A/N: Strange inspiration for this one. I get these emails: "Your Daily Yahoo Stories" and one of the articles one day was a link to some videos that Jacqueline Kennedy's granddaughter had made. They were satirical, about how her friends weren't at all prepared for a zombie apocalypse. After I watched it, I thought: What would Jackie Kennedy think if she could see this? And then, being who I am, I then thought: How would Han and Leia react to one of their grandchildren doing something a little silly and frivolous like that. And then this. I feel like it's a little hokey, and almost like a little Swan's Song for our favorite couple. But anyhoo. Hope you enjoy.

(If you want to see the video(s), Google: "jackie kennedy granddaughter zombie video" and you should find the original "Daily Mail" Article and video link. It has nothing to do with this story, but in case you were curious. Anyway, enjoy again.)

Timeframe: A long, long, long time after ROTJ.

The Fifth Adjective

Han Solo entered the kitchen and studied the large flier lying on the breakfast table. It was an amateur job, small print and grainy illustrations. Han read over it quickly, in that way that he had, skimming for all the pertinent information and quickly deciphering significance and relevance. When he was done he placed the palm of his hand over the notice and began to crumple it into a small ball.

"Han!" Leia Solo, who was at the kitchen counter sipping on a kaffe, yelled at him.

"What?"

"Don't do that."

"Why? What is it?" He asked as he immediately set about un-crumpling it and putting it back where he had found it. It wouldn't be the first time that he threw something away that had galactic significance to his wife yet looked like a piece of junk to him.

"It's a flier for a poetry reading in mid-town."

"I can see that," Han scowled, walking towards her and grabbing a cup that had already been poured and was waiting for him. "Which is why I was throwing it away."

Leia did that thing, where she shook her head and halfway rolled her eyes. "Maia is in it, remember? Your granddaughter?"

"Oh yeah," Han muttered. "That's today?"

"Yes, that's today," Leia returned, pushing herself off of the counter and checking for something in the oven. "So get dressed."

"I am dressed."

"Solo."

"Fine," he grumbled. "Which one is Maia again?" He asked, only half-kidding. They had so many damn grandkids now he had to keep a list. In fact, he patted his chest pocket looking for his datapad. Damn, where'd I put that thing?

"She's your oldest daughter's youngest. Remember? We just went to her graduation last month?"

Han grunted non-committally. All those obligatory familial events blurred one into the other. Births and weddings, graduations and anniversaries, they were all the same to Han: lots of people and uncomfortable clothes. "Ah," he breathed, finding his datapad (as Leia handed it to him). "Right. Thank you. Right where I left it."

"Uh-hum," she replied.

The pair sat down at the table together and ate their customary modest breakfast. Han took his datapad out and looked for the note marked: Grandkids. He began to scroll through the names and the usually one-word descriptors next to them. "Oh, Maia," he said, recollection dawning on him as he read the adjective he had placed by this one's name.

"What did you have next to her?" Leia asked, leaning over in an attempt to read his screen.

"Princess," he replied, hurriedly shutting down the datapad and forking a lump of his breakfast into his mouth.

He had cleaned up his list substantially after Leia had gotten a hold of it a couple of years ago. Needless to say she hadn't been amused by some of the creative ways he had been utilizing to keep track of their offspring's offspring. Most she could've let slide, he mused, except for the one that blew the roof off of the Solo house. Next to the name of their youngest's middle son he had written: "future Darth Vader" to remind him of the brooding, spoiled countenance that always marred the young boy's face.

Following the apocalyptic explosion that was Leia's reaction, Han had cleaned up the list significantly. Next to that boy's name now, for example, was simply: pouty. But there had been more born since then and other descriptions that Han had given them, one by unforgettable one, and he didn't feel like undergoing an audit by Leia on his choices just then, so he evaded and dodged. Something he could still do quite admirably.

"Oh, yes," Leia replied as she sipped on her kaffe and leaned back into her chair. "Princess," she repeated and smiled knowingly.

Han and Leia Solo sat at a small table at a tap café in mid-town Coruscant. On the side wall, next to several large opened windows, there was a raised dais where amateur performers would take the stage to either sing, act or, in this case, read poetry. Passers-by in the streets could stop and listen through the opened windows and such was the case today as a crowd had formed outside.

A young, attractive female stepped onto the landing in the wake of the previous performer's applause. She looked calm and confident and she took the stage like it was the congressional platform. Maia. Now Han Solo remembered this one clearly. She had a sharp wit and an infectious laugh, but most memorably was the fact that she looked just like the young Princess of Alderaan that he had met all those years ago. The resemblance was almost uncanny, in fact.

Han leaned over to whisper to his wife. "Can I heckle her?"

"Absolutely not."

He leaned back and looked around. "And why aren't her own parents here?"

"They're helping with the new twins," Leia reminded him. "And we told them we would go."

"Oh, yeah," Han replied. More names to add to the list, the first great-grandkids and twins at that.

Maia began her performance. Han never had a taste for poetry and his eyes ended up scanning the room instead. Every now and again he would catch a word or phrase and just like his way of skimming when reading, he felt he was getting the jist of the message his grandchild was trying to deliver through art.

First thing he did, once wholly clued in, was to look at his wife. His wife, that had manned the lower turret of the Falcon more times than he could count, could aim a blaster better than anybody's business and had a kill count that would make any marine jealous. On her face, instead of the expression that he had been expecting, he saw a dreamy, almost wistful look in her eyes. He leaned toward her, whispering, "What is this pacifist drabble? You buying this?"

"Hush," she barked back. "She's almost done."

"Thank the goddess for small favors."

"Han."

"Alright, alright." He sat through the rest of it. Of his grandchild's diatribe regarding the military and peace and tolerance. He looked around again at the occupants of the tap café and even of the crowd milling outside on the streets. It was easy to be tolerant when the place wasn't being shot up by Imperials and half the beings on the planet weren't locked away and being tortured.

He looked at Leia. A woman who had been captured and tortured herself, had watched her own planet get destroyed and he wondered how she wasn't standing up to protest this nonsense. He had no doubt she could out argue anyone, including her genetic doppelganger.

The crowd and his wife began to applaud and Han did, too. He also stood as Leia did and other people followed her lead. He was surprised at the quick swipe of Leia's hand as she wiped a few tears from her eyes. Looking over to his grandchild, he saw Maia beaming with pride at the accolades. He shrugged. She was their grandchild, he mused, and who didn't fawn over whatever their grandchildren did? There was many a scribbled drawing that he had hung up and treated as fine pieces of art over the years. Shaking his head, he continued clapping and even gave an energetic whistle, seeming to maybe understand it all.

Having shared a lunch with Maia, Han and Leia were walking slowly back to their apartment. They were no longer such a big deal on Coruscant and could walk the streets almost wholly unabated now. There was a time when they needed bodyguards and escorts and when they would be trampled for holos and autographs. So much had changed.

"What's wrong?" Leia asked.

It didn't surprise him that she picked up on his mood. "Nothing."

"You're upset about Maia's poem?"

"Nah, I get it. She's our grandkid, so we dote over anything she does no matter what we think about it."

Leia stopped, looking up at him. "That's not it at all."

"What?" He asked. "All of a sudden your against the military and believe in peace at all costs?" Han knew better than to believe that, for to hold all armed services in contempt would not only be a slap in the face to their past but would also be hypocritical to half of their children and a few of their grandkids as well.

"No," she said pointedly. "But I believe in freedom of speech and freedom of expression and that's what I just saw my own flesh and blood stand up and exhibit most beautifully and profoundly. Regardless of the message, it represented what I…what we fought for. That's why, Han. That's what the tears were for. Do you understand now? Do you understand how those tears are better than tears of mourning for our children dying on a battlefield? Or of regret if we would've never had any children at all?"

"You got all of that out of that?"

"I did," she replied, a little choked up again. "And it was worth every second."

"How can she think that way, though? After all the stories she must've heard. Alderaan, the Emperor, us – it wasn't all that long ago."

Leia shook her head. "She probably only heard those stories as a baby. Not like our kids did: on the street, all over the holo, at school and university. What was once an entire semester is now probably no more than a paragraph or a chapter at best."

Han nodded seriously, looking up to the sky for a moment - remembering. "Which is a good thing, too," he said.

"It is," Leia replied. "A very good thing."

Han slung his arm around his wife and they started walking in the direction of their apartment again. He looked at the shiny hovercars whizzing by and the purposeful stride of the pedestrians as they weaved around each other. He thought of his granddaughter, of all of his grandkids, and of the lives they were living. "This is what we fought for," he said absently.

"Uh-hum. It's hard to remember how it used to be," Leia sighed. "You can hardly blame Maia. She's never known a day that didn't look like this."

"And we did that," Han stated proudly before laughing a little bit and adding, "Damn, even when I say it out loud it sounds too incredible to be true."

"I believe you," Leia whispered breathily. He could tell that her thoughts were going way back to someplace else. He heard her whisper, "I remember."

He pulled her closer, stopping again so that he could look at her. "Where're you goin', Princess?"

Leia looked up at him and smiled. Princess wasn't a moniker he used for her much any longer, but when he did it never ceased to remind them of the old days – of the good part. The part where they had found each other against all odds. "That title's been taken, remember?" She chided. "Someone else now wears that crown."

"Not a chance," Han replied, tilting his head down to kiss her quickly but Leia had other ideas. She grabbed him as he was about to pull back and held him there, deepening the kiss. When he finally pulled away he looked down at her and smiled knowingly. "It was this, wasn't? This was worth all the fighting."

"Which fighting are we talking about?" She replied, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"What?" He said, widening his eyes incredulously. "We never fought."

"Han Solo," she laughed, turning into his embrace and walking again. "Now I know your memory's slipping."

"Memory, shmemory," he scoffed. "I remember the important parts."

"I wonder," she said but didn't continue.

"What?"

"What adjective you would've typed in your list next to my name?"

He laughed. "That's a good one. I don't know," he started to think on it. "It'd probably change over the years, I guess."

"As in?"

"As in," he started, thinking of a garbage masher and an icy hallway on Hoth. "First entry: feisty."

Leia made a face as if she was thinking about it and then nodded. "Fair enough."

"Second entry," he paused dramatically, his mind recalling a foggy rescue and the damp scent of the forest on Endor's moon. "Sexy."

She blushed. "Thank you."

"Third entry…" He paused a long while, opening the door to their lobby and letting her in. His thoughts skipped forward to right after the war and their wedding. When they were walking together again, with a gentle squeeze to her shoulders, he said simply, "Mine."

She tilted her head up to him, asking for a kiss and he gave one to her. They walked along toward the lifts in silence. When they entered, he pressed the button for their level and said, "Fourth entry-"

"Fourth?" She interrupted him. "How many are there?"

"I don't know," he replied. "I'm just making it up."

"Okay," she sighed. "Continue with the fourth. Just…," she hesitated. "Just remember how you usually don't have a very good habit of stopping while you're ahead."

"Am I ahead now?"

"By parsecs."

"Oh."

The lift opened and Han didn't say anything. "Well?" Leia asked as they entered the apartment.

"Well, what?"

"What's the fourth one?"

"You told me to quit while I'm ahead, so that's what I'm doing."

"Oh, no. You said you had a fourth and now I want to hear it."

"Well, I don't want to tell you now. Now you've been thinking about it and whatever I say won't live up to the hype."

"There is no hype, Solo. Stop procrastinating and spill it."

"But I'm ahead," he said. "By parsecs."

"I promise, you'll stay ahead. Is that fair?"

He frowned. "You say that-"

"I promise, I mean it. Now tell me already."

"See, now it's-"

"Han!"

He was thinking of the births of their children. Of holding something that was a part of the two of them, something they had made. He blurted, "Miracle."

She looked at him, her breath catching for a moment before she smiled. "For the kids?" She asked.

He nodded, tilting his head to the side sheepishly. "Yeah."

She walked toward him. "What about now? Is there a fifth?"

"Nope, that's it I'm done."

"No, c'mon," she pleaded, walking into his arms and squeezing him playfully. "You're doing wonderfully. I should've never discouraged you."

"Nope, miracle it is. I'm sticking with that one," he replied, teasing. "A miracle I've put up with you this long, is what it is."

"Yes, that's true," she replied facetiously. She looked up at him, serious. "We really have been together for a long time. War, kids, grandkids. What do you think we have ahead of us?"

"Life," he said, sagely. "More grandkids or great-grandkids that we'll never understand."

She sighed. "That is life."

He thought about the circle of life. About his beginnings and where he ended up. "I've been lucky, Leia. I don't tell you that enough."

"We're both lucky."

He kissed her. Her lips were warm and soft, just as they had always been. The universe was changing all around them but they seemed to stand still now. Where once they had been the impetus of the changes in the galaxy, now they were mere passengers. They hardly drove any longer, all the traffic moved so fast. And the Falcon hadn't been out of its hangar in over a year, although Han kept rejecting the offers from museums to house her. It had been a good run. But it wasn't quite over yet.

When Han finally pulled away from his wife he looked down at her and waggled his eyebrows. "Care to work on a fifth adjective, sweetheart? I just might be able to be persuaded."

Princess Leia, formerly of Alderaan, yet always a Princess in his eyes, lifted an eyebrow playfully as she began to walk backwards, tugging him along after her. "I always did love a good challenge," she purred.

He smiled and followed her as she led them into the bedroom. Outside the windows of their apartment the speeders flew by, the sky shimmered a bright blue and the galaxy moved, changed and grew. And life went on as always.