'Dealing with it' wasn't exactly Leia's forte, and her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Yet, she sensed it; fairly humming beneath the surface, inevitable and as alive and buzzing as the blood flowing through her veins: the confrontation a long time coming, a conversation she'd spent years skillfully avoiding. Now, she knew, time had run out. They had passed a point of no return. She would have to face it, face it all, and she didn't know which confrontation was more daunting: with Han, or with herself.
Either way, it was unstoppable now.
She felt it thrumming to a fever-pitch, pulsating between them — all the frustrations and fears, confusions and longings, hopes and hurts woven into every fight they'd ever had over the past three years. All of it, building and building to a dangerous level, long overdue for release and only compounded by the events on and aftermath of Ord Mantell. Ord Mantell, which electrified and devastated them both in equal measure. Now all those pent-up emotions were ready to explode violently enough to give even Mustafar a run for its money — and if she wasn't careful she'd be taken down by the violence of the eruption.
For years, Leia had fought against what she felt for Han for a variety of reasons, chief among them fear: fear of wanting something, needing someone, loving someone again only to lose them. And it didn't help that Han was who he was: smuggler, mercenary, keeping himself carefully uncommitted to the cause — to her — making it quite clear he was transient, fleeting, just a temporary presence in their lives.
Long before she admitted to herself that she was in love with him, even before she'd let herself acknowledge that she wanted him, she'd had the secret hope of converting Han to the cause, legally contracting him to the Alliance — and, by proxy, to herself — as a means of ensuring that he be more than just temporary. It was a longshot, to be sure. In some ways, even more so than Luke's fateful shot. But she'd always believed that if she could only somehow convince Han then that would be it: he would stay; he would be hers.
So when Han told her before they left on their mission to Ord Mantell that he was staying, he was finally committing, he handed her something so deeply wanted, so longed for. And coming from the man who swore he'd never be tied down, never care about anything more than his own interests, well, they'd both known it signified. To Leia's mind, it obliterated the final thing standing between them, placed that last piece of the puzzle that made it possible for her to go from helplessly wanting him to letting herself have him. Because, knowingly or not, Han had spent three years proving that he was a good man who did care — and with him blessedly agreeing to stay, he'd be a permanent part of her life, which made it okay, safe, to finally let go with him.
It had never once occurred to her in this dream scenario of Han committing that he would ever still just walk away. In fantasy and in reality, she was certain that if Han ever got to that point of officially joining the Alliance, essentially going all-in, that meant it was it for him, too; he would never make such a commitment otherwise. Nothing in life was guaranteed, especially while they were at war. There was still the Empire, Vader, the Emperor, a millions' strong stormtrooper army — and, yes, Han's past criminal ties — that could pose a threat. Any of those things could still take him away, but Leia was positive that Han finally accepting a commission meant that he was the one person she no longer had to worry about.
Such surety, such misplaced faith left her blindsided after Ord Mantell, after Han announced he was revoking his promise, resending his commitment and voluntarily leaving. It had felt like such a deep, deep betrayal of trust — especially after what had nearly happened between them.
In the weeks since then, it had crossed Leia's mind that perhaps that wasn't entirely fair. After all, Han had made no promises to her, verbal or otherwise. She had felt them implied in his commitment to the Alliance, but maybe that was her fault, her mistake. Maybe she had read too much into things, created false hopes for herself and set up her own disappointment.
Maybe she had and maybe she hadn't, but the effect was the same: she was left deeply hurt, and feeling foolish and angry with herself for trusting, for feeling, for allowing herself to place so much stock in someone else, for leaving herself vulnerable, opening herself up to that pain. So she rebuilt the walls that Han had broken through since Alderaan. She shut herself back down — and hard.
Reversing that process was not nearly as easy as Han seemed to think. Learning to trust again, hope again, feel again, live again, be secure again after losing everything had been excruciating. Needing to do so all over again a second time felt damn near impossible when Han's leaving was no longer just a fear but a guarantee.
No matter how much she wanted to, how could she start something with him under such conditions? She would be a fool to try. So Leia kept her jaw clamped tight and didn't talk about what Han so desperately wanted her to address. To be entirely safe, she didn't talk at all.
What she failed to consider was that she wasn't the only one left reeling by the consequences of Ord Mantell. For Leia, it was every fear coming to fruition, and it tremendously complicated an already fraught situation. But for Han, it was an equally shattering experience. After making such a long coveted breakthrough, after coming so very close to everything he'd yearned for longer than he could even say, to watch Leia slip back into total denial was unbelievable and almost unbearable. He'd spent the weeks since Ord Mantell trying everything he knew to get her to at least acknowledge what had happened and why she was really upset with him, but to no avail.
Even now, when he was laying out his cards, no longer skirting the issue but asking her pointblank, it appeared she was going to continue to give him nothing, and Han just wasn't having it anymore.
"Still," he said, disappointment laced with astonishment dripping from the word. "Still nothing?" He waited a moment, and when no response came, plunged ahead. "Alright, Worship. Let me refresh your memory: we were in the circuity bay, you hurt your hand, I took it in mine, you were trembling, you—"
"My memory's just fine, Han," she cut him off before he could go into further detail, before he could list any other things she was, all the other ways she'd responded to him like a live wire. "Okay." Instinctively, her eyes darted uncomfortably down, but she forced them back up because she was Princess Leia Organa, dammit, and she wasn't cowering from this any more than she had from Vader. "It happened. You kissed me."
His heart lit up with a surge of pure joy at even that small victory. Ridiculous, he knew, but how long had he lived for even the smallest scraps from her? Having her finally own up that something had happened between them was hard-won and felt monumental, though he was aware it was the smallest hurdle to get over. This next one would be the true mountain to climb. "I did." Han dropped his hands to his waist, hooking his thumbs in his belt and capturing her gaze challengingly. "You kissed me back."
There was that deep baritone that did things to her — bad or good, Leia wasn't yet sure, but it certainly did them. Yet, she didn't look away. She was through backing down. "I did."
His eyes held hers intently. Everything came down to her answer to this next question; an answer Han already knew, but would she deny it or finally let herself own it? "Why?"
Leia was caught off guard, truly not expecting that response from him. She chided herself for not seeing it coming and therefore not being prepared, leaving herself momentarily unready to outmaneuver her opponent, but she really had thought he'd be satisfied with her admission of active participation. She'd expected gloating, not a further pressing for additional declarations. "Well…." she began evasively, buying for time while she came up with a counterargument. "….Well, you kissed me first. Why did you kiss me?"
There was no evasion in his reply; it came quick as a blaster bolt. "'Cos I wanted to," Han freely acknowledged. "I've been wanting to for three years; haven't made a secret of that. I want you, Leia." He pointed an emphatic finger at her before she could even start. "And not just in my bunk."
With that excuse heartily dismissed and unable to come up with another on the spot, her mouth snapped shut, her eyes awash in conflicted vacillation.
"I want you," Han continued, running with this momentum, "but I want you to want me, too. I can't take any more of this runnin' away, evasive maneuvers, actin' like it's all me, like your lips just accidentally collided with mine. How long is this gonna go on? How many more years? What's it gonna take to get you to say it?" It was ludicrous to even still need this conversation when she was so far beyond plausible deniability at this point. "Why not just say it? You can't pretend anymore that you don't want me. Not after that kiss. Not after Ord Mantell. It's too late for that. You took your hair down for me. You let me touch you, Leia. You had to know where that would lead. So why don't we stop pretending there's nothing between us? Better yet, why don't we do somethin' about it?"
Suddenly, Leia felt like a woman drowning, utterly unprepared to deal with the depth of this. Hadn't that been why she'd run away, both immediately following their kissing and again now that they were safely away and able to address it? A riptide of looming emotions — both hers and his — threatened to take her down, and she could either swim uselessly against the force of it or, once and for all, let go, let herself be swept away.
She remained silent but Han could see her struggling with it, literally see it in the array of feelings that sparked in her eyes. Desire, uncertainty, longing, fear, need; they were all there, evidence of an internal war visible on her face. "You can say it, Leia," he encouraged gently. "Tell me. It's just me." But still, she hesitated, and the most obvious reason taunted him. "Are you still too mad at me about Ord Mantell to see straight?"
"I was never mad," she finally spoke — quietly, and with what seemed to him like a boldfaced lie, but at least she was speaking again.
Han counted it as progress, though he couldn't help calling her on her denial. "You did a damn good job of pretendin' at it, then. I'm not blamin' you, Leia. Ord Mantell was messed up, and for so many reasons and ways, that was my fault; I accept that. But I'm—"
"I wasn't angry," Leia asserted again. "Not really. I was —" She bit her lip, deliberating admitting this weakness. "Han, I was hurt."
"I know, and I'm sorry. So sorry, Princess."
She read deep regret in his eyes, pain for her pain, and she knew he meant it.
"But, after everything, you gotta know I'd never intentionally hurt you," Han said in a way that came out far closer to pleading than actual statement of fact. "I know what it must've looked like afterwards, but I swear I wasn't just sayin' that stuff to get you to—"
"I know," she quickly cut him off, unable to bear hearing him voice it aloud, not when she could so strongly sense his very real fear that she thought that little of him.
"I meant it. All of it, Leia. I would have stayed. I had all that time." For her, for a sense of belonging and family — and then, yeah, for the Rebellion, too; he'd loved to see the Empire brought down, like to be a part of that himself. "I really was gonna join up."
"I know," Leia nodded, "I do. I never — " Well, maybe in a few uncharitable moments after he first told her he was leaving, but she never truly thought it. Han vowed to join the Alliance before they even left on their mission; he had no way of knowing how things would turn out, that they'd end up naked together in the ocean, that she would be the one to issue the invitation they both knew the taking down of her hair to be. Besides, if he was going to pretend to join the Alliance just to get her to have sex with him, he could have tried that years ago. "I don't think you lied to me. I don't think it was all a gambit to get me into bed without any real intention of staying. I believe you meant it. And I believe it was the bounty hunter that changed your mind."
It was his audible sigh of earnest relief that got her, that pierced through her defenses and made the rest come tumbling out. "But I don't care about the bounty hunter, Han; fuck the bounty hunter. So he tried to hurt me? Every day there are countless beings trying to hurt me. We all have bounties on our heads. Risk goes along with the territory. We both know it, and you know that I'm okay with that. What I'm not okay with is you making decisions for me, leaving me out of choices that directly impact me, giving me no say or determination in what is and isn't an acceptable risk for me. You robbed me of autonomy more swiftly and surely than Dodonna has ever managed to." Moreover, his logic made no sense: he'd leave to avoid inadvertently hurting her, but in doing so he was hurting her far more than any physical wound could.
"You shouldn't have to leave at all. Because I'm deciding what's best for me," Leia boldly declared. "It's my choice to make, and I'm willing to take on whatever risk comes with association — in the same way that you've taken on the risk that comes with associating with the Alliance, with me." Now that he had started this, there was no going back; she was putting it all out on the table. "And even if you do have to leave to take care of things with Jabba, why can't I be a part of it? Why can't I help you? Why can't we do this together, like every other mission we've been on? You alone do the caring and protecting, is that it? Because, if so, I'm not interested in something so one-sided." Her eyes flashed hurt as she told him, "I thought you would know by now that I'm not so fragile."
"I don't think you're fragile." Han blew out a breath of frustration; she wasn't giving an inch, but neither was he. "Shit, Princess, you're way stronger than me. But this isn't another mission. This is –– you don't fuckin' deserve to have to — These are my mistakes," Han asserted, pounding a fist against his chest, reliving all the disgust with himself in those moments he saw Leia lying there unconscious and bleeding because of him. "My bad choices from before we even met. I can't let that stuff hurt you."
"Then what about me?" Leia countered. "What about Alderaan? That was before I met you."
She was trying to be tough but he could hear the pain still present in her voice at the very mention of her lost world, and it tore him apart in the way it always did, in a way that made him want to protect her from anything that might make her life less than perfect for all the rest of it. "Not the same," he shook his head, adamant. "Not the same at all. That wasn't your fault."
"But it's still affected you. Going by your logic, you should never have to help me with it." Her tone softened unconsciously as she thought of random missions, broken nights when he held her, soothed her through the nightmares, through reliving the loss over and over again. "You should never have to comfort me, never try to reassure me. Because it's mine alone to deal with, from before I met you, and you shouldn't be burdened with it."
"No, I — That's not what I mean." Han ran a hand through his hair, perturbed, sensing a trap yet unable to comprehend how she could even begin to equate his sorry ass dropping a load of spice with the total obliteration of everything and everyone she loved. "Leia, it's not the same. This ain't an emotional burden. It's not about helping someone you ––" At the last second, he diverted from 'love' to say, "— someone you care about go through somethin' hard. I'll always be there for you, for that or anything else. But this is — kriff, this is life or death, Leia. Not even just death; death would be kinder. Do you have any idea what they would do to you?" he asked, his voice breaking at the end but he was too far gone in dread and terror at the prospect to properly care. "I do, and I'm not lettin' that happen. You can hate me for it, but I'm not. That's why I have to go. Not because I'm fickle; not because I'm tryin' to run out; not because I think you're fragile and can't handle yourself; and not because I want to make decisions for you. Just because I want to see you alive and unhurt. And I don't think you can fault me for that; I think you'd want the same for me. So you avoidin' and pretendin' there's nothing here?" He gestured between them. "It can't be about that, 'cos I've done nothin' wrong in that. So what is it, Princess? Why can't you just tell me?"
"I'm not — You make it sound so simple; it's not that simple," Leia protested.
"Why isn't it?" he dismissed. "It can be, if you let it. Do you want me to say it first? Is that it? Alright. You win. I'll say it first: I have feelings for you, Leia. For you, and no one else. I wanna hold you and kiss you. I wanna bring you your mug of caf just the way you like it. I want to talk you through your nightmares. I want to be right at your side while you kick Imperial ass, and I want you there with me while we clean out the Rogues at sabaac — hells, we could half fund the Alliance a new X-wing with the winnings from their Kiss or Kill bets. For the first time in my life, I want to —" Han shook his head, unable to yet articulate the full breadth of all he felt and wanted with her. "Leia, I want to start somethin' with you. I want to share somethin' with you, somethin' even bigger than all this craziness around us."
With eyes misted over and her breath caught somewhere in her throat, Leia took the remaining steps towards him, her heart seemingly with a mind of its own — and it wanted all those same things just as desperately. "Han, I—"
He put his hands to her upper arms, abruptly stopping her, though it would be so much easier to just let them melt together, yet not at all easier when she ran away again. "But I need you to say it. It can't all just be me. I've told you want I want, how I feel. Now if you want it, too, you've got to say it. I've got to hear it; I need that much," was his gruff request.
She opened her mouth, even took a deep breath to speak, but found the words stalled on her tongue. Something inside her still wouldn't — couldn't — let her guard down the rest of the way.
A new, more demoralizing thought occurred to Han, and he slowly nodded. "Or maybe the problem ain't Ord Mantell. Maybe the problem is that you want me but you don't have feelings for me, not to want all that."
There was obvious hurt in his words though he attempted to disguise it, and it pained her in return, twisting at that something in Leia's heart, loosening that fearful thing that kept her from speaking it all, everything Han wanted so badly to hear.
"Hey, I get it," he continued, trying at blasé bluster. "I been around the block. I've—"
"Nerfherder, of course I have feelings for you," she blurted out.
Han's eyes shot to Leia's; for a moment, his expression totally unguarded, caught somewhere between shock, disbelief, and elation.
"If I didn't have feelings for you, I never would have….Ord Mantell never would have happened," she confessed, her voice wavering a little in strength at the mention of that beautiful island and the devastating, disheartening aftermath.
At the time, the very fact of what was occurring on Ord Mantell was enough of a confirmation for Han, but now to hear it in actual, glorious, long-desired words brought the twitch of a half-smirk of unfettered joy to his lips. "You have feelings for me?"
In emotionally uncharted terrain, Leia smiled shyly, a becoming blush tinting her cheeks. "Yes."
"Well — well, good. That's fuckin' fantastic!" He slid his arm across her shoulders and tucked her close into his side, like back in Hoth's medbay with Luke. Only, this time, she didn't pull away. This time, she tentatively slipped her arm around the front of his waist and let her cheek press to his chest as he held her.
At the gesture, Han brought his free hand up, cradling her head to him, never wanting to let her go — all the more so when at the start of this very same day he thought he'd have to for good. "'Cos I got a whole lot of feelings for you," he told her, nuzzling his jaw into her hair.
She pulled back just enough to set her chin to his chest and smile brilliantly up at him. "You do — 'a whole lot'?"
"God, yes, I do." Han squeezed her happily tighter. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"
"Why didn't you tell me?" she laughingly riposted.
He shook his head ruefully. "'Cos I'm an idiot."
Han bent down to kiss her, but suddenly Leia stiffened in his arms and put her hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Wait.
He looked down at her questioningly, his arms falling from around her. Was this the molator dropping on a reality that seemed too good to be true?
"I never told you because —" Leia faltered in her admission, but she did trust Han, in spite of what had happened and the way things had been between them recently. He'd been honest with her and she owed him as much, difficult as it may be. "I never told you because I'm scared, Han."
From her earliest memories, she was being prepared for a life under public scrutiny; it came with the territory of being a princess. When she grew older, that preparation only intensified as she chose a career even further in the public eye, one that required always being strong, self-assured, and unrelenting — or at least projecting that appearance — and all the more so while she was simultaneously doing secret work for the Rebellion. It didn't take long for it to become deeply ingrained in Leia that, beyond the safe confines of her family and friends, feelings could be interpreted as weakness and certainly exploited as such. It left her at somewhat of a crippling disadvantage when it came to having or even seeking romantic relationships, a fact that exponentially intensified after all that had happened to her since.
"I don't know how to do…this," she expressed uneasily, gesturing between the two of them. "And when I feel outside of my depth, it makes me uncomfortable. I don't do vulnerable well; you know that about me. I've never done vulnerable well. It's not an easy thing to leave myself exposed. And after —"
She still didn't like to talk about it, particularly its affect upon her, but all that loss was so tied up in why she'd fought her feelings for Han this long that Leia couldn't talk about one without the other. "After Alderaan…." After she'd so cruelly lost her family, friends, and home planet — lost every sense of safety and comfort — 'exposed' became only a portion of her worries. After Alderaan, feelings became downright dangerous things, leading to nothing but pain, pain, and more pain. "After that, it's only gotten worse." And regardless of what he said, his leaving did matter. "There's a lot of risk involved in caring, Han, in feeling at all."
"I know, Sweetheart." He brought his arm around her upper back and drew her back against him. Bending one leg to bring himself down closer to her level, Han leaned in and brushed his lips across her temple. "I don't do vulnerable well, either. Hells, before you I didn't do vulnerable at all."
"So what are we doing then?" Leia asked quietly, trepidation plain in her voice. "Are we crazy to even consider this — whatever 'this' is?"
"Nah, we're not crazy," he reassured her while his fingertips ran feather-light paths up and down her back that set off tingles even through her snowsuit. "The crazy thing would be to do nothin' about it. And think of it this way," he said, his chin continuing to nuzzle her — he couldn't seem to stop; now that he'd been granted such permission, he was as bad as a purring Loth-cat in heat, "maybe if two people both gotta be vulnerable with each other, then neither one of 'em actually is."
Han felt her sigh more than actually heard it, a pleasant alleviation, a release of tension in her frame. A second later, she drew back to look up at him, a smile dancing in her eyes. "You do have your moments," she granted, adding mockingly, "And that, oddly, even makes a bit of sense."
"You're not the only one who's whip-smart," he grinned. "So what do you say we finally do this? Take things a day at a time, and go on as before — well, before Ord Mantel, preferably to a time when you didn't want to kill me," he smirked. "Only now, no more pretendin'. We go with what we feel, when we feel it, and just….let it happen."
"Slowly," Leia amended, meeting his gaze with a careful one of her own.
Though three years already seemed plenty slow to Han, he readily nodded. "Yeah, whatever you say, Princess."
She gave him a skeptically raised brow.
"No, I mean it. Honest. Slow and natural." As slow as she needed, and he knew that would be slow. Leia was like a guarlara that was easily spooked, and as ready as he was to take her to bed this very instant, he would do anything to keep seeing her smiling eyes, for just the chance to experience an unfolding — however gradual — of a new kind of closeness and intimacy with her.
To Leia, Han looked adorably hopefully as he asked, "Do you think we can do that?"
She pretended to consider it for half a second before breaking into a glorious grin. "We blew up the Death Star. Hell yeah, we can do it."
In that moment, though Han would have sworn it impossible, he fell in love with her a little bit more. Reaching up, he cupped her face, his thumb rubbing a gentle, reverent trail over the silken skin of her cheek.
"So you kind of have a thing for me, huh?" Leia said unexpectedly, flirtatious and teasing, her eyes sparkling with it.
Correction, he fell even more besides as she looked up at him all kittenish and playful and coyly enticing. Once upon a time, he would have turned it around on her: You've got a thing for me, Princess, and don't you forget it. Or played it off with a dirty quip about the 'thing' he had and just how much he'd love to give it to her. But right now he was a man in love, with all the euphoria of having his feelings returned. He felt too good, too happy, damn near bursting with joy, so he just owned it. "Yeah, I got a thing for you, Sweetheart. Figure it's about as big as this galaxy."
"Hmm, as big as the galaxy, you say? That'll do, then. Because the thing I have for you, Han Solo, is at least the size of the Anoat sector." She leaned up to him on tip-toes and lifted her chin, offering her lips, her eyes drifting down to his mouth in delicious anticipation.
And Han, orphaned bastard of the roughest part of Corellia, knew he had never had a finer offer in his life, couldn't wait to take her up on it.
This kiss between them was different; softer, sweeter. This kiss was absent the heated, dizzying, passionate desperation of their first two kisses. This kiss was more careful and contained, but it was warm, tender, and full of affection. Different but equally enjoyable, and Leia thought there would be no better way to spend the next four weeks than cataloging every sort of kiss they could have.
When they slowly broke apart, Han slid his hand from her braids to her neck and looked down at her with love and mischief in his eyes. "Only the Anoat sector? I was hoping for Greater Javin. Maybe even the whole Outer Rim. I mean, I did compare mine to the entire galaxy," he teased over her giggle that further swelled his heart. "But Anoat's a start. I can work with Anoat."
Through laughter, Leia replied, "Shut up and kiss me some more, Flyboy.
"Thought you'd never ask," he sighed, bending down to do just that.