Han yawned as his eyes fluttered open, his vision ruled by the green of trees jutting up into a azure sky, the foreign sound of native wildlife giving depth to the world around him as he came to full consciousness. He shifted to his side, letting his head roll onto his left ear, his eyes almost in line with the ground so that when his gaze fell upon the back of Leia's head, she seemed further in distance than he had remembered.
It hadn't been a dream. He was laying on the rocky, moss ridden forest floor of a planet he'd never heard of with guard-pack rations for food and a torn, uncomfortable dress uniform for clothing. The word that his superiors had used to describe his little political venture had been "vacation." He begged to differ.
The only upside was in itself the worst part of the whole situation: Leia. In truth he couldn't have asked for a better person to be stranded with, if one was judging by skill and proficiency at getting in and out of a scrape, but he'd have gladly been stranded with an inebriated Kowalkian Lizard Monkey at the North Pole of Hoth than spend time with her in any fashion.
He'd spent the last eight years avoiding her and in one week those years disappeared, nothing had changed since that day so long ago when she'd made her decision, when she'd walked away to become someone else's wife. They couldn't talk without fighting unless it was necessary to their immediate survival, they couldn't and wouldn't look each other in the eye, and both were too proud to fix it.
He'd screwed up royally with her, he knew. He'd asked her for more time, but he was just being a coward. What he told himself was that he wasn't over Bria, that he couldn't get over her, but somewhere he'd known it wasn't true. The guilt he'd felt all those years hadn't been about mourning Bria, somehow he'd already come to terms with her passing, it was about him defacing the love he'd had for her by loving someone else.
This is what had caused his hesitation, what had lead him to that day in Leia's apartments without an answer. He couldn't offer her anything to stay for because he wouldn't admit that he loved her, not then. He had been stupid enough to ask her to stay for nothing, no guarantees, and she wouldn't. So he lost his second love that day, and she might never know it.
If it was possible for one's heart to be torn into tiny, unmanageable and scattered pieces, then Han's had done it. He'd never admit it out loud, but it had hurt him even more than his wife's death, to see her walk out.
In a desperate attempt he'd gone to her wedding, pacing outside the Hall of Ceremonies, waiting for the determination to enter and break it up. But when he looked into the window, seeing Leia clothed in flowing robes and sparkling jewels he had seen a smile on her face. He'd never known if it was genuine, but it had told him all he'd needed to know. She'd forgotten what they had, or was willing to, and everything he'd hoped for was crushed.
He couldn't explain how much he hated her when he saw that smile, the gleeful look in her eyes. That night had meant nothing to her, that one time they'd been together, she'd already forgotten and moved on. It hurt more than anything to know that she didn't even care, he couldn't even look at her after that, not in the same way.
He hated himself the most, for going all mushy over her when he should have known how it would all turn out. It was almost a good thing that Isolder had come along, otherwise he might've ended up with her and regretted it.
"Why do you keep staring off like that?" Leia asked, pulling Han out of his thoughts and she fumbled through the guard's pack.
"Trying to wish my way out of this mess." Han sat up and leaned his torso against the rock behind him. Somehow it was a little harder to think about hating her when she was sitting in such close proximity.
"We should get moving," she said, ignoring his comment. "If the map's right then we shouldn't be more than a kilometer form the hanger." She tossed him some rations from the pack.
Han caught the rations in one hand has he rubbed the back of his neck, it had a kink in it from sleeping on stone-ridden ground. His utter loathing for Leia had faded in the last few moments, leaving behind only a mild discomfort as he watched her organize the items in the guard's pack, and sling it onto her back.
The two walked in silence for a quarter of an hour, giving neither any peace. The quiet between then was never a good one, it always echoed a longing or frustration which seemed to taint the air with a stale, melancholy taste. It wasn't till they heard a beasts call that either of them even gave the other a glance.
"That sounded [i]very[/i] close." Han commented, standing perfectly still.
Leia pulled the datapad out and checked the map on it again, zooming in on their supposed location. "Oh no...We're standing in the middle of a junjat nesting ground."
"What's a junjat?" Han asked. The name didn't sound so menacing, however Leia's reaction seemed to be slightly more concerned than he liked.
"Watch out!" Leia called as Han felt himself crushed to the ground. He reckoned that all this physical peril wasn't doing him any good as he felt his arm twist and his wrist joint being dislocated.
The best description Han could think of for the beasts that was attacking him was the ugliest, hairiest rat he'd ever seen. Calling it a mutated, midget Wookiee would have been complimentary. However, it didn't seem to matter so much what it looked like as it did that it's claws were heading straight for Han's head.
He felt his strength waning as he blocked the beast's blow, he was bleeding from some wound he couldn't locate and his breathing was becoming more sparse. He inhaled sharply as the junjat was knocked off him and he looked up to see Leia with a large rock.
Han's breathing was becoming shallow as he lay amazed at the look on Leia's face: she was afraid. As she knelt to help him he saw that she was looked to be genuinely scared for him and it totally confused him. In so many years of knowing her, in missions upon missions with the Rebellion, Han had never seen the Great Princess Leia in fear. Now, after all these years, after how much they both hate each other, she didn't want to loose him. She was afraid because she cared, without a shadow of a doubt, whether she would see him open his eyes to another morning.
He wanted with everything he had to lift his hand and touch her cheek, give her some kind of reassurance, some kind of gesture to tell her that he understood. It could have been the lack of oxygen going to his head, but years of animosity seemed to melt away for a moment.
Leia's head spun around to looked behind her and Han watched in horror as the beast came running back at her...
It hadn't been a dream. He was laying on the rocky, moss ridden forest floor of a planet he'd never heard of with guard-pack rations for food and a torn, uncomfortable dress uniform for clothing. The word that his superiors had used to describe his little political venture had been "vacation." He begged to differ.
The only upside was in itself the worst part of the whole situation: Leia. In truth he couldn't have asked for a better person to be stranded with, if one was judging by skill and proficiency at getting in and out of a scrape, but he'd have gladly been stranded with an inebriated Kowalkian Lizard Monkey at the North Pole of Hoth than spend time with her in any fashion.
He'd spent the last eight years avoiding her and in one week those years disappeared, nothing had changed since that day so long ago when she'd made her decision, when she'd walked away to become someone else's wife. They couldn't talk without fighting unless it was necessary to their immediate survival, they couldn't and wouldn't look each other in the eye, and both were too proud to fix it.
He'd screwed up royally with her, he knew. He'd asked her for more time, but he was just being a coward. What he told himself was that he wasn't over Bria, that he couldn't get over her, but somewhere he'd known it wasn't true. The guilt he'd felt all those years hadn't been about mourning Bria, somehow he'd already come to terms with her passing, it was about him defacing the love he'd had for her by loving someone else.
This is what had caused his hesitation, what had lead him to that day in Leia's apartments without an answer. He couldn't offer her anything to stay for because he wouldn't admit that he loved her, not then. He had been stupid enough to ask her to stay for nothing, no guarantees, and she wouldn't. So he lost his second love that day, and she might never know it.
If it was possible for one's heart to be torn into tiny, unmanageable and scattered pieces, then Han's had done it. He'd never admit it out loud, but it had hurt him even more than his wife's death, to see her walk out.
In a desperate attempt he'd gone to her wedding, pacing outside the Hall of Ceremonies, waiting for the determination to enter and break it up. But when he looked into the window, seeing Leia clothed in flowing robes and sparkling jewels he had seen a smile on her face. He'd never known if it was genuine, but it had told him all he'd needed to know. She'd forgotten what they had, or was willing to, and everything he'd hoped for was crushed.
He couldn't explain how much he hated her when he saw that smile, the gleeful look in her eyes. That night had meant nothing to her, that one time they'd been together, she'd already forgotten and moved on. It hurt more than anything to know that she didn't even care, he couldn't even look at her after that, not in the same way.
He hated himself the most, for going all mushy over her when he should have known how it would all turn out. It was almost a good thing that Isolder had come along, otherwise he might've ended up with her and regretted it.
"Why do you keep staring off like that?" Leia asked, pulling Han out of his thoughts and she fumbled through the guard's pack.
"Trying to wish my way out of this mess." Han sat up and leaned his torso against the rock behind him. Somehow it was a little harder to think about hating her when she was sitting in such close proximity.
"We should get moving," she said, ignoring his comment. "If the map's right then we shouldn't be more than a kilometer form the hanger." She tossed him some rations from the pack.
Han caught the rations in one hand has he rubbed the back of his neck, it had a kink in it from sleeping on stone-ridden ground. His utter loathing for Leia had faded in the last few moments, leaving behind only a mild discomfort as he watched her organize the items in the guard's pack, and sling it onto her back.
The two walked in silence for a quarter of an hour, giving neither any peace. The quiet between then was never a good one, it always echoed a longing or frustration which seemed to taint the air with a stale, melancholy taste. It wasn't till they heard a beasts call that either of them even gave the other a glance.
"That sounded [i]very[/i] close." Han commented, standing perfectly still.
Leia pulled the datapad out and checked the map on it again, zooming in on their supposed location. "Oh no...We're standing in the middle of a junjat nesting ground."
"What's a junjat?" Han asked. The name didn't sound so menacing, however Leia's reaction seemed to be slightly more concerned than he liked.
"Watch out!" Leia called as Han felt himself crushed to the ground. He reckoned that all this physical peril wasn't doing him any good as he felt his arm twist and his wrist joint being dislocated.
The best description Han could think of for the beasts that was attacking him was the ugliest, hairiest rat he'd ever seen. Calling it a mutated, midget Wookiee would have been complimentary. However, it didn't seem to matter so much what it looked like as it did that it's claws were heading straight for Han's head.
He felt his strength waning as he blocked the beast's blow, he was bleeding from some wound he couldn't locate and his breathing was becoming more sparse. He inhaled sharply as the junjat was knocked off him and he looked up to see Leia with a large rock.
Han's breathing was becoming shallow as he lay amazed at the look on Leia's face: she was afraid. As she knelt to help him he saw that she was looked to be genuinely scared for him and it totally confused him. In so many years of knowing her, in missions upon missions with the Rebellion, Han had never seen the Great Princess Leia in fear. Now, after all these years, after how much they both hate each other, she didn't want to loose him. She was afraid because she cared, without a shadow of a doubt, whether she would see him open his eyes to another morning.
He wanted with everything he had to lift his hand and touch her cheek, give her some kind of reassurance, some kind of gesture to tell her that he understood. It could have been the lack of oxygen going to his head, but years of animosity seemed to melt away for a moment.
Leia's head spun around to looked behind her and Han watched in horror as the beast came running back at her...
