All the Way – Chapter 6

By Justine Graham and Erin Darroch

Han squinted narrowly at his image in the mirror, blinking away the rivulets of water that trickled down from his forehead and into his eyes as he contemplated his next move. After venturing with Leia into the main hold with their mugs of caf, he had excused himself and retreated to the fresher—ostensibly to scrub his hands clean of the grime that remained from the morning's repair work, but really because he'd needed a moment alone to gather his wits.

As a rule, he was seldom inclined to examine his innermost thoughts and feelings, but Leia's sudden reversal had left him reeling, flabbergasted, unable to think; too excited by the tantalizing possibility that they could somehow salvage the camaraderie and closeness that they'd lost on Ord Mantell. He realised now that wanted that outcome more than he'd wanted anything else in his life, but in revealing to Leia the depths of that desire—as he had silently promised himself he would do—he risked not only disappointment, but potential disaster.

Or so his wary inner cynic tried to warn him.

It was the law of reverse effect, right? The more you want something, that voice muttered in his ear, the less likely you are to get it. He and Leia still had a long way to go. They still hadn't resolved their differences over his eventual, inevitable departure to deal with the Hutt, and they had many long days remaining to live together in close confinement aboard his slow-moving ship. If things between them turned sour again, then the rest of the journey would be excruciatingly painful for everyone aboard. That possibility lurked darkly beneath Han's conscious thoughts, undermining the optimism he'd begun to feel at the recent developments between them. The way ahead was not yet clear and, obviously, the smart thing to do would be to play his cards close to his vest, bide his time, and keep his sabacc face in place until he could be more certain which way things would go….

With a low growl of impatience at himself, he scooped up another double handful of icy water from the basin and splashed his stupid sabacc face with it, resolutely banishing those superstitious thoughts to the darker corners of his mind.

That brief but intense encounter in the galley had actually happened, he reminded himself. It wasn't a dream, and Leia was not the type to play malicious games. She had invited his kiss and then returned his passionate response tenfold. He hadn't imagined that—although the memory of her in his arms, so warm and willing, made his head swim as if in a fever dream. This was monumental progress for them, a gigantic step forward in a direction that he so fiercely wanted to go, and the miracle of it still had him shaking his head in disbelief.

Yanking down the threadbare towel that hung from a magnetized bracket beside the sink, he wicked away the remaining droplets from his face and neck, tossed the towel back on the rack, and then glowered sternly at his reflection.

Go for it, Solo. Take the risk or risk losing the chance.

Giving himself an affirming nod, he exited the fresher and headed back to the hold.

Leia looked up and her expression brightened as he stepped down from the ring corridor and crossed to where she sat at the holochess table. To his gratification, she shifted her position on the semicircle bench to afford him room, and cocked her chin at the empty place beside her. He slid into the still-warm space, then reached for his caf and took a small sip.

Leia lifted her own mug to her lips, but not before Han caught the flash of an amused smile that she attempted to hide behind its sunny yellow rim.

"Feeling all right?" she asked.

"Never better," he replied.

She slanted him a sceptical glance. "Are you sure?"

"I'm fine," he replied, and realised that he meant it. Perhaps it was the after-effects of the rush of adrenaline to his system, but the ache in his ribs seemed to have faded into the background. The dull, heavy throb was still there if he focused his attention on it long enough to notice, but there were other things at the forefront of his consciousness now.

"Your ribs did look pretty bad…."

"Just a little bruising, I promise." He dismissed her concern with a wave of his free hand. "Nothing to worry about."

Leia nodded slowly as she toyed with her empty mug. "I'm glad to hear that," she said.

A moment of companionable silence passed between them and when she cleared her throat to speak again, her voice took on a slightly more brusque and businesslike tone. "So, where do we stand?"

He almost choked on his caf. His stomach gave a lurch, and then righted itself a split second later as he reconciled to the actual intent of her words. She meant the Falcon, of course; the whole reason why they had agreed to sit down here was to formulate a plan to resolve the lengthy list of issues that still plagued his ailing ship.

By all appearances, Han was the only one still thinking about their recent close encounter in the galley; splashes of cold water to the face had done little to erase the effects of Leia's ardent kisses on his mental state, but it came as no great surprise to him that she had already set the interlude aside. In true Leia fashion, when there was important work to be done, she had the capacity to become laser-focused and locked on target in the blink of an eye. And, clearly, she had decided to take aim at a few more immediate—and far less personal—goals.

"I'm ready to get started," she said. She set her empty mug aside and angled toward him on the bench. "What do you want me to do?"

What he really wanted, Han thought with a wistful twinge, was another one of those heart-stopping kisses, but he gave himself a mental shake and dragged his thoughts back to the practical. There were still a few significant repairs to be made after all, and focuswould be key to their survival. And anyway, he reckoned, there would be plenty of time for more personal pursuits once most of the critical work was done.

Aligning his mindset with Leia's pragmatic approach, he set his own mug down beside hers and blew out a deep breath.

"Well, that signal relay's almost patched," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the crawlspace. "And it ought to go a little quicker with jabbermouth out of my way. After that, I figure we best check on the throttle valves for the sublights, make sure they're clean. They took a blast of heat when the alluvial dampers burned out, probably got a mess to clear up in there. Can't have them compromised, too, or we're in even bigger trouble. You could help with that."

"Sublight throttle valves, got it. And then?"

Keeping the details of each undertaking as brief as possible, Han outlined the remainder of the critical repairs and services that awaited them over the next several hours. Leia listened intently, nodding her acknowledgement from time to time as he laid out the plan and allocated tasks.

"How are we fixed for food and water?" she asked. Han thought he detected a tremor of genuine anxiety in her voice. "I know you and Chewie weren't expecting a trip anywhere near this long, and certainly not with m—."

"We'll be okay," he interjected. "I got the recyclers back up to full capacity a couple of hours ago, so we don't have to worry about water. And as for food…" he trailed off with a shrug. "Sure, it'll be tight once the fresh stuff runs out, but I reckon we'll be all right, as long as we're careful. Maybe skip a few meals here and there, have rations every third or fourth day, try to stretch out the frozen stuff and the re-con packs so we're not on ration bars for straight weeks at the end. If you want to take an inventory and maybe make up some meal plans to spread those things out, that'd be good. Nobody wants to be stuck on a ship with a hungry Wookiee."

Leia grimaced. "No," she said with a soft laugh. "No, that wouldn't be much fun."

Han picked up his mug, drained the remainder of his caf, and then gestured toward her cup as he made to rise from his seat. "Still time before we have to get to it, though. Ready for a refill?"

"Do we have enough caf for the trip?" she asked. She arched one eyebrow as she handed over her mug. "I can start cutting back now, if I have to, to make it last."

"Nah," Han replied. "I've been stockpiling. Got a whole sub-deck compartment devoted to it, and Chewie's got a stash in his quarters. Caffeine-deprived Wookiees are no fun either, and I can tell you that from experience."

Leia gave a wry smile. "I'm glad you've got plenty. I'm afraidI would be the one pulling arms out of sockets if we ran out too early."

"Well, lucky for us, there's little chance of that." Taking both mugs in hand, he rose to his feet. "Can't promise it won't be a little weaker by the end of the trip, though. But hey, I figure even that sludge they dish out in the mess hall will taste pretty damn good by the time I drop you off with the Fleet."

He knew the instant the words left his mouth that he'd made a misstep. Leia went very still for a split-second and then her eyes flickered and darkened, her whole countenance changing as if by the flip of a switch. A cool shadow descended over her features, erasing the sparkle from her eyes. She held his gaze for a moment longer, then pursed her lips and turned her glance away—but not before he saw a wave of something like grief cross her face. It punched Han as hard and fast as the mental wallop he promptly gave himself.

His mind went blank and he mumbled something that was probably incomprehensible, then turned on his heel and beat a hasty retreat to the galley with both mugs in hand. Setting the vessels on the counter there, he leaned heavily against the durachrome edge on outstretched arms, bowed his head and silently berated himself for being such an idiot.

It wasn't so much the inadvertent mention of his departure that fuelled his dismay, but his own lousy timing. Things had been going so well—those luscious kisses they'd shared here in the galley a short while ago could attest to that—and the last thing he wanted to bring up at this particular juncture was the eventual conclusion of their unexpected journey. He knew it was a discussion that they sorely needed to have, but he had hoped to delay it for a little while longer, and maybe enjoy a little more closeness with Leia in the meantime, rebuild a little of the trust between them before they plunged headlong into that conversation. But now, with one careless comment, he'd brought to life the phantom threat that haunted his hopes.

The more you want it, his inner cynic reminded him bitterly, the less likely you are to get it.

In the midst of his consternation, another menacing spectre drifted up into his consciousness. It wasn't a new concern, but one that he tried his best to suppress whenever it manifested: was it even fair of him to tell Leia how he really felt, if he couldn't be sure of making it back to her side once his business with Jabba was done? How could he dare to hope for—never mind promise or propose—any kind of future with her, when prospects for his own eventual good fortunes were murky at best. Knowing the evil nature and depraved proclivities of the Hutt crime lord as Han did, it was difficult to imagine the negotiations over his debts going strongly in his favour, and that was even if he could make it to Jabba's court without being assassinated first. With that being the case, he reasoned, wasn't it irresponsible—maybe even cruel of him—to re-engage with Leia and try to win back her trust, only to betray it again?

Maybe the kindest course of action, he mused darkly, would be to wreck this thing between them right now. Nip it in the bud or yank it out by the roots. Kill it off, once and for all. Then he could perhaps try and maintain some distance between himself and the princess for the remainder of the trip. Once Chewie was awake, he could enlist his first mate's help in clearing Leia's quarters, and then she would have a place of her own to hide away and they could simply avoid each other for the duration of the journey. It would be painful, no doubt, but maybe it was better for them both to suffer now than for him to prolong the agony or make promises that he wasn't certain he could keep.

He was miserably mulling over the impact of implementing such a scenario when the more daring and optimistic part of his brain valiantly revived and attempted to counter those deep anxieties with a different perspective. If there was a chance, even a ghost of one, to be happy with Leia for a while, why shouldn't he seize it? If this unplanned journey did take him to the end of the line, the last thing he wanted was for his final memories of her to be filled with regret over what could have been, if only he'd shown more courage. Moreover, the thought of leaving Leia without first telling her the truth about how he felt was abhorrent to him now; she deserved better than that. She deserved his honesty, at the very least, and he had already resolved to offer her that much, if nothing else.

Han shook his head, drew a deep breath and blew it out in a heavy sigh. It seemed that every way out of the situation was fraught with some kind of peril. But one thing was certain: he couldn't hide out in the galley forever. The timing wasn't optimal for the dreaded discussion, but what choice did he have? He had stupidly dragged the issue of his inevitable departure back into the light and—judging by the look of disquiet that had crossed Leia's face—chances were slim that she would be satisfied to let the matter rest.

"Han."

The sound of his name, delivered quietly in Leia's low, rich voice, proved his uneasy ruminations true. He turned away from the counter and found her standing there, framed in the outline of the galley hatch just as she'd stood a few hours before, when she had sought him out in the wake of finding her makeshift cabin had been reclaimed. Only this time she didn't look weary or stricken—in fact, she looked quite composed. Calm. Almost serene.

For a split-second he retained a sliver of hope that she was going to let it go. Maybe his remark hadn't registered with the impact he thought it had. Perhaps the potential for conflict was all in his imagination. It could be the case that she was only standing there at the galley hatch because she was looking for some breakfast to go with her caf….

And then she stepped across the threshold, clasped her hands together in front of her, and tipped her face up to his with a telltale slant that he recognised in an instant. "I think we need to talk," she said.

Han couldn't hide the pained grimace that creased his face. He didn't know what to say or how to reconcile their differences. All he knew was that he didn't want to lose the ground they'd regained so far. He wanted to hold her in his arms again, to bury his face in her fragrant hair and whisper a few heartfelt truths into her ear. But now was not the time. With a heavy sigh of resignation, he hooked a thumb in his belt and bleakly met her gaze.

"I'd like to talk about these plans of yours," she said. "What you intend to do after we get the hyperdrive fixed."

"I'm sorry I brought it up," he said. "Didn't mean to."

Leia tilted her head to one side. "No, it's all right," she said. "In fact, I'm glad you did."

"Well, I'm not," he admitted. "I know we need to talk about the, uh, the end of this trip and what we're gonna do. I just...didn't plan on getting into it again now."

"We're not 'getting into' anything, Han," Leia corrected, though her tone remained light. "We're strategizing. What happens when we get to Bespin remains an unresolved item on our agenda. And since you raised it, I feel it's only fair to be given the opportunity to make my position on the matter clear."

Her position on the matter? Han raised a wary eyebrow, not liking her formal tone one bit. He saw her set her jaw.

"I want to negotiate with Jabba on your behalf," she said.

Han felt the fine hairs prickle at the back of his neck. "No. No fucking way, Leia." The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them. He regretted his sharp tone immediately, but lowered his brows at her anyway.

Heat flared in Leia's dark eyes, and a faint twitch of muscle flickered over the tight line of her jaw. Han watched her slim shoulders roll back slightly as she took a deep breath. But she released it slowly, clearly gathering her diplomatic skills and striving to maintain a firm grip on her composure before she offered up her reply.

"All right. Let's take a step back, then, and look at the facts. First of all, I don't think you even need to go to Jabba at all."

"You know I do."

"No." She gave a sharp shake of her head. "No, you don't. Not necessarily. There are other solutions you aren't even considering. Unless you're just using this whole situation as an excuse to—"

"Excuse!?" Mouth agape, he stared at her, feeling his ire spike to new heights. "After all this time, after everything, Leia, you think I'd make up an excuse? For what? To get away from you?Is that what you think?"

He stopped short and swallowed hard, suddenly conscious once again of the fact that he still hadn't fulfilled his private promise to her, to bare his heart and extinguish all doubt. Why wouldn't she think the worst of him? He hadn't given her many reasons not to, at least not in the past couple of months. He shoved an agitated hand through his hair and harshly blew out a breath.

Leia bit her lip, looking mildly chagrined, though her colour was high—a deep flush of pink had bloomed against the collar of her white snowsuit and it was creeping slowly upward to tint her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and then tried again. "Well, then...you certainly don't need to do it alone," she insisted.

"Oh no," he said, loading his tone with conviction. On this point, he was absolutely certain. He jerked a thumb at his own chest. "This is my fight, not yours." Drawing himself up to his full height, he adopted a wider stance and clamped his folded arms across his chest. "I do need to go to Jabba, Your Worshipfulness, and I am going to go alone."

Leia planted one fist on her hip and glowered at him with stony eyes. Though he met her look with an unwavering glare of his own, inwardly Han gave himself a kick. Calling her by names that he knew she despised was a nasty reflex, an old habit designed to distract her and throw her off course—and he berated himself for falling back on it now, knowing how much it provoked her ire. Cursing his own idiotic defenses, he braced for the scathing verbal barrage he was certain would follow.

To his surprise, though, Leia did not take the bait. Instead, her piercing glare gradually softened, turned slightly quizzical, and then she angled her head to one side. "Is that right? You're going alone?" she queried with ominous calm, her dark gaze going flat. "And what about Chewie?"

Han blinked at the change of direction. "What about him?"

"Are you taking him with you?"

"Hell no."

"Does he know that or have you made that decision for him, too?"

Han threw up his hands in exasperation. "Damn it, Leia."

"Yes or no, Han. Jabba has a bounty out on Chewie, too, doesn't he?"

Han gave a long-suffering sigh. "We've been over this already. Chewie didn't deserve that bounty. It was my call to take the freight, and it was my call to dump it. So this ain't his fight, either, and I'll sort that out with Jabba when I see him."

"And yet it is Chewie's fight. You know the debt he's sworn to you. He isn't going to listen—".

"Then I'll make him listen," Han interjected. "This is my mess, Leia, and I've got to be the one to clean it up."

"You haven't even heard my plan—."

"Because I don't need to hear your plan. Whatever it is, if it involves you, then it's not going to happen."

Leia gave an irritated huff. "So that's it, then," she said. "You're just going to drop us off and leave again, without any consideration for how wefeel about it."

Han spared a moment to appreciate her tactics. Claiming the Wookiee for her side and underscoring the fact that the two of them were in joint opposition to his plans made everything more difficult for him, as it was designed to do. He shook his head at her. "I've considered it a lot, trust me. It's not like this is something that I want to d—."

"Oh, please," she sneered. "Spare me. You never do anything you don't want to do, Han."

"Yeah, well, there are some things I want more than others. And what I want most of all is for you to be safe."

"Safe!" she echoed with a harsh laugh. "What does that even mean, when we're in the middle of a war?"

"It means keeping you as far away from my fuck-ups as possible. I'm not budging on this, Princess." He leaned in close and emphasized his point with a jab of a finger levelled between them. "I won't allow you to go anywhere near this bastard and that. is. final. End of discussion."

Even as he glared and pointed and jutted his chin at her, Han felt another plunging sense of deep regret. As the words left his mouth, the latent heat in Leia's dark eyes flared once more, her jaw clenched, and her lips became a thin slash of pink set against a pallid shade of chalk-white as the colour drained away from her cheeks. For a few tense heartbeats, the only sound in the galley was the tandem rasp of their agitated breaths. She was breathing heavily now, her chest heaving and her nostrils flaring with the apparent effort of restraint. Though she didn't utter another word for a long moment, the weight and chill of her obsidian glare was enough to make Han feel as though he were pressed beneath the mountain of ice and snow that had overtaken him in that crumbling Hoth corridor all over again.

When she finally spoke, her voice was a brittle whisper. "You...won't... allow me…."

Han's stomach did a deep dive. "Aw hells, Leia. I didn't mean—."

"You did," she interrupted, her tone harsh and her words clipped. "Yes, you did. And that's the real crux of it, isn't it Han? You do what's best for you, and then blindly decide based on some arbitrary, half-baked, idiotic logic—"

Han raised his voice. "Now, wait a minute. That's not fair."

"Oh you want to talk fair?" Leia retorted, her voice spiking in volume to match his. "Fair would be 'allowing' me and Chewie some say in an issue that clearly involves us and will deeply affect us both. And what about Luke? You know he feels the same way. And yet you refuse to entertain any sort of rational discussion on the matter or even listen to alternative plans. Fair would be—"

[*Enough!*]

The sudden, thunderous bellow of an exasperated Wookiee put an abrupt end to the argument. Although it came from afar, the sound of Chewie's roar reverberated throughout the ship, fairly shaking the deck plates beneath their feet and rattling every loose fixture along the galley wall. Leia's eyes grew wide for a moment and then her tense expression melted to rueful chagrin. She turned her face away as Han looked warily towards the hatch, hearing the sounds of his co-pilot approaching their position. The heavy footfalls grew louder and more pronounced as the Wookiee progressed from the central lounge and then along the short corridor in their direction. Han winced and shook his head; Chewie was definitely stomping. When he finally appeared, filling the galley hatchway with his massive, shaggy bulk, his ice-blue eyes were sharp with a piercing glare and the long, russet hairs of his neck and shoulders stood out like spikes.

[*I thought I had heard the last of this stupidity,*] he snarled. [*Did you two fools not settle your differences last night in your bunk?*]

Han closed his eyes. Of course Chewie somehow knew about that development—the big, furry oaf probably knew everythingthat happened aboard the ship. Opening his eyes, he chanced a glance at Leia. She had her head down, studying her own booted feet, but he could still see the flush of embarrassment suffusing her pale cheeks.

"Sorry pal," Han muttered. "We were just—talking things over."

[*Your 'talking' woke me up,*] Chewie informed them sternly. [*And if you plan to spend the duration of this journey 'talking' like that, then I will do some 'talking' of my own and I will be sure to do it during your sleep cycle.*]

Out of the corner of his eye, Han saw Leia's head come up.

"Chewie, I'm sorry," she said. "I wasn't thinking. I was upset and of course you must be so exhausted—"

The Wookiee turned his blue gaze down to her face and some of the anger melted away from his simian features. The fur of his throat and chest flattened and his broad shoulders lost some of their tension. He cocked his massive head to one side and regarded her fondly.

[*I accept your apology, Little Warrior,*] he growled softly. [*But I hope that you and Cub will settle this matter between you before my next working shift is over. We have a very long journey ahead of us and this is a very small ship.*]

Leia bit her lip and gave a short nod. "Of course."

Han released a sigh. "Listen, Chewie—"

The Wookiee shot him a hot glare, then pointedly turned away from his captain and leaned in closer to the diminutive princess. He lowered his gruff tone to a subterranean rumble that Han had to strain to hear. [*He will not face the Hutt alone, no matter what he says. I swear it.*]

Leia's answering smile was bittersweet. Reaching out, she touched his massive furry arm in a gesture of gratitude.

[*But that is a matter for another time. For now, I think it would be best for all concerned if I have some of that caf.*] Chewbacca gestured with a nod of his shaggy head in the general direction of the autocaf.

"Uh, yeah, sure," Han replied, seizing upon his friend's request as a reprieve from the tension that had enveloped the galley. He edged out of the way and gestured at the appliance. "Help yourself."

Chewie grunted his acknowledgement and pushed forward, filling the space between Han and Leia as he angled his shaggy bulk toward the autocaf.

[*I will take all of this, but I will make a fresh pot*] Chewie said. [*You may require it, if you plan to continue your negotiations.*]

Han's seeking gaze caught Leia's then, and the eloquent look they exchanged communicated more than all of their heated words and impatient gestures of a moment before. She looked every bit as anguished as he felt, and for a moment he thought they might be able to try again, to speak calmly and quietly, and resolve things between them without further acrimony. But even as he registered the look of pain in her expression, he saw it harden to adamantine resolution. She held his eyes for a moment longer and then turned to the Wookiee.

"I've had enough for now, thank you," she said. She had answered Chewie regarding the caf, but when she spoke again, Han realised her response applied to their contentious conversation, as well. "I've got those sublight throttle valves to clean, so I'd better get on with it."

She slipped past Chewie and passed through the hatch, casting an oblique glance over at Han as she departed. Han watched her go, feeling completely deflated and fighting off a growing sense of despair. What had happened to the morning that had begun with such dazzling potential, with a contented Leia nestled asleep in his arms? And what about that searing kiss, right here in the galley, not even half an hour ago? All of it gone, as if it had never happened.

Feeling the weight of Chewie's troubled gaze upon him, he shook his head and turned away.