A/N: Timeline: Post-ROTJ during the (re)building of the New Republic.

Soon

She sat alone in her office on Coruscant. It had been nearly three months since she had seen him last. On her desk there was a picture of him and her, his hand resting casually on her thigh. She couldn't look at it without sinking into a memory of what those hands had felt like; of how his fingers traveled lightly against her skin teasing shivered bumps to the surface. Memories flooded her mind of when he was seducing her - his favorite past time, by far - and how he could turn every minute detail of himself into something highly erotic; the lilt of his voice, the sparkle in his eyes, the way his mouth crooked up in a knowing smile.

She hadn't thought it was going to be this difficult. She hadn't allowed his warnings to sink in. It only mattered that she wanted this, that she wanted him, wanted them. How could the opinions of anyone stand in the way of that which he had awakened inside of her? It had not seemed possible. Lying in his arms, trembling beneath his touch, she had not let it seem possible.

But their dissatisfaction with her life choices had not manifested in the ways that she had anticipated. Certainly there had been the whispered warnings and the raised eyebrows, even the tight-lipped lines of contempt. But their greatest weapon had come from something that she herself had actually fought for, something that she would've never suspected to take on such a cruel edge. Victory. With their victory had come obligations. She, an important cog in the wheel of progress and he, a talented leader on the front lines of the waning war.

And so it had been time and duty that had begun to separate them. Silent, nameless, faceless enemies those two, that proved nearly impossible to fight.

And so she read his name on reports and manifests more than she saw the man himself, idly dragging her finger across the letters on the screen, her touch lingering and possessive. In the middle of the night, on the blank wall of her home office, she would project a map of the galaxy and pinpoint the exact location in space where he might be and just stare. She saw his tousled hair and long gait in random strangers on the street, every holocall held promise that it might be him.

But it never was.

She held meetings, presided over negotiations and hosted dinners nearly every night. In the press, she recited speeches and rallied troops, her fame and popularity blooming. Yet in her heart, her soul was shrinking.

She signed another treaty and doused another potential political fire while she readied herself for her next meeting and her holocom rang yet again.

"Organa."

In that moment of crackles and silence, she let herself believe that it might be him and the spin of her world slowed down. "Leia?"

His voice, like a voice from the grave, took her breath away and she could only cover her mouth and turn her back to the opened office door.

"Leia, can you hear me?"

Syllables! Words! A long-awaited sentence and yet she could only smile - the broadest, happiest of smiles - and nod her head earnestly, however pointlessly, in response.

"I don't have long. Honey, I miss you. That's all I'm callin' to say."

"Come home," she whispered, the words garbled and choked over her checked tears and the bad connection.

"What was that, sweetheart? I can't hear you."

"I said, I want you to come home."

In that moment of silence she let herself imagine that he would say yes, that however long it took for his ship to hop through hyperspace would be all the wait she would have to be in his arms.

He made a noise finally, a sort of sad laugh. "I wish I could."

She closed her eyes. She could picture him dragging his fingers through his hair, could see the sad smile on his lips, the sparkle of concern in his eye.

"Leia? Are you okay?"

She nodded her head again and then followed up with a breathy, "Yes."

"We're giving 'em hell, sweetheart. I'll be home soon. I promise."

She turned back to the opened door of her office, ensuring no one was intruding on this moment for more reasons than one. "I know. I love you."

"Love you, too. I'll see you soon."

The connection began to crackle and in the interest of time and clarity, she simply replied, "Soon." Over the few remaining sputters she thought she heard him say 'Solo out' and then the line went dead. She held the comm unit in her hand, grasping it tightly; a fragile tether to the man that had been on the other end. Her blood pounded in her veins with renewed vigor as if she was breathing straight oxygen. Her lips trembled with a determined smile and she coughed out a broken laugh that came from the strange, sudden influx of sheer happiness into what had been a pit of utter despair. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth trying her best to quell it, but it was to no avail.

Soon, she thought to herself, feeling more giddy at the thought. He would be home soon. He would be hers soon. And in that small, nebulous word she found enough of a promise to re-center herself and refocus. She took another deep breath and straightened her posture. Another round of meetings, a few dozen dinners and a treaty or two, all at once didn't seem so bad. She smiled. I will be his, soon.

They would be together soon...