A/N: Timeframe is post-ANH. No particular inspiration.

Except

The small contingent of Rebels arrived under the cover of the soft Kaliskan moonlight. So it was that when Han Solo first stepped out from under the canopy of the Millennium Falcon that next morning, he found himself in awe of the planet's renowned beauty . The well-traveled spacer had never been to the cozy Mid Rim planet before. However, he was very familiar with its comparison to one Rebel Princess' homeplanet for its unspoiled beauty and love of all things quiet, peaceful and serene. Following the destruction of Alderaan, the comparisons grew greater still with many missionaries, vacationers and survivors traveling to Kaliska's tranquil landscape to capture some part of the world that was no more.

The Rebels had arrived during the winter season and the morning air was cool and crisp. Han rubbed his hands along his biceps and watched as his breath fogged the air. Shaking off a chill, he briefly considered going back to the ship for a heavier jacket but just as quickly decided against it. He had someone that he needed to see. Princess Leia Organa had been noticeably absent during most of the planning sessions for this relocation and, when not absent, she had been uncharacteristically quiet. He often wondered how the young Rebel dealt with the loss of her entire planet and found himself finely attuned to those things that would bring that burden more prominently to bear. It was not hard for anyone to realize that this would be one of those things.

Halfway across the camp he spotted her near the supply shed, lifting something she had no business lifting. When he relieved her of the bulky crate he was given only a quick, slanted stare in return. They spent much of the day in the same fashion; the re-creation of base camp had become tediously rote for all those involved. But, as was usually the case, the Princess seemed to relax as the day wore on and as the quiet, abandoned piece of land transformed into the all-too-familiar Rebel base, so did Leia Organa become more herself.

That evening, he left her to dine amongst a table full of people in uniforms all with too many bars and stars for Han's taste. Even the rogue spacer had to draw the line somewhere when it came to what he'd do for her. But after dinner he made his way to find her again, out the mess hall, down a small hill to the outskirts of camp somewhere near the edge of the perimeter where no one else would usually be but not so far as to get in trouble with one of the sentries. Eighteen months into this Rebellion thing and he had learned a few tricks; tracking Alderaanian Princesses was only one of them.

It didn't take him long to spot her and he paused for a moment before he approached. If that morning he had found the view pleasing, what he saw now made that pale in comparison. With the backdrop of snow-dipped mountains, curling rivers and proud trees bowing to the subtle wind, he found the Princess standing alone along the edge of a small stream. She had her arms wrapped around herself, hugging away the evening chill. Her hair was fixed in one long braid hanging down her back and he wondered if he had ever found military khakis to be so intriguing. The cool breeze had teased some color to her cheeks, something Han often took pleasure in doing himself. As he cautiously began his approach she glanced over her shoulder and, upon recognizing him, turned back around without a word.

Princess Tracking 101: he slowed his steps and took that as a good sign.

For what seemed like an eternity to the fast-paced, impatient, cut-to-the-chase smuggler, they stood there; both staring off into the distance thinking far off thoughts that were probably as far off from each other as the universe allowed. The moon of Kaliska had risen again for the second time since the Rebels had arrived and the song of the night insects told Han that it was time to call off the hunt. He didn't always consider what it was that he wanted to say to her. Even when he had tracked her all day long with a specific purpose in mind, he never made a habit of rehearsing the end game. This play-it-by-ear strategy had gotten him this far, eighteen months with no princess-shaped boot sole on his backside. He called that good odds.

So it was when he heaved a deep breath in, he wasn't sure of anything that he was going to say, only that it was time to say something. And as that same breath came out, he finally said, "So is it true?"

Several heartbeats later, perhaps longer than usual, she turned to face him. He found when they were alone like this that she liked to study him a little while before answering him. If she didn't like what she found, the octave level of her response would be a sure sign of her displeasure. His jaw set loosely and his expression curious but just enough impassive, he waited. She turned back to look at the mountains and responded, her octave (thankfully) very low. "That it looks like Alderaan?" She asked.

Another breath out. "Yeah."

"Everyone says it," she continued. "I've never been here before."

He waited, because that's what his gut told him to do. Sometimes when he would push a button on the Falcon's control panel nothing would happen right away. Passengers (or unwanted guests) would often feel compelled to press it again (and again), or more likely, call it broken. But in his mind's eye he could trace out the connecting circuitry firing along the line, carefully and tediously setting into motion whatever their purpose might be. Sometimes all it took was a little time and eventually the Falcon would respond in the way that she was supposed to. Patience was something his ship had taught him. He found the same theory worked on Alderaanian Princesses as well: ask a question; pause; wait for the circuits to connect and inevitably -

"Have you ever flown another YT-1300 freighter?"

Han didn't quite follow the jump in topics, he had learned long ago that not everyone kept the wellbeing of his ship at the forefront of their minds like he did. But it also didn't escape him that she knew the make and model of the Falcon. "Yeah, a few."

"I've never," she replied. "Are they just like the Falcon?"

He caught up to her, dawning and understanding immediately blooming inside of him. "Yeah, maybe," he answered, while a myriad of subtle and not-so-subtle differences danced within his head. "Except..."

"Yeah," she whispered, nodding slightly as she said it, not quite a smile or a frown but something in between whispering across her lips. "Except."

Han stood there with her thinking about her words. His ship - his home, his world all wrapped up in durasteel and complicated circuitry - was like no other in the galaxy. He would recognize it anywhere, never accept a substitute and die trying to protect it. Without his ship, he knew like he knew nothing else, that he would not be him anymore. He looked over to the Princess and wondered who she had been before the day that he met her. His gaze traveled back to the mountains, the landscape that would forever be compared to an extinct planet and he knew that the Princess of Alderaan was much like Kaliska: still there, still a beautiful reminder of a world gone by and still mostly the same...except.