Written for Angstober Days 2: Crack in the Mirror and 15: Drugged
"Han, leave me alone," Leia snapped. He did not, in fact, leave her alone. He had longer legs than her and they dogged her down the hallways of Echo Base, keeping pace with her easily.
"When was the last time you slept, Your Highnessness? Last I checked, weren't you telling the kid that—"
"It's none of your business, that's when." She stopped, whirled around, and jabbed her finger in his face. "Don't you have supplies to shift? Why are you following me?"
Han swerved back at the finger in his face, like it was a striking snake. He stared down at her with a look of offence. "Why am I following you?" he repeated. "You know, I don't get paid for this stuff with the Rebellion—"
"You do—"
"Not enough, that's for sure. Not for dealing with you!"
"Then don't feel obliged to deal with me," she said calmly, stepping around him and back towards her quarters. She blinked, realised she'd tracked down the wrong corridor—they did all look the same, under the snow—and backed up to choose the right one.
"Don't you know where your quarters are?" Han called after her. An officer carrying comms tech pushed past him.
Leia rolled her eyes and didn't answer.
"It's been two weeks since we got here! When was the last time you used them?"
She rolled her eyes again. So, that was what this was about. She used her quarters every night. They were a good, quiet place to look over reports, without people bothering her about her overworking herself.
Han was behind her again, reaching for her hand. She shook him off. "What do you want?"
He pursed his lips, glowering at her. "Luke's worried about you," he said. "Hell, Chewie's worried about you."
"Chewie worries about everyone," she retorted. "He's as bad as Threepio."
"Aw, don't be mean. Besides, Luke doesn't. He asked me to talk to you."
"No, he didn't." Luke and Leia were close enough that he'd talk to her himself. "Now, if you'll excuse me—"
"Don't you wanna talk to your friends, Princess? What—"
She reached the door to her room and took great pleasure in jabbing the lock button so hard that snow cascaded onto the floor. She rubbed her gloved hands together, hissing.
Good. Now that he was out of the way…
She stumbled to the tiny corner of her room that served as a refresher and clutched the edge of the sink. In the mirror above it, which was old enough that several cracks and one missing chunk of glass distorted her reflection, she looked pale and tired. As white as her snow gear and the snow around her. The braid that looped her head was starting to come undone—when had she last done that? It must've been last night.
There wasn't much time to spare on her appearance with all those probe droids Vader had launched to look for them, but it was important to look put together and in control. It was good for the soldiers' moral. So, she lifted her hands to undo and redo it, tugging her gloves off her hands and taking her frost-dusted hairs between her fingers. Just reaching up like that made her feel dizzy.
She shook her head, but that didn't clear it. It made her dizzier. She sat down on her bed for a moment, taking in a breath. When she opened her eyes to glance in the mirror again, she looked even worse.
No matter. There was a simple solution. She reached for the draw where she kept a hypospray and equipped it with a new needle.
A sharp knock rapped at the door. She groaned. "Han, I told you to—"
"It's not Han."
Luke did sound genuinely worried. She hesitated, then sighed, put the hypospray down at the desk, and went to answer the door. Luke was as reckless and interfering as Han, but at least he was sweet. And not nearly as frustrating.
"May I come in?" he asked when she did. Again, she hesitated, but let him in.
"I'm just getting changed before that meeting briefing all the squadrons," she said. "I wanted to redo my hair—"
"I can tell," he said gently, nodding at her hair. She smiled tightly. "Would you like some help?" He looked right through her.
It was incredibly intimate in Alderaanian culture for someone to take care of your hair, but Leia and Luke had done it to each other before. She trusted him. So, she nodded, handed him her hairbrush, and sat down on the bed as he sat behind her.
The rhythmic motion of the brush was soothing; several times, she noticed her chin tipping forwards, and had to gasp herself awake. Luke didn't comment on it. She had taught him quite a few of her hairstyles, but he didn't put in the one she'd been wearing around Hoth. He braided her hair into less practical, less severe plaits, two hanging down on either side of her head and looping into a bun at her back.
When he finished, she frowned, tilting her head. They bounced against her neck—not annoyingly, but it'd be distracting if she was trying to focus.
Then, to her horror, Luke glanced at the hypospray and asked what Han had asked, but far more quietly: "When was the last time you slept?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Han put you up to this."
"We came to the same conclusion separately and conspired together about it. Chewie's also in on it. As are the droids."
"Threepio betrayed me?"
"Threepio has been fussing for months. When was the last time you slept?" He nodded at the hypo. "There's only so long you can force yourself to stay awake."
"Dreams aren't friendly, Luke," she said. "It's like…"
"I know."
She paused. "You do?"
He swallowed. "It's like you're frozen in place, watching it all happen again. I'm standing watching their skeletons burn. I can't imagine what it must be for you. There's so many who have died in the war. I can't forget any of their faces."
"Exactly," she got out. She finally let herself close her eyes, then opened them again, forcing her tone to harden. "I have to be strong and on high alert. If I fail as their leader, countless lives on this base are lost. I can't afford to let nightmares unbalance me when we are all already unbalanced. And I can't afford to look anything less than prepared and ready to defeat the Empire. Otherwise, they'll lose faith."
"We've all been there, Leia," Luke said. "We won't."
"The image of a strong leader is vital."
"The reality of a strong leader is more vital. If you aren't operating at your best because you deny yourself essential things, you risk our lives all the more."
Leia narrowed her eyes at him. "Where did you get that from?"
Luke smirked. "General Rieekan and Senator Mothma are also a part of the conspiracy."
"Then why did they choose you for spokesperson? General Rieekan and Mon could just order me to sleep."
"You're famously rebellious," Luke drawled. Leia had to laugh. "I'm less threatening."
"You're more annoying, I think."
"It's still working."
She closed her eyes. "And Han?"
"Does his own thing. But he's right too. You need to let yourself rest. We can handle the slack in the meantime—you don't have to avenge Alderaan all on your own."
"Alright," she said. "Alright. I will. We just need to make that meeting with the other squadrons, then—"
"It's already started," Luke said. Leia gaped at him. "I told you Rieekan was in on it. Wedge is attending for Rogue Squadron."
"Then we need to hurry—"
"You don't have to be there, Leia," Luke soothed. "Would it be better if you were there, or better if you let yourself recuperate, so you can give your best work tomorrow?"
She deflated. It conflicted with the iron core at her heart, like a knife glancing off a knife sharpener, but she had to admit he was right. And… it was nice to be looked after. Sometimes. When they weren't obnoxiously fussy.
But even then. Her parents weren't around to be obnoxiously fussy anymore. She missed it.
"Will you stay with me?" she asked. She hated how weak her voice was. It was like she was willingly taking a hammer to the façade she fought so hard to maintain.
But no façade of hers had ever fooled Luke, anyway. Nor Han, but that was something else to think about.
"Of course," he said.
While she slept, Luke resting quietly in her chair, Han hovered outside the door to her room. He didn't dare enter or try to approach her, but he did quietly turn anyone who would disturb them away.
