Written a loooong time ago (in a galaxy not so far away).

This story takes place a few days after the events of ANH. Han and Leia both have a surprising realization.

George Lucas rules this domain, I am but a player in his world...

And Then There Were Two

by Dant Solo

Princess Leia Organa entered the docking bay and spotted the ship that was her destination. The Millennium Falcon was, to say the least, an interesting ship. It looked like a derelict, a heap of scrap. Something that no one in their right mind would consider space-worthy. When she had first seen it, onboard the Death Star, she had almost laughed. They were going to escape in that thing? It had to be a joke. Surely, no sane person would willingly board the clapped-out, old freighter. Of course, she'd met the captain by that point, so she should have realized he was not sane. And he was as much a conundrum as his ship.

The Millennium Falcon might have looked like a hunk of junk, but it was quite possibly one of the fastest ships she had ever traveled in. She might have been stunned at that realization, had their circumstances not been so dire. And it's captain...

Well, he was as much of a surprise as his ship. He had spewed at her about having no loyalty to, or interest in the Rebel Alliance. He had presented himself as a pirate, a mercenary who cared for no one but himself and his ship. And money. That was his primary concern. But somehow, he had come back to aid the Alliance in their battle against the Death Star. He had swooped in at the final, crucial moment and shot the last TIE-fighter off Luke's back, allowing him the opportunity to make the shot that destroyed the Death Star. They were both heroes. And Leia would not admit, even to herself, how vital Han Solo had been to the outcome of the battle. She had readily believed Solo's self-proclamations, but was now forced to view him differently. She had seen his gruff affection for both Luke and Chewbacca, his co-pilot. Yes, Han Solo was a puzzle.

And here she stood, before his ship, wondering what she was doing here. She supposed she felt some kind of kinship with Luke, Han and Chewie, considering all they had recently been through together. She knew Luke felt it too. But the Corellian and the Wookiee...who knew?

She also knew they were a distraction for her. When she was in their

company, it was the only time she smiled or thought of anything but the blinding, horrifying flash that had consumed Alderaan.

She let out a shaky sigh, trying to steady herself. She knew that someday this overwhelming, agonizing grief would fade to the back of her mind. She was too logical and practical not to know that. But at the moment, she could not imagine that anything could truly deaden the pain.

So, here she was, seeking the distraction of their company. Of course, Luke had been the one to invite her. It was funny how Luke and Han seemed to complement each other so perfectly. To Leia's benefit. Luke's gentle caring soothed her in a surprising way, making her feel that there was still good in the galaxy, something worth fighting for. Solo, on the other hand, was certainly not a comforting presence, but his wise cracks and even his arguments gave her a temporary respite from her own thoughts. Of course, she could never let him know that. He was cocky enough already.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Leia approached the battered freighter

and made her way up the lowered boarding ramp. She entered the main hold and all three beings turned to look at her. Luke's face lit up at the sight of her.

"Leia! I'm glad you came." He walked over to her and smiled with genuine affection, bordering on adoration. Leia returned his smile, avoiding the Corellian's glare. She could feel his eyes boring into her.

"You invited Her Highnessness?" he asked sourly. "Why didn't you

mention that?"

Leia tensed. She knew they were about to enter into the battle of wills that was their custom from the start. She hoped he would not push her too far. There were moments when she could tolerate his jabs; still, there were other moments when he pushed her past the limit of her considerable patience.

Neither Han nor Leia could decide if Luke's sheepish look was due to

embarrassment over not informing Solo of the extended invitation, or over Han's rude treatment of the Princess. He turned to Han and said

defensively, "I didn't think it would be a big deal."

Leia met the Captain's eyes, as he studied her with an inscrutable

expression, almost as if he were gauging her. They stood silently for a

minute until Chewie growled loudly. As Solo was the only one who could understand the massive Wookiee, he was the only one who responded.

"Whatever," he replied, shooting his furry partner a pointed look. He

turned back to Leia. "I'm not sure you want to spend time with us this

evening."

She bantered back. "Well, I almost didn't make it. After all, you're here." She arched an eyebrow at him.

Han's eyes glimmered, a look she was beginning to know well. It usually meant he was about to tease her, or rip her to shreds. It all depended on his mood. "You'd better watch yourself. This is my ship, after all. If you can't be nice, you may never get invited back." He smirked and cut off her retort before she could open her mouth. "Well, if you want to hang around, you're going to have to join in our activities." His voice was almost a challenge.

"And what might those activities be?" If he said strip-sabaac she would hit him. Hard.

With a devilish grin, Han gestured towards the holochess table. Resting on top of the table was a bottle of what appeared to be Corellian whiskey and three glasses. Leia glanced at Luke and caught his grimace. Apparently, he had not known what was on the evening's agenda. She wondered with amusement if he would have invited her had he known.

"Well, Your Worship? Are you in?"

She wanted to wipe that smug look off his face. She was not much of a drinker, but she refused to give Han the satisfaction of seeing her back down. With a toss of her head, the determined Princess strode past Solo, straight to the holochess table. She opened the bottle of whiskey, poured a generous amount into a glass and, without a word, threw her head back to down half of the fiery liquid. She held back a grimace as her throat burned in protest.

When she turned back to the group, they all stared at her, mouths

hanging open. She struggled not to laugh. Inspired by her own boldness, she sat down at the table, crossed her legs casually, leaned back and sipped leisurely from her glass. "Anyone going to join me?" she asked with an air of indifference.

Han was the first to recover his voice. With some amusement, he said, "Sure, lemme get another glass." As he turned away towards the galley, Leia saw his face contort with silent laughter, shoulders shaking slightly. She couldn't help but take a small measure of pride in the fact that she had amused and surprised him.

They passed the evening in pleasant camaraderie. After the initial bout of argumentative behavior, Han had not disturbed her too much. He teased, he leered, he bantered; but he did not take it past the point of no-return, as she had come to think of it. The four recently-found friends traded stories, told jokes and generally had a good time. Solo's stories bordered on the outrageous, but it was all in good fun.

After a few hours, Chewbacca had excused himself with some lengthy, unintelligible explanation, then retired to his cabin. Luke had, quite simply, fallen asleep on the table. He had consumed about the same amount of alcohol as Solo, but it was obvious he had yet to develop the tolerance for it that Han had. Leia had nursed her second drink for the last two hours, despite Han's encouragement to "drink up."

She looked down at Luke's boyish features. He was so guileless. Leia

found it difficult to believe that he was the same age as her. She felt ten years older. If not more. Eyes closed, lips slightly parted in sleep, he looked even more sweet and innocent than usual.

Maybe that's why I like him so much, Leia thought. His youthful

exuberance was very appealing, a sharp contrast to the hard cynicism she had recently acquired.

Thinking of cynicism brought Leia's attention back to her one conscious companion. She looked up at Han Solo to find him watching her with strangely intense eyes, his usual smirk oddly absent. She wondered what he might possibly be thinking that would warrant such a serious expression.

When she met his eyes, he blinked sharply, somewhat abashed at having been caught openly staring. Jarred from his reverie, his face took on the more casual insolence she was accustomed to seeing. He looked at Luke. "I think this might be the first time the kid's ever had a drink." He smiled with an affection that he would have denied, had she called him on it.

Leia smiled also. "Maybe. How old were you when you had your first

drink? Six? Seven?"

He laughed. "Something like that." His eyes grew thoughtful as he

wondered what she would think of his childhood. She'd probably run

away screaming, he decided bitterly. "What about you, Your Highness?

What vintage wine was served around the palace?" he asked with a lofty air.

She blanched and swallowed hard.

Han noticed her reaction and wanted to kick himself. He hadn't been

thinking of her tragedy. He lowered his gaze to his glass. "Sorry," he

mumbled.

She shook her head quickly to dismiss it, sat quietly for a time, then

said in a low voice, "My father served wine at dinner every night. When I was fifteen, I was allowed to have one glass each night." She smiled

wistfully. "I loved Chandrillan Beloise wine."

Han watched her carefully, remaining silent for fear of saying something else stupid. He wondered which was harder: to have a family, people you love, and then lose them so suddenly; or to never have anyone love you. He couldn't say, having only lived one of those scenarios. But her pain was clear. He could see it in her eyes. It bothered him to see her in such misery. And it bothered him that he felt this way. Why did he care? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that seeing her suffering squeezed something inside his chest. It made him want to take her pain away and bury it deep inside him. This was an unfamiliar sensation. It disturbed him and he wished he could make it go away.

When she met his serious gaze, their eyes locked. Something white-hot sparked between them, something neither one was quite willing to admit to. Leia found herself suddenly noticing how ruggedly handsome the Corellian was. His dark hazel eyes were intense and inviting. She couldn't tear her gaze away. The feelings that bubbled suddenly within her were both unfamiliar and confusing.

Han, for his part, was not confused in the least by what he felt. But the intensity of those feelings surprised him. He found himself wondering what the Princess' mouth would taste like. His mind buzzed as he imagined closing the distance between them; pulling her tightly against him; caressing her tongue with his; lifting her in his arms and carrying her back to his cabin; slipping the tan tunic from her shoulders and running his tongue along her smooth skin...

Whoa! He was getting carried away. His breathing had increased ever-so-slightly and his body was responding to these thoughts in an embarrassing way. What was he thinking? She would never go for him in that way. And he wasn't really interested anyway. And she was interested in Luke.

So why had these thoughts crossed his mind?

He told himself that it was seeing her the other day that had put these thoughts in his mind. She had been stunning at the awards ceremony, had practically taken his breath away. When she'd presented him with the medal, he winked, and when she smiled radiantly in return, his heart had pounded. But he had dismissed it as a normal reaction to a beautiful woman.

Up until that moment he had thought her a pretty girl, but standing there in the long, white, flowing gown, hair braided down her back, she looked like...well, an angel.

What the hell was wrong with him? At any rate, he could blame this sudden rush of desire on memories of her appearance that day.

Leia simply blamed it on the alcohol. She broke the magnetizing gaze between then, breaking the spell along with it.

"I should be going," she said, returning her eyes to his with considerably less intensity. She began to rise, but Han's hand darted out to detain her.

"What's the rush?" He grinned wolfishly. "Afraid to be alone with me?"

She smirked, but something deep inside her almost acknowledged that his statement might have some validity. "Hardly," she retorted dryly. "But it's late…," she began.

"By who's standards?" He exhaled derisively. "You just have no idea

how to relax."

Her eyebrows drew together sharply. Why was it that this man always got on her nerves so effectively? Had she actually thought a

moment earlier that he was handsome? Must've been a trick of the light.

Han saw the spark of battle in her eyes and fought to lighten the mood, as well as prolong their time alone together. Although he wasn't quite sure why. "Hey, c'mon...stay a while. My company's not that bad, is it?" He smiled more gently.

Leia recognized what was quite possibly an apology. Or at least as close as the Corellian could get to one. Her posture relaxed and she looked meaningfully at his hand still clasping hers.

With a frown, Han released her hand, suddenly aware of its warmth. He felt strangely vulnerable, something he was unaccustomed to. Almost as if he were compelled to do anything in his power to please her. He was fairly certain that she was used to that sort of reaction to her status as a princess. But he'd be damned if that would impress him. He had to stop this.

"So, Your Worship." He was deliberately irreverent. "You really believe in this Force stuff?" This was a safer topic.

She raised an eyebrow. "I assume you don't?"

"Answering a question with a question, huh?"

She sighed with impatience. "Of course, I believe in the Force. The Jedi were once the guardians of the galaxy. Protectors, the keepers of peace. They did so much good."

"It's a myth," Han said simply. "Bunch of magicians. Hocus pocus, I say." He refilled Leia's glass, ignoring her gesture of protest.

She eyed the glass warily then took the smallest of sips.

He focused on her face again. "You ever see one of these Jedi Knights in action?"

"Well, no. They were-" she began heatedly.

He did not allow her to finish. "That's what I thought. They were just a bunch of holier-than-thou guys who happened to be good at swordplay."

Leia shook her head disdainfully. "Do you believe in anything? I mean, other than your ship and a blaster?"

He grinned. "Not really, no." He leaned back and placed his hands behind his head. "At any rate, I don't believe there's anything controlling my destiny. I make my own luck. And if I can't do that with this ship or my blaster...well, hell, then it can't be done."

"Let me guess. You're a "glass is half empty" kind of guy." She took

another tiny sip of her drink.

Han lowered his hands to the table and leaned forward, grinning wickedly. "It all depends on how thirsty you are, Sweetheart."

Leia rolled her eyes, but inwardly she almost laughed. He was so

predictable.

"Besides," he continued, on a roll now. "You're one to talk. Up on your pedestal, all high and mighty. You don't let a damn thing touch you." He was teasing her, assuming she would not take offense. "Do you feel anything?" He wasn't quite willing to admit his implications.

Leia's breath caught as if he'd slapped her. Han recognized the hurt look immediately and mentally kicked himself for being so stupid.

"No, Captain, I don't feel a thing," she retorted, voice lethal. "It takes the destruction of an entire world to make me feel anything." Her eyes were shards of ice, sharp and cutting.

Han looked contritely at the drink between his hands, desperately seeking some softening words. Before he could come up with anything suitable, the princess was on her feet and heading towards the ramp. Han jumped up instsantly, grabbing her arm to prevent her sudden departure.

"Hey, Your Holiness-"

She spun on him and shook his hand off angrily. "Stop calling me that!" She was dangerously close to tears. She wasn't sure who she was more upset with, him for being such an idiot, or herself for letting him get to her. Why did he always seem to bring out the worst in her? She looked him fully in the face and was surprised at his expression. He looked...penitent and regretful. Somehow, that just made her feel more like crying.

He placed his hands on his hips and sighed. "I was just kidding, you

know that." He saw the sheen of tears in her eyes and felt like a shit. Reaching out, he grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently. He looked at the floor, then up at Leia, then back down at the floor.

Leia wasn't quite sure what to think. He was trying to be sweet, in that frustratingly crass way of his.

His mouth opened before he knew what he was going to say. Eventually he spoke. "See, this is why we smugglers don't walk in royal circles. Too much opportunity for sticking your foot in your mouth." He tried out a tentative smile.

She didn't smile back, but her expression softened. His smile became a grin of relief. Just when she thought he was the most infuriating man she had ever met, he let a glimpse of kindness shine through.

Surprising her yet again, he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it

gently. The spot where his lips touched tingled insanely. With large, liquid brown eyes, she stared up at him, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable.

She would never know that the look in her eyes had the exact same effect on him, making his insides quiver, and completely unnerving him. He struggled to find something to say before he embarrassed himself by acting on impulse. He was certain she would slap his face if he did.

She saved him from such a fate. "Well, Captain," she said softly.

"Sometimes royalty can make allowances." A tiny smile quirked the corners

of her mouth. She squeezed his hand slightly. They shared a quiet moment that they both savored.

Leia looked down at Luke's head resting on the table. "I suppose we

should wake him up and get him back to the barracks."

"Nah," Han replied off-handedly. He dropped her hand as the poignant moment ended. "Let him sleep it off here on the Falcon." Then, unexpectedly, and with more gentleness than the Princess would have credited him with, he leaned over and hefted the smaller man in his arms. Luke murmured softly as Solo shifted his weight. He started to smile, then caught himself and shifted his jaw, resetting his default expression of apathy.

Leia did not miss the changes in facial expression. She was mildly taken aback by Solo's tenderness, but she smiled at his feigned aloofness. Taking two steps to his side and, with some amusement at his apprehensive expression, she stood on tiptoe and kissed Han quickly on the cheek.

Eyes wide, brow lifted in surprise, Han just looked at her. His heart

jumped at her touch, and he felt strangely giddy. It took a moment before he found his voice. "What was that for?" he asked, mentally denying the sudden huskiness of his own voice.

Leia smiled knowingly, eyes twinkling. "You're not so tough, Solo," she chided.

Han's heart skipped a beat as he looked down at her glowing smile. It was a smile he had not before been the recipient of, and it made him glad he had decided to hang around the Rebels a bit longer.

She softly touched his shoulder before turning and leaving. He stared after her, eyes filling with desire. His cheek was hot from the brief touch of her lips. He felt himself sinking, but into what he could not tell. What had he been thinking earlier about not being interested in her? Well, hell, a man could only take so much.

He found himself fearing that he would dream of her that night. Sweet, hot dreams that would awaken him with a longing he dreaded. He took a deep breath and let it out very, very slowly. Damn. This was

frustrating. Maybe sticking around here wasn't such a great idea.

END