" Han asked distractedly. He scanned the flimsi. It wanted dates and serial numbers. "Can you fill this out for me? I'm in a hurry."
"Yes, Sir," the sentry agreed. "General Rieekan already said he'd sign for you. I just need your destination."
"Destination?" Han echoed blankly.
"Yes, Sir. Where you will park the speeder."
"Uh." Han thought. He couldn't remember the Falcon's assigned berth. "I'm just going to my ship. The docking bay across town." He gestured with his arm.
"Docking bay number?"
"Uh," Han said again. It seemed the location of the slot they had assigned him had disappeared from his memory. He considered throwing Leia into the speeder and just taking off, but Rieekan was obviously doing him a favor, and the least he could be was cooperative.
The sentry waited patiently.
Han cast his mind back in time: he was sitting in the cockpit, receiving docking instructions, and complaining about the size. "A slot," was all he came up with. "Eleven-oh something."
"I also need how long you intend to have the speeder out."
Han looked at Leia, as if her face would prompt his memory.
"Sir?" the sentry politely asked.
"Yeah, I'm thinking." Han knew the exact location, but he just didn't know the number.
"Princess?" he turned to Leia. "Do you remember?"
She shook her head slightly in answer. Apparently she was listening, but she made no eye contact with either Han or the sentry, and continued to look off into the distant horizon, withdrawn.
"Eleven-oh something," Han repeated. "It's the Millennium Falcon. Can you look it up?"
"Feathered Sands," Leia corrected quietly.
"Oh yeah," Han remembered. It felt like it had been ages. "She's right," he told the sentry, surprised but glad Leia had contributed. "She's docked under the Feathered Sands."
"For you, I'll look it up," the sentry granted with a supportive grin. Han frowned at his friendly manner, sensing that even among Alliance personnel he was something of a celebrity. The sentry was glad to be the one who had to stop the Liberator to check out a speeder. He had the glory of the encounter, and would enjoy reliving it to anyone who listened. Neither he nor Leia were especially impressive right now. She wasn't talking and he seemed barely able to string a thought together. Inwardly, he didn't care. Fuck 'em all.
Han nodded and brought Leia over to the speeder door. He took her elbow again, and pushed upwards, indicating he wanted her to climb in. "37110C," he said with sudden memory, triumphant.
"Yes, Sir, that checks out," the sentry said. "Do you need a map of the hangar bays?"
"No, I know exactly where she is, I just didn't know the number. Been a long few days," Han said.
"Yes, Sir. Do you have any idea when you'll be returning the speeder?"
"None whatsoever," Han answered. "Make up something. Call me if you need it back." He slammed his door, shutting out the noise of the holo reporters shouting his name, the engine noises of other speeders, the companionable cheerfulness of the sentry.
Han sighed, rubbing his jaw. He looked sidelong at Leia, wondering if he should ask if she were alright. She would tell him she was, but he knew it would be a lie. Should I pick a fight? Call her out on it? Too soon, he decided. There'd be time enough for that. She deserved some time to sift through this new mess.
He started up the speeder and the monstrosity that was the Palace fell away, growing smaller, until he veered on another course and put his back to it.
Leia kept her face to the window. She recognized Citizen's Square, and the huge news screen. The last time she had been this way was with Chewie, when Han's face graced the giant screen, delivering the coup statement. "Don't let 'em turn weapons against you," he had cautioned, deviating from her penned words. A wise man, she thought bitterly. Somehow, she'd made herself a target. If Han and Chewie were right that the gunman was after her; then she'd become a target literally, but also figuratively. The new weapon was politics. Luke and Han were no match for it. She wasn't really surprised. Maybe she should have seen it coming. But she was deeply disappointed. My fellow Senators. It was betrayal, that's what it was. And for what?
She willed herself back to numbness, staring out the window and watching all the traffic. There were lives in those speeders. Everyone off to somewhere, with a destination. She could see inside some of the cabs. Beings laughing, talking; one even seemed to be dancing in his seat, and singing. Were they glad for the coup? Were their lives improved? Had they noticed a difference? The Emperor's dead and I've lost my Senate seat. Do they care? The speeder zoomed along, and the spire of the Jedi Temple came into view.
"Luke and I went to the Temple," Leia finally broke the silence between them. Her voice was hollow, like she was in a trance.
"Yeah?" Han's eyes left traffic briefly to look at her. Her face was directed out the window, and her words seemed to disappear in the wind. "See anything interesting?"
She shrugged slightly. "A ruin," she answered quietly. She was recalling her conversation with Luke, her worries that she was responsible for Han forever being an outcast. She had never expected that she would be the one cast out. "One more ruin," she said again, thinking of herself.
"Seen one, seen 'em all?" Han asked, risking another glance at her.
"Not exactly," she responded, lapsing into silence again.
They didn't speak the rest of the way. Han had a feeling he'd offended her somehow. He landed the speeder in slot 3711OC. At least here it was quiet, just pilots and techs; the way it should be. No gawkers, media, or protesters. Han palmed open the hatch to the Falcon.
Inside, the silence was complete and welcome. Leia heard Han sigh in contentment, and he wandered off to inspect his ship. Leia made her way to the lounge and sat at the gaming table.
I'm back, she told the ship.
It was steadfast, loyal, accepting. Whatever you need, Leia felt it seemed to answer.
That's what I came to figure out. She stared at the holochess squares. Her two aspects, head and heart, grieved and raged. Part of her was still in disbelief. Part of her was crushed. And another part was enraged.
Didn't anyone have any idea how much she had sacrificed? Didn't it matter? At all?
Her father – Bail- had approached her with the idea of carrying the Death Star plans to the Rebels, and she had agreed to it because he might have been right - she might be the one to get away with it. She had done it so the Death Star would be destroyed. She hadn't done it to become some sort of spotlight-seeking, power-hungry glory hound.
And all the motivations for the Rebellion were just swept away with that idiot proposing her seat be revoked. This shouldn't be about me, her head claimed; it was about all the suffering so many worlds had endured thanks to Palpatine….she shook her head. The only thing that monster did right was seize power so he wouldn't have to play politics.
Han sauntered into the lounge, on his way to inspecting whatever. She envied him. He'd made it a practice to remain aloof, unmarked, and here he was, checking to see if all the lights were working. Or whatever it was he was checking. Through all this he remained unchanged. Seen one Han Solo, seen 'em all.
He stood there, looking at her. That's not fair you know. She wasn't sure if it was the ship answering, or if the argument came from her heart.
"You OK?" he asked her
She nodded once. No.
"Want anything?"
She shook her head no. Yes.
He moved along. You're lying, Sweetheart. But I'll be patient.
She put a finger under her lower lip, to stop her chin from trembling. I only wanted to make a difference. I only wanted the world to be a better place.
You have, his ship answered.
Why am I the only one to pay the price?
Are you?
Han came back in. He moved uncharacteristically noisily, settling heavily onto the bench opposite her. He placed his elbows on the table and clasped his hands. His gaze was steady on her face.
They regarded each other. If it had been yesterday Leia would have enjoyed the staring contest and lost because she would have begun to laugh. She knew now she would win. She was stone.
Han spoke. "Screw 'em".
She watched his mouth, the sideways upward slant when he talked. Was it due to the scar on his chin? Even in her dark mood, there was something about his frank expression, his crooked mouth, that was appealing. She lifted her brows slightly. "Screw them?" she echoed, her mouth unable to move like his.
He nodded. "Yeah. Screw 'em."
His concern and sympathy, expressed in foul defiance, was endearing. He's ours, she told his ship and her heart.
"They're a petty bunch of opportunists," he said. "You don't need 'em."
"It's not that easy." She filled her chest with air. "They certainly don't need me." Her stomach sank and she felt sick, envisioning the Senate voting to kick her out.
"It is easy," he argued. "Look -let's assume they have lofty ideals, like you. They don't, but let's just assume they do. They want a smooth, quiet takeover. They want to erase the last twenty years, and they want to appease the former Imps without continuing the war. It's hard to do that with you sitting next to them, wearing a big sign that says 'I'm from Alderaan.' There's no erasing Alderaan. It's like a cancer."
"Why should it be like that, though?" she rounded on him. "Why?" The anger that lurked underneath her shock and resignation was blossoming. She heard the harsh tone of her voice and knew she was talking loudly, but was unable to restrain herself. "You're saying Alderaan is a cancer? Cut it off and remove it so the disease doesn't spread through the rest of the galaxy? The Empire was the cancer, Han. The Empire."
Han was nodding. In truth, he was completely in agreement with her, and enjoyed seeing her wrath. He thought it was healthy. He pushed her some more."Look at it from their point of view. No citizen is going to be at ease with the New Republic, not with Alderaan occupying a seat, a symbol of how a government can go wrong. The New Republic will never be trusted. They had to let the Senator from Alderaan go. It was an obvious move."
"What?!" Leia sputtered in outrage. She slapped the table with her palm. "And why shouldn't I at least be allowed to finish my term? The current Senate is resuming just like it was before the Emperor disbanded it. All those Senators lost their seats, same as me, when it was disbanded. We all came rushing back. We're under Reconstruction, for gods' sake. All their systems suffered under the Empire. Yes, so Alderaan suffered the most. It's gone. If we're picking up where it left off, why am I excluded? Why? I should be allowed to contribute. I still have constituents. I don't care where they are living. They elected me, and gods damn it, I'll represent them."
Han stood abruptly. "Well, my job is done here. You're pissed off. I'll leave you to it."
She gazed up at him. "You baited me?" At first her tone held disbelief but she quickly shifted moods, finishing in irritation laced with appreciation.
He smiled cockily. "I don't like my princesses mopey."
She shook her head as he left. He played you. She considered indulging herself with continuing to be angry with him. It was easier, and it was fun, too, since deep down they were on the same page. But she also saw his intent. He was spurring her forward.
The motivations of the Senate were still deeply troubling. She felt the anger lapping at her again, a self-righteous indignation. Alderaan, a cancer! A heat crept up her face. How could anyone think that?
Her fingertips pressed into the table's surface until the tips turned a numbing red and the pressure forced her back into the seat. Had she ever been so angry? Her hatred of the Empire had been an anger very much in control. It was calm and calculating. Alderaan had been a victim while she had been victimized. There was a difference. It made her feel out of control.
Is this the Dark Side? Should I be frightened for myself? This anger was intense, burning. She pictured the Senate floor and their self-serving vote and just seethed. She seethed because they used her; they had crushed her, and they had separated her from them. A bit of Vader in you, the Han of her dreams had said. Had she read the omen wrong? Instead of affirmation was it a warning?
Vader had made her, and Vader had fallen completely to the Dark Side. She thought of him in her situation. Vader, in her shoes, would have destroyed the Senate. He would get caught up in the emotions, and the Dark Side of the Force would feed them until they didn't let go of him. She needed to let go of them all. There were so many. Not only anger and hurt, but disappointment, bitterness, chagrin. Shame, too, and sadness.
She had never thought herself as one easily seduced, even by the Dark Side. She was absolutely positive Luke was resistant to it. It was she who taught Luke to embrace both the good and bad of their characters. Black, white, good and bad. No secrets. If there was one thing she had learned from listening to Yoda and meditating with Luke in the Force, is that an answer was never that simple. Calling Alderaan a cancer and the other Senators petty opportunists was only seeing the Dark Side at work. Luke had taught her that Light interacted with Dark; that the two should never be separated. Two sides of the Force, two sides of the story.
A clanging noise broke into her thoughts. It wasn't a shipboard alarm, and it didn't come from the communications console. She concentrated on the noise. Somewhere in the ship. Han. Han was banging on something. She wondered what he had found to work on. The ship was in very good condition. Did he really need to be starting a project?
She flitted from her seat to find Han lying on the floor, hitting a metal plank that was bolted to a panel in the galley.
He saw her feet and rolled on to his back, congratulating himself that he was able to distract her. Gotcha. "Something I can do for you, your Highness?"
"That doesn't seem a productive way to unbolt the panel, whacking on it," she told him.
"Whacking loosens the bolts up. If they're too tight, whack them, and they turn in your hand like butter."
"Is that an analogy for what you just did with me?"
"Works on a lot of things, Sweetheart." Han turned back on his side to hide a smile.
She stared at a dirty smudge on his shirt. He raced from irreverent to serious to helpful, and at the same time he was trying to be productive. "You know, I could understand it," Leia quietly told his back, "if after the Reconstruction they voted to remove my seat. I could understand that. But during this time, my voice should be a part of the Reconstruction, because I, because Alderaan, endured so much."
"You're better than them," he said. "They're scared of you."
"Scared?" she sniffed. "What do they have to be scared of? I don't understand. All I wanted was to help build a new galaxy."
"Yeah, well," he said indifferently. "Maybe you'll still get a chance."
"They're going to make this government without me." There, she had said it. The phrase had been lurking below everything, below the hurt and confusion, and it caused a real pain.
Han waggled a brow sneakily. "Want me to arrange a little coup?"
She was in no mood for banter. "That's not even funny to think it," she rebuked. "It's no way to make change."
"Oh?" He rolled to a sitting position. "What do you call the last three years?"
She nodded her head wearily. "It was a fight, yes. Not a play for power."
Han watched her feet disappear. He resumed his banging, thinking he was right; she was better than them. She was better than him, too, but he wasn't scared of her. It was mind boggling, how those other Senators could work in her presence and not want to become better themselves. It's the effect she'd had on him. It was why he turned himself into Jabba; why he took Luke's lightsaber, why his face became known as the Liberator.
Leia peered at her face in the reflector tacked to the wall of the 'fresher. There was a tightness around her eyes and her brow seemed to be permanently wrinkled. She frowned, changing the direction of the wrinkles, then swept the head band off her hair. Her brow smoothed out and her short hair bounced merrily. I'm sorry, she told the tired woman looking back at her. Sorry for what, dear? her heart answered. Don't be sorry. A swirl of emotions jumped at her, ones she couldn't separate. All of them brought her back to the duplicity of the Senate. Self serving bastards.
Han was right. Petty opportunists, he had said. Don't let 'em turn weapons against you. Are they scared of me? she wondered. It was a blow, she could not deny it. More than anything, she was terribly hurt, and the hurt gave way to anger when she saw how she was being used. I need to get over this. I can't keep dwelling on it.
She left the 'fresher. Han was still on the floor but the panel was now removed.
"Got a question for you," he called out as she passed.
She turned. "What?"
"What would Luke make of all this?"
"Luke?" she questioned confusedly.
"Yeah. Master Luke. What's the Force got to do with all this?"
She found it interesting he would ask. She cocked her head, considering. "I don't know." She found she was at a loss as to how to answer. "I need to think about that. That's what Luke would say anyway, go meditate."
"Not much help," he commented.
"What do you know?" she snapped, whirling on her heel. "Have you ever thought about anything once in your life?"
"I have," he answered belligerently. "I'm here, aren't I?" He heard her stomping back to the lounge and smiled into his wires. Gotcha.
Leia activated the chessboard. She keyed up a move, and immediately the opposing team's warrior came out, picking up her piece and smashing it back to the board, where it lay defeated a moment before the game controls made her warrior piece fade away and added a score to the opponent. "Hey," she objected. "That was vicious." It's you. This time both her head and heart were in agreement. With helpless anger she pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes, pushing tears back down.
She fought for control, her mouth turned down and breath coming rapidly. When she finally trusted her eyes to not cry she released her hands and found Han standing there again.
"Will you leave me alone?" she said through clenched teeth.
His face was serious. "You're going to be fine, you know," he told her.
She craned her neck up at him. "You think so, do you."
"Yeah. You gotta see it for what it is. Remember Vader?"
"'Remember Vader'? she quoted back at him. What the hell about Vader did he want her to remember? That he had fathered her? Tortured her? Was an evil Sith Lord? "What?" she asked, perplexed. But he was moving away again, leaving the lounge. "What?" she called after him. "Now you're talking like Yoda?"
He was gone. Leia sighed. You're being too hard on him. She wished she could handle life's disappointments like he did, just brush them off. Did he though? Han, what did you want most?
Shoes. It got cold. Little boy Han. All those homeless kids he told her about in orbit over Corellia. I'm not the only one to pay a price, am I? They made it about me, but I can't make it about me.
Remember Vader. Of course she remembered him. Too much about him. Her eyes flicked in the direction of Luke's cabin, where she had discovered Vader's life suit. She had impersonated him. Is that what he wanted her to remember?
See it for what it is. Always such a succinct, terse way of speaking, so she was never sure exactly what he meant. Luke telling her maybe Han is the way you access the Force.
Remember Vader. Her biological father. A man who loved so fiercely it crippled him. A man so scared and afraid he sold his own soul, never realizing he was being used. A man powerless, spineless; he needed a life suit to keep him standing. Father, I am your conscience.
Han was back, depositing a cup of kaf in front of her. She barely saw him; sensed him better, and with eyes that stared distantly ahead she cupped her hands around the warm mug. There was a squeeze on her shoulder and she was alone again with her thoughts.
Vader had shot Han, almost killed him. She blinked, remembering her own feeling of helplessness as her hands and mouth fought to keep him alive. Had it been like that for Vader, helpless as visions of his wife died in childbirth?
She eyed Han again, busying himself with his ship. His face was peering upwards at something, and he was reaching. She would never have sold her soul to save Han, even as much as she needed him to live. There was life with someone, and there was life without, and when the former became the latter all one could do was to tuck that someone into your heart's memory. It was all that was left.
Was Han dusting? She squinted. This brave man, this aggravating, fighting captain, was dusting.
He supported her. He cared about her, and was dusting because he didn't want her to know.
He loves you.
I know, ship. She remembered the expression on his face when she came out dressed in Vader's life suit. Apprehension had quickly turned to admiration. You're the bravest person I know.
She had survived Vader's torture. More than survived. Not given him what he desired to know and what she had given him had been a lie. I am strong.
Palpatine had been unable to quash the rebellion because of her. Palpatine had tried to use her, just as he used Vader.
Han was now kneeling on the floor, cleaning the kick plates bolted to the walls where they met the floor. A portion of his shirt had become untucked.
A bit of Vader in you. Yes. She had been in Vader's shoes, literally. She had enclosed herself in his dark and twisted self, and her light had shone. If she knew which Senator it was making the power play, would she…? She wanted to. Who wouldn't? But she had Luke, and she had Han; Chewie, and even General Rieekan. She would lose them if she gave in.
And what did it mean, really? she wondered, sipping kaf. She wasn't a Senator. For now. Maybe they would vote to reinstate her. And if they didn't? She was Princess Leia. She was an Alderaanian, and even if the surviving offworld Alderaanians had another Senator to represent them, they would still look to her as their Princess. She was the Face of the Rebellion, a cautionary tale that could forever remind the public they could never stop checking the motivations of their government. She was Princess Leia, member of the Committee for the Displaced, and she would still make a difference.
Han had rolled up his shirt sleeves, grown grimy with dirt. Fondly, she observed him. He was concentrated on his task, and possibly had forgotten about her, if only to lend her his support by being where she was. She heard Yoda's voice. Present is he.
"Han?" she said.
"Yeah?" he drawled.
"Do you need some help?"
He stopped scrubbing and sat back on his heels to look at her. "Floors could be swabbed," he said, eying her meaningfully.
He was doing it again, saying one thing and meaning another, but it was all in the eyes. "I feel like doing something," she told him.
He nodded slowly, still gauging her. "Mops are -"
"I know where they are." She got up to fetch one.
Han shook his head, resuming his scrubbing. He checked his chrono. Not bad, Princess. Just a couple of hours. She wasn't over it yet, he could tell. She had just completed meditating Luke-style, but now she would do it his way, with her hands busy and her mind just as free. He was looking forward to it.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Leia stood back, appraising her work. The Falcon had been home base more or less the past several months, and while she and everyone else had done their part to keep it relatively tidy, the ship had not seen a thorough scrubbing in a long time.
She wiped her forehead with the back of her palm, blowing air of her cheeks.
Han sauntered in. "I keep finding sand," he said. He bent from the waist, casting his reflection in the durosteel, and grinned. "Not bad for a Princess."
Leia heaved a satisfied sigh. It felt good to be productive. It was drudgery, to be sure, not the kind of task a Princess would think enjoyable, but there was something to be said about the repetitive motion of the scrubbing, rinsing, cleaning. She found that without thinking about things, she had somehow gained perspective.
The Falcon was a sympathetic ear. She told the ship her story, from the day she was elected Senator to her last moment on the Senate floor, accusing Palpatine of war crimes, all the while scrubbing, wringing a cloth out in a rinse bucket, spreading soapy water around. There were times when her anger overtook her and she slapped her cleaning equipment around, treating the Falcon roughly. There were other times when tears blurred her work area and she had to stop because she couldn't see what she was doing.
For the most part Han left her alone. He had done all this deliberately, she saw. Oh, but he is a sly pirate.
"Better?" he asked her now, a knowing glint in his eyes.
She nodded curtly. She was exhausted; she felt like the Galaxy had wrung her out and squeezed her dry, but it was vastly different than mired in hurt, loss and pain.
"Wanna get something to eat?"
She was feeling better, but not yet up for venturing into the city. "No, I'm not hungry."
"Liar. There's nothing to eat on board. Why don't I see what's available here in the port's hangars? I'm sure there's a few eateries."
"And worse. I'm not sure if the Liberator should be out on his own," Leia said.
"Hm. Think Luke's hospitality droid caters?"
He won a slight laugh out of her. "I'd like to see Luke," she said. "Comm him. He can bring us something. Chewie, too."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Leia slipped into Chewie's seat in the cockpit. Han was in his own chair, lounging comfortably with his head against the seat back and an ankle slung over the other leg.
"I was looking for you," Leia said. "I put all the stuff away."
Han nodded his thanks. "I'm being-watching."
Leia smiled slightly. "Coruscant is always good for that." She gazed out the window. In front of the Falcon a tech was on the hangar floor, wrestling too many over-sized pipes onto a repulsor cart. She watched the mixture of modern technology and old-fashioned elbow grease. "I'm surprised you don't have a cleaning 'bot," she remarked to Han. "That was hard work."
"Who says I don't?"
Leia gaped at him. "You mean – my back is killing me! Why did we do all that ourselves?"
He smiled disarmingly at her. "I use it for the nasty messes. Chewie and I have plenty of time to scour when we're in hyperspace. 'Sides, Your Highness, admit it: you needed that physical activity." Outside the window, a pipe rolled off the cart and the tech frantically tried to stop its roll. Han grunted with amusement. "Third time that's happened."
She put her chin in her hand and glared at him, but it was an act she knew he would see through. "Yoda had Luke do strenuous exercises when he was first learning the Force," she said. "Something about the body expanding the mind."
"Didn't Luke say the Force is existence? Doesn't that make it physical then?" Han asked.
Leia blinked at him, surprised to be having a philosophical discussion with him about the Force. "I hadn't considered that," she admitted.
"I probably just said the same thing as Yoda speak," Han said.
Leia laughed. "I suppose it can't hurt for me to be doing something physical. "I really haven't in a long time – since Dagobah really. Been cooped up. In a sand storm, in a Senate…." She waved her hand, her own joke falling flat. "But my back does ache."
Han stood up and came behind her chair. His large hand rested on her upper spine, and he pushed gently so that she leaned forward.
Leia's heart beat nervously. She hadn't intended to give him an invitation to be physical with her. He didn't ask permission, just began to rub deep into her muscles. She found her chin moved to her chest and she closed her eyes. That feels good, something in her confessed. Don't lose sight of yourself, her head cautioned. "Were you able to raise Luke on the comm?"
"Yeah." Han's warm hands left her back for a moment as he reached forward to grab his comm. "They're on their way. He sent this for you." He keyed up the message and set the comm on the console board. A small holovid appeared. Han's hands resumed their caressing massage while Leia saw Chewie hooting with laughter, and Doc Brack was pointing his finger out a window. They appeared to be in a speeder.
Luke was narrating the holovid. "Leia, I don't know how you're feeling, and I hope you're okay, but you just have to see this. Bring us closer, Chewie." The vid zoomed to enlarge the screen, too fast, and it blurred. Leia heard Luke swear softly. "I can't ever operate these," he muttered. "I'll try again."
"Is that Citizen's Square?" Leia asked. Han nodded, still massaging her muscles. "What is that?" She peered closer, and saw that underneath the giant news screen someone had installed a smaller monitor. Wires powering it stretched along the stonework, slipping under a windowsill.
Words flashed: Princess Leia for President. A still photo of Leia appeared, dressed in her Senate dress-shirt of Han's.
"Did I mention I like that outfit?" he said.
"What is this?" she asked. She wasn't sure yet how to react. Her head couldn't decide whether to be tickled, shocked, or embarrassed.
Leia's voice issued from the screen, though the photo did not change. "Not all humans think alike," she intoned.
"That's when you were defending Wookiees from that idiot Moff," Han told her, his hands moving over her ribs, and she nodded, recognizing it.
"What shall I say? What shall I say? What shall I say?" The screen now showed a photograph of the Senate floor, sweeping over the many beings who held the title Senator. "What shall I say? What shall I say?"
It was the Inquisitor Duro's voice, sped up. The phrase was repeated over and over while the screen lingered on the Senate body. "Not all humans think alike," Leia's voice said again, and once more 'Princess Leia for President' flashed.
"It's funny, huh?" Luke asked. "See you soon."
"It is funny," Han agreed. "You've got some support out there, it looks like."
She was becoming more and more of a rag doll; the thoughts and fears and hurts of the day kneaded into one sensation of relaxation. "Doc Brack's coming? Is Maranya with him?" She hated herself for asking.
"Yeah." His voice was toneless.
"Han." She straightened her spine, and turned in the seat to look at him. On impulse she stood on it, and in the Wookiee's oversized seat she was now slightly taller than he was. "Tell me something."
"Tell you what?" he asked guardedly.
I wonder what his head tells him, Leia thought. For surely, he had received some signal for self-preservation. A shadow fell over his eyes, turning them brown, but he held her eyes steadily. "Tell me something from Jabba's." She gripped both his forearms. "You were gone so long, and we had nothing from you. Now you're back, and it's like….did you ever have a flimsi that got water damage? And pages and pages go black, and you can't follow the story anymore because you missed too much? That's what it's like. Fill in the story for me."
"That's what it's like for me," Han said. "When I look at you and Luke. Even Chewie. All that time on Dagobah and I have no idea what was going on. Except for gray fur in Bay One, and now you tell me Luke exercised."
Leia gave a scared laugh. "I'm sorry."
Han looked down at her hands, still gripping his forearms. Leia was the bravest person he knew, and had survived through so much. He was a coward who didn't deserve her, and when it all went to hell he wanted her to see that at least he had his moments trying to be brave. "There was a rancor," he said quietly.
Leia nodded. "Chewie told us. And he told us about the trap door in the throne room."
Han nodded. "It was up to the Punisheds – that was me; I was one – it was up to us to feed it. It was what we did, or didn't do, that made the choice for who went to the Rancor."
Leia swallowed. Her hands moved to his shoulders and she gripped them tightly, as if she were fearing for his life. "How did you manage to not get chosen?"
"No, you don't understand. It was fed slaves."
Her eyes were large on his, trying to absorb some of the horror. She knew he was telling her things without saying them again, and she needed time to sort it all out. But just then the comm chirped and Luke's voice came across the cockpit.
"Hey you two, we're here and we all have our hands full. Open the hatch, will you? His voice fell to a whisper. "And sorry, we've had a few latchers-on."
Leia and Han turned to view the boarding party from the cockpit security screen. Leia groaned. Behind Doc Brack and Maranya stood Mon Mothma and Carlist Rieekan, both looking like guilty intruders.
Han caught Leia's look of dismay. "I'm Captain," he said. "It's my ship. I don't have to give them permission to board," he offered.
"That's okay," Leia said resignedly. "Thank you. But wait." She made sure he was looking at her. Both her hands now cupped his neck under his jaw, her fingers barely meeting at the back of his head. She made a big decision and, closing her eyes, brought her lips to Han's.
He welcomed her advance, responding warmly and deeply with his lips while his arms squeezed her to him.
"Come on, open up!" Luke complained through the comm. "What are you doing in there?"
They both laughed. Han pressed the release and together they went to face the dinner party, Leia laughing to herself as she imagined Mon Mothma's face when Han denied her permission to board.
