All the Way – Chapter 8
By Erin Darroch and Justine Graham
NOTE: It's a double-header this week, dear readers. Two chapters for the price of one!
All the air left Han's lungs in a rush, as if a proton torpedo had socked him squarely in the solar plexus. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, while his mind whirled for a moment in astonished confusion. In the hours since their strained exchange in the galley, he had fretted over how they were going to resolve their persistent conflict, angsting over the possibilities of reopening the tense dialogue between them and how those talks might progress. None of the scenarios he'd imagined in those unhappy hours had ever involved this...this...honesty. After so much time spent denying and dancing around each other, clashing and sparring and retreating, over and over again, it seemed impossible that Leia would simply come to him and boldly lay her cards on the table. But hadn't he been on the brink of doing the same thing?
Fuck it, he thought. If she's all-in, then so am I.
He felt hot all over and slightly dizzy, and the high rhythm of his heart echoed disconcertingly in his ears. He made another effort to speak, but the words of confession he'd been silently rehearsing swirled around him in a turbulent eddy, wildly refusing to align themselves into all the things he wanted to say. He raked his fingers through his hair, distantly registering the slight tremor in his hand, and then quietly cleared his throat and tried again.
"Leia," he began.
"Wait," she interjected softly, holding up a forestalling hand. "Let me finish. I've been thinking about this… about everything, about us...ever since we got back from Ord Mantell, when you made it clear that you didn't want my help. That you really were going to leave after all. For good."
Han dropped his hands into his lap and let his head fall back for a moment, feeling like he was being pummelled by a series of powerful and expertly placed punches. He knew what he'd said to her, right here in this cockpit, as they fled along the Celanon Spur. The devastation he had wrought with callous words in those few fraught moments was still raw and vivid in his memory. Even if he lived to be as old as a Wookiee, he would never forget how it felt to betray Leia's trust. He couldn't bear to do it again, no matter what the cost. Straightening in his chair, he stretched back, clamped his hands on the armrests, and then swivelled around so that he faced her squarely.
"Only you didn't leave," she observed quietly. "That was over two months ago. You could have been long gone by now. There was nothing holding you back."
Han met her gaze and held it. "Nothing but you."
And there it was. The words hovered between them, inviting more, but for a long moment they simply gazed at each other with quiet regard, as the reassuring hum of the ship's engines purred along steadily in the background. The conversation Han had thought they would never have was happening now, and he had finally found within himself a firm resolve to pull his weight in it.
Fleeting memories of virtually every moment he had shared with Leia over the past couple of years flitted through his mind. Missions and debriefings, convivial evenings with their friends. Hair-raising close-calls that had nearly cost them their lives, and terminally tedious diplomatic negotiations that had been, in Han's opinion, a damn sight worse. He'd seen the princess handle threats of every kind with focused efficiency, but he'd seen her terrified, too, trembling and anxious, and devastated in grief. It didn't seem to matter, though, if she was exhausted or injured, or huddled in misery at the bottom of a muddy ditch. It didn't matter if they were cornered, or fleeing for their lives, with the odds against them stacking higher at every tick of the heart—Leia never gave up. She simply didn't have it in her.
He let his eyes roam over her now, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and the fast tempo of her breathing. Just as she had compiled a wealth of facts about him and his character, he had a similar catalogue of knowledge about her—abundant evidence he'd stockpiled over the years that underscored his belief that she was the smartest, bravest, kindest and most extraordinary being in the galaxy. Courageous and compassionate, witty and wise, and worthy of so much more than he could give her—although he was determined now to give her everything he had.
Before he could give voice to any of those sentiments, though, she began to speak again, her tone turning reflective and tinged with sorrow.
"Right after it happened—after the Disaster, I mean…."
She paused for a long moment, dropped her eyes and bit her lip, and suddenly Han understood that the cool composure she had presented thus far was little more than a thin veneer. The calm and studiously casual way she had laid out the qualities and characteristics she perceived in him was as practised as his own inner rehearsals—but underneath that veil of self-control he could see that she was afraid. He saw the tremulous uncertainty there, the risk she was taking to reach him, and his heart gave a lurch. Her bravery in that moment was at once humbling and profoundly inspiring. It gave him the shot of courage necessary to break the inertia that had wrapped itself around his limbs. Leaning forward in his chair, he extended a hand to her, palm up, and was deeply gratified when she looked up, smiled, and took it. The feeling of her hand clasped trustingly in his was everything he needed.
"Go on."
Leia drew a deep breath and, as she blew it out through pursed lips, he could see her gathering thoughts and composure once more. "For a long time after," she replied at length, "I just didn't have the capacity for...for anything, really. I was in shock...you know that, perhaps better than anyone. I couldn't feel anything except rage and grief. All I could think of was bringing the Empire down. I just wanted it all to count for something. It was the only thing I wanted."
Han nodded. He had witnessed first-hand the devastating toll that Alderaan's destruction had wrought, knew how profoundly it continued to affect her. He had also watched her climb up from unfathomable depths of sorrow, emerging somehow even stronger, more resilient, more determined than ever. Observing her now and holding her slim, strong hand in his, it was clear to him that she was tapping into that well of resolve now.
"But you were there for me then," she continued, her dark eyes roaming his face, "whenever I needed a shoulder or even just...a presence, so I didn't feel so alone. I never had to ask. You just...knew."
Han swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, unsure of what to say in response. Of course he had been there for her—who could know Leia and understand the kind of person she was, and not love her and want to see her thrive? Maybe he'd never said the words to her face, and maybe he'd hotly denied any and all suggestions to that effect from Chewie and Luke and Rieekan and the gods-damned meddling Rogues, but he had long ago stopped trying to fool himself on that score.
Leia gave his hand a light squeeze. "When I look back now, it's so clear to me and I wonder how I ever missed it in the first place. You're my constant, Han. You have been there for me since the day we met. Always. Regardless of how much we bickered. You provoke me and challenge me. You infuriate me sometimes," she conceded with a rueful shake of her head. She lifted a wry eyebrow. "But I think I do the same for you."
Han's response was a soft snort of acknowledgement. He rubbed a thumb over the smooth back of her hand and then—following an impulse he didn't pause to question—lifted her hand to his lips and gave her knuckles a reverent kiss.
As he lowered their joined hands to his knee once more, Leia gave him a smile that was heart-rending in its tenderness. He'd never seen anything quite that look from her before; it made his stomach swoop and his heart soar, much like the heady thrill he felt when he throttled-up and shot the Falcon into hyperspace. There was so much he wanted to tell her, so much she needed to know. A torrent of unspoken truths now crowded his throat, waiting for the right moment to be released. But it was clear from the way her earnest gaze held his that she still had more to say, and so he swallowed hard, offered a nod and shifted his palm to lace his fingers with hers, wordlessly encouraging her to continue.
"I look back at all the times we clashed and quarrelled," she said. "How confused I was by what you said and how that didn't seem to match up to what you did."
Han felt his face contort in a heartfelt grimace. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart."
Her eyes on his were bright as stars, shining in the reflected lights of the ship's console. She gave a tiny shrug. "I see through all of that now, Han.I see you. Like you saw me." She held his gaze for an eternity, as her hand tightened its grip on his. "The real me. Not the princess, not the senator, not the rebel. Just me. And…," she trailed off on a sigh.
"Mei ti adorari," Han murmured, mindlessly lapsing into his native tongue.
Leia bit her lip against a smile and blinked away the tears that had welled in her eyes. She gave his hand another gentle squeeze. "I see your patience, Han, and your devotion. I see it now, though I didn't before. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that I talked myself out of seeing it. I rationalised and pushed my feelings down...so far down. I tried very hard not to feel anything except for the anger I needed to keep me focused, to make the Emperor pay for what he'd done. I guess I told myself I didn't have time, that I had more impor—" Her voice trembled and she paused, tightening her hold on his hand. "That I had more important things to spend my energies on," she finished.
"You did what you had to do," Han said quietly. "You survived."
"Yes. And that was all I could manage, for a while. But the truth is that I was dying inside, withering away. You saw that, I know you did."
Han answered with a nod.
She gave a dry laugh. "I thought I was doing such a good job of holding it together, but I guess it was obvious to those who were closest to me that I was falling apart. Carlist helped me so much then. When I was fighting it. Fighting you and fighting this…this thing between us. He helped me to see that by cutting myself off from that, from you, I was only making everything worse."
With his heart pounding like an ion piston, Han enveloped her small hand between his two, but kept his eyes fixed on her face, giving her time to say everything she wanted to say.
"He helped me to see how much my friends meant to me, how much you meant to me...and how much I needed you." She tilted her head to one side and regarded him with a faint quirk of her lips. "Except I never told you any of that, did I? I've never said 'I need you'. I never told you how much I counted on you to be there for me…because I never had to. Because you always were. So I have never said the words, and neither have you."
She fell into silence then, looking pensive and a bit spent—and no wonder, Han thought, watching her gaze drop down to study their joined hands. She had poured out her soul and blown him away in the process. He felt overwhelmed and deeply humbled. Her vulnerability in laying her heart bare was the most incredible gift he'd ever received or ever could receive. For a long moment he joined her in quiet contemplation of their clasped hands, and then he lifted his head. It was his turn now. He had remained silent long enough, many months—hell, years—too long, and he was not going to waste another minute.
Taking a deep and steadying breath, he leaned across the cockpit's centre aisle, narrowing the gap that remained between them.
"Leia, I—."
"Captain Solo! Captain Solo, sir!"
Halting in mid-sentence, with Leia's widening eyes locked on his, Han felt his stomach jump and then plummet to his feet as the sound of Threepio's brassy vocoder registered in his ears. That distant mechanical cry was quickly followed by the sound of clanking footsteps resonating along the access corridor, heading in the direction of the cockpit. Han's mouth dropped open.
"Captain Solo, are you there?" Threepio called out in his prissy Core Worlds accent, as the metallic clunkingdrew steadily closer.
Releasing Leia's hand, Han swivelled around in his chair and caught sight of the golden droid through the open hatch, his stiff-legged form just rounding the far curve of the short corridor. At the same time, Threepio's visual processors locked on Han and brightened measurably in response. He shuffled forward at increased speed, servomotors whirring.
"There you are!" the droid exclaimed. "Thank the Maker! I've been from one end of this wretched vessel to the other. I simply must speak with you on a matter of the utmost importance. It seems that there is a serious problem with the way the central mainframe has been configured…."
While Threepio babbled his way along the corridor, Han angled his incredulous gaze back to Leia. She pressed her lips together and stretched her eyes wide in a visible effort to keep a straight face. He turned back to look at the advancing droid.
Despite the fact that the princess seemed somewhat amusedby the disruption, Han felt as though he were about to blow a gasket. Irritation prickled the fine hairs at the back of his neck and he found himself gripping the padded armrests of his chair with enough force to leave them marked. "I'm going to dismantle that gold-plated menace," he intoned with deadly intent. "Right now, piece by piece." He ground out the words through gritted teeth. "And then...I'm gonna space the parts."
Launching himself from his seat, he took a step toward the hatch, but Leia swiftly caught him by the arm and halted his progression. "Let me handle it," she suggested in a soothing tone, suppressing a laugh as she gave his wrist a gentle tug.
Threepio, who was still vocalizing a stream of technical details that Han neither truly absorbed nor cared to hear, had trundled his way to within a scant half-metre of the open hatch. "It is therefore imperative that you—ohhhh myyyy!"
What happened next was a dizzying whirlwind of russet fur, guttural growls and thrashing golden limbs. There was a mighty roar as Chewbacca's massive bulk suddenly filled the tight confines at the far end of the cockpit corridor. He thundered up behind the hapless droid, uttering a stream of oaths that Han hoped Leia's rudimentary grasp of Shyriiwook would not allow her to comprehend. The exasperated Wookiee swept the droid off his feet, while Threepio, with a torrent of bitter objections, struggled in vain to escape.
"Put me down, you oaf," Threepio wailed. "How dare you—."
Chewie barked a withering expletive and tucked the flailing droid under one massive, shaggy arm. He shot Han an apologetic look and then quickly reversed direction and carted Threepio, who was still indignantly lamenting all of the injustices he had been forced to endure in his tenure, down the corridor and out of sight.
As the sounds faded away, leaving only the steady hum of the Falcon's engines once more, Han blew out a breath and then shifted his focus back to Leia. "Sorry, Sweetheart," he muttered. "But maybe he won't bother us again for a while."
Leia was still seated with one hand lightly clasped on his wrist, but as he moved to reclaim his position in the pilot's seat—and pick up right where they had left off, he hoped—she let him go and then rose to her feet to stand before him.
"I believed you, you know."
Han furrowed his brow at her and blinked. "Huh?"
She eased forward into his space. Toe-to-toe with him now, she lifted her chin and tilted her head to one side, regarding him thoughtfully. "That night in my quarters, just before the mission to Ord Mantell, when you told me that you had decided to stay," she said. "I believed you."
The soft words lanced through Han's heart like blaster bolts. "Of course you did," he said through tight lips. "'Cause I meant it."
"I was so happy about it," she confessed, continuing her campaign of disarmament through extraordinary candour. "I'd waited so long to hear you say it, and it meant so much to me. It felt like—like I was learning how to live again, how to have hope, not just for the future of the rebellion, but for my own future."
Han stared at her, feeling the pounding of his pulse in his ears.
"But then, after the mission and everything that happened between us there…." Leia trailed off with a downward flick of her lashes and a tiny frown, but swiftly lifted her eyes and rested her steady brown gaze upon him once more. "When you said you were leaving after all, I just felt so...foolish."
"Foolish?" Han echoed, feeling the pit of his stomach hollow out. "What for?"
"Because I realised then that I'd made a terrible mistake," she said. A wave of sorrow and regret crossed her delicate features and darkened her eyes. "I had allowed myself to want someone who had no intention of sticking around, to need someone who was only going to let me down."
The inside of Han's skull seemed to ring with a faint, high-pitched tone as he realised the turn the conversation was about to take. He felt sick.
"Leia, I swear, I meant what I said to you. I wasn't playing games. I was gonna stay. I wanted to stay. Sweetheart…." He choked off, frustrated that his store of words was so inadequate to the task at hand.
He would never be able to spill his guts with the grace and eloquence Leia had displayed today; he wouldn't even know where to start. All he could do was tell her the simple, unvarnished and immutable truth.
Lifting a hand to cradle her cheek, he gazed down into her beloved face and hoped she could feel the depth of meaning in three honest, heart-wrung words.
"I love you."
Leia's big brown eyes, lifted up to his, were bright with unshed tears, and the tremulous smile she gave him made his stomach flip. "Yes. I know."
Her response, though softly spoken, hit him like a jolt from a live wire. It was not the reply he had expected or hoped for and there was an endless, dreadful moment when he thought she was going to break his heart. But as he anxiously scanned her face and read the warmth in her eyes, realisation slowly dawned. She had already spelled out her understanding, point by point, just a few moments before, with a range of supporting examples enumerated on her fingers. He felt a heavy thud somewhere deep in his chest as her quietly spoken words hit home. There was no need for further elaborate declarations on his part, he realised, because she understood him—truly, like no one else ever had or ever could. He cracked a smile, feeling a rush of relief and gratitude for her powers of perception and communication, but most of all for her bravery—in this, as in all things.
In the wake of those thoughts, though, came a dark ripple through his gut that he dimly recognised as fear. His brow crinkled and his gaze grew distracted, as some primitive part of his lizard brain awakened to the fact that the most vulnerable truth of his heart was dangling bare-assed in the air between them. He swallowed hard against the knot in his throat, suddenly uncertain. If he had misjudged her...if she didn't feel the same—or even worse, if she had once held those feelings for him, but had now changed her mind—he was lost. What if his confession had come too late? Maybe he had blown it—.
"Oh, you Nerfherder," Leia teased with a soft laugh, drawing his attention back to her face. She held his gaze for a lingering moment, and what he saw in her shining eyes made the frantic thumping of his heart begin to ease. Reaching up, she touched his cheek and then gently guided his mouth down to hers. The kiss they shared was soft and sweet, but all too brief. She pulled away for a moment and he felt the rush of her breath against his lips as she tipped her head back, looked him in the eye and whispered, "I love you, too". Then her dark lashes fluttered down as she stretched up and kissed him again.
This time, the hot, intimate touch of her mouth made Han's brain melt, and when she wound her arms around his neck to bring her body closer to his, he thought he might explode on the spot. Even so, those immediate physical pleasures faded to insignificance against the waves of pure joy that pulsed through him over and over again, powered by the sound of the words that had fallen from her lips and wrapped themselves around his heart.
He wrapped his arms around her in return and returned her kiss with fervour, glorying in the feel of her, so warm and willing in his embrace. Infused with the revelation of their shared feelings for one another, this kiss felt more intense than any of those that had preceded it—except, perhaps, for one. Distantly, he realized now the underlying significance of that other kiss, the one in the circuitry bay that had left him reeling long after they'd parted.
Okay, Hotshot.
At the time, he hadn't known what to make of it, but he recognized now that it marked the moment when Leia had made the monumental shift from ambivalence to firm decision, setting them both on a course that would lead them, inexorably, to this. She pressed even closer and parted her lips a little wider, and Han had the brief, giddy sensation of becoming slightly airborne, as though something had gone haywire with the ship's artificial gravity and lifted their boots above the deck plates. Suffused all over with the exquisite heat of her in his arms and the warm glow of her confession, he could only focus on one distinct and astonishing thought of the myriad musings tumbling over and over in his head.
She loves me.
They broke apart on a mutual gasp, but not for long. He paused just enough to beam at her and soak up the radiance of her answering smile, and then she tightened her arms around his neck, pressed herself full-length against him, and tipped her mouth up to his once more. He took her offered kiss for a third time and then a fourth, holding her close and rapidly losing count of the multitude of frenzied kisses that followed, as they both gave in to long-restrained mutual desire. He left her mouth to press a chain of kisses all over her cherished face, relishing the privilege of anointing cheeks and chin and nose and brow, feeling her smile, and hearing her soft, exhilarated laugh as he indulged in unrestrained adoration. Dropping his head down, he nuzzled her ear and the fine line of her jaw, and then began kissing his way down the delicate column of her neck to the collar of her snowsuit, bestowing heated kisses on every centim of skin as far as he could reach. Leia clutched his shoulders and tipped her head to one side in wordless encouragement. The low sounds of pleasure that escaped her throat as his lips traversed her skin were almost more than he could handle and he finally pulled away, breathing hard and feeling both gratified and reassured to see that she looked to be in a similar state. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were swollen, and her half-lidded eyes seemed hazy as they struggled to focus on his face. She looked exactly like he felt—dizzy, slightly dazed, intoxicated by the powerful elixir of love and desire that surged through his veins.
She swayed in his arms and he took a bracing half-step back, bringing his leg into contact with the pilot's chair. Reaching back to support himself on the armrest, he began to sit, intent on drawing Leia down with him so they could indulge in further intimate explorations at their leisure.
But her slim body tensed as he subsided and then, with a sudden twist of her head and an apologetic wince, she began to pull away. Before he could process what was happening, she'd taken her arms from around his neck and then brought one hand to rest against his chest, pressing him gently down in one direction as she eased herself away in the opposite.
"Wait," she said quietly. "Just...give me a minute, please."
He didn't want to let her go—nothing else in his life had ever felt as good as Leia in his arms—but he relinquished his hold just the same. As she fully extricated herself from his embrace and took a step backwards across the narrow aisle, he completed his downward motion and sat back in his chair, letting his hands fall down to his lap, bereft. He watched her sink slowly down to sit on the edge of Chewbacca's chair facing him, with nervous fingers gripping her snowsuited knees, and his flicker of mild confusion turned into a wave of deep dismay.