A/N: Don't own it. Disney does and George did. And I thank them both.

Sooo I've hesitated posting anything as of late, even though it's been more or less finished? (severe confidence issues) Whaddya know… Aaaanyways, we all know it's more than a bit pointless and completely plotless in here, sooo, if you are still with me by the end of this—sorry and thank you?

Warning: There is some mention of PTSD and mild violence.

Timeline: Star Wars rebellion era. pre-ESB Hoth


Grasping Perception

Chapter Nine


"Would you just listen, your Worship!" Han would probably – definitely, regret silencing Leia so brusquely. Yet, by some miracle today the Princess was actually co-operating. Hah. It might even be worth it. "Okay Sweetheart, you're gonna have to climb up and over me. Use me as a rope. I'm dug in, but I can't move. It's too risky. We'll both fall."

"I can't—"

"Damn it, your Worship! You can. Just pretend I'm a tree branch or root. C'mon, y'know, like on one of your mountain hikes with your folks on Alderaan ya keep telling me about. Just start yanking and pulling on me to get yourself up. C'mon!"

"Please! Please can you try to pull us up?"

"Princess, if the icepick's grip loosens, it's over - for both of us. Just climb, damn it.

"I can't," Leia's eyes met Han's as her voice broke. It was the same desperate, angry tone she had used in the Death Star's trash compactor; when they were nearly crushed to death, minutes after meeting. That had been the only hint of vulnerability he'd seen from the gun-toting spitfire that sassed him and Luke when they'd busted her out of her cell, and now — apparently — not the last. Then had been the first time he'd touched her, after she'd thrown her arms around him in relief as they managed to avoid death for what would be one of many times hence. Cheeks touching, faces buried in each other's shoulders and hair — unexpected contact for them both. She'd sought to share her joy with him. Him. Han. A princess hugging a smuggler. And they hadn't even known each other's names yet. The sudden rush of memory was amusing, thrilling and fond.

A few seconds ticked by and he had to refocus on their linked hands, and Han made his appeal, gritting his teeth with the effort. He willed her courage with his tone.

"Just. Climb." Han's trapezius muscle, and his tricep in the arm that Leia dangled from, began to spasm involuntarily.

Hurry up, woman, Han thought at her.

Instead, the expression on Leia's face was descending into a grim defeat. Dangling in her own realm of terror, Leia's muttering was a jumble of fear, I'msorry. I'mscared. I'mtrying. Scared. Soscared. Sorry,sorry. Then, Leia's grip on his forearm relaxed slightly.

Kriff that. Han Solo just refused to operate that way. His grip on hers tightened painfully. He sure as hell wasn't going to let the woman he loved–

Loved?

Well now…

Uncomfortable with the remainder of that thought, Han shifted his grip, twisting Leia to face him. He urged her on up again. This time his tone was soft, but understanding and firm in its resolve. He was not going to lose her. Not today. Not ever. She would never abandon him. He knew that. He trusted her, just as she trusted him–their bond proved in battle on the ground and in the skies, over drinks and kaffe and laughter. Gods. How much more perfect a woman could she be?

How was it then, that they always turned each other inside out? Always made an emotional mess of one another. Or how about just getting into crazy situations like this.

After three years around the princess, Han knew why. He just wasn't ready to admit it to her.

"Leia," An entreaty, and Han caught Leia's gaze. Luminous, brilliant and spirited, doe-wide eyes of the softest earth, her pupils the deepest black – like the vastness that swallows the distant spans of deep space.

"I'm here."

Ah, kriff. Han was lost, wasn't he? That big hairy sap-of-a-copilot, Chewie, was right. Han was utterly whupped by a girl he'd pretty much never laid a finger on.

And he couldn't–wouldn't lose her. And sure as hell not in a stupid way like this.

Especially not after hanging around for the last three years to chill with these Rebels away from Jabba. And the Rebellion paid – well...When Han bothered to accept, they paid. And that crazy farmkid Luke needed looking after too. Plus, Chewie really knew how to run a guilt trip on Han. Even his ship the Falcon ran slightly more reliably with the added care and concern of Alliance mechanics. And then there was this crazy princess; Han couldn't keep his mind off of her. She had become a fixture in his dreams and daydreams. Three years of missions and the nearly vagrant lifestyle of the Rebel army had forged a family-like bond between Han, Leia, Luke and Chewie. Meals, accommodation and warm company were all to be found on the Millennium Falcon, and Leia was a core part of that. Han knew Leia would probably starve if he didn't–

Damn...

Yep…."whupped".

Han sighed inwardly. He was kriffing whupped. Whupped. Whupped. Whupped. By a princess no less.

Okay, time for an honest appeal. Crash and burn if I gotta.

"Sweetheart, y'know the universe is gonna be a much scarier place if I– ...We lose someone like you. Who else is gonna keep us incompetent mooks in line, and give Vader and the Emperor hell, day in and day out?"

Breathing was becoming difficult for Han. Spots peppered his vision. His ribs ached, and seemingly every tendon and muscle across his chest and along his outstretched arms was on fire. He felt as though he was being pulled apart.

Oh right… He was.

Compressing her lips, Leia let Han's statement sink in. Han took the chance and made his most courageous appeal yet.

"Sweetheart, please, I can't – won't – lose you. Not even to yourself."

Oh man, did that really just come out like that? Wincing, Han prepared for the inevitable. He creaked one eye open daringly. And it… It didn't happen?

Leia blinked up at him, and instead, time stood still. The pain shooting through Han's arms and shoulder waned as he saw the comprehension of his words in her expression. Her blink was slow. Understanding.

"Leia. Sweetheart, c'mon."

"Okay, Hotshot." Leia answered in the same small, soft tone.

They locked eyes – hazel and umber, fire and ice, chaos and order; giving one another force of will, encouragement, physical strength, and yes– grim acceptance of the consequences if they failed.

"C'mon princess, we gotta do this." Han beseeched the princess one more time.

We…

It was a second, but it stretched out, the slow realization of how well they often worked in sync. In battle; back-to-back, rotating, maneuvering and firing around each other; all the while quipping and arguing – often the goal to make the other laugh, to urge the other forward. It had been three extremely long years of camaraderie, friendship, and repressed desire.

And teasing. Lots of teasing.

"C'mon, I've been waitin' three long years to have you climb on top of me." Han grinned. That'll get her moving.

Leia dangled limply, shocked into silence while momentarily processing what Han had said. And then she forgot her funk and retaliated, angrily swatting at Han, missing his face by a mile–but skating along the fabric of his coat. Her tears fled down her cheeks as she cursed righteously at him.

"You! Gods! Kriff you! How dare you! At a time like this!" Leia gasped, laughing.

"Please princess, we really don't have time for this kind of forepla–" Han squawked, as Leia batted at him again. Her hand almost caught the lapel of his parka.

A half shriek, and rage fueled her now. Leia wound up to reach for him once more. Her fingers snagged on the upper fabric of his sleeve. The familiar compressed lips of a reluctant, amused grin played upon her round pale features. Then she pulled, growling.

Damn, she's a hot little spitfire when she's pissed, Han thought admiringly. And yeah, that realization was for probably the thousandth time too. Blast, he was getting soft.

Grunting, Leia clambered up over the dangling Solo, her trembling fingers now numbed grey with the cold. She grit her teeth and hauled herself up by handful after handful of Han's belt, parka and finally the collar of his hood. The tips of her boots dug into him, hooking into the waistband of his trousers and pushing on his chest and forearm as she utilized Han's body as climbing handholds.

"C'mon Sweetheart, I ain't got all day to be just hangin' around." Han grunted, eyes squeezed shut in exertion.

An amused huff, "It's night. And cut the chatter, Flyboy."

Leia threw out her left arm, catching the shoulder epaulet of Han's coat. She clawed at his hood and sleeves, completing her scramble. Han ducked his head as her body finally slithered across his to settle safely on the ice on the side opposite.

Hauling on his parka again, this time to help him up. Leia displayed an unusual amount of physical strength for her size. There were times she seemed almost superhuman. Moving in and out of the realm of what was deemed possible for a regular human female. Was she aware of this? Was it some training she'd undergone on Alderaan? Han wondered at it.

Once up, Han and Leia locked hands and shared a look. Both panted lungfuls of curling steam into the air. A few more ominous groans emitted from the ice beneath them and they startled. Han let out a nervous laugh, while Leia took command and led them further on. Hands still linked, they cautiously scraped and skittered well away from the glacier's edge. New cracks and crevices were visible through the looser, freshest layers of snow route to the upper access point was partially crumbled.

Finally, with hearts pounding and eyes bright with adrenaline focus, they struggled to reorient themselves and make their way back into the base. Halfway to the upper access hatch that broke out into the top of the ice surface from the Rebel's base below, they finally collapsed in relief – Han on his hip, and Leia on her knees. Each stared with wonder at the other, accompanied by mutual unspoken shared relief and that other thing that constantly lurked between them.

Leia careened onto her back in exhaustion. And with a groan, Han was already there, the piton still embedded in the chill and adrenaline-stiffened crook of his fingers. He picked at it. Ouch. Ow...

For the moment they lay there—trying to regain their senses. Han with his jaw clenched, as he gingerly worked at his injured hand. The panorama of star lit snow was a contrast to the waning panicked beating of their hearts. Loose grains of snow began to lift off the glacier's drifts. The breath of wind brought a chill as it further stripped the heat from Leia and Han's gasping, prone forms. Wind borne snow just off the surface flowed in tiny rivulets of glittering crystal all around them.

Throwing her arms akimbo, Leia loudly exhaled, a near-wail, "GODS! Really!?"

"Don't think that went down through to the base." Han considered the depth of the surrounding fractures. "No alarms. But I bet they felt it."

"How do we always get into this sort of thing? This is ridiculous."

"Yeah, I can think of more enjoyable methods where we can end up together, panting, sweaty and on our backs like this." Han chirped, casually examining the piton embedded in the flesh of his fingers. Ooh, ow.

"Keep dreaming, Flyboy." Leia wheezed, exhausted but relieved.

"Oh. Trust me. I do. I really do. In them, you always tell me how great it was after." Oops. That one was out before he could stop it. Han was sure she'd probably either hate him or hit him for that one.

As it turned out, it was both. And one hundred percent worth it.

Leia popped her head up at him with an incredulous look and lightly smacked his hip with her wrist. Han's eyes slid to hers and a lazy, sinful grin tilted his lips. Still that tightness curled in Han's chest, but marked by the warm glow of Leia's widening smile. If only…

"You're terrible." Leia admonished with a groan, shaking her head at him. Her braids were tumbling out of their corona, and draped in fraying loops over her shoulders. Her round, delicate features were limmed by starlight, and gave the princess an ethereal glow. Han was enchanted. It didn't take much these days, but he was once again smitten stupid with her. Damn it.

Han went for it. He figured he knew her pretty well by now. Leia the pittin was out, not the nexu lioness (though he relished her too, that and all of Leia's other facets)...So Han gambled and blithely carried on, drawling, "Nah. Not like that. More like – breathy and satisfi–"

The princess rolled her eyes animatedly, eliciting a low chuckle from Han. Leia responded with a crisp backhand to Han's stomach—getting a harsh wuff! out of the smuggler, before he guffawed even harder. Mock-pummeling him, the princess scolded and swore at Han, her language infinitely more colourful than it would be amongst her troops housed below. Han affected a prim accent and chided her for her atrocious language, so direly unbefitting a young lady of her breeding and position. Outraged, Leia resorted to smothering his teasing by mooshing her hands over Han's mouth, which got them both to the point of cackling.

Yeah, he probably did lov–

"I hate you." Leia's dark eyes sparkled, and what came out of her mouth was entirely opposite to how it sounded. In answer, Han just grinned at her cheekily.

"I know." He quipped, as if what she'd said was the most inoffensive thing in the world.

And when, with a snort, Leia joined in once more, dissipating the remaining tension with that gorgeous husky alto, it was–Han swore–at that instance– the most magical thing he had ever heard.


A/N: Ah wrote that last "I hate you. I know" bit in waaaay back 2016— fun to see it done in Solo! Aaand it took 5k+ words of angst just for Leia to be hauled off the edge of a cliff? Ah yes, the beloved realm of fanfic. Thanks so much for sticking with me!

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