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"I'm so excited," Bria gushed.
"I know," Han sighed, straightening his jacket uncomfortably. He had allowed Bria to press it for him, and now regretted it. The lines were too straight. The collar was digging into his throat. But he looked "unbelievably handsome", according to Bria. The things I do for love, he thought with a sigh.
Mon Mothma, the leader of the Rebel Alliance, was going to put in her first appearance at a formal party held in her honor. The word was that she would arrive at the base during the party and be brought directly there. It was thought to be a morale booster, although Han didn't truly understand why. Of course, it had boosted Bria's morale, not that she needed any help in that area. After she had returned from her last successful mission, she had been brimming with enthusiasm for the Rebellion.
He looked at her now. She looked amazing in a tight-fitting, red dress, that left most of her back exposed. He went behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. "That dress looks great on you," he whispered in a deep, gravelly voice.
She turned in his arms and smiled at him brilliantly. "You're looking mighty good yourself." She kissed him, pressing the entire length of her body against his. When his hands slid down her back, continuing to trail downwards, Bria pulled away from his insistent mouth, staying his hands with hers.
Undeterred, Han moved his lips to her neck, wrestling his hands from her grip and bringing them up to firmly grasp her shoulders.
"Han, we have to go to the party..."
"Don't worry, we will." For just a second, Han felt her melt against him, then she pulled away, placing her hands on his chest. "Han, I'm sorry. But I can't miss Mon Mothma's arrival."
He sighed in frustration, closing his eyes.
"Later, I promise." She nuzzled his neck and whispered pleadingly. "Please understand, love?"
"Yeah, ok." He tried not to sound disappointed, but knew he couldn't hide it.
She smiled at him, grateful for his understanding. "I love you."
"Yeah, me too." He held her close, smelled her sweet perfume and stroked her back lovingly. At least he had something to look forward to after the godsforsaken party.
With loud, instrumental accompaniment, Mon Mothma came to the center stage, before the amateur band, and the crowd clapped and cheered with unbridled zeal. Han joined in, a bit less enthusiastically than most.
Mon Mothma was a middle-aged woman, still beautiful in a stately, graceful manner. She began a speech, her voice soft, melodic and inspiring.
The large room, which normally served as the mess area, had been decorated with what sparse adornments they could find. It was less than celebratory, but the revelers hardly seemed to notice.
Tuning out Mon Mothma's speech, Han searched the room for Leia. Ever since the night they had played that dumb drinking game, she had been avoiding him. And with Bria back, he hadn't had much time to seek her out. The one time he happened to come upon her in the command center, she had made some pathetic excuse and fled the room. He wasn't sure what she was thinking. He remembered that feeling between them at her door, that overwhelming surge that had swept through him. Had she felt it? There had been something there, in the endless depths of her eyes. He just wasn't sure what. Had it frightened her? It wasn't as if he was going to do anything about it, she had nothing to be scared of.
He glanced at Bria, that ever-present guilt creeping into his mind again. If he were free...
Yes, he supposed he would pursue her. Then again, maybe not. After all, what could he expect to share with a woman like her? Eventually, their differences would come between them, and he would lose her. He didn't want to lose the friendship they had established. So, he figured he needed to repair any damage, as soon as possible.
There she is. His eyes found her, locking on her like a beacon in a maelstrom of confusion. Of course, Wesley stood beside her, guarding her like a ren'nat would guard its cub. She looked stunning, breathtaking, just as he had always imagined she would in a gown like the one she was wearing. The dress was long and white, flowing to her ankles, with long sleeves that ended with a golden edge. Her hair was piled on top of her head in soft curls that dropped just above her ears.
She took his breath away...completely. When he remembered to breathe, he just watched her, the delicate curve of her neck, the flawless perfection of her skin. The curve of her lips...
Suddenly, her gaze met his and there it was again, that sharp, almost painful feeling in his chest, that threatened to steal every coherent thought. The feeling lingered, even as she looked away, brow drawn down with a frown. Her eyes settled on Mon Mothma again, who was just wrapping up her speech.
Han found his heart pounding as the Rebellion's leader descended from the makeshift stage, to be inundated by overzealous rebels, Bria included. She walked away from him without a backward glance.
Well, hell, why should he be any more considerate? He looked to Leia, found that she was hanging back and Tobin was no longer at her side. As the band started to play a slow jizz song, Han made his way to her side.
She didn't look up as he came behind her and placed his mouth close to her ear.
"Care to dance, Princess?"
She startled and turned to face him. He saw heat rise to her cheeks as they made eye contact. "Hi," she said softly.
"Hi." They stood for an awkward moment before Han spoke again. "C'mon." He took her hand, leaving her no room for protest, and led her to the area that had been deemed the dance floor. She looked at her feet, her expression a portrait of resignation, as he placed one arm loosely around her and led them through some familiar dance steps. He was careful to keep a hand's space between their bodies, realizing that he needed to dampen this attraction, before it got him into serious trouble.
Her eyes remained in the vicinity of his chest and she said nothing. Han had never seen her so silent.
"Okay, what have I done now?" he asked bluntly.
She looked up at him, confused. "What? Nothing. Why do you ask?"
"You've been avoiding me." Up close like this, she dazzled him. But he remained in control.
"No, I haven't," she answered a bit too quickly.
He raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing.
"Besides, you've been busy since Bria got back."
True. He couldn't deny that. "Yeah, maybe." He saw Tobin's eyes on them, and he spun past another couple, where he wouldn't have to worry about him. "So... everything's okay here?" He wanted to see her relax with him, the way she used to.
She let out a sudden breath, as if expelling her tension. "I've just been under a lot of pressure, that's all. I've been busy."
He nodded. "Wanna talk about it?"
"Not really." She seemed to realize that her tone had grown sharp. "I'm sorry...I just...well, I'd rather not think about it."
"Okay. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me."
She smiled then, a genuine smile that almost touched her eyes. He smiled back, then saw Tobin striding towards them, a determined set to his jaw. "Just remember what I said," he whispered before the Major reached them.
He stood tall before them, looking down his nose at Han. "May I cut in, Captain?" he asked stiffly.
Han resisted the urge to punch him in his perfect face. "Sure," he grunted. He turned back to Leia. "I'll see ya." He walked away, a bad taste coating his mouth.
Leia allowed Wesley to take one hand in his and place the other along her back.
"What was that about?" he asked harshly.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, what's going on between you and Solo?"
Her mouth hung open in shock. "Are you serious?" He only continued to glare at her. "There's nothing going on, he's just a friend. I've barely even seen him lately." She didn't add that it was because Wesley was effectively monopolizing her time. Or that she was afraid to be alone with Han.
Suddenly his expression changed, going from angry to sad in an instant. "Leia, what do you want me to do? I've been here for you for over a year now. What else can I do?" He dropped his voice to just above a whisper, moving his mouth to her cheek. "I've tried to be there for you. I've tried every way I know how. But you won't let me in. What will make you happy?"
He sounded so desperate that Leia found herself overcome with guilt. Yes, he had always been there for her. Did she owe him for that? Had she taken his kindness for granted? She pulled back to look at him, sighing softly. "Look, I'm sorry if I've hurt you somehow. But honestly, there's nothing between Han and me."
"I wish I could believe that." His voice was anguished.
Now she was getting angry, her voice a harsh whisper. "I don't know what you expect me to say. Do you want it to be true? Do you want to hear that I have some sort of relationship with him? Would that make you happy?"
"Of course not!" He realized he had shouted and lowered his voice to a whisper, ignoring the curious glances. He bit his lip. "I just...I care for you so much, Leia. I don't understand why you insist on shutting me out."
"I'm not shutting you out."
"Yes, you are. You always do. You won't open up to me, you won't really talk to me." His eyes blazed again. "Do you open up to him?Does he give you something I don't?"
She'd had more than she could stand. "That's enough." She moved from his arms, drew herself up to her most regal bearing and turned the full brunt of her anger on him. "I'm sick of your accusations. I never promised you anything. And even if I had, I have nothing to be ashamed of. Han is a friend, nothing more." Her eyes were now narrowed to slits. "At the moment, that's more than I can say for you." She turned on her heel and stalked away, leaving him to gawk at her back.
She left the party behind, wandering the corridors, intent on some peace and quiet. Thankfully, it was not hard to find, as most of the other Rebels were at the party, with only a few unlucky guards on duty.
This entire thing with Wesley was getting out of hand. What did he expect from her? She had never made him any promises; she had merely accepted what he offered. And now...she was no longer sure she wanted it. He was making things too difficult for her. He was too possessive, he expected too much. And she was simply too tired to give it to him. Why couldn't he just allow things to stay the way they were? She had been content with that.
I don't understand why you insist on shutting me out.
The words rang in her head. Didn't he realize that she shut everyone out? She couldn't let him, or anyone else, too close. The risk was too great. She had lost so much already. How could he expect her to open herself to that kind of hurt again?
She wandered past the hangar entrance, barely realizing where she was. It's so unfair. Why? How can one person just decide to destroy an entire planet? How can anyone be so sick...so evil?
Surprisingly, the tears did not come. Perhaps she could no longer cry. She had shed so many tears this past year and a half, she supposed that eventually she would have to stop crying. Instead, there was an endless emptiness, deeper than ever. It ran through her heart, into her soul, down to the depths of her being. It was a vast, incessant pit of pain and loneliness that stayed with her always, never allowing her to escape it, invading even her sleep. The hopelessness threatened to draw her into its dark embrace, leaving her with nothing but apathy towards everyone and everything.
Only her hatred for the Empire got past her indifference, kept her going. It fueled her desire to keep on living.
A noise behind her caused her to stop and turn-
Brutally strong hands grabbed her from behind, instantly causing her combat instincts to surface. Her elbow came up to strike her assailant in the stomach, and Leia heard a loud grunt of pain. As she moved to grip the arm that had gone momentarily slack, she froze, the cold steel of a blade at her throat.
"Don't move!" a deep, angry voice hissed. Leia was dimly aware of hot, unpleasant breath coming fast against her cheek, the vise-like grip around her chest, pinning her arms to her sides. She felt strangely calm. Panic would surely get her killed.
"What do you want?" she asked cooly.
The rough, male voice laughed maliciously. "Your life! What do you think of that, Princess?" He spat out her formal title as if it were a profanity.
"Why would you want to kill me?" The longer she kept him talking, the better her chances of getting out of this alive.
"Why? Why?" His voice held the sound of barely controlled madness. In a sudden movement, he spun her to face him, the vibroblade never leaving her throat. He backed her against the wall, and Leia could see that there was a gleam of insanity in the older man's eyes. "Alderaan," he hissed, face contorted with rage.
The word slammed into her like an ice-cold ocean wave, knocking the breath from her, leaving her dazed.
"Weren't you the one responsible? Didn't you help press the button? Didn't you help kill all those innocent lives? For your Rebellion?"
Her mouth opened uselessly, in wordless denial. She could see only the blue of his eyes spewing fury into hers, smell only his sour breath.
"My wife and kids were on Alderaan when it was destroyed. But you're alive, you're still here. "And that's just not fair. Why do you get to live? Cause you're a Princess? I don't think so." He drew a blaster equipped with a silencer and brought it level with Leia's cheek.
A cold fear washed through her, then settled into numb recognition. This is it. It's over. I don't have to do this anymore. She was ready. So be it.
The shot rang out, loud in spite of the silencer, and Leia was surprised to feel no pain. Her eyes had closed in response to the sound, and now she found herself opening them as she felt the weight of her attacker pressed heavily against her. She was confused beyond coherent thought, wondering why it hadn't hurt, wondering what he was doing now. Too quickly for her to process, the man was dead weight against her. She pushed at him ineffectively, unable, in her shocked, confused state, to move him. With a startling speed, his weight was lifted from her trembling body, and she watched in wonder as he fell to the ground, eyes frozen in a death mask.
Her mind reeled as she watched the dark pool of blood spread from beneath him, running in a slow river past a pair of black boots that slowly seeped into her consciousness.
Her eyes travelled up the boots, to familiar pants with a blood-red stripe along the outer seams. When her eyes rested on Han's pale, stricken face, Leia crumpled. He caught her easily, gathering her into his arms and whispering words that neither of them were aware of.
"Here." Han handed Leia a cup of steaming kaffe. She was seated at the Falcon's holochess table, and Han noticed that her hands still shook. He had called security on a private comm channel, and they had quietly taken care of everything. She did not need this incident to be spread around the base. Han would keep that from happening, or die trying.
He hadn't meant to kill the guy. He had tried to aim for the shoulder, but when the man's blaster came up to Leia's face, Han had lost it. His instincts had taken over blindly, and the shot had landed at the back of his head, killing him instantly. He felt badly about it, but mostly he found himself shaken over what had almost happened to Leia. If he hadn't followed her from the party... he didn't even want to think about it.
He watched as she sipped her kaffe, face ashen. Aside from answering the questions of the security men, she hadn't said a word. He sat down next to her on the acceleration couch, drawing near to place one arm about her shoulders.
"Are you alright?" he asked, knowing what a stupid question it was.
She nodded, not looking up from her kaffe as she sipped it slowly.
The guards had asked what the man had said to her, and she had claimed that he said nothing. But Han knew that wasn't true. He had been too far away to hear the words, but Han had watched long enough, preparing to get in a shot, to know the man was saying something. Whatever it was, it had affected the Princess deeply. "You wanna tell me what happened?"
Her eyes left the cup, her surprised expression finding his grim one. "I already told security. You were there." Her voice was low and still slightly shaky.
"Yeah, but I don't think you told them the whole story."
She averted her eyes. "What makes you say that?"
"I was there long enough to know that the guy was talking to you."
Nervous eyes flew back to his.
"I couldn't hear what he said," he assured her. He saw her relax visibly and return to her kaffe. "But whatever it was, I could see it upset you. A lot. You wanna talk about it?"
"No."
Han sighed. "Don't you think you owe me an explanation?"
She turned back to him, an angry fire lighting her eyes. "I owe you? Why does everyone think that just because they do something for me, something I didn't even ask them to do, that I owe them?" Her voice, as well as her anger, was rising in the quiet of the ship.
Han lifted his hands defensively. "Whoa, easy, Your Worship, I-"
"No! Don't try to pacify me now! I don't owe you a damn thing, Solo!" She slammed her cup onto the table, the hot liquid splashing onto Han's forearm. She stood to go, striding furiously in the direction of the ramp.
"Wait!" Han called, following closely on her heels. "Leia, wait, I didn't mean-"
She turned on him, causing him to stop short. "You want to know what he said?" Her voice was low and menacing, but Han could see that she was shaking. "He blamed me for Alderaan, that's what he said. He said I deserved to die, like all the other Alderaanians." She watched for his reaction with tortured eyes, her breath coming in short, harsh gasps.
There was something here that Han was not understanding, that much was obvious. "I don't get it, why would he blame you for Alderaan?"
"Because, you idiot, I was there! I was on the Death Star when it happened." Now the tears were at the corners of her eyes, and her voice caught on the last word. A tortured sob escaped her, and when Han pulled her into his strong arms, she did not resist.
Oh man, I can't believe it, Han thought, feeling that now he finally understood where her underlying pain came from. His heart ached for her. He wanted to do something, to make everything right for her again, but there was nothing to be done.
"I saw it happen," she whispered. "I was there. I saw Alderaan blasted into a billion pieces. It was..." Her voice trailed off into a choked sob.
Han stroked her hair and rested his cheek on the top of her head. "Leia, I'm so sorry." He was suddenly hit with the reality of what that man had said to her. "Wait a minute...you don't think...I mean, you don't actually believe that it was your fault... do you?"
She pulled back to look at him, but stayed close in his embrace. She was calmer now, gazing at him with bitter acceptance. "Wasn't it? Surely there was something I might have done differently."
He shook his head sadly, drawing her back into his arms and stroking her back soothingly. "What happened? Tell me."
"I can't," she whispered. "I can't talk about it."
"You can tell me, Princess." He placed his lips beside her ear, his voice barely audible. "Trust me, Leia. You can tell me anything." He wanted, more than anything, to ease her pain. He didn't know how, but he thought that if she talked about it, opened up to someone, it might help her to deal with it. "Please."
She was silent in his arms for several minutes. He continued to hold her, soothing her hair and waiting patiently. He was dismayed when, eventually, she moved from him and walked back to the table to stand with her palms resting on top.
She's not going to talk to you, Solo, face it. Hell, why should she?
Without warning, her soft voice reached his ears, hesitant and uncertain. "I was bringing the Death Star plans to a Jedi Knight on Tatooine."
Han barely had time to wonder about this Jedi Knight. He had always thought there were no Jedi left in the galaxy. But before he could give it much thought, she continued.
"I was captured...by Darth Vader." A shudder ran through her as she breathed that name in a voice filled with stark terror. "He brought me to the Death Star. I was...tortured.
An unexpected rage filled Han, starting as a burst in his chest and quickly pounding into every nerve of his body, threatening to burst the veins at his neck. What had they done to her? He wasn't sure he wanted to know. A sudden wave of protectiveness filled him, and he moved behind her, placing his hands on her slim shoulders and realizing that she was shaking again. With his head pulled slightly to the side, he could just see the way she closed her eyes at his tender gesture. He squeezed her shoulders comfortingly.
"Then what happened?" he asked softly.
Her eyes opened again and he could see the change in her. She had steeled herself against what she was feeling, opting for stoicism rather than vulnerability. "They wanted the location of the Rebel base on Yavin IV. When they couldn't get it out of me that way, they brought that hideous weapon to Alderaan. They threatened to..." She looked down at the table. "Well, when I gave them a false location, they destroyed Alderaan anyway. It didn't matter what I said to them."
He spun her to face him, looking intently into her eyes. "That's just it. It didn't matter what you said. They were going to do it anyway. There was nothing you could have done."
She nodded tiredly, her eyes downcast, needing to see this story through to the end now. "They were going to kill me then. If Luke and Dash hadn't come for me..."
Her words registered in his mind, slowly. "Dash? Dash Rendar?"
"Yes. Did you know him?"
"Did?"
"Yes...he died at the battle of Yavin."
Han's gaze turned inward momentarily. He hadn't seen Dash in a long time. He hadn't known he was dead. He nodded distractedly. "Yeah. I knew him."
"Well...if he hadn't helped Luke out, the Death Star would still be around. He died a hero."
Han's eyes returned to her impassive face. She wasn't the same woman he was accustomed to seeing. At the moment, she looked cold and ruthless. Seeking to find the woman behind the facade, he took her face in his hands. "Don't let anyone make you feel responsible, Princess. You couldn't have changed anything."
She took a deep, shaky breath and some of the softness returned to her eyes. "I don't need anyone else to make me feel responsible, Han. I do a perfectly good job of that myself." A bitter, ironic smile embedded itself in her features. "That man didn't say anything to me that I haven't said to myself."
The ferocity with which he felt her pain surprised him. He was consumed with such a feeling of helplessness. He could do nothing for her. This was an irrational guilt she had saddled herself with; she was not going to listen to reason. "But look what you've accomplished. The Death Star is gone. That won't ever happen again. I know it won't bring Alderaan back, but you did prevent it from doing the same thing to another planet."
"Of course. But that doesn't make up for Alderaan...not really." The vulnerability was back now. Han could see it in the way she swallowed, choking back her emotions.
"Leia..." He didn't know what else to say, but that proved to be too much for her, because she closed her eyes and could not help the tears that did come now, flowing past her closed lids to stream blindly down her cheeks. He wrapped his arms around her again, as tightly as he could manage.
He had always thought of her as so strong; right now, she seemed tiny and fragile in his arms. He knew she didn't normally allow herself to be seen like this, yet she had let him in, past her barriers. He felt strangely privileged that she had entrusted him with this.
Time ceased to exist as he held her in his soothing embrace. As her tears subsided, he brought a hand to her cheek to brush away the moisture there.
She stepped away from him, clearing her throat self-consciously and wiping away the remainder of her tears with the back of her hand. "Thank you," she said simply.
He nodded, mouth quirked in a dismissive gesture. "Yeah, no problem." He jerked a thumb in the direction of the hatch. "You should probably get to bed. You look exhausted."
One side of her mouth turned up in an almost-smile. "I imagine I must look like hell."
"Nah, you look beautiful." He had meant to be flippant, but the words came out with a seriousness that startled them both. With a quiet cough that dispelled the sudden discomfort, he took her hand in his and led her to the hatch, slapping his palm against the controls that began to lower the ramp. He began to lead her down, but she held back, gripping his hand tightly.
"You don't need to walk me, I'm fine."
"I'm walking you, don't argue."
"Really, I'd rather have some time alone. I need to clear my head." The strength had returned to her voice and it was now business as usual.
He looked at her intently, uncertain if he should let her go. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. And I have nothing to be scared of now. Thanks to you." She smiled at him with gratitude in her eyes.
"Well, if you're sure..."
"I'm sure."
He couldn't believe this was the same woman who had just been a trembling mess in his arms. "Well, all right. G'night."
To his surprise and delight, she moved to hug him warmly. He tried desperately to ignore the pleasant feeling of her body pressed so completely against him, instilling in him sudden, unavoidable thoughts of what her mouth would taste like beneath his, what her body would look like lying naked before him. A strong, furious rush of desire washed through him, shocking him with its intensity.
She pulled away from him, unaware of the effect she was having on him. If she knew, she probably would have been appalled. Han forced a smile, attempting to squelch the inappropriate feelings.
"Goodnight."
He waved, not trusting his voice, and watched as she walked down the ramp, out of sight. When she was gone, he took a deep breath and ran a hand across his face, forcing himself not to think of anything but the conversation they had shared.
He glanced at the chrono, remembering suddenly how he had run out on Bria without a word. Surely, she was going to kill him. He sprinted down the ramp, closing the hatch and hurrying away from the confusing emotions that swam through his mind.
