"You really don't want to know?"

Each time Han tried to bring up her destination, she had stopped him. At least he knew enough about her that this wasn't some childish stubbornness, but he didn't know what it was, and for that matter, neither did she.

She showed variety in shrugging him off. A hand held up, a simple no, a shake of the head. All she was certain of was that it didn't really matter; to others, perhaps, but not to her.

Deep down, she thought it might be a delayed fear reaction, the memory of standing on the bridge of the Death Star, and seeing Alderaan out the viewport.

Or, something inside her clenched, some misery at her situation; that Mon should need her more, that the Alliance continued to shunt her aside.

All she knew was she wanted to watch the journey, and she sat in Chewie's seat, having assured both pilot and copilot she would keep watch if there was anything they wanted to tend to.

She would miss this, she thought, and maybe that was still another reason. There was something about being on the Falcon, a centering. Solitude followed her here as it did everywhere, but it was more a respectful privacy from Han and Chewie. And Chewie wanted to know her; wanted her to know him, too.

She thought about Chewie and Han a long time, watching the blackness of space and remembering to check the console lights and navigation course if she heard them talking. And it hit her all of a sudden: there were two of the very few beings who respected that she was made again. Brand new, almost.

She felt brand new. Vulnerable, in need, even a little helpless. You're far too trusting. She had arrived on Yavin the Princess of Alderaan, and though there was no Alderaan, Command's pre-knowledge of her, and expectations for her, had not changed. She was a gaping, screaming, hole, and they pretended not to notice.

Leia nodded to herself. There was her bitterness. Only those on the Death Star with her saw what she was. Luke gave her hugs and family; Chewie his words and culture; Han let her borrow his ship, his training remote, his shirt, his time. And humor, of which she was able to see a little just now. For instance, those items were his best things. And she felt a tiny and affectionate smile form.

Little by little, she was coming together. Learning to walk, as it were. Hadn't Dr. Renzatl said something like that on their first meeting? She wasn't on the Death Star, but Leia added her to the list of those whom she didn't mind being around. Dr. Renzatl was...

It took Leia a long time to decide what exactly, and finally realized it was self-discovery. The others gave her pieces of themselves or things, but Dr. Renzatl helped her find herself again. And she appreciated the change, being able to smile at herself when thinking about a hotshot pilot in a tight-fitting shirt, compared to the numb, wide-eyed Princess who couldn't believe her father was dead.

This time, after he leaned his torso across the threshold while his feet stayed on the other side to ask, "You really don't want to know?" she answered with, "It's merely a destination; not my destiny."

It had become kind of a game. He would pop his head into the cockpit at various times to ask if she wanted to know the weather, the system, the dangerous indigenous life, and so on. He was holding wires this time, clenched lightly in his fist.

"Oh, you got a destiny now? You sound like Luke."

She had nodded at the truth of that statement. "Yes," she whispered, more to herself than in answer to him. Then she looked at him, and she wondered if her eyes looked at him the way she felt, if he gazed back into deep pools of regret.

"You're gonna miss me," he accused playfully.

Only he would jump into such regret, and it made her smile a little.

"You, too," she said.

"What, miss you?" He made an elaborate face of pretend-thinking. "Maybe a little."

"...have a destiny," she finished saying.

He took his seat, not settled in for a talk but with one leg bent back, ready to rise quickly. "The Death Star again? I came back. Maybe I'm finished."

"You don't believe in destiny."

His hands stopped trying to straighten the kinks in the wires. They weren't very long, Leia saw, and counted six wires. He must have cut them from something. They were gathered in some kind of housing unit.

His eyes scanned the console board before taking in the sight of hyperspace out the viewport. "Mind you," he said carefully, and Leia got the feeling he was actually trying not to insult her, "I don't sit around thinkin', like you or Luke, but I don't think so. I just exist."

"Because you're a spacer? You just go from place to place?" Leia asked. At least he hadn't made an outright denial, as he had done to Luke when they first met.

"Just 'cause we're sentient don't mean we're special, you know? Maybe we're... I don't know. Like a fish. Tryin' to eat and not get eaten."

"Luke didn't find his until he was nineteen-"

"I'm a lot older than Luke."

"Even for small things, like meeting us? You don't think the beings you meet in life don't affect you in the smallest way?"

He sniffed. "How?"

Leia shrugged. "Memories. Say you drift away from us. You might think of us on occasion. You like to tell stories, too. I bet you'll tell the story of the Death Star."

"It is a good story," he allowed. "I'll be sure to mention the bossy Princess."

She didn't smile. "I suppose in a way this war is for existence. To eat rather than be eaten. No. To be able to eat."

"I don't think about things like that."

"I know you don't, and yet you act. A fish doesn't help another fish, does it, when a predator snatches it. But you do. Oh, don't argue with me, Captain Solo," she chided, as his mouth opened, holding her finger up between them. "There's a Wookiee copilot squashed in the maintenance hatch back there. Chewie's last lesson to me was occupations, remember?"

"Yeah..."

"And I have it on the audiophile, you saying that Wookiees, because their anatomy prevents them from adopting most Basic words into their language of things they don't have a word for, make up their own, something that makes sense to them on Kasshyyk."

Han's foot slid to join his other one, the wires gathered in his hand. It would still be easy to rise. "Where are you going with this, Princess?"

"Navigator is literally 'star tracker'."

Leia had found the translations fascinating. They brought her closer to the soul of a Wookiee. There was something mystical in their perspective compared to that of a human. Stars were not only a pathway; they had a story to tell. Humans made charts and brought stars into their possession. Right now, especially after what had happened to Alderaan, Leia much preferred the Wookiee's sensibility.

"You turning lessons back on me?"

"And you had trouble translating copilot. Remember? 'Rhythm maintainer' was the best you came up with."

"So what's the point?"

Leia suddenly lost where she was going with her conversation. He'd snatched it from her. "I don't know," she admitted, rubbing above her eyebrow wearily. "I did have a point," she smiled weakly.

He considered her a moment. "You're just impressed with my Wookiee skills."

She laughed softly. "I am. The fact that one is here, and not a slave. He's much more than a copilot, isn't he."

"It's worse. It's a life debt."

Leia nodded. "I know how you feel about it. And I know that's not what you intended. But what I see, what should be 'flight assistant' or 'whatever the Captain doesn't do'- "

The corner of Han's mouth twitched.

"- is..." Leia gave it some thought. "... 'Han Supporter'. You're fortunate. That was my point, I think. I have a headache," she told Han. "Or maybe I just want this..." she fluttered a hand, "... to matter. To be more than a memory. I want it to be a story. Something that's important. That we learn from."

"Well," Han shrugged a shoulder, unsure of what to say. "I had to update the nav'puter. It's important."

She fell silent, watching the blackness outside and letting her thoughts drift again. The story of who she used to be was no more. There was a new one starting, and that was fine, but sometimes she felt out of... place. Out of others' time.

Han, despite Leia's assertion that she would keep watch, double checked gauges and position.

After a moment, she spoke again. "Royalty often had someone in a role like that."

He glanced at her. "Supporter?"

"Someone sworn to die to protect the crown. But it often didn't go to that extent, because the royal didn't do anything to earn such fealty." Leia leaned back in Chewie's seat, imagining the tall back was the Wookiee standing behind her. "I wonder how it would have gone for me, if I had someone like that on the Death Star with me."

"A Princess Supporter? He'd have been killed instead of arrested." Han sounded sure.

"Mm." Quite possibly he was right. "The Death Star was so big," Leia said with a sigh. "So much happened."

"Yeah."

"I think, what if I had a way to go back, and make it so it didn't happen, how far back would I have to go?"

"Hm," Han said. "Depends on what you accomplish. Do you erase just the Death Star? Take whoever designed it out, so there's no plans, no invention. But then, that still leaves Palpatine."

"Yes. And- " Leia pressed her lips over her teeth and assessed Han. Shyly, she said, "I think about my mother. She died when I was twelve. Seven years before- And I wonder if-"

Han was nodding, as if he expected to hear that, but he said, "That's why I don't go for destiny. It's nothing but someone dreaming."

Leia looked out at the stars, lost in time. Either it was true, what he said; the words of a man disappointed, or he was trying to be irritating and dismissive to get her out of herself. She looked at him, and found no irony or challenge, and his features were pleasing.

"I've been thinking about her a lot. At first, in the early days, I thought about my father. Because-"

"I get it."

She wouldn't be silenced. "Because he was there. He died that way." She imagined it again, like she had a thousand different scenarios, her father watching that death laser approach. An awful way to die. "But my mother: I think, if Alderaan were to- If this is Alderaan's destiny, would it have happened if she were alive? But then, if this is my destiny, if I am to survive and lead us out, then her death was for me."

Han shook his head. "You lost me."

"I think it was her destiny to teach me how to die."

"Some pretty deep stuff, Princess," Han said. His brows were raised, surprised and reluctant. "That's what gazing at hyperspace does. Takes away everything you think you know."

"I feel I know this. Have you ever grieved anyone, Captain?"

"Ehh," he squirmed.

Leia didn't wait for more answer. "My mother was sick most of my childhood. I feel I wasn't too aware of it, but I have a lot of memories of playing beside her, in bed. When I wake up now, I think about that. But I also put myself in her body, lying there, with her daughter playing under the covers. I wonder what it felt like."

Han looked at her again, a lingering stare. "What what felt like?"

"To love like a mother, and to be sad she wouldn't get to finish being one. What to do for your child." Leia looked at the wires on Han's lap, attached to something; a conductor, she figured, housed in a duroplast box. "She made sure to leave me with memories. Remember the holo I showed you, of her biting the stylus?"

"Oh, yeah. She didn't look so queenly."

"That was taken in our private quarters. She was teasing the new holodocumenter. She could be very funny." Leia smiled. "She taught me that death happens. She taught me not to fear it. And I admire her, for thinking of me, for not letting the pall of illness cover my childhood. She was conscious of the future, of how she wanted me to remember her."

Han nodded, and he picked up the wires, and held them on his palm like he was weighing them. "You say memories."

"Yes?"

"I told you I don't remember my family."

Leia got quiet. "Yes."

Han turned toward her. His knees almost touched hers in the cramped space. Leia watched the wires wave as he bounced them lightly.

"There was a little figurine," he began. "It was white. Ceramic. I think it was my mother's. You know what a gotonga is?"

"Yes." Leia's voice was hushed, her lips parted. This felt like a seduction, hers of him. "A farm animal, on Corellia."

"I think I used to play with it while breakfast cooked. It seems like I did it a lot, but I don't know. I was little. So was it," Han looked into her face suddenly. "It fit in my palm." He showed her his hand, the wires resting on his rough, large palm.

She wanted to ask what he looked like, if he was sweet, if his hair was lighter in color, but she only nodded in encouragement.

"And, my last memory, the real one, is me being... grabbed. Scooped up, right here," he touched his belly. "And I can see my hand reaching for it, and I think I was kickin' my legs."

Hushed, Leia asked, "What-"

"So, my point is not everyone gets to do that, plan a destiny for their child, or leave good memories."

Leia nodded. "I see what you are saying. It's me who is fortunate now. You have a Han Supporter, and I had a loving mother who knew she was dying."

Han nodded soberly. "I'm sorry you don't have her now. It is kinda nice, having a Supporter."

She reached out and touched the knee so close to her own. Her lips were curved downward, an agonized, sympathetic smile. "If this is my destiny, and my going back can't make her well..."

"You'd still go back."

"You'd fetch your gotonga, wouldn't you?"

His eyes were somber but he grinned, a small one, just using one side of his mouth. "You'd show her what you became?"

"It would make it worth it, don't you think?" Leia wanted to know.

"Yeah," Han considered. "If your future self suddenly walked in the cockpit and said, "You won," it'd be easier to continue, wouldn't it?"

"It would," Leia said. "If only we all could see the other side. The After. That's the other part of what she taught me: even sick; tired, weak and in pain, she was- she wasn't done; she still had things she wanted to accomplish.

"Memories are important," Leia told Han. "On Alderaan, there was the goddess Memory. She, and Time and Forgiveness escort the dead to the afterlife by the light of a candle. My mother was the daughter of the goddesses. Maybe she became Memory. The goddesses needed her to prepare Alderaan. To be there when the planet died. When they died."

"How'd we get on this?" Han said.

Leia gave a wistful smile. "I know you've tried to change the subject several times. Unlike Luke, I don't think one can know their destiny until the end, when it happens. Is mine to die at the hands of the Emperor, only I don't feel done, so I've been able to prolong it?" She gave him a look of frightened longing. "Maybe mine is to teach you how to die."

"Kriff, Princess. I hereby declare your watch over. There's those that say no one should ever travel open space alone, 'cause it ends in madness. Help me put this-" he wagged the wires at her, "- back together and go have a drink or something."

Leia glanced at the chrono and saw she'd been on watch three hours. Perhaps it was time to think of something else. "I'm either thirsty, or going mad?" she said with a wry smile.

"Both are known to happen."

Leia stood and stretched her arms to the ceiling. Han moved his legs out of the way.

"The Emperor is a different sort, isn't he?" she said, as if she pulled the thought from the ceiling. "The goddesses saw their death, but he plays with destiny."

"Maybe he sees his." Han had stood also; the wires waited for him on the seat as he checked an overhead switch.

"Maybe." Leia liked that answer. She wanted it to be the truth. "That's why I'm thinking about this. Because I'm not done; I've got a fight on, but I'll have to stop if he kills me."

In a sing-song voice and miming a dance, Han said, "That's why you're being sent to-"

They both laughed as she shouted, "Don't!"

She slapped his palm, and his fingers curled over her hand. "What happened to your little gotonga figurine?" she asked.

He sighed, and twisted backward while dropping her hand to pick up the wires. "A few days later, I woke up in the medcenter. And they said, my family's Wookiee had saved me. Curled around me. So that's why Chewie. You asked, did I ever grieve someone. I was real little. I didn't know how, and in a real short time I forgot who. But they told me that much.

"Now come on," he ordered, crooking a finger and beckoning her out of the cockpit.

They passed by Chewie, who twisted his head over his shoulder at them but said nothing. She waved at him, now that she knew.

"Take over," Han ordered his copilot.

Chewie woofed a question.

"Maybe she'll make you tea."

Chewie responded with the noise he made when he was inordinately pleased; a kind of trill he did with his voice.

Han didn't really need her help, she saw. He'd cut off the power supply to the galley to reinstall a new voice activator for the lighting system. A grand gesture for a component that was merely an upgraded convenience.

She stood behind him, holding tools but basically useless, watching his hands, that could do so many things.

"No wonder I haven't fixed this before," he grumbled, half-lying across the counter, twisted upward and squinting into the dark. "Pain in the ass."

Leia said, "Let me put a light on it." She was glad to do something. She had to hold a squatting position, her elbow way past her knees, the light held almost vertical until it found the hole in the wall.

"Ah, much better."

He'd pulled her from the cockpit for nothing, really, she considered, except maybe to save her from herself. She wasn't supposed to ask, she knew. What had happened to the little boy? A terrible thing, it sounded like.

"Once, flyin' in to U'u'u, our scopes went dead. Everything."

"I never heard of U'u'u." His Before, she thought. His Since.

"Mostly uncharted."

"What did you smuggle there?" And he didn't remember it, but others filled in enough pieces for him to be able to tell the story of the little boy for whom the smell of breakfast cooking was routine, as was the feel of a figurine in the palm of his little hand.

"Smuggled out. Blue silicon crystal formations. They form in the rains. Know what 'u'u'u means?" He moved his arms to show his face, full of humor.

"No."

"'Ow', basically."

"That's a joke."

"No," he smiled, and Leia found she was enjoying the moment. A real, genuine exchange between a man and woman that had nothing to do with... anything she'd known previously. "You walk on the ground, and crystals are all sizes, everywhere; you say 'ow'. Even with boots on. Suckers are pointy."

He continued to talk, sharing tales of memorable malfunctions, and it made the rewiring take a lot longer than it should have. She thought of the little boy, playing with a toy and clueless as to what was about to happen. He remembered where he'd been grabbed; the feeling of a strong arm across his belly. His family's Wookiee. Just like she remembered, and could make herself feel it; the way Darth Vader's fingers dug into her shoulder.

"...s'why I got that extra-sized vac suit..."

He was telling her stories, showing her memories were living things, almost; allowing her to make her own, suggesting he could be part of hers.

Bossy Princess.

"There," he finished, and wriggled back to a standing.

She was much, much more.

"Lights," he said, and when they came on she saw his eyes, that greenish brown roving the ceiling panels, an expression of earned self-satisfaction on his face.

He gave her a nod, and left the galley. She stood there. Alone, but she knew what would happen.

"Chewie!" she heard him holler. "Finished that repair!"

Leia went to get Chewie's tea tin out of the cabinet.

"Oh, right," she heard Han say in answer to Chewie's barking reply, and she smiled.

He reappeared in the galley. "Chewie wants tea."

"I didn't forget," Leia replied, wondering why she was almost laughing, and feeling like inside her was the glow of a candle, warm and comfortable.