Author's Note: Hey, all. It's been over two months, but I finally am updating. :) So cheer! Or groan, or whatever. Really sorry this took so long. My AP test was approaching and it's finished now so yay. But yeah. Okay. Really sorry, I swear. While this chapter is a load of talk, I really do happen to like it. :) Chapter twelve, everybody!


CHAPTER TWELVE: TIME BY MEALS

Groggily, her eyes flickered open into the now-familiar sterile whiteness of her prison quarters. Little had changed in the room since her arrival which was, by her count, seven standard days ago. She figured two meals a day and she's had thirteen meals. While she had very little concept oftime because she would sleep for hours and then wake up and time was passing too slow for its own good, that was the best her logical reasoning gave her.

She pushed herself off of the cot, automatically pacing to the door and back as if that would do anything. She figured, from all of the holofilms she's seen (yes, although an ambassador and the Lady Imperial Princess she still did find time to be a semi-normal teenager), that being a political and war prisoner would be a bit more... exciting. But no. It had been a week (or thirteen meals, however one would want to look at it), and there were none of the interrogations in poorly-lighted rooms, no fantastic escapes... she just sat there.

And it bored her.

Hell, she would even have welcomed a visit from Mon Mothma, if only to release her nervous and pent up tension and energy. Somehow, arguing was always a way for her to relieve stress. It was one of Leia's attributes.

On her fourth pace back to the bed, Meal Fourteen arrived.

Taking a sophisticated look at the holocam, which was pointed toward the door and her bed to make sure she didn't have a plastic knife or something similar that she could escape with, she slowly knelt down and picked up her food. The girl then walked back to her bed and sat down, picking up the metal spork and unceremoniously and nonchalantly stabbing at the chicken and putting it in her mouth.

Still chewing, she let out a sigh through her nose and slumped, staring at the door ahead of her. Just through two inches of durasteel is freedom, she thought wistfully.

Freedom. To where? Further inside the Rebel base? She was stuck, and there was no denying it. She was in a helpless position with no hope of rescue. Trying to stay idle, she wondered if they were going to torture her. Somehow, she thought that they wouldn't.

Freedom.

Leia switched to her rice, taking a small spoonful.

Was her father looking for her right now? No doubt. But he wouldn't find her, would he? She could almost feel his pain and tension – but Leia simply accounted that to the fact that she was feeling a lot of pain and tension at that moment as well. Was he commanding his Star Destroyer? Was he staring at the viewport, his hands linked behind his back, contemplating the stars and wondering which one she was at?

Or was she even in a star system at all, rather floating out in aimless space on a Rebel ship? If so, how would they ever find her?

Darth Vader had once told her that he had, when he was still very young, dreamed of going across the galaxy; star hopping until he saw every single one of them. Leia had been ten years old, and giggled, because even at that age she had known the sheer vastness and enormity of space.

She swallowed, and sighed again. All she could do was hope for the best – hope for a rescue, trust in her father and his powers to save her --

-- save her.

Who had saved her? Back on the battle station, the Death Star? How had she ended up here, when the last she was able to remember was burning lungs and sparks flying everywhere and a heap of brown robes (and indescribable anger and pain)...? Then she woke up here, and her mind wasn't able to fill in the gap and then, for some reason, Leia started to think about the dreams she had.

It had been the same since the first day she woke up – she was being led by a person without a face down several dark corridors, aimlessly, always plagued at the thought of an oasis nearby in the hot stuffiness of it all. They would pass rooms where the doors were locked, but people were either arguing or crying or screaming and she thought, at one point, she heard a baby.

... Leia hated the dreams. They frightened her, and she would always wake up with stiff and jerky muscles and her hairline sheened with the lightest layer of sweat.

The dreams had never changed – the arguments, although she was unable to hear them, always seemed to be about the same thing. The only difference was that she sometimes caught different snatches of words, or the sudden feelings were varied in character...

Leia always wondered what they (whoever 'they' were) were arguing about.

She looked down at her empty white dish, realizing that she had finished a while ago, considering how the rice was clinging and molding into the plastic.

Sighing, she set it neatly against the wall on the floor next to her bed, adjusting the spork so it was parallel to the sides of the plate. Satisfied, she stood, walked to the other side of the room, then back and sat down again.

Her legs were restless; her mind was restless; she had had far too much time in solitary to think, and now her mind was overloaded with thoughts that she had to get out somehow. At home, this was usually done with her father or with Zach or in a datapad report. She honestly didn't really know anyone else; the admirals were not people that one was able to talk to.

Except Zach, maybe, but even he had his days where he was too tense or busy. She enjoyed his company because he was a nice man, and he was good-looking and respectful. But now that she thought... it all seemed very passive, didn't it? Their whole relationship.

Leia shook her head, clearing her thoughts. No, she definitely had way too much time on her own. Zach was respectable, honest, and worthy; what was she thinking?

She pushed that thought aside, turning to other things; thinks she had already pondered on but that she didn't mind going over again. At one point, she started to restlessly pace around without realizing what she was doing. Leia didn't know how long she was doing this; after all, she didn't have any concept of time anymore.

Then, all of the sudden, the characteristic hiss of an opening door sounded. Startled, she wheeled around to find a redhead ducking in, with the two guards behind her as before.

Leia stared, stunned, for a moment, at Mothma. She realized how she must look, with her long brown hair messy and her face devoid of any makeup she may have had when she first arrived. It made her feel self-conscious and then the Princess stood up straighter, relaxing her shoulders and lifting her chin to emphasize any sort of intimidating stature that she didn't have.

The Supreme Commander gave her a smile and Leia felt like spitting; but instead she marched over to her bed (which she had just realized she had made) and sat, crossing her legs and keeping her back as straight as a board.

"Yes?" she inquired, as if she owned the place. Which, of course, she didn't.

"Hello, Princess Skywalker," answered Mothma, a foot taller than Leia since she was standing. The redhead didn't overbear.

Leia remained silent.

"I told you that I would come again, once you were calmer."

"And your wait has done nothing but to increase my disquiet," she almost snapped; her features were neutral.

"However, you seem to have a stronger grip on your mind and emotions than last time."

Once again, the brunette didn't answer. They sank into a silence that crackled with tension. Instead of looking at Mon Mothma, Leia's eyes drifted over to the two guards – they were both young and wearing dark blue and loose suits that looked more like they were ready to jump into a starfighter than to walk around base. They had comlinks in their ears but, otherwise, their heads were unburdened by hats or helmets. However, she noticed that each had blasters attached to the belts that were hanging low on their hips.

It was much different than the guards she was used to back home; things were less formal and stiff. They didn't even keep their heads straight forward; one was staring at the back at Mothma's head, frowning slightly, and the other was looking at her; his light blue eyes were contemplative and piercing into her uncomfortably.

Leia snapped her own brown eyes away, looking back at Mothma who seemed to be waiting for her to speak.

"Is there a reason that you're here, Mothma?" she asked rudely. "And I don't see why you need guards behind you; I'm not about to attack you with my spork."

She gestured at the plate. Mothma allowed a humored smile. "Just for precaution, Princess. It's not everyday that you are able to be so close to your greatest enemy, is it?"

Leia shrugged.

"And, coincidentally, there is a reason that I have came. I wanted to say that we have contacted Lord Vader."

The girl stiffened at the mention of her father, her eyes suddenly becoming focused and hopeful and expectant and surprised all at once; without thinking, she leaned forward eagerly, and said, "What did he say?" Pause. "And why are you telling me this?"

"Because it concerns you."

There was a brief second of complete silence.

"What did he say?" she repeated.

"He demanded your return lest we want total and brutal annihilation; promised torture." She shrugged, but seemed oddly satisfied. "However, that would have happened even had we not have had possession of you."

"With good reason!" Leia cried. "And don't call me a possession."

Mothma surveyed her for a moment. "Prisoner, then," she allowed. Leia was surprised, and it showed – then she realized what was happening. Oh, gods. No, Skywalker, no! What the hell are you doing!

She wiped the emotion from her face and fell mute. No. Why had she let Mothma see her weak side? Of course, that's why she's satisfied... ah, no.

Clenching her jaw, she let her deep eyes meet the Commander's light ones again.

"And why did you contact him?" Leia asked, stiffly and quietly.

"Ransom," replied Mothma. "Mostly. We decided to give it a shot. You in exchange for money. However, we didn't expect Vader or the Emperor to comply. And they didn't."

She tried to push down the feeling of indignation and hurt, but it was putting up a fight. Her jaw was so tight that it hurt, and she felt like she was pushing her teeth further up into her gums.

Somehow, Leia wrenched her jaw open.

"Where am I?" she asked in a hollow voice without expecting an answer.

Once again, Mothma surprised her with one.

"In the Ring," she answered vaguely, one corner of her small mouth turning up in light amusement at a personal joke of hers. Leia scowled. "That is all," she concluded, turning. "Good-bye, Princess Ambassador."

Leia gave no sign that she heard her. However, she did hear the door opening and light footsteps start to leave.

"Lars – now," came Mothma's voice again.

Leia's head snapped up to see that the blue-eyed guard had lingered behind, and was still casting her an odd look. Leia watched as he left.

With its characteristic hiss, the door closed.


She didn't want to be here, but she was.

She didn't want her life to be collapsing around her, but it was.

She didn't want to be the helpless maiden, but she was.

She didn't want to cry, but she did.


Leia was a wreck – because there is no other word that can possible display her state so completely. Despair had fallen heavy seven days (or thirteen/fourteen meals) past the second visit; she had been in the cell for two weeks or more, and the utter desolation she was feeling had started to take its toll.

It was pathetic, really – even she knew it. She hadn't showered in two days. She ate little of the small amount of food they gave her. Mothma had made one more appearance, and Leia had pretended to be asleep and ignored her. Presently, the woman had left and Leia berated herself for hours for being so wretchingly petty.

Sleep, if possible, had been worse. The dreams (nightmares) hit her with such clarity that she felt as if something was pushing down on her, warning her, trying to give her hope – but she couldn't pinpoint it. She couldn't pinpoint anything.

The fact was was that she was lonely. She missed her father desperately. She missed Zach. She missed her room, she missed her watches. She wanted her life back, she wanted her job back. She hated sitting here and doing... nothing.

Leia hated it viciously.

And as of now? She was eating, actually. Slowly, and with much of pushing of the food around the plate, but she was eating. It was either meal fourteen or fifteen, she couldn't quite remember.

And, as things like that tend to happen, the door opened again. Because life loved her and she loved it when Mothma came to visit and she loved it even more that she wasn't able to pretend that she was asleep because she was not in the mood to deal with it right now.

So, Leia ignored her. She took measured bites, slowly, waiting for the woman to take the hint and leave. But Mothma apparently didn't take the hint because she didn't leave (or, most likely, she took the hint but didn't care).

So Leia ate – not too slow so it wouldn't seem like she was reluctant to eat around her and so it wouldn't convey her dolefulness, and not too fast so she wouldn't seem too hungry – a weakness. She had already shown a weakness, and it wasn't about to happen again.

Leia sensed rather than saw Mothma sit down. (On what?) However, she didn't look up until she finished the last bite and put it on the floor.

When she did raise her eyes, she saw Mothma on a hover chair, studying her with interest. Leia decided to cut right to the chase.

"Why do you keep coming here?" she demanded icily.

Mon Mothma didn't answer right away; she seemed to think about that for a moment. Then, "You intrigue me." Leia must have looked startled, because the older woman elaborated. "You are so vehement about your father, about defending your Empire," she spat the word, as if it was despicable. Leia scowled at her once more, offended. "Yet..."

She trailed off. Leia found herself waiting for what Mothma had to say. She wanted to know.

"I get this feeling that you're really... good. Good, at heart." There was a pause in which Leia scoffed. "Like your mother."

She felt her face contort in rage. How dare her! How dare she, the Empire's greatest enemy, mention Leia's mother to her face!

"Don't talk to me about my mother," she growled through clenched teeth. "Don't you ever say anything to me about her ever again."

She watched through narrowed eyes and pursed lips as Mothma stepped down, playing by Leia's rules even though the younger girl had no power whatsoever.

"Besides," she started up, feeling the bubbling restlessness and hurt and despair in the pit of her stomach seeping over the surface. "You tell me about my vehemence in defending the Empire? Defending order and peace! What is there to defend, that speaks for itself!"

"Order? Rigid, controlling, oppressing. Peace? Forced."

"Forced?" Leia repeated, astonished. "The only places where there isn't peace are the places where you and the Rebellion have been."

"We're trying to liberate the galaxy, Princess. The Empire is structured around the economy and adding to Palpatine's power."

Leia felt as if she were about to burst with all the arguments trying to force themselves out of her at once. "The Empire is a benevolent one, Commander. It maintains order and society; there is no more petty arguing among Senators that get nothing done. That is why the Republic collapsed – they were unable to hold themselves together. It was weak, whereas the Empire is strong and decisive; it adheres to rules, it adheres to the due process of law --"

"Like it did with Alderaan?" Mothma countered smoothly. Leia felt her mouth shut and her stomach clench in remembrance of its destruction.

The Supreme Commander observed her quietly and sadly, giving a small smile and standing up. "Good night, Ambassador."

And she left.

The door hissed shut.

Leia realized, while looking at her empty plate, that Mothma had had no guards with her.


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