All the Way – Chapter 7
By Erin Darroch and Justine Graham
Shifting around in the captain's chair with his battered datapad in his hands, Han tilted the glassine face away from the blinking console lights as he tried to get a closer look at the astronomical object of his current investigations. He tapped carefully at the smooth surface, squinting at the tiny pixels on display as he gradually increased the scale. It was difficult enough to read star charts on such a small device, but the screen was also heavily scuffed in a few places and the reflections of multicoloured flashing lights from the cockpit control panels weren't helping. It would have been much easier to conduct his research using the console in the main hold—but that would have put him at risk of bumping into Leia again and he wasn't entirely sure he was ready for that yet.
Leia.
He frowned and, for perhaps the twentieth time in the few hours that had passed since their confrontation in the galley, resolutely put the princess out of his mind, redirecting his attention instead to the images of the Anoat sector through which they were travelling. He'd chosen his present task not because it was the most urgent, but because it required a certain kind of concentration, which allowed him to block out some of his more troubling thoughts. He and Chewie had already agreed on Bespin as their destination, and it remained their best option in the sector in terms of the parts and technology needed to carry out the repairs they required. But it wasn't their only recourse and, limited as they were to sublight speeds, it was still a very long way away.
The ship was humming along without a hitch now, with all of the most essential systems back online, and Han was keeping his fingers crossed that they could continue to cruise on to their destination without further incident. The trouble with that plan was that they were travelling along the outermost edges of the Ison Corridor, a backwater hyperlane that seldom saw use as a trade route, but which attracted certain unsavoury denizens of the galaxy, not only those involved in rebellion against the Empire, but those who operated entirely outside of Imperial controls. This stretch of space was frequented by pirates, mercenaries, and other lawless Outer Rim miscreants who recognized opportunity when they saw it, especially when it limped past them at sublight speed. The survivor in Han said they needed a backup plan, another habitable planet or moon—or better yet, several of them—along the route, where they might be able to set down in the event of an emergency.
Settling back to his task, he examined the planned route ahead with minute care, tapping the screen to mark out astronomical bodies of potential interest and occasionally experimenting with possible changes to their present vector that wouldn't cost too much in terms of time or fuel, but which might make all the difference if they needed to make landfall in a hurry. The low drone of the Falcon's engines and the faint whirring of the ship's computer systems combined to form a steady background hum, a blank drone of shapeless sound that blocked out distraction and helped narrow his focus to the task at hand. He was so absorbed in the activity, it came as a slight shock when he realised that Leia was approaching along the corridor towards the cockpit. He heard light bootsteps and swivelled around just in time to see her stepping through the open hatch. She met his eyes briefly as she advanced, and then eased past him and slipped into Chewbacca's chair.
There was a long moment wherein Han felt his breathing stop, as his eyes followed her progress. She settled herself comfortably into the oversized seat, drew her legs up and curled them to one side, and then leaned one elbow casually on the padded armrest facing him, as if she had merely popped in to the cockpit for a friendly chat. She eyed him for a moment with her eyebrows raised in silent query, and then gave him a faint smile.
Han's autonomic nervous system finally kicked in, forcing him to take a sharp breath which he blew out in a rush as he turned back to the main console. Setting the datapad aside there, he then twisted slightly in his chair to look at Leia once more and felt his heart thumping hard against his ribs.
Here we go, he told himself. This is it.
"I've finished with the valves on the port side," she began. Her tone was mild and conversational, as if the morning's altercation had never happened. "But I'll need some help with a few of the starboard ones. I'm afraid they're a bit too scarred to be stripped by hand. Might need a turn with the macrosander and I'm not very good with that."
Han squinted and gave a little twitch of his head. Valves? Macrosander? What about vindictive gangsters, relentless bounty hunters, and wholly unrequitable debts? What about bitter words, broken promises and hopelessly impossible relationship snarls? Oh, are we ignoring all of that for now? Okay, Princess.
Realising that he was slowly shaking his head from side to side, he corrected and quickly turned it into a nod. "Yeah, that old sander is pretty heavy," he acknowledged, sitting back in his seat and rubbing a palm along the curve of the Falcon's yoke. He curled his fingers around the worn metal surface and gripped it hard. "I'll take a look at the starboard panel when I'm done here."
Leia nodded, then rested her chin on one hand, fixing him with a thoughtful gaze that was light years away from the look of distress she'd given him a few hours before. He thought she looked...serene again. Relaxed, peaceful and calm. It seemed that, in the interval since their heated confrontation, she had decided to relent on the topic of his future solo expedition to deal with the Hutt. Maybe, he mused with a flicker of hope, she wanted as much as he did to get back to that haven of ease and comfort they'd found in each other's arms, to return to that place of sanctuary where there were no threats, only mutual longing and bright promise. Feeling slightly more at ease, he breathed out, swivelled his chair fractionally more in her direction and gave her half a smile.
She returned it softly, then straightened up and sat back. "I took a detour through the holds on my way back from the portside panels," she said. "I thought perhaps there might have been some extra food in the freight you took on for Kubindi."
"They could use some real food, I'm sure, since most folks don't love eating beetles and grubs for breakfast," Han replied. Leia's nose crinkled up at the mention of the typical Kubindian diet and he nodded his agreement. "Unfortunately for them and us, Rieekan only asked me to haul some hardware. Swoops and speeders, a few hoversleds, spare parts and fuses, things like that."
"Nothing edible?" Leia asked mournfully.
"Nothing edible," Han affirmed. "But the swoops are nice, and I'm sure they'd be glad to have 'em on a planet like that. Not a place you want to travel around on foot."
Leia nodded, then tilted her head to one side in query. "So, what are you going to do with it?"
"With what?"
"With the freight for Kubindi."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you mean, what am I going to do with it? I'm gonna take it to Kubindi."
Leia nodded again. "As a favour?"
His squint turned sour and he drew in a sharp breath, but she quickly lifted a placating hand.
"I know," she said. "I know. I've just been...thinking about that a lot, ever since you told me."
"Thinking about—"
"Well, wondering, actually. Wondering why you would volunteer to take on one last commission for the Alliance when you had urgent personal business elsewhere."
"Because I'm a sucker for a lost cause? 'Cause Rieekan's got a way with persuasion?"
"That last part is true," she admitted with a wry smile, "but it's not even a commission, right? Since you're not being paid? And you're going out of your way to deliver those supplies...you may even end up out of pocket—."
Han gave a dismissive wave. "Nah, it's not out of my way. Latest word is that Jabba's out making the rounds in the Arkanis sector. Iskalon, Hypori, somewhere in that neighbourhood. It's no trouble to make a quick drop on Kubindi. Won't cost me a thing."
Leia gave a long-suffering sigh and rolled her eyes. "Regardless, I have to wonder why you would work for free when you're in debt to a Huttese gangster and you've got a hefty bounty to pay on your own head. You have to admit, it doesn't make much sense."
Han opened his mouth to reply, but she held up a forestalling finger. "But it's not the first time you've done something like that, is it? Just a few months ago you came across and 'redirected' an Imperial shipment of servo-actuators to the base on Tibrin, remember?"
"That was a lucky break," he shrugged. "Right place, right time."
"But they weren't part of the mission you were on, were they? You could have sold those parts for a tidy profit, and no one would have been the wiser. Instead, you brought them back to base and we were able to use them to get a whole flight of damaged X-wings back in the air."
Han glanced up and all around at the curved panels of the cockpit, noting the myriad lights blinking off and on. In his peripheral vision he could see Leia adding another finger to her count.
"And before that, you managed to source two full transports of liquid ammonia, so the Gand refugees we picked up at Talz would have breathable air while we found suitable accommodations for them. And once we did, you temporarily retrofitted the ventilation system in your holds to help get them there."
He had no answer for that, so he just scrubbed one hand over his face and sighed.
She held up another finger. "And then there was the time you used your own funds to cover the shortfall when the Salengi delegation reneged on our—"
"Yeah, well, I made some good connections in that deal…." he interjected, shooting her a dark look.
"Yes...connections that worked to our benefit, not yours. I have many such examples, Han. That was just what I could easily recall from the last few months. Shall I go on?"
"Aw Leia, come on."
"And what's more—"
"I thought you were winding down."
"No. What's more, you routinely volunteer to help out with repairs on the flight deck on your own time, for no compensation. And you've always done that, used your knowledge and your engineering expertise to—"
"I enjoy fixing ships," he said, scowling.
"Oh, so do you also enjoy mucking out jungles, building shield generator defenses and doing other kinds of physical labour for free? Because I distinctly recall seeing you help clear acres of trees and undergrowth to make room for landing platforms, way back when, on Serricci—."
"Enough already."
"What? Am I wrong? Have I said anything that's untrue?"
He dropped his head back and bounced it lightly off the headrest two or three times.
"So," she continued, "despite what you said to me on the day we met, and what you have insisted upon for years now, you are not 'only in it for the money' and you never have been. Not even at the start."
"Now, wait a minute—"
"Han," she said. The ominously low timbre of her voice made his stomach turn over. "I know that you returned the money you received after Yavin."
He lifted his head from the back of the chair and met her steady gaze, while carefully schooling his features to keep the shock of her disclosure from revealing itself on his face. Mercifully, Leia spared him the necessity of forming a response to her revelation. She pressed on.
"You should have kept it, Han, and then you'd have the money to pay Jabba. Why didn't you keep it? You were owed that money."
"No, I kept what I was owed," he corrected. "I took a fair fee for transport from Tatooine to Alderaan."
Leia gave a little crow of laughter that startled and confused him. He stared at her in consternation.
She grinned and held up both hands for a moment, all ten fingers splayed wide. "But not the fee you first agreed. You initially settled with General Kenobi on a fee of seventeen thousand, I believe."
Han fought to keep his mouth from dropping open. Fucking Luke. He should have known. When I get my hands on that little desert rat, I'm gonna—
"But you kept only four," Leia continued, sitting back in her chair. "And you returned the Alliance's reward for my safe return, too. All things considered, I think that makes you the poorest, most incompetent mercenary I've ever met."
Han released an exasperated sigh, sparing a moment to wonder whether it had been Chewbacca or Carlist Rieekan who had spilled the beans about the reward. Either way, Leia knew about it now and clearly she was not above using it against him. "Okay, fine, you got me, Madame Prosecutor. What's the point of all this?"
"It's just deductive reasoning. You gave all that money back and we're paying you a pittance—when you're not doing work for free—and yet...you stay. It's clearly not for the money...so, for what? It's not like there's glory in any of this either. And even if there was, symbols and grand gestures don't seem to matter much to you. Instead, you continue to take on the jobs nobody else wants to do, the jobs nobody else could do, risking your own neck time and time again. Simple logic concludes that you stayed with the Rebellion for as long as you did because our fight became your fight, too."
"Listen, Worship, I don't care—."
"Yes," she said, "you do. You're a good man, Han. Honourable and moral, despite your ridiculous assertions to the contrary." She tucked her chin down and lowered her eyes to the Falcon's blinking dash, light and shadow flickering across her features as she considered her words. Then she lifted her gaze back to his and said softly, "I've known that for a long time."
He tried a cynical twist of his lips. "Don't believe everything you think, Sweetheart."
"I don't believe everything I hear," she returned tartly. "Especially not when it comes out of your mouth."
His jaw dropped at the blatant insult, but as he began to stutter an outraged response, she simply smirked at him and shook her head.
"What I mean is, your actions tell the truth about you, no matter what you say otherwise. For a long time, you wanted everyone to believe that you were unattached, callous and uncaring, that you were only sticking around for the money." She enunciated the last few words in an exaggerated pitch and punctuated with a slow roll of her eyes. "You used to say that kind of thing a lot, and sometimes you still try to carry it off. But the trouble is, you're just no good at it, Flyboy. Your mouth says one thing, but your actions say another." She drew a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. "So."
"So?" Han echoed, trying mightily not to sound as confused as he felt. His mind was churning laboriously with the effort of figuring out where she was headed with her observations.
"So," she repeated, "it has taken me a while, but I have finally learned that when it comes to what you say and what you do, the truth of you lies in the latter. And that fact applies to all things, not just to money or to your work with the Alliance. Considering that disconnect and all the confusion it causes, I suppose it's no wonder it took me so long to admit my true feelings for you."
Han felt as though some crucial connection must have slipped in the network of his brain. He resisted the urge to rap the heel of his hand against the side of his head to knock it back into place. Was he hearing things? He didn't want to blurt out the first retort that came to mind but clearly he had missed some very important development within the last few days.
"No, not to you," Leia emended with a rueful smile, evidently reading his bewilderment. "Not in so many words. And I'm sorry for that now. I've been thinking about it, puzzling over it, trying to understand."
"Understand?"
"Yes. Trying to figure out what's stopping me."
"Stopping you…." Han realized with a twinge of chagrin that he probably sounded like a faulty holorecorder. Dumbfounded as he was by Leia's sudden candour, all he could do was faintly echo her words.
"Stopping me from having what I want," she explained.
Han held his breath and stared at her.
Her eyes roamed over his face, as though she were searching for something hidden in the shadows of his features. Perhaps she was waiting for a trace of understanding or even a response—but Han's mouth felt drier than the Jundland Wastes and he faltered for a moment in addled silence before he finally found the capacity for words.
"Wh-what is it you want, Sweetheart?" he managed.
She tilted her head to one side and gave him a slow and thoughtful smile. "I want you."