A/N: Timeframe here is pre-ESB. This idea came from me wondering how happy people might be to see Leia Organa show up on their doorstep when throughout most of the EU, if she showed up, she most likely brought trouble along with her. So, I wondered how she might've felt about that and this is what came out.

Wherever I Go

The heated flames licked their backs and nipped at their fast-moving heels. He tugged at her arm; his usual patience for her small stride worn thin by his concern for her safety. She stumbled and he steadied her, supporting what he estimated to be the majority of her weight. A fleeting thought of scooping her up in his arms raced across his mind but he thought better of it. She wouldn't like that. Scratch that, he amended. She would hate that.

"Can we stop?"

Before he could answer her, she had halted, hands resting on her knees and her breath heaving out of her in gasps. He looked first behind them for a tail and then ahead of them to the safety of the twinkling lights of the city still too dangerously far away. "We really should keep moving."

Leia's head was down, the long braid of her hair dangling over her shoulder where she could watch it sway in front of her. We really should keep moving, Han's words echoed in her mind like a warning or a mantra. But she couldn't go anymore. Her body was more than capable but it was her spirit that was unwilling. Perpetually chased by a smothering sense of loss, it wasn't often that Leia let it catch up to her. But here it was today clinging to her with its all-consuming weight.

She shut her eyes. They had arrived on-planet to finalize a new covert trade route for the Rebellion. Han had docked the Falcon at a nearby spaceport leaving Chewbacca behind for backup. Everything had been progressing as scheduled. Han had been his usual stubborn, cynical self. But riddled within his diatribes had been the sound advice that she had become accustomed to expecting from him. And so everything had been like normal. That is until that afternoon. They had been exposed. Singularly, determinedly, the warehouse they had been working in had been demolished. Their contacts' homes and families had been obliterated; the majority of the innocent town left in flames. And now she ran. Once again leaving death and destruction in her wake.

Han waited as she caught her breath. It never ceased to catch him off guard - how tiny and frail she could look - especially when he spent most of his time being intimidated by her. Finally, she raised her eyes - usually the source of said intimidation. Their familiar fire was now doused by unshed tears. "I can't do this anymore," she whispered, like a guilty confession.

Han felt an unfamiliar twitch in his gut. He quickly crouched down to her, un-steadied by this rare lack of composure. "Alright," he said with a hurried breath, and then fighting against all warnings he wrapped an arm around her and repeated, "It's alright."

Her knees sank down into the sodden earth beneath them and her body melted against his frame. He thought for a moment that he had misjudged her exhaustion, but then he felt her breath hiccup and realized she was crying. "Leia?" He whispered in alarm as he drew her closer, all manners of guilt and worry washing over him. "It's alright, sweetheart, we can stop. I'm sure we weren't followed. I shouldn't have pushed you so hard," he rambled on over her sobs.

It wasn't often Leia's spirit matched the diminutive-ness of her frame. It was usually fascinating to watch and study her; a small flame flickering against the gale force winds of change. But on rare occasions, such as this, when the wind threatened to win that battle, it could be a terrifying sight to behold. Something so strong, made to look so weak. He held her tight against him and continued to whisper words of support, not even sure of what he was saying but too afraid to let the silence consume them.

How sweet it felt to be held by someone. For a moment she let herself remember her father and how safe it had felt to be in his arms. But he was yet another one of her casualties and memories of him were rarely unaccompanied by guilt and pain. She wondered if it would always be that way. Could she ever think of home again without the painful thrumming of regret? How easy it would be to give up, to never find the answer to that question? When would everything she was fighting for be worth losing everything worth living for? She squeezed her eyes shut, trying her best to fight through the familiar, tantalizing pull of despair.

Han continued to comfort her and she let his words wash over her. She could almost feel his concern wrap around her and surround her. This wasn't the first time he had witnessed her like this. This wasn't the first time he had consoled her like this. She regretted falling apart in front of him, mentally kicking herself for the lapse, all the while reveling in the bolster of strength his proximity provided. She couldn't imagine letting herself crumble in front of anyone else. Somehow she knew that Han wouldn't let her fall too far. That notion had become very important to her.

He could feel her breathing begin to steady. "I didn't know you were so tired," he whispered lamely.

"It's not that," she sniffed as she pressed her cheek against the fabric of his shirt and then, as if finally realizing what she was doing, she drew away wiping her face with shaky hands and swiping away tears with the backs of her knuckles. "We can go now. I'm fine."

Han sat back on his heels, separating himself from her and frowning. She ignored him as she stood, patting and wiping at her clothes as if she could brush off the last few minutes of her life. This he was used to. "Leia," he said forcefully. He loved her name; loved hearing himself say it. Although he didn't use it often, opting instead for annoying nicknames that easily riled her. And this was why. Because when he said her name, he said so much more. It carried with it limitless meaning. He wondered if she heard it in the same way.

She looked down at him, her tears were dried and her eyes were beginning to flicker with that all-too-familiar flame. "I'm fine, Han, really," she replied. "What? I can't have a minor breakdown every now and again?"

"Sure," he replied placating-ly as he pushed himself up to stand. He had been here before, with her. And as well-traveled a place the galaxy was, he liked to think that this was maybe somewhere no one else had ever been. She had opened up to him before, cried on him before. Gods knew why she trusted him like that. But he never was one to question things too closely. He just knew that he liked it, especially liked the thought of being the only one. He didn't waste time trying to figure out why that was either. "It'd just really help to know why," he finally added. For the few times that Leia Organa had let her emotions get the best of her, she had never lost control of her words. She had never, ever told him why she was crying. Of course, it wasn't hard for him to guess.

"Help who, exactly?" She replied heatedly and as soon as she heard her own question, she was sure she didn't want him to answer her. "This isn't the time or place for you to play analyst, Han. We really need to get moving." And with that she turned and headed down the overgrown path. She could feel him watching her, knew that he would only entertain her stubbornness for so long. Part of her wondered what it might feel like to give voice to all those things that went through her mind. The thought was all at once exhilarating and frightening. But deep down she knew that he would only repeat what many others had already said, that it wasn't her fault and that she shouldn't feel the way she did. The trouble was, those words never made the feelings go away.

He watched her as she walked away, wondering what in all the worlds went through her mind sometimes. And then he began to follow her because he had every intention of finding that very thing out. Maybe not today, or next week, but someday he knew she would talk to him and the very thought made his insides somersault. He lengthened his stride so as to catch up to her. Once alongside her he looked down at the top of her head. He knew she could feel him watching her and knew just as well that she was intentionally ignoring him now. His jaw set determinedly. There weren't many people who would describe him that way, but Han Solo could be a very patient man.