All Bets Are Off - Chapter Twelve
The hangar was quiet at the pre-dawn hour when Han Solo was ambling back to his ship. A few over-flowing trash cans, a scattering of folding chairs, and the now empty concession stands were the only remaining evidence of the previous night's event that had been held there.
Han was pleased that, as he expected, no one seemed to be out and about. That was the reason he had reluctantly left Leia's side at this early hour. No need to set tongues wagging. The Princess—his Princess, he mused, the thought bringing a happy smile to his face all over again—would not appreciate that.
He walked on, reliving the wonders of the past night swept up in the arms of Leia Organa. His usual swaggering demeanor was replaced by a contented, happy stride, and he couldn't stop smiling as he neared the ramp to his ship.
"Whatcha doing up so early, Solo?"
Startled out of his reverie by the sound of Wes Janson's familiar voice, he looked up. Approaching him was a group of Rogues and Green Squadron personnel led by Wes, Wedge and Lyrena Vitrk.
"Could ask you the same," he countered with a lop-sided grin. "Figured you'd be bunked out 'til noon."
"No rest for the event crew," Lyrena sighed. "Have to have this place back in order by 0800 or Rieekan will have our asses."
At the mention of time, Solo instinctively glanced at his chrono only to be met with his bare wrist. The chrono that, he realized, was now ticking away on Leia's nightstand.
"I take it you aren't here to help us clean up," Janson said, a curious twinkle in his eye.
Han's mind whirled for a moment, before it seized upon the most convenient and logical excuse. "Nah, lookin' for my chrono," he said, and held up his bare wrist. "Thought I left it in the concession stand, but no luck. Lemme know if you find it."
With that, he ascended the ramp and disappeared into the heart of the Millennium Falcon.
XXX
Ninety-minutes later, their work complete, the clean-up crew was gathered for breakfast in the Mess. Groups of Rebels made their way to the event planners' table to offer kudos and thanks for the previous evening's diversion from the drudgery of military life on a remote station.
Han Solo appeared among the well-wishers. "Gotta admit, you pulled it off in style, Wes," he lifted his kaffe cup in salute to Janson. "This crowd hasn't been this upbeat since Yavin."
"What about Yavin?" Princess Leia Organa sidled up next to Solo.
"Mornin', Princess," Han beamed at her.
"Good morning, Captain," she replied, a soft smile tilting the corners of her lips.
Wedge surveyed their interaction with interest, watching as the two simply gazed at each other with somewhat dopey grins on their faces. "Solo!" he finally snapped. "The Princess asked you a question. What about Yavin?"
With a slight shake of his head, Han returned to the moment. "I was just sayin' I don't remember this crowd of do-gooders havin' as much fun since the Yavin celebration."
"Mmmmh," Leia agreed. "You all deserve a lot of thanks," she smiled warmly at the Rebel party planners. Her attention returned to Han and she added wistfully, "It was a wonderful night."
"Yeah, Sweetheart, it was."
The two radiated a warmth and contentment between them that Wedge—nor any of the other the Rebels seated at the table, judging from the slightly dumbstruck expressions he saw as he glanced around—had never seen.
Wes caught his eye, a questioning look on his face. Lyrena simply rolled her eyes and shrugged.
Wedge, however, had something to say.
"Your chrono didn't turn up, Solo," he said, fixing his fellow Corellian with a curious stare. "Are you sure—."
"Oh, I forgot," Leia interjected, and then reached into her pocket to produce Han's timepiece.
Han snatched the chrono from her hand—a little too hastily, Wedge thought, and then sputtered, "Ahhh. Yeah! Forgot I gave it to you last night to...uh...keep it outta the drink coolers." He swallowed and quickly added, "Thanks, Sweetheart."
Leia blinked, and Wedge saw the moment when she realized her faux pas. Her mouth dropped open and worked silently for a few seconds, and when she finally spoke she seemed flustered, and less than her usual glib self. "Yes," she chirped," I found it in my jacket pocket this morning, and...oh, my! Speaking of chronos, don't we have that briefing to get to….now?" Her wide eyes shifted toward the exit, as if offering a hint for him to get them out of there…and fast.
"Oh, yeah!" Han snapped his fingers, reacting overly enthusiastically for someone who was legendary for his disdain for meetings. "Gotta run, guys. Talk to ya soon. Thanks again." And with that, he took the Princess' arm and whisked her out of the Mess Hall.
Everyone gathered at the table fell silent. Wedge glanced around, taking in the furrowed brows and raised eyebrows that followed in the wake of the pair's hasty departure.
As the assembled crew turned to one another and began to whisper amongst themselves, Wes caught Wedge's eye, grinned, and then slapped the flat of his palm against the tabletop.
"That's it," he declared. "All bets are off!"