All the Way - Chapter 2
by Justine Graham and Erin Darroch
"That's the last of the short-range beacons back online," Han announced as he re-entered the darkened cockpit. Slipping back into the captain's chair, he cast a sidelong glance at Leia, who was now perched on the edge of the co-pilot's seat, with all of her attention fixed on the communications display. Han eased back into his seat and watched her work for a moment longer before he spoke again.
"At least we'll have some warning if we fly too close to a stray asteroid or a hunk of space junk," he said. "Best we can do for now. And it looks like Goldenrod's gonna have to stay plugged into the array for a while to compensate 'til we get a chance to work on the long-range sensors."
Brow furrowed in concentration, Leia gave a distracted nod of acknowledgement but made no reply. Instead, she continued the tedious business of inputting the reboot algorithms, fingers skipping lightly across the comms console, eyes never leaving her task. With a grimace, Han turned his gaze back toward the centre of the dash, feigning minor adjustments to the sensor array while angling careful glances at the princess as she worked.
There was a peculiar atmosphere in the cockpit, an unfamiliar vibration between him and Leia that was almost palpable—indeed, his brief absence to check on the status of the sensor beacons had almost felt like a reprieve. They had been working in the same space for the better part of an hour, the silence between them broken only by the beeps and buzzes of various systems and a few necessary words of query about status or process, and it was starting to feel a little weird. After what had happened between them in the circuitry bay, Han had dared to hope for an easing of tensions—perhaps not a complete reversion to the way things had been before Ord Mantell, but a return to a more relaxed atmosphere at least.
And it had felt that way, at first; the few moments they'd spent in the cockpit discussing their next move had felt amicable enough, and Leia's parting kiss on his cheek had been warm with promise. Having spent a few hours apart while they attended to their separate tasks, Han had returned to the cockpit hoping to see that Leia again—the one who had spoken to him softly, and wryly smiled when he teased her about scoundrels. As such, he was surprised and a little dismayed to find the other Leia waiting for him in her place: the stringent one with an infinite capacity for intense focus; the one who immersed herself in work and resolutely ignored all distractions—the Leia he found most difficult to read.
Slanting another glance in her direction, he could see that the stress of the last few hours had taken a toll on her—that much was apparent in the rigid line of her back and in the tense muscles of her face. Eyeing the oily smudges on her jaw and the grime that now stained her once-white snowsuit, he quirked a faint smile at how rumpled her corona of braids had become, the usually tidy plaits now frazzled and sitting slightly askew atop her head. After a few moments of observation, he also noted how often she hunched and rolled her shoulders, as if continually trying—and failing—to ease the muscles there. But even in her exhausted state and in the midst of such strained circumstances, Han still thought she was the best damn thing he'd ever seen. Her delicate profile was limned in a twinkling aura of blue and gold from the flashing lights of the dash, alternately illuminating her skin and casting an alluring, ever-changing pattern of light and shadow across her pretty features.
He had to fight the urge to reach out and slide his hand across the nape of her neck, to offer a warm and gentle massage that would perhaps soothe away the aches that were so evident in her posture. But such an intimate touch was a privilege to which he no longer felt entitled—even in light of recent promising developments—and one that he wasn't certain Leia would be inclined to restore, so he tamped down on the impulse and reached instead for the central display controls. Cycling through the readouts without really looking at any of them, he concentrated on keeping his mouth shut and his hands to himself.
In the months prior to their relocation to Hoth, he had found it a challenge to be anywhere near the princess without finding some excuse to make occasional physical contact. To his gratification, Leia had been highly receptive to those natural touches—had even demonstrated a similar compulsion to touch him, too. As he flicked through the Falcon's digital catalog of star charts, he sifted through his hoard of memories, all of which predated their arrival on Hoth: of Leia's hand so often alighting on his forearm as they conversed; of the comfortable way she bumped against his side as they walked together through the crowded base corridors; of how near to him she sometimes sat when they shared an ale or a meal at the end of a long day. He thought of the many other missions they'd shared, and how circumstances had at times required them to be physically close. In the earliest months of their acquaintance, Leia had been visibly uncomfortable in such situations; stiff and stand-offish, and seemingly determined to maintain a stoic reserve at all times. But over time, and with an understanding gradually developing between them, she had relaxed enough to let Han tend to her when she was injured or sick, or to lean on him when she was tired. Eventually, she had come to accept—and even seemed to welcome—the occasional comfort of his embracing arm. Whether she was weary of war, or lonely; missing her family or recovering from an especially harrowing nightmare, he knew that Leia had come to count on him to be there for her, and that was a privilege he had never taken for granted.
So they had become good friends—that much was obvious to everyone who knew them—but there had always been that additional undercurrent of strong attraction, which they avoided discussing but which could not be denied. By tacit agreement, they'd mostly ignored the ribald teasing of the Rogues, and they tended to let the occasional inquisitive remark from Luke or Chewbacca pass without comment, too. Certainly, they never talked to each other about the magnetic pull that existed between them; it was just there and they both knew it.
The increasing warmth of Leia's nonverbal communication had given Han reason to hope that the strength of her attachment had grown to match his own, and the night he'd informed her of his intention to join the Alliance had sealed the deal. That pivotal evening—as well as the brief but overwhelmingly passionate interlude that had immediately followed it—had cemented the trust between them, opening the door to so much more. And during the mission to Ord Mantell—well, they had taken their wordless, intoxicating negotiations to a much higher level.
As he gazed at her solemn profile now, Han recalled with a wistful twinge the softness of her lips, the silken texture of her skin beneath his fingertips, and the exquisite press of her body moulded tightly to his in a moment of mutual abandon that had ended all too soon. Moreover, his thoughts lingered on the feeling of closeness they had come to share, the trust that had existed between them then and which had promised so much more—all of it gone now, erased in a moment, right here in this cockpit.
With a wince, he turned his face away and directed his gaze outward through the canopy to the distant stars. Despite his best efforts to suppress it, he could not quell a sense of deep chagrin as he recalled that tense exchange in the aftermath of Ord Mantell, when Leia had first made the offer to help him pay off Jabba and he had automatically and vehemently rejected it. Not dissuaded by his snappish reaction, the princess had then initiated gentle physical contact, her fingers trailing up from his shoulder to the nape of his neck and curling through his hair with a tender touch, as her eyes searched his face for some reciprocal sign. The memory of his deliberately cold and flinty response haunted Han now. He had consciously hardened his features and rebuffed her advances then, not because he didn't want her—Force knewhow much he wanted her—but because he had finally accepted just how wrong and dangerous it was to keep stringing her along when he knew in his heart that he could not stay.
To his dismay, Leia's frosty demeanour and subsequent withdrawal from his company—as right and natural as those actions had been under the circumstances—had provoked in Han the sort of churlish and immature behaviour that he thought he'd left behind with adolescence; indeed, he cringed to recall that interlude now. Privately, he had to admit that stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-lookin' nerf herder was probably a much kinder description than he deserved.
As those unpleasant thoughts drifted through his mind, the main computer emitted a familiar series of low tones and its status display changed from an intermittent flashing to a solid amber glow, indicating the completion of yet another round of analysis. Dragging his full attention back to the dash, Han leaned in and gave a grunt of satisfaction as he scanned the report. Almost five hours had passed since the last significant systems failure had sent them all scrambling for their lives, and he was pleased to see that their combined efforts had produced good results. Not only had the ship's most essential functions remained stable during that time, but myriad auxiliary systems were slowly coming back online as well.
They weren't completely in the clear yet, of course. Creeping through the Outer Rim at well below optimum sublight speeds made them easy pickings for any roaming Imps or opportunistic pirates they might be so unlucky as to encounter. But at least for now, with the steady hum of the Falcon's engines offering some hope for their survival—instead of threatening imminent catastrophe—they could all get some much-needed rest.
To that end, Chewbacca had already shed his tool belt and shuffled wearily away to his quarters to get cleaned up, leaving the ship's captain to keep watch at the helm. In an effort to establish a sense of normalcy, Han had reset and engaged the Falcon's circadian modulators—the background programs built into the environmental system that replicated the usual patterns of daylight, darkness and temperature variance to create a standardized 'day'. After a detour to the galley to prepare some food for them all, Chewie had promised to return to the cockpit to take the first of three short shifts they had agreed upon, a prospect that made Han want to sag with relief. He couldn't remember ever being so tired, and his empty stomach cramped at the prospect of incoming sustenance. Although their initial periods of rest would be limited by necessity to a mere four hours each, he was nevertheless deeply grateful for his co-pilot's generosity and superior Wookiee stamina in allowing the humans to have first respite.
Glancing over at Leia, he wondered if she would be willing to suspend her work for a while and join him, if not to address the giant albino Bantha in the room, then at least to share a meal and perhaps some normal conversation. He knew her well enough to know that she would not attend to personal matters while there were still worrisome questions hovering over the outcome of the evacuation and the fates of their friends. Moreover, as much as he would have liked to clear the air—or at least explore what she'd meant by giving him that mind-melting kiss—he knew they were both too tired to tackle issues of any emotional weight. Better to steer clear of that particular asteroid field for now.
Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had altered in Leia's outlook and that things between them were perhaps on the cusp of agreeable change. Hoping like crazy that his instincts weren't letting him down, he finally drew a deep breath and let it out in a rush, breaking the long silence.
"So, Princess," he ventured, "how's it looking over there?"
"Almost done," Leia replied quietly, without taking her eyes off of the panel. "I'm afraid the central relay is completely fried, though."
Han frowned at the news and silence fell between them once more as the princess continued her rapid tapping at the console. His sluggish brain finally caught up a moment later and he had just opened his mouth to offer a suggestion when Leia spoke again.
"I'm trying a redirect," she said. "Pushing through the auxiliary port channels now."
Han closed his mouth and raised an eyebrow. "Impressive," he replied, meaning it. "Assuming you reconfigured the phase shift on the hyperspace transponder to compensate?"
At that, Leia finally stopped tapping, turned her head, and met his gaze. She quirked up an eyebrow of her own in reply. She looked every bit as tired as he felt and rather wan, but there was a dark sparkle in her wise brown eyes, nevertheless.
"Of course I did," she said. She gave him a faint smile. "I had a very good teacher."
Han felt both eyebrows climb high, not even bothering to hide his surprise at such a frank compliment. When was the last time she had said something like that? The way she was looking at him now made his heart skip a beat and his stomach flip, the way he felt whenever he plunged the Falcon into a steep and chancy dive. Behind the fatigue masking Leia's features, he thought he could see a glimmer of something else—something benevolent and tender, which he had believed to be lost beyond all hope of recovery. Encouraged, he felt an answering smile break across his face.
"I'm amazed you remembered that trick," he said. "We haven't had to use that one since...Maridun, I think."
"Raaltir," Leia corrected. "And I went a step further and coded the output signal for subspace and real space at the same time."
Han gave a low whistle of appreciation and was rewarded with a soft laugh from the princess. Then, as quickly as it had arrived, Leia's smile faded. Skewing her lips to one side, she turned back to the display and gave a rueful shake of her head as her fingers returned to the input panel.
"I've tried everything else, Han. If this doesn't work..."
"Then we'll find something that does," Han said firmly.
"But if we don't…."
"No buts," he interjected, shifting in his seat to angle more fully in her direction. Propping an elbow on the armrest, he leaned over. "Look, Chewie's rustling up some food. Once we've had something to eat, we'll all feel a lot better, and then you and me… we'll… we'll work something out."
Even as the words left his mouth, he realised their potential for double meaning. It was clear that Leia did, too—Han watched her dark lashes fan down to veil her eyes, and for a brief moment her fingers paused in their movement across the smooth interface. She recovered her composure swiftly and resumed checking the readouts with a barely perceptible shake of her head.
"There's still so much else to be done," she observed after a moment, keeping her eyes fixed on her task. "I'm sure you have higher priorities."
Han opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated as his weary brain puzzled briefly over her meaning. What were they talking about here? The communications system or something else? For an instant, he considered throwing caution to the wind and returning with you are my priority, Sweetheart; you and me. But he bit back the impulse, fearing that such a raw declaration might shut her down just as she was starting to open up—or even worse, stir up discussion of the fundamental disagreement that had driven them apart in the first place. After all, he hadn't changed his mind about leaving the service of the Alliance to go deal with Jabba and, despite the recent thawing of Leia's icy demeanour, he knew better than to think she was fully reconciled to that fact.
One catastrophe at a time, he cautioned himself, setting aside any further speculation on how they would resolve the Hutt question. After the day they'd had, he didn't have the energy for it, and he doubted Leia did either.
"Scans are showing every critical system is stable for now," he said instead. "So getting the comms back in working order moves up on the list." He dipped his head down to catch her eye. "And it is a high priority, isn't it, to get a message to High Command?" At her nod, he continued. "Anyway, we all want to know for sure that the evacuation was a success." He didn't speak Luke's name, but he knew they were both thinking about their cherished friend, and hoping like hell that he had managed to get safely away from Hoth. "If this doesn't work, we'll find a way."
Leia nodded and closed her eyes, wrapping one hand around the back of her neck and arching slightly backwards with a groan. "I just...I need to know they're okay," she said. Dropping her hand into her lap, she let her shoulders slump and looked over at Han once more. "And I need them to know that we're okay, too."
Are we okay, Sweetheart? Han's eyes searched her face, hardly daring to dwell on the hopeful thoughts that crowded his mind. Still not sure how he was going to broach any of the subjects he wanted to bring up—the state of things between them, his reasons for reneging on his promise to her, that significance of that mind-warping kiss—he nevertheless opened his mouth to speak, but stopped short as the comms console emitted a sharp blat, which was swiftly followed by a series of familiar, discordant tones.
Leia jerked upright in an instant, her posture shifting from exhausted to alert in the blink of an eye. Facing the console, she gave an incredulous gasp.
"It's working," she said, as the comm relay indicators came to life, slowly flickering one by one into standby mode. She turned back to Han with her eyes alight and her smile bright with triumph. "We did it!"
Han couldn't help but grin back. "You did it," he said. He leaned over to get a better look at the display. "Good job, Sweetheart."
Still beaming, Leia turned back to the console and they both watched with rapt attention as the flickers gradually settled into a recognisable pattern—some steady lights, some slowly blinking, signalling that the system was restored to full readiness once more.
Han heard Leia give a sigh of relief. Realizing that he'd been holding his own breath as well, he released it in a rush. "Just in case," he said with a nod toward the console, "maybe you should—".
"I'll try to get a message out right away," she concluded, her fingers already flying across the input screen.
Before she could carry out her intention, the console sounded another alert, one that Han recognised as an incoming message—followed by another, and then another. When the count reached five and the console fell silent once more, Han raised a bemused eyebrow.
Leia scanned quickly through the list. "Luke!" she said. There was no mistaking the joy and relief in her voice, the same deep relief that washed over Han at hearing that his friend had survived the battle. He cracked a grateful smile.
"He says he saw the Falcon escape," Leia continued, her eyes flicking back and forth across the view screen as she read the message aloud. "And that Rieekan told him we made it out together. He says he'll see us at the rendezvous, but he's…." Her brow furrowed as she read the remainder of the message in silence.
Han leaned forward once more and angled toward the screen. "He's what?"
"Taking a detour," Leia said, a note of concern registering in her voice. "Doesn't say where, just that he'll catch up with us when he can."
She sat back in her oversized chair and squinted at the screen in obvious confusion, as if she were trying to read a message hidden between the tiny lines of Aurebesh text.
"Where could he be going?" she wondered aloud. "What could be more important than rejoining the Fleet?" She chewed on the inside of her cheek, adding a worried cast to her already drawn expression.
"Hey," Han said, "I'm sure he's fine. Luke can take care of himself."
"I know, but I don't understand," she said. "Why wouldn't he say where he's going? It's not like him to be mysterious."
Han shrugged, tamping down on what he knew was an irrational spark of jealousy at Leia's obvious devotion to Luke. It wasn't as though he didn't feel a similar attachment. He and Chewie both had come to think of the younger man as a brother and a treasured friend. It was impossible for anyone to know the Tatooinian and not like him, but Han's feelings for Luke extended well beyond that. It wasn't even because the kid had saved his life—and Chewie's and Leia's—more than once on shared missions that had gone perilously awry. There was just something deeply and abidingly goodabout the erstwhile farm boy, and Han had long ago stopped disparaging it. Sure, he could be a little naive at times, and he was far too trusting for his own good, but Han had come to admire and respect him greatly nevertheless. Although he'd never before put it into so many words, not even to himself, he had to admit now that what he felt for Luke was undoubtedly a kind of love. And, quite clearly, Leia felt it, too.
"I'm sure he has his reasons," he offered into the silence that had fallen between himself and the princess. "Luke is just as responsible and committed to the Alliance as you are—and that's saying something," he added with a wry smile.
Leia gave a distracted nod. "Which is why this message concerns me. It's not like him to bypass official protocol like this."
"Exactly," Han said. "Sweetheart, I know him pretty well and so do you. Whatever he's doing, it needs doing, right? He'll be back. It's not like he's gonna abandon the cause."
Even as he said the words, he gave an inward wince at how near his comments came to unearthing the bone of contention between them. In the quiet of the darkened cockpit, he could almost hear the thoughts he feared must have formed in Leia's mind in the wake of his words:
That's right. Unlike you, Luke is loyal, dependable, and trustworthy. He never lets me down.
But to Han's relief, the princess didn't take the opportunity to score points against him; indeed, she didn't seem to be thinking along those lines at all.
"I suppose you're right," she said. She released a heavy sigh. "I'm sure he'll be in touch again as soon as he can."
"Who are the rest of the messages from?" Han asked as she turned back to the display.
"Carlist, for one." Leia said. "Wedge, and Janson. And one coded message—I'm assuming that's a directive."
The knowledge that his friends had survived the evacuation made Han feel immeasurably lighter, but he also felt mild surprise at hearing their names on the list of incoming messages. Instructions from High Command were to be expected, and made perfect sense under their circumstances, as did the message from Carlist—Rieekan knew Leia was aboard the Falcon, given Han's brief missive to the transport crew following the corridor collapse that blocked their escape. As for Wedge and Janson, however, Han was mystified. It appeared as though others in the Alliance were curious about what had become of their important and highly-visible figurehead.
"I wonder how the Rogues knew to find you here?" he mused aloud as Leia pored over the remaining texts.
"They didn't," Leia replied as she shot him an amused glance. "These messages aren't for me. They're thanking you and Chewie for taking out those Star Destroyers, and making sure you both made it out okay."
Slightly disconcerted by that news, Han leaned back into the pilot's chair and let his thoughts drift for a moment, his gaze still resting on the princess as she read aloud the messages from Wedge, Janson and Rieekan before moving on to the coded message. Han watched as she keyed in from memory the complex security sequence required to access the script. Once retrieved, she entered a second, equally lengthy authorization to run the decoder program stored in the Falcon's main computer, arching an eyebrow as she read the few lines of deciphered text that appeared on the screen.
"What?"
"They've changed the rendezvous point," she said. She turned her gaze in his direction.
Han gave a small hmpf of acknowledgement. "Good thinkin'. No way to know if the Imps got any intel off the central computers before Command issued the wipe sequence and took 'em down."
"I guess I'd better relay that we…." she faltered for a moment and then cut her eyes away as she corrected herself, hardening her voice. "That I won't be there to meet up with them."
Although she recovered swiftly, there was no disguising the subtle change that came over her at the oblique reference to Han's impending departure. Her posture wilted and the look of melancholy that crossed her features as she angled her upper body away was unmistakable. The moment was fleeting, but enough to send a familiar pain lancing through Han's heart once more. The princess fell silent as she leaned in and began to draft her reply, leaving Han to chew at the inside of his cheek and try to figure out what he ought to do next.
Perhaps now was the time to say something to initiate the conversation he knew they had to have if they ever hoped to get back on course—and he realised now that he wanted that more than anything, the Hutt question notwithstanding. He could only hope, thinking back to Leia's passionate kiss so full of promise and invitation, that she wanted that, too. The only problem with raising the topic of what he would do once Leia was safely returned to the Fleet was that he dreaded that confrontation with every fibre of his being. He couldn't imagine any version of that conversation that wouldn't end in them angrily shouting or hurling insults at each other.
By the time he had reluctantly summoned the will to broach the subject, the princess had already gathered up the fallen threads of her composure and moved on, smoothly immersing herself back in her work.
"We need to use the relay system to respond, of course," she said, deftly steering the discussion away from the personal. "And I'll be careful not to hint at our location. There might still be Imperial ships in the area, or deep-space monitoring remotes we can't detect without the long-range sensors being fully operational. We'd be in even worse trouble if they found out where we are and that we're without a hyperdrive. Not to mention any pirates or other opportunists that probably infest a remote sector like this."
Listening to the princess recount the dangers they were in, Han decided not to press the point. Instead, he stretched out against the back of the pilot's chair and watched her work as she skilfully issued the sequence of commands that would instruct the coder program to encrypt her reply. Observing the confident movements of her fingers skipping with practiced efficiency across the panel, Han felt his previously firm resolve begin to waver. Although he had tortured himself over it and spent many sleepless nights trying to find some other way out, he had finally reconciled himself to the necessary course of action. He had hashed things out with Chewie—a headache-inducing conversation if ever there was one—before finalising his arrangements with High Command, and then he had gathered up the courage to announce his departure.
He chewed on his lip, biting down on the twinge of a familiar worry. The decision to leave had been difficult enough to make the first time around and it sure wasn't going to get any easier; not with the princess in close proximity once more, giving him unexpectedly warm smiles—and even warmer kisses—that fried his circuits and made him forget everything else in the galaxy except for her. He could only hope that, at the end of their present journey, he would find the strength again to do what he had to do and, in the meantime, that he could somehow make Leia understand—and not hate him forever.
Behind them, the hatch slid open with a soft whoosh andHan angled around in time to see his co-pilot ducking his way into the cockpit. Dipping his shaggy head, Chewbacca eased his bulky shoulders through the low human-sized frame before straightening to his full height, bringing the top of his massive head almost in contact with the upper curvature of the confined space. In one giant paw he carried a deep bowl brimming with what appeared to be some kind of stew and, in the other, his oversized mug filled with steaming caf. His russet fur was shiny-smooth, and as he turned a step and reached out with one long arm to set his dish down on the nav seat behind the co-pilot's chair, Han caught the distinctive scent of freshening agents from the sonic shower that still clung to his thick pelt.
The Wookiee straightened and cast his keen eyes in the direction of the princess as he growled a soft greeting. She offered a distracted response, but kept her attention focused on the console, idly tapping one booted foot on the deck plates while waiting for her final transmission to send. Looking oddly pensive, Chewie lifted his mug to his lips and took a long drink, then swallowed and slanted his astute azure gaze over to Han.
[*There is Nerf stew in the galley,*] he rumbled at length. [*It is no feast, but you will not go to sleep hungry.*]
"Thanks, pal," Han said. "Latest scans are showing all critical systems are stable for now, but you'd better run a secondary diagnostic around oh-three-hundred, just to be sure."
Chewbacca nodded and then, from the comms panel, came the long-awaited ping of confirmation, followed by a gratified murmur from Leia. Han slipped out of the captain's chair and stood, unable to suppress a groan as he straightened to his full height. Every muscle in his body was sore and there was a gnawing ache in his stomach, as though in the absence of sustenance it had resorted to eating itself. He couldn't wait to get some food and a shower, and then his bunk, in that order. He cast a glance down at the diminutive occupant of the oversized co-pilot's chair.
"All done, Princess?"
Leia nodded as she swivelled around and then slowly climbed to her feet beside him, looking every bit as tired and pained as Han felt.
"All done," she confirmed and then slipped between the two pilots to make her way over to the open hatch. She paused for a moment and then turned back to rest a hand briefly on the Wookiee's hairy forearm, raising her face up to him with a weary but grateful smile. "Thank you, Chewie. That stew smells wonderful."
The Wookiee gave a low sound of acknowledgement and then caught Han's eye again as the princess turned and exited the cockpit. There were myriad questions in those wise blue depths, and Han knew he was probably wondering what was going on between his two human companions, but he had no satisfactory answers to offer, even if he'd had the energy to try. He gave the Wookiee a shrug and made a face that said hell if I know, buddy, and then turned and followed Leia out.