Owphoenix: Thanks!

Sweetdeath04: Thank you! Glad you liked Leia's inner monologue-ing!

CountryBandChick: It's okay, I get easily confused myself! I once uploaded a document thinking it was the next chapter to be posted and it turned out it was three ahead . . . that would have been interesting if I had left it that way, ha-ha! Thanks for reading!

GreatOne: Rub it in? Leia? No-o-o-o-o way . . . lol! Thanks!

StonedRose: Thanks!

dm1: Thanks! Erm, here's a brief explanation of the escape . . . hope it satisfies, ha-ha!

Herhighness33: No worries, I lurk a lot myself. Thanks for the comments! They makemy day!

SongoftheWind: Insane little man is left to his own devices for the time being. He's free of charge, if anyone wants him! Thanks for reading!

Starrunner: Thanks! And I don't mind the awesomes!

Trout/Julia/Spectra: Thanks for the compliments! Don't worry, I won't start signing autographs at the Geek Club meetings, I promise!

Okay, guys. Here's the final chapter.

Thanks for being so wonderful with your comments and suggestions. They've helped me improve this story even while it was still in my brain!

It's been fun! Thanks so much!

Han could not stop staring at Leia.

Since their frantic escape from Anselm, and, in fact, once he had seen her break into their cell, Han had been acknowledging a nagging at the back of his mind. And through the reckless jaunt through the city and Leia's quick call to Chewie, he had pushed it back into the recesses of his mind. When Chewie had come thundering through the speederlane in the Falcon, Han had thrown that thought as far back as he could. As he had manically piloted his ship past the half-assembled blockade and pulled the lightspeed lever, Han had forced himself to concentrate on his survival.

But now Han had time.

And Han was able. So simple. A few steps . . .

And now he was completely incapable of approaching her.

At the moment, she was sitting at the holochess table, talking quietly to Luke, completely oblivious to his presence. Giving him free reign to drink in the sight of her. And as much as he wanted to actually talk to her, he couldn't seem to get his feet to move or the words to call attention to himself. It's like a dream. He watched her as she talked, noting the way that her throat moved, her hands emphasizing her words of their own volition. Her hair was swept up in a single braid pinned up at the nape of her neck, and small locks had come undone during their escape from the prison.

That reckless, stupid escape that she shouldn't've – Han stopped himself. He wasn't perhaps the best person to criticize Leia and Chewie's plans. He himself had initiated stranger and more ludicrous escapes in his lifetime. But his rational mind was slowly losing the battle, as it seemed to do whenever Leia was involved. She could have been hurt, captured. Killed. Han shuddered. Who does she think she is? How does she expect to survive things like that?

Han turned away, too much in turmoil to look at her anymore. She's always doing things like this! Always risking her neck for some stupid reason . . . Hopeless causes, foundationless ideals, a false sense of responsibility to people she doesn't know. Will never know. If I lose her again –

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the hatchway. I can't do this. I can't deal with this. Han sighed and lowered his head. How did this happen? When did I become so wrapped up in this woman that I can't picture life without her?

When did I stop being Solo?

Han opened his eyes and turned back towards the hatch in time to see Leia look away from Luke and notice him. He offered a weak smile and she suddenly was up and moving toward him. Han's arms slipped around his princess, drawing her in close. She sighed and returned the embrace, a relieved smile pressed against his chest.

Han didn't see Luke get up and leave. He couldn't understand why he was standing in the hatchway.

All he knew was that Leia was here, and this was where he wanted to be.

Gods, Leia! Why? Why do you do this to us? "Leia," he breathed.

She looked up at him, brown eyes to focus on green. The way she looks at me . . . She was silent a moment, appearing as if she was summing up enough courage to tell him something. Courage – why can't she be just a little bit weaker? Less strong? Less independent? She opened her mouth and then gave a small sigh of frustration, rolled her eyes, and tried again.

"Han, I am so sorry. I never meant to put you through all that. If I could, I would have stopped it, prevented it, but I couldn't! It was out of my control! I'm sorry. I just – " She stopped. "The timing was supposed to work out. You were supposed to be at Coruscant, safe, with me. I was to tell you about it. All of it. You would have known - " She lowered her head, her lashes slightly glistening. Is she crying? "Han, I can't imagine. I don't know – "

Han couldn't take it anymore. She's crying! Why in space is she crying? "Sweetheart. Hey, calm down." He pulled her back into his arms, dropping his chin onto the top of her head as her shoulders slightly shook. "Look, I'm not gonna say it was real easy. And I can't say that I really understand. But – " I love you, I need you, I can't be without you. Can't imagine one more day without you. "It's okay. It's fine."

He shifted a real smile on his face as she looked up. "But, you ever, ever,do that to me again, and I swear you'll never leave the Falcon again. Do'ya hear me?"

She nodded, eyes brightening, as she settled down against his chest again. "That would be awful. Stuck in a junk pile like this with a noisy Wookiee and an arrogant pirate?" She sucked in a breath as if in horror. "I don't think I'd survive."

Chuckling, he broke the embrace and sat on the holochess table. "How do'ya think we'd do? Me an' Chewie, waiting on some prissy princess with more hair than that noisy Wookiee?"

She sat next to him. "Ah, but you like the hair, nerfherder."

"When did I ever say that?"

Leia leaned in close, their noses almost, but not quite, touching. "You didn't have to."

"Sweetheart, I – " Noticing the expectant look on her face, he very nearly complied with the unasked request.

And then the more cynical part of his brain chimed in.

"I'm hungry. Are you hungry?" He straightened up, very nearly laughing out loud at her disappointed expression. "Let's get something to eat, huh?"

She stood up. "You're going to make me work for this, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"And it's going to be worth all the groveling . . . "

"Of course."

" . . . and the sweet-talking . . . "

"You're a politician, that's all you do, anyway."

She appeared to consider that. "Even politicians don't deserve that kind of torture, Han."

"I dunno, Your Highnessness. Fey'lya could use it."

"You're whining about Fey'lya?" She linked her arm through Han's and steered him toward the galley. "But he's so honest, kind, and goodhearted – "

Han snorted. "And people accuse me of bluffing."

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"I didn't say 'you.' I said 'people.'"

"Yes, but I'm the one who's complaining about you the most." Arriving in the galley, Leia jumped on the counter next to various sets of machinery, her feet dangling off the floor. "So, what're you making for your savior, huh, flyboy? Something to pay me back for dragging you out of your own mess?"

"I'm making something for myself. If the poor, helpless princess that I went to save wants something to eat, she's gonna have to shut up."

"You didn't save me."

Han reached into the refrigeration unit. "It's not my fault you got yourself outta there first. Don't complain about your brother and your – " He glanced at her and shut his mouth. What the hell is wrong with me?

"My what?"

Your best friend, your lover, your protector, your . . . husband? Han shut his eyes and sighed. No. Not yet. Someday, yes. But now - He loved the idea of marrying Leia, of being with her everyday for the rest of his life in a way that was inarguably stable, permanent. Having some sort of formal recognition of their relationship. Some form of ownership. But – I'm not ready. It wouldn't be fair to her. I just need time. Han knew, knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he wouldn't marry anyone but Leia, that he was firmly committed to her in every sense of the word.

But I'm just not ready.

"Hey." Leia slipped off the counter and walked over to loosely put her arms around his waist. "I'm not expecting a proposal here." She chuckled. "You look like you're about to jump out of the airlock."

"Sweetheart, I can't – I mean, I don't want to, uh, you know, um, until . . . and I want to, but – "

Leia cut him off. "You don't have to do anything until you're ready. And – " she winked at him mischievously, "who says I want to give up my wild bachelorette days, hmm?"

That floored him. "Wild bachelorette days? You go to meetings, train with Luke and see me. What's wild about that?"

"Oh, you haven't seen some of those meetings, Han." Stepping back from him, she smirked at him as she backed away. "And you. You aren't exactly safe. You are, in fact, a terrible influence."

He came forward to her, relieved that she had given him an escape corridor, and brought his mouth close to her ear. "Hmm. Terrible influence?"

She sighed. "Awful."

He laughed and pulled away to look into her eyes. "Then you're right. We shouldn't end your wild bachelorette days just yet."

"I completely agree – "

Han wouldn't, couldn't, let her finish, couldn't stand the anticipation or the wait any longer. Cutting her off, he brushed her lips with his own, barely a kiss, more a touch. He kept his eyes open as he did it again, watched as she closed her eyes – beautiful, amazing eyes – and a third time, until he actually kissed her, feeling her arms slide around his neck and hands push up into his hair, pulling him even closer to her. I could stay here forever. Feeling Leia pressed up against him, his thoughts congealed together, becoming a mass of emotion and observations too intense for him to discern. This is right, this is what I lost. He broke off the kiss, moved his lips to her closed eyes, her temple and then to her hair. I can't lose this. This is what I need, want, love. He held her, nose and mouth against her hair, merely experiencing her scent, the way she nestled into his chest. Never. Never out of my sight. What would I do? Who would I become? He closed his eyes, felt her shift her head, her mouth maddeningly close to his ear, breath whispering softly, and solely, to him.

"I love you."

He held her tighter, knowing that any cheap, recycled response would be inappropriate. Private jokes and flowery, unoriginal, overused words wouldn't answer, couldn't answer, that declaration. He couldn't put it into words. Metaphoric phrases were useless to him. She knew – I know you know – the extent of his ties, his devotion, to her, and nothing less than the perfect, faultless, expression of what they both knew would suffice.

I would do anything, everything, to hear you say that forever. To be with you. To look at you, see you, wake up with you, everyday. Experience your life with you. To hear you laugh. Hold you as you cry, apologize when it's me that does it to you. To fight with you, ignore you, annoy you and be annoyed in turn. To show you what you are to me every second you're with me, every morning when you leave and every night when you come back. To grow old, useless, to everyone but you. And I will. I couldn't live if I didn't. Soon. Soon, I'll start this, give you what you secretly want. What you deserve. I will. Just give me some time, Sweetheart. You're everything I can't believe I have, everything I don't deserve, every fantasy I've ever had. Just give me time.

So he held her – my princess, my life – and explained to her everything she was to him, would be for the rest of his life, without saying a single word. Because she already knew.

The End!

PS: I realize that you may feel deprived of the actual escape, and I understand! But this story was, for all intents and purposes, about characterization and the relationships between our three beloved heroes. The action would have slowed down what I considered the true flow of the story, so I edited it out. Plus, I don't like writing action, lol!

PPS: I also know that certain readers, coughGreatOnecough (I'm kidding, oh illustrious fellow Leia-cide-er . . .), wanted a proposal/wedding scene, and I officially get the bad author award for not giving in. (I wrote the proposal scene late one night, kept it, and chewed on it for awhile. Then I considered a bit more of a risqué turn at the end, and even asked my roommate about it, but genuinely felt that this is the way the characters would have responded.) I know, I know – it's kinda a letdown. But I added in the much loved mush at the end, so I can forestall my own hanging for awhile, eh?

Again, thank you! Press the review button one more time, if you please . . .

KR