The cool air of the Endorean night wafted around Leia as she trod the damp forest floor to the Millennium Falcon. Ensconced in a clearing a few klicks from the main Rebellion camp, the ship was discreetly hidden, protected from the ghosts of battle by gangling firs that hovered over its battered hull.
A sacred space, she thought, as she drew closer. One that contained a mix of the natural and the engineered, each complimenting the other. A site that shielded its inhabitants from past horrors and strengthened them for future ones.
She keyed in the code and waited as the ramp rumbled down. The threat from Imperial stragglers, bitter from defeat and on the prowl for easy targets, had abated but Han still insisted on keeping the ramp up and locked. During the few times it was open he had been forced to shoo away curious Ewoks who had wandered on board and prodded in wonderment at the ship's innards.
Save for flittering insects around her head, there was no sign of any other living creatures. She had turned down Crix Madine's offer of an escort from the Inner Council conference, deducing that it was meant half as protection against the dark and half to confirm what was no longer a secret: that the Princess and General Solo were indeed together in every way possible. But she had long ago lost patience with prying eyes and whispered remarks and the last thing she needed now was protection. Too many revelations had occurred over the past few days and rather than vulnerable she felt newly defiant. After all, what physical altercation in the woods could compare with the impact of the news of her biological father?
Inside the Falcon recycled air circulated with the outdoor breezes. Leia sat at the table, took off her jacket and boots, and left them next to the bench. She unwound her hair and feathered her fingers through her braids. Even Han would be sleeping, she assumed; two straight days of revelry and celebration and emotional turmoil had left them all depleted even without taking into account his ongoing recovery from the carbonite.
In the cabin she slipped off her fatigues and pulled on a faded shirt. Other than the first night after the battle when they had collapsed in an Ewok-sized nook strewn with furs from an unknown species, the Falcon had been their base. And their base it would remain until the next assignment drew them to a new destination. Initially the ship was a place to sleep and store their personal items, but its separation from the others signaled that they were a team: where one went, the other would follow.
She studied Han's sleeping form as he lay on his side facing the wall. The bedquilt was pulled up to his shoulders and a flash of bare skin had escaped the pattern of worn squares. Slipping in behind him, she burrowed under the covering and wrapped her arm around his chest. A warm hand wriggled over to hers and squeezed it gently.
"I was hoping you were asleep," she murmured.
"I was." His thumb drew soft circles on her palm. "So how did it go?"
"About as you'd expect." The stunned astonishment at the Alliance victory and the swift collapse of the Empire had only begun to recede among the council members. Overnight, citizens of one planet after another rose up and marched through the streets, through the jungles, through the wastelands, for their freedom. It was an outcome only hinted at by previous actions; even the destruction of the first Death Star had brought a grim knowledge that the war was starting; now, the galaxy held its collective breath that it was finally winding down.
And yet no one expected any Imperial remnants to stay quiet for long. The conference was one in a series to determine the short-term strategic maneuvers and distribution of Alliance resources to support the uprisings that needed support and suppress that counter-attacks that needed suppressing. A tentative plan had been devised and debated and would no doubt be rewritten and revised in the coming days.
"I can expect a lot of things." The timber of his voice inspired her to migrate her hand lower. Under the fabric of his loose shorts, his raised length twitched in her palm.
"Thinking about me?" she teased.
"Always."
He rotated onto his back and gazed up at her. Her fingers stayed lightly clasped around his shaft while her other hand smoothed strands of hair from his forehead. A previous version of herself would have laughed at the way she was gazing at him. Smitten, lovesick, distracted from what really matters. Fortunately she was finding it easier and easier to ignore her past self's judgement.
"They'll want to meet with you and the other generals in the morning to get your input on the proposals."
"I'll be there." Not long ago his response would have been otherwise. "Can't imagine what they'd want to hear from me." Or, "Got better things to do with my time than stand around with a bunch of stuffed shirts." He had really changed so much, she mused, and for her? Or was it for himself, for them both, to give them an opportunity for long-deferred happiness?
Or maybe he was just maturing.
His hands had found their way out of the quilt and onto her body. He tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her down for a lazy kiss. She withdrew her hand from his shorts and cupped his jaw. They beamed quietly at each other, incredulous at the new reality.
"Did they say when they're going to close up camp here?"
"It'll likely be a few days but the first round of assignments will head out tomorrow. There's too much work to be done to delay any longer."
"Part of me thinks everyone's starting to get a little jumpy, waiting for the next phase to get underway." He smoothed lazy circles under her shirt. "Did you say anything about what Luke told you?"
"No." Even a day ago the question would have jabbed a wound that had only started to heal and would likely never fully heal. Hours with Han exploring the Endorean forest turned out to be a balm for her fears and desires for the future. After years of being confined to cramped bases, trekking under the wide sky and talking through the implications of her parentage had been therapeutic. But that didn't mean she was ready to discuss it with anyone else.
"Well, you know I'll support you whatever you decide."
"I know. There's just too much else going on right now to focus on that."
The Rebellion had infiltrated every aspect of her life and she never sought to hide it; the loss of Alderaan affected her at a cellular level, unable to be separated even if she tried. This revelation, though, was like an invasion of a foreign body, a lump that threatened metastasis and would require precise excisions in order for the rest of her to function properly.
Fortunately there were more enticing things to focus on at the moment. She confirmed once more the firmness under the thin layer of fabric. "I have to say, I'm impressed you can carry on a conversation in this state."
"Had years of practice, Sweetheart."
"Really." She feigned innocence as his hand meandered lower. "All those times I was around you?"
"Well. Most of them. Depended on what you were wearing and how angry you were at me. There was a range, see —" and he moved his free hand up and down to indicate various levels of erectile tension per situational aspect.
"Very scientific." His lips shined tantalizingly below her and she deposited a lingering kiss on them. "Does that mean we're benefiting from the full intellect of Han Solo now that you're no longer distracted by unrequited lust?"
"Benefiting is a charitable interpretation." A flash of his old self-deprecation. "But I like the way you think."
"Putting up with, perhaps."
"Better."
She kissed him again and they helped each other shimmy out of their clothes.
"I'll have you know," he nipped under her jaw, "that even at partial intelligence, I remember being able to dazzle you with my brainpower from time to time."
"If you say so. I can't," she was momentarily distracted by the exquisiteness of his tongue behind her ear, "recall precisely."
In response he hooked her thigh over his hip and nestled his fingers at her juncture. Warmth surged through her and over her and she gripped his shoulder as he curled his hand just right.
"Stop being such a tease," she gasped.
"Never." His touch stayed frustratingly light. "Want you good and ready."
"Han."
"My enhanced intellect," he was back at that spot on her neck, "is telling me that you're a little frustrated right now."
"What enhanced intellect? You're not even inside me yet."
"Oh, right." He removed his hand and waved it between them as if to confirm. "Back to being dumb."
"Han!" This time she marshaled her focus and swatted the top of his head. He ducked and laughed and rolled them over so that he fit in the cradle of her hips. She inhaled sharply as he slid into her, slick and warm and tight.
"How's that?" His hands found hers and stretched them over her head. His eyes were loving and amused and she rocked exultantly against him. "Am I dazzling you yet?"
"Oh, shut up."
"You sure? This is as smart as I'm gonna get."
It was no use talking her way out of it. She clenched around him to distract him and then wrestled her hands free. He went along for the ride as she steered his shoulders back to the mattress and rose triumphantly above him.
"Now who's the smart one?"
He grinned hazily up at her. "Definitely me."
He began to thrust up into her in earnest. She started out flattened on his chest and then rose and braced her arms on his thighs for balance. He grasped her hips and surged into her again and again, hitting just the right spot until the friction made her eyes water. His fingers danced over her nipples and between her legs and she felt another shift of his cock and then she was flying past the point of no return. Pinpricks of light floated behind her eyes like the fireflies that had accompanied her when she made her way here, to his ship, to him.
The rumpled bedclothes against her sticky skin welcomed her back from the land of oblivion. Han pulled the quilt over them and wrapped her in his arms.
"I know you know this," he said, "but you don't owe anyone anything."
She thought about that. "I owe you something," she said finally. "And Luke."
"Not sure I agree. Maybe. Just don't forget what you owe yourself."
What do we owe ourselves and the people we love? She had an idea but would have to sort it out in between the actions in the weeks and months to come. Right now she promised herself not to let the truth about her genetic history overwhelm her but also not to ignore it. It was a part of her, whether she liked it or not, and its consequences would extend beyond any barriers she could construct around her own life and entwine inescapably with the lives of those she loved.