Motives

"That sounds like something Han would say." ~Leia Organa

Chapter 27

Corellia, Two weeks later

"Good morning, sir," Gharris Stanton said with relish as he began turning on the lights and pulling the heavy drapes back from the large windows of the President of Corellia's private chamber.

As light and staff members flooded into the room, Han Solo shut his eyes, turned over in his large bed and groaned.

"Your first call is at oh-five-hundred," Gharris' voice continued, unperturbed by Han's reaction, "with the Minister of Intelligence regarding security at today's event."

Today's event. Han inwardly rolled his eyes. Old Orakzai had died two weeks ago on Coruscant. Han, Sasha, Eliza, Gharris and the entire Corellian delegation had returned with his remains to begin all of the arrangements. The former President had been lying in state for ten days now. Today was his funeral.

Han heard the sound of clinking dishes and opened his eyes to a breakfast tray being carried into his room. The aroma of kaffe, fresh eggs and bantha strips filled the air.

"I have taken the liberty of having the appropriate wardrobe readied and laid out for you," Gharris offered as Han slung the covers back and sat up. "Here are this morning's reports."

Han accepted a datapad in his right hand and grabbed the cup of kaffe in his left. As he sipped on his kaffe, his eyes glanced over the usual reports. "Any word on our Commodore search?" he asked. One of the last things Orakzai had told Han was to locate his old commander.

Gharris cleared his throat, "I'm afraid not, sir, no," and then continued talking. About time tables and schedules. Honored guests and speeches. And seating arrangements, this. Influential visitors, that.

Han put his kaffe down, handed the datapad back to Gharris and held his hand up to silence him. "Just," Han said, looking down at his bare feet and boxer briefs. "Can you just gimme a minute?"

Gharris turned around, as if that was enough privacy for anyone. "Just," the older man said. "We have very little time and-"

The sound of Han's bathroom door slamming, cut off any further argument.

Han walked over to the double sink and placed his hands against the cool stone countertop. A radiating heat from the marbled tile flooring was pleasantly warming his bare feet as he looked at himself in the large, gilded mirror. "You're the actual, fracking President of Corellia," he told himself. He had shared this revelation with his reflection on the first morning that he had woken up in Orakzai's old room and he hadn't seen the need to stop reminding himself, yet. Surrounded in opulence and underlings without hardly a moment to himself, however, this fact was extremely hard to forget if not so easy to believe.

Han studied his reflection. Even if everything around him seemed unreal, the man in the mirror looked the same to him. The same as he had back when he and Watts had gone to Kashyyk. The same as he did in the small mirror in the refresher on the Falcon when he had stared at himself in disbelief as he and Leia began their relationship on that long trip to Bespin. The same as he did when he had found out that he was a father. And the same when he had found out that he was not.

He sighed, turned the water on and began his normal morning routine. While he shaved his face he thought of the upcoming general election. Han's temporary presidential status was only in effect until then, which was in six months. He should be able to do six months standing on his head, he thought as he stepped into the shower and washed himself. After all, it had only been a little over six months since Leia had shot at him in the Falcon during the Battle for Coruscant and that seemed like it was just yesterday.

Leia.

She was expected to attend the funeral today. Eliza had asked that the Princess be invited and Han felt certain that she would attend. What he was not so certain of, was what he might say to her. Or what she might want to hear. It was so very frustrating to him. They had been in such a good place before Orakzai had gotten to Leia with his manipulation and lies. Just why the old man had done what he had done was still not clear to him. He hoped that finding his old commander would shed some light on that mystery. Regardless, when he wasn't busy being the actual, fracking president, he occupied his mind with trying to figure out where he and Leia were supposed to go from here.

On Coruscant, he had decided to improvise. To charge forward toward what he wanted and worry about a detailed plan later. But that was easier said than done. It was hard to charge forward when he was still a married man, he had done that not so long ago when he had stormed into her office and look how that had turned out for them. He thought back to that time right before the Battle of Coruscant. Right before everything had changed. Leia had come to him aboard the Falcon asking about their future. At that time, it had been her titles and responsibilities that they had feared would separate them. Oh, how the tables had turned.

Stepping out of the shower, he grabbed a warm towel and began to dry himself. He remembered that back then in the Falcon, he had told Leia that he would become a politician if he had to. As a scoundrel you would probably make a pretty decent politician, she had teased. Little had they known just how lucky they were at that very moment. Unsure of their future, yeah. But they had been together. He tried to imagine if the shoe had been on the other foot, if things had gone the way they were supposed to and Leia had landed in some big job on Coruscant while Han waited impatiently in the wings. Maybe he would've remained in the military, but he highly doubted that. Maybe he would've found some version of work aboard the Falcon that was both legal and lucrative and would allow him ample time with Leia on Coruscant.

He looked again at the man in the mirror. Yeah, and maybe Hutts could fly.

So, what would he have wanted her to do? He asked himself as he toweled off. She had said that she would be a deckhand on the Falcon if it meant they could be together. He let the towel fall to the floor and began to put on his underclothes. Back then, they had both been willing to do whatever was necessary to be together. Had that changed? No. But, as life often had it, the parameters had changed and it all hadn't ended up being quite so simple. In an alternate reality, Leia wouldn't be married. And in this reality, Han was.

He began to brush his teeth looking at the man looking back at him in the mirror. He spit into the sink and then said, "I really had higher hopes for you." As once again, neither he nor his reflection had come up with any good answers to his problems.

As he was finishing brushing his teeth, Gharris began knocking on the door.

"Remember to greet the Minister of State first and that the representatives from Bothwui don't like to shake hands. The Mon Calamari-"

Han opened up the door. Gharris was standing right in front of it. "I know about the Mon Calamari," Han interrupted, brushing past Gharris and heading over to where his clothes had been laid out for him. "And the Wookiees, Hutts, Chiss and Ewoks," he added. He pulled on his pants and undershirt and he was sitting down to put his shoes and socks on.

"I apologize, Your Excellency-"

"I asked you not to call me that," Han groused as he stood up and slid on his buttoned-down shirt.

His mind had to reluctantly switch gears from his personal problems to his professional. It was true, this event would be a test of his skills. Corellia had deep ties with both the staunch New Republic worlds and those that were still categorized as potential Imperial sympathizers. Entertaining representatives from both spectrums would be quite the balancing act. Many politicians would see the passing of the old guard on Corellia as an opportunity to manipulate Han and further their agendas, whatever they may be. Yet, Han thought introspectively, Wookiees, Hutts and Chiss considered, knowing what to say to Leia still seemed like the more daunting task of the two.

"It's just that," Gharris continued, stepping behind Han and helping him with his tie. "This is your first official duty as President and I don't want-"

"I can also tie my own tie," Han said feeling smothered by all the attention as he walked towards the floor-length mirror in the corner. This routine wasn't much different from any other day but today Han's nerves were raw and his emotions were in a turmoil.

Standing in front of the mirror, Han once again considered himself. This time in his entirety, as it were. The suit Gharris had picked out for him was a crisp, jet black expertly cut by one of Corellia's most famous designers. The material felt every bit as luxurious as Han knew it must've cost. Running his hand down his arm, he began fastening the buttons at his wrist. He recalled that he and Chewie had done a few jobs smuggling rare and expensive fabrics. It had never been Han's first choice because as cargo went, fabrics took up a lot of space and the buyers were usually fickle, snooty and meticulous. The trifecta of bad for business. Once, a buyer had rejected a shipment just by touching the length of material with one delicate digit and turning their nose up at how it felt. Han had ran his entire calloused and roughened hand across the swath of fabric and told the Devaronian buyer, in some very colorful language, that he was nothing short of certifiable. Now, Han wasn't so sure.

As he flipped his tie around and over, he caught a glimpse of Gharris standing behind him looking over the notes in his datapad and appearing a bit dejected. Han sighed. Keeping Gharris on after Orakzai died had been Han's choice. After all, Gharris had tried to help Han in his own way. Now, amongst so many other feelings this morning, Han felt guilty. The man was just doing his job and in the end Gharris only wanted to feel valued and needed. Was that such a crime?

Han sighed. Again.

Finished with his tie, he walked towards the clothes and picked his jacket up. There was a silver tray with his pocket square, cufflinks and boutonniere. He looked over to Gharris, considering him. He was at least mildly less irritating than C-3PO. "Could you, ah," Han asked. "Help me with this other stuff?"

Gharris' mood brightened immediately as he began with the cufflinks and then helped slide Han's coat on over his shoulders. Han looked over to the mirror and admired his reflection yet again. Not even Darth Vader himself could ever get him to admit it, but sometimes he wondered if it might actually be a little hard to go back to wearing clothes bought at a street market and sleeping in the tiny bunk on the Falcon. But he always quickly thought better of it. He knew for a fact that freedom could be very forgiving.

When he looked back at Gharris, the man was smiling, looking satisfied. The guilty weight from earlier slipped away. Feeling valued and needed, Han thought. It was such a simple fix. He turned that thought over in his head as Gharris struggled with one of his cufflinks. Maybe that was all he needed to convey to Leia, too. Some reassurance that she was valued and needed. That would be all he thought he would need if the situation had been reversed. Could it be that simple with her? Probably so. As he had deduced earlier, the will to make this work was still there for both of them, as far as he knew. Gharris finished with the stubborn cufflink and at the same time a bit of Han's uneasiness slipped away. He thought that he knew what he needed to do and now all he had to do was to figure out how to do it.

"Remember not to wave or answer any questions during the procession." Gharris began tutoring Han again. He attached the boutonniere and was fiddling with the pocket square mumbling something about not using the same fork during the entire dinner service as Han watched his fresh eggs, bantha strips and kaffe being carried out of his bedroom untouched.

He had shed many uncomfortable feelings over the last few minutes but hunger, it seemed, would not be one of them.

And then Han Solo sighed. Again.

Later that day...

Leia was standing by a tall window away from the other guests. Following the funeral several of the visiting dignitaries had been invited to a reception at the President's estate. Han's home. She found it hard not to devour every small detail of the place that Han came home to everyday. The place where he spent any and all of his precious free time.

It was small compared to the Alderaanian Palace where she had grown up but definitely more ornate. She had a hard time picturing Han living here and being comfortable. But if how he had handled himself at the funeral events today, how he had been dressed and how comfortable he appeared to be with the title he now wore (President of the Associated Systems of Corellia) said anything, then the Han she knew was not quite the same person any longer.

"Do you want to see my new pet?"

Leia flinched, having been startled by the voice although she recognized it immediately. "Eliza, honey," Leia replied, wrapping her arm around the young girl. "I'm so very sorry about your grandfather."

"Thank you," Eliza replied. And then biting her lip and looking uncomfortable, she asked again, "So, do you? Wanna see my new dog?"

Leia smiled, looking around the room. There was no one here that would miss her and no one she particularly wanted to see. Even politicians were unlikely to utilize a funeral to discuss deals or cut bargains and she certainly didn't want to talk to any one of them that would. She looked back down to Eliza. "Sure. Lead the way."

Leia followed Han's daughter through the parlor, across a lounge, into a small courtyard which led to a gallery and up a winding flight of stairs. Having met Orakzai, Leia was not surprised by the size of the manor nor by its opulent decor. But she couldn't help but imagine the wry comments that Han might conjure up as he sized up the various carvings, paintings and statues. At least, the Han she used to know.

The Alderaanian Palace had been a literal community of its own. The palace itself housing several kitchens each with different purposes and personnel. There were conference rooms and audience chambers. Grand ballrooms and extensive dining halls. Chapels and school rooms. Formal parlors and informal lounges. Several families, consisting of service staff, military advisors and attendants, lived in separate wings and facilities. But the royal quarters, where her family actually lived was very modest and comfortable. Inviting and warm. And as she followed Eliza up the stairs to what Leia could only assume was the presidential family quarters, she was pleasantly surprised to find that it was much the same.

At the top of the stairs, Leia followed Eliza across a large landing with patterned carpet and an ivory, tufted conversation settee. From there, they transitioned to the living area. Here, the furniture and decorations were still of the latest style and highest quality, but the sofas, divans and various seating arrangements were larger and more inviting looking. The draperies on the windows were lighter than their counterparts downstairs and there were candid photos of Eliza and what must be Han's wife on the mantlepiece and on several end tables.

Eliza bounced excitedly as she rounded a corner, went down another small gallery and opened a door in the far corner.

"Whoa!" Eliza shouted as a large kath hound jumped up onto her stomach and licked at her face. "Down, Dancer," the young girl scolded. "Down."

Dancer did jump down and immediately dashed over to Leia, repeating what he had just done to his owner. "Oh," Leia exclaimed as politely as possible.

"Dancer!" Eliza scolded again as she pulled on his collar and held the dog back. "He's still being trained," Eliza explained.

"Right," Leia replied, running her hand down the front of her suit dress. "Those things take time."

The kath hound was thin with long, lanky legs that ended in hooves and that he hoisted high up and down as he pranced with excitement at his visitors. Leia wondered what the loud prancing of hooves on the wooden floor sounded like to the visiting dignitaries below.

"I named him Dancer," Eliza said, scruffing at the dog's neck and kissing the top of his head.

"I can see why," Leia replied, smiling. "He's very majestic."

"I wanted a kittle, but Dad said if he was going to have to deal with any dumb animal, then it was going to have to serve some kind of purpose."

Kath hounds were from Dantooine and Leia had heard about them from some of the Rebels that had lived on the base there. They were loyal, fierce protectors of their owners and had a mouth full of intimidating teeth once they were full grown.

Leia patted her hand along Dancer's neck and back. "That sounds like something Han would say."

"Oh, yeah?" A new voice said. "What sounds like something I would say?"

"Dad!" Eliza screamed. Not in excitement to see her father but because Dancer was running for the door. "Shut the door!"

Han, although wearing a formal title and the clothes to go along with it, was still the quickest draw Princess Leia had ever seen. As he grabbed the escaping hound in one hand and closed the door with the other all while affording her a roguish grin, she was reminded that he hadn't lost that side of him that she had initially found so attractive. Maybe he hadn't change so much, after all.

"Heel," Han pulled on Dancer's collar and amazingly the young kath hound obeyed. "What are you two doing up here? Showing off your new carpet spoiler?" He looked down at the dog. "Your new drapery eater?" he asked as the dog panted back happy for the attention. Han's gaze then went to his daughter. "Huh?"

Leia felt awkward seeing him again after how they had left it in her office on Coruscant. She had even contemplated not attending the funeral, but had thought better of it for Eliza's sake. Still, she knew know that she was willing to pay any price to see him and be near him again.

"He only ate a tiny piece of my curtains," Eliza replied. "And, yes, I wanted the Princess to meet him. I was tired of all the well wishers and sorry faces downstairs."

As Eliza mentioned her, Han's eyes tracked over towards Leia. Everything she needed to know was in that smoldering expression. If love and longing had a face, it would look exactly the same, she was certain. "Princess," he said. "I'm glad you came."

They were at a funeral. Standing in his daughter's bedroom with his daughter and an unruly dog between them and yet, the signals he was sending her were perfectly clear. "Thank you," she replied. And everything fell away. The awkwardness of their last meeting. The room they were standing in, the house, the distance between them. She took a deep breath and she smiled at him. A knowing smile of acceptance and understanding and he answered her with a lopsided grin and a wink of his own.

"So," Eliza said, wearing a sly grin of her own as she looked back and forth between the two adults in the room.

Leia hitched her thumb toward the door. "I-"

The door swung open and Gharris Stanton entered the room, cutting her off. "Excuse me," he said and his eyes quickly took in the sight of the three of them. His expression gave away nothing but something about him told Leia that he saw and understood more than he let on. "Your Excellency," he said to Han, bowing low. " I must insist that you and the Mistress Eliza return to your duties downstairs."

There was a brief moment of silence before Han answered, "As you say." And then he handed the collared dog to Stanton and held his hand out toward the door as he added, "Princess. Mistress Eliza."

Leia nodded politely to Stanton as she passed him and said, "Thank you, Mister President," to Han as she walked out of the room.

She heard Eliza right behind her say with a lowered voice, "Thank you, Gharris. Oh, and I think Dancer had an accident behind the creme divan."