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Han was hyperaware of the Princess from the moment she entered the hangar. He had been back at the Fleet from his supply run to Kuat for only two days, during which time he had discovered that there was an opening in the mission schedule for a pilot to take her to Commenor. He signed up immediately. This time, his motivation was something other than credits.

This would be the perfect opportunity to spend some time with her, with no one but Chewie to get in the way.

His eyes trailed her to General Dadonna's side, where he stood speaking to a group of X-wing pilots. This was the first time Han had seen the Princess in anything that was not a dress. Her uniform was an olive green at the shoulders and high collar. The olive color ran diagonally across her torso, the other side and the long sleeves gray. It drew in at her waist and the snug-fitting pants were the same shade of gray. In profile, he could see that she had rolled several small buns at the back of her head, at her hairline. The front was pulled back neatly. She looked very military, but still caught and held his attention.

She waited patiently until the pilots had dispersed then approached the General, hands laced behind her back. As they conversed back and forth, Han replaced his hydrospanner in the toolbox by his feet, waiting until she was finished.

The conversation seemed tense. When it ended, she spun to depart but Han rushed to intercept her.

"Hey, Your Highness."

She halted, stiffening after meeting his eyes. Her expression went from determined to leery. "Captain."

He crossed his arms over his chest and towered over her. "It's Han, remember?" He grinned.

She simply blinked at him. Han had the impression she felt he was wasting her time.

"Looks like we'll be spending more time together soon."

For a moment, tiny lines surrounded her eyes and she was clearly confused. The light dawned. "Oh. Yes. I saw that. Commenor."

"I was surprised the pilot spot was still open," he said, simply to keep her there a bit longer.

Her jaw grew taut. "Is that a joke?" she asked, plainly irritated.

Puzzled, his hands fell to his sides and he relaxed his stance. "Was it funny?" he asked in all seriousness.

She appeared suddenly uncomfortable and glanced away. Standing more erect, she took a breath. "It seems that the general consensus among the pilots is that I'm intimidating."

Han bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. On the one hand, it was laughable to imagine a group of pilots afraid of this small, young woman. On the other, he knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of her rancor, and so he sympathized.

"Then it's a good thing I'm not easily intimidated," he said in a low tone, smiling in genuine amusement.

For an instant, there was something softer in her eyes. Gratitude? It was gone before Han could decide if that was it. At the relaxing of her features, he felt something stir inside him. He preferred her more delicate and yielding over the cold demeanor that often seemed to be permanently etched into her visage.

"Well, then," she said, all business again. "I shall see you then."

"Where you rushin' off to?" The words fell from his lips before he could stop them. He didn't want her to go.

She frowned. "I have business to attend to. I don't have time to stand around and chat."

"Well, excuse me." He raised his hands defensively. "Didn't mean to take up your precious time."

Her brow drew down and her expression hardened. Han couldn't help but imagine placing his mouth on hers, feeling her lips become supple and inviting beneath his. His heart rate sped up.

"I was not trying to offend you," she explained in a harsh tone. "I have work to do."

He turned his eyes to the deck. "And you wonder why they're intimidated," he muttered.

"Excuse me?"

Maybe he shouldn't have said that out loud. He looked back to her. "I'm just sayin'," he began. "You keep to yourself so much, you're always so cold and stand-offish. That's why people're intimidated."

She was angry now, storm clouds forming in her eyes. "You don't know the first thing about me," she spat.

"Hey, maybe I don't," he allowed. "But, I know people. And I know how they see you."

"From what I've seen of you, you don't know much of anything." Her hands balled at her hips.

He leaned closer to her, voice rising. "I know enough not to be scared of a woman who barely reaches my knees!"

Her teeth were clenched, eyes bright with anger and, to Han, she looked more beautiful than ever.

Abruptly, she seemed to remember they were not alone. Her eyes shifted from one side to the other and her spine stiffened. Han realized they had become the center of attention.

Throwing him one last scowl, she spun and stalked from the hangar. Ignoring the gawking onlookers, Han returned to the underside of his ship and retrieved the spanner from his toolbox.

Was it strange that he felt undeniably aroused?

###

Leia locked the door to the Millennium Falcon's crew quarters behind her, huffing with frustration. She was quickly losing patience at the Captain's flippancy. More disturbing than his bad attitude was the fact that the sight of him still sent an unnerving charge through her.

There was never a moment when they were in the same room that she was unaware of his presence. The sound of his voice sent a flutter through her stomach and she hated it.

She threw herself down on the bunk and sighed. She couldn't wait until this mission was over. Why did he have to be the one pilot who was happy to accompany her on this mission? Anyone would be preferable to Han Solo. Even Luke with his impossible, boyhood crush would be better than Solo.

He was arrogant, argumentative, and…

So damned attractive. That was the worst thing about him. It was the one thing that made him so difficult to ignore.

And this ship was so small. The only option to avoid him was to stay locked in this cabin.

It was an effort to stare back into those intense, hazel eyes when he looked at her. She tried to cover up the effect he had on her by employing a cold, unaffected mask. It was an effort and she worried that one day he would see right through her, picking up on the way he caused her heartbeat to quicken, the inexplicable ache she often felt in her stomach. She had never felt anything like this before.

Her time with Benny came to mind. He was certainly a very handsome man, but never had her heart raced at the sight of him. Benny felt like a warm, comfortable blanket that one had loved since childhood.

Han, in contrast, felt like a sudden, unexpected jump that launched her into hyperspace, destination unknown.

Han…

It was better to think of him as Solo. Even better, Captain Solo. The less personal the better.

###

So far, this trip had put Han in a sullen mood. The sole purpose had been to spend some time with the Princess. There was no other reason to be here, as diplomatic missions were absurdly boring. It was like being a private transport. He would much prefer something more exciting, regardless of the risks.

But, the Princess was not cooperating. Every time he approached her, she regarded him coldly and now she had locked herself inside the crew quarters.

Stuck up, little bitch, he thought, scowling. Was she too good to fraternize with Chewie and him?

Well, she was royalty, so of course she believed herself better than him. He wondered what her life had been like before being forced into hiding with the Rebellion. High tea at midday? Servants attending to her every whim?

Probably, he thought with a touch of disgust.

Well, she had certainly been knocked down a few pegs to reside with the commoners. But, he couldn't deny that she did it effortlessly, taking no special privileges. She appeared to work as hard as anyone else, if not harder.

He had heard all the gossip. Not one to join in, he simply listened.

Why is the Princess part of High Command?

She doesn't know what she's doing. I guess they had to find something for her, she's got nowhere else to go.

She's probably sleeping with Dadonna.

They hadn't seen her rip the blast rifle from Luke's hands and they probably didn't know that she resisted Vader's torture, never revealing the location of the Rebel Base. Of course, he only knew about that from Luke, who loved to talk about all the Princess' virtues.

If he didn't know better, he might be thinking the same as the others. The fact was, she was clever, brave, and determined. That she had managed to secure the Death Star plans and keep them out of Imperial hands proved that.

And she's beautiful…

Han shoved the thought aside, even as it tugged hard at something inside him.

The sound of the cockpit door sliding open distracted him from his thoughts and he looked up, hopeful that the object of his musings had sought him out.

No such luck.

Chewie barked about leaving two plates of food in the galley, one for him and one for the small Princess.

"Thanks," Han grumbled, turning back to the nothingness of hyperspace. "I'm sure her Holiness won't find it good enough for someone of her royal status."

With a shrug, Chewbacca growled that when she got hungry, the food would be there. He added that Han was being too hard on her.

He snorted in return. "She's impossible."

The Wookiee just chuckled and, when Han looked at him pointedly, he went about his business, checking gauges to the right. A few minutes passed and he barked a quick question.

"I dunno," Han muttered. "Wasn't much going on."

His responding growl was skeptical.

Han gave him a sour look. "Well, what other reason would there be for taking on this mission? We gotta get paid one way or another."

Chewie suggested that it might have something to do with the human female who was currently holed up in the crew quarters.

"That's ridiculous," Han snarled. "I can't stand her."

He pointed out that it was odd how much time he spent watching her when he couldn't stand her.

"Just cause I can't stand her doesn't mean she's not nice to look at," Han sneered.

His Co-pilot hooted with soft laughter and Han focused his attention unnecessarily on their coordinates.

Was he that obvious? If Chewbacca had noticed, had the Princess noticed as well? Maybe that was why she was avoiding him.

He dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. She probably doesn't even give me that much thought. Too busy holding herself above all us peasants.

"Hopefully this'll all be quick. Her Worship can make her speech and we can get back to the fleet, get something better for our time."

The Wookiee barked with terse agreement.

"At least this is easy money," Han added. Was he trying to convince his friend? Or himself? He noticed Chewie watching him and chose to ignore him.

His stomach grumbled loudly and he realized he hadn't eaten all day. Without a word, he fled the cockpit and made his way to the galley.

Grabbing one of the two plates on the counter, he placed it in the heating unit and set it to heat. He leaned against the counter and waited.

His eyes stared unseeing at the doorway and he was startled when the Princess silently appeared, as if from nowhere. She hung back in the doorway, eyeing him cautiously.

He gathered hit wits, ignoring the tiny burst of excitement that spewed through his stomach. "What's up, Princess?"

She seemed to force the words from her mouth. "I don't mean to put you out," she began slowly. "I didn't have a chance to eat before we left…"

He inclined his head towards the plate Chewie had placed on the counter. "Help yourself."

She gave him a small, uneasy smile. "Thank you."

At the moment, she did not seem like the imperious aristocrat she normally appeared to be. She seemed shy and uncertain, and Han didn't know what to make of it.

The heating unit beeped and Han removed the plate and thrust it towards her, face impassive.

Her brow rose slightly. "Was this yours?"

"Yeah. But, take it."

"No, thank you. I'll heat up the other plate." She tried to hand it back to him, but he didn't take it.

"Just take it. I can wait for the other one to heat."

"No, that's okay. You have it." She tried again to give him the plate.

He ended the discussion by taking the other plate from the counter and sticking it in the heating unit, facing it while it warmed the plate so that he didn't have to face her. Behind him, he heard her place the plate on the table and climb onto a stool.

The unit signaled that it was finished and Han took his plate and joined her at the counter. She had chosen the seat farthest to the left and he sat at the one on the right, leaving a chair between them. He noticed she hadn't begun eating.

"No need to wait for me, Your Highness."

A small smile skewed her lips to one side. "I don't know where you keep your utensils."

Chagrined, he smiled back then stood and grabbed two forks from a cabinet. He handed her one.

"Thank you," she said primly.

They ate in silence for a time, until she finally spoke.

"Thank you for making a plate for me."

Han swallowed before answering. "Don't look at me. It was Chewie." He glanced her way and saw her posture stiffen slightly.

"Well, then," she said smoothly. "I will have to thank him."

Han noticed she was shoveling food into her mouth as quickly as he was. "Hungry, Your Worship?" he asked, grinning.

She glanced down at her plate sheepishly. "I guess so. I don't remember the last time I ate."

"How do you not remember?"

She shrugged. "Normally, I'm so busy that I don't have time to think about it. Right now, I haven't much to do."

So, that was why she looked thinner than the first time he saw her. On the Death Star, her cheeks had still been rounded with a touch of girlhood, making her appear every bit as young as she was. Now, her cheekbones were visible and she appeared to be more woman than girl. He had thought it a trick of her hairstyle, but now he saw that she had lost weight.

"Yeah, well, it's not like the food the Alliance serves is all that appetizing anyway. I can see why you'd avoid it." He paused with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Certainly not fit for royal consumption."

"It's not that," she countered in a stilted tone. "I get hungry, but I have too much to do. So, I decide I will eat later, but I forget and by the time I remember, I am usually in my quarters, ready to sleep."

A vision swam before his eyes: the Princess, lying in bed, naked. In his daydream, she was smiling up at him, coquettish and beckoning.

In reality, she had now turned back to her food, eating more slowly. He mentally shook his head, forcing the enticing image from his mind.

But, he couldn't banish the sudden arousal that had taken hold of him. He let out a deep, slow breath and tried to focus on his plate.

"Are you all right?" she asked abruptly.

His eyes reflexively jerked to her. She was looking at him and frowning. "Yeah. Of course. Why?"

"That was a very big sigh." She was almost smiling. "Sounds like you have the weight of the galaxy on your shoulders."

He struggled momentarily for a response. "Just anxious to get this mission over with and get back to the fleet."

She raised an eyebrow. "Too boring for you?" Sitting back on her stool, she seemed to have forgotten her meal.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not a fan of politics."

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."

Her tone was teasing and it captured his attention and sparked a gleam in his eye.

"You don't enjoy all that arguing over and over and accomplishing nothing, do you?"

"Politicians accomplish plenty." Her voice held a twitch of indignation.

Han's lips twisted sardonically. "Plenty of nothing."

She sat up in a more regal manner. "You're so cynical."

"Not cynical. Realistic," he replied coolly.

Her lips pressed together and she shook her head slowly. Her brow rose and something subtle shifted in her eyes, softening them. "Do you believe in anything?"

A yearning blew through him but he bit it back and played it cool. "Just my ship and my co-pilot. S'all I need."

"Sounds lonely."

He peered at her thoughtfully, refusing to betray the mild flicker that her words caused him. "Not for me. All you really need is one good being you can really trust at your back. That's better 'an a hundred you can't be sure of."

The Princess seemed to mull over his words. "Why do you trust him when you don't trust anyone else?"

"He's always had my back."

Her expression softened. "How can you know if someone else might have your back, unless you take a leap of faith and give them a chance?"

His lips parted a moment earlier than he found a response. Was she speaking generally? Or was she talking about herself? "Not worth the risk," he countered, suddenly feeling uncertain. He returned to his food, hoping to end the conversation.

"It sounds to me as if you're missing out on a lot of goodness in people."

He looked back to her, chewing a bit longer than necessary. He swallowed. "There's more bad than good in this galaxy."

"You truly believe that?" Her lips fell into a slight pout.

His eyes were drawn to the round, fullness of her lower lip and he forced his gaze to hers. "Damn right. You'd believe it too if you'd seen the things I've seen."

"You think I'm blind to the injustices of the galaxy?"

He sneered back at her. "Living up in that palace and sittin' on that throne didn't exactly expose you to the dregs of galactic society."

She winced slightly, reminded him of her tragedy. He almost felt the urge to apologize but held his tongue.

"I might have lived a life of privilege, but my father made me aware of the hardship and suffering of others," she replied defensively.

"That's not the same as experiencing it first hand," Han insisted.

"Maybe not," she answered coldly. "But, that's what I am fighting for. Change for the galaxy as a whole. To give a better life to all beings."

Han blew out a harsh breath that was almost a laugh. "That's a tall order."

Her eyes tightened ever-so-slightly. "Defeating the Empire is a difficult goal, but the Alliance will eventually succeed."

"You're crazy." He rolled his eyes.

"Oh really?" Anger crept into her voice. "You thought the same of our efforts to destroy the Death Star." A triumphant gleam shone in her eyes.

"That was plain luck."

"No," she said, voice now frigid. "That was determination and fortitude. We can never give up. The Battle of Yavin was our first true victory and it will not be our last."

He shook his head swiftly. "You'll never get that lucky again."

"Believe what you would like, but one day we will defeat the Empire."

"How can you? You've got a tiny fraction of their resources."

She leaned closer to him and her dedication and perseverance were clear. "And that is why diplomatic missions like this are so important. We need support from more systems. We need more recruits, more ships, guns, and supplies. We need the strength of numbers."

"You can campaign day and night, it still won't be enough."

The Princess shook her head with disgust. "You're the worst pessimist I've ever met."

He grinned. "And you're the worst optimist I've ever met."

She sat back with a roll of her eyes. "So, why are you helping us?"

He bristled. "I'm not helping you. I told you already, I look out for number one. And that's me. I'm here cause the pay's good."

"Worth the risks?"

"It's no different from smuggling. That's risky too."

"You think the punishment for smuggling is just as harsh as for galactic treason?" she asked sharply.

He shrugged, unable to find a suitable argument. "Doesn't matter. I won't get caught."

"Oh, I suppose you're too smart to get caught."

He leaned back with a smug grin. "Well, I am pretty brilliant. But, no. I've got Corellian luck on my side."

"Oh, Corellian luck," she drawled. "You couldn't possibly get caught. You're practically invisible." Her lips compressed and curled wryly.

This woman's sarcasm matched his and he had to force himself not to smile in appreciation. "Practically," he drawled in return.

Abruptly, she slid from her stool. "Thank you for your hospitality, Captain."

"Han."

"Han," she conceded. "I'm going to retire to the crew quarters now. Good night."

"Night, Princess." He watched her stride from the galley. She was really quite enjoyable when she relaxed a little. If only he could get her to truly relax and allow him just a bit closer…

He shook his head to clear it of the silly fantasy, yet found that it remained long after.

###

Beneath the covers, Han lay back against his pillow, thoughts firmly centered on Princess Leia. She danced through his mind like a hot mist blown about by the wind. Knowing she was sleeping nearby was proving to be a bit of torture.

He wondered what she was wearing to bed and pictured some virginal sleepgown that covered practically all of her smooth, white skin. It seemed like something a woman like her might wear.

But, he would so much like to see and touch what was beneath the cumbersome gown.

Why couldn't he get her off his mind? This was the last mission on which he would accompany her. He needed to put her out of sight and out of mind.

Their earlier conversation had replayed in his head several times already. It was the perfect reminder of why his attraction to her was a terrible idea. They were complete opposites.

What was that saying? Opposites attract. Yes. But, surely, a princess was far too different from a smuggler, more than even opposites. Altogether incompatible.

Then again, since when did he need compatibility in order to sleep with someone?

But, the thought was ridiculous. Even if she felt an attraction towards him, he doubted she would ever act on it. No, he was much too low on the social stratum for her. Surely, she would prefer someone like Luke. He wasn't royalty, but he was honorable and purely dedicated to the Rebellion. Much more likely to earn a princess' favor.

And the kid was certainly smitten with her. It beamed from his eyes like a beacon begging her to land her ship. Han didn't know if anything would ever come of it, but he could see that she was fond of him too. Having observed them together, he saw that they seemed to become immersed in each other, in a private, little world of their own. And she was much more informal and relaxed with Luke. Her easy smile was not one she had ever displayed when interacting with Han. No, with Han she was guarded and stiff, clearly untrusting.

Then again, why should she trust him? He had made his priorities and agenda well known. Maybe that had been a mistake.

What was he thinking?!

Obviously, he was not going to get to sleep anytime soon. With a grunt of frustration, he left the bunk and shrugged into a pair of sleep pants. He rarely wore them, but it seemed appropriate with a princess onboard. He didn't bother with a shirt before ambling into the corridor, intent on the cockpit. Staring out into hyperspace always relaxed him.

The woman sleeping in the crew quarters never left his mind and as he walked past that door, he heard a low moan. For just a moment, he mistook it for a sound of sexual excitement and stopped dead in his tracks, shocked. He placed his ear against the door and heard a loud, whining sound. He quickly realized she was in distress and palmed the door open.

Han was surprised to find her asleep, tangled in the covers. In the slight glow of the night lighting, he looked at her more closely. Her forehead was puckered, closed eyes tightened. She was clearly experiencing some sort of bad dream. A keen whimper escaped her lips and they twisted to a grimace.

He remained at a distance but called to her softly. She didn't stir, nor did she respond when he called her more loudly. Approaching the bunk, he placed a hand on her shoulder, shook her very lightly, and called out again.

She bolted upright, eyes wild and confused, body tense and poised to take action.

Han felt badly for her. He had years of experience living on the fringe, always on guard for danger. He backed up slightly and spoke in a quiet, soothing voice. "Hey, Princess, relax. You're safe on the Falcon. It was just a bad dream."

Her gaze was on him, but she didn't seem to see him. She still looked disoriented and there was an underlying fear in her eyes.

He took a step closer. "You're safe. Everything's okay."

She blinked several times and glanced about the cabin. He saw the acceptance slowly settle over her and her body seemed to relax slightly.

"Nothing is okay." Her words were barely audible, but Han just caught them. She took several deep breaths as he pondered the meaning of her words.

"You all right?" Something primal was tugging him forward, urging him to go to her and wrap her in his arms. He resisted it; she would probably slap him.

She nodded, eyes still wary.

Han appraised her now that things had calmed down a bit. He had guessed right, she was wearing some sort of white sleepgown that left everything to the imagination. Her hair was unbound, flowing all around her, almost swallowing her in its dark, abundant tresses. The sight of her like that, in bed, sent a raging heat through his loins.

Their eyes locked on each other and something subtle shifted in hers as the room flooded with tension. Her gaze perused his bare chest before lowering to the floor self-consciously.

Does she feel it too? he wondered suddenly, an unbidden ray of hope warming him from the inside.

"All right, well…" He ran a hand through his hair, uncertain what to say or do now. "Glad you're okay." He turned to leave, wanting to do anything but.

"Do you…?" The words sputtered from her lips and Han quickly turned back. She swallowed before continuing. "Do you have any tea?"

The question took him by surprise and he nodded. "Yeah, there's tea in the galley. C'mon."

A tiny smile curved her lips, but there was some residual uneasiness in her eyes. "Thank you."

He waited, but she remained in place on the bed, looking expectant.

"I'll be there shortly," she said quietly.

He realized she must want to make herself more presentable and, with a shrug, he left the cabin. Outside the door, he paused to take a long, deep breath through his nose. He released it slowly through his mouth, hoping to get rid of the fierce desire that was pulsating through him. It did not dissipate one bit.

Tingling and electrified, he moved on to the galley, took a mug from a cabinet, and filled it with water. He placed it in the heating unit and retrieved some tea leaves. After it was finished, Han sprinkled in the leaves and forced his mind to focus on things other than the Princess.

He thought about Jabba. Surely, that would calm him down. Just picturing the giant, greedy slug's bloated form dampened Han's ardor. Realistically, he could only hide out with the Rebels for so long. Otherwise, the Hutt would become more enraged with time. Already he would have to pay him extra. Eventually, there would come a time when some extra credits would not be enough and Jabba would want him to suffer.

Movement brought his eyes to the door and there she was, a white robe enveloping her, covering even more than the sleepgown had alone. He was disappointed that her hair was no longer spilling past her shoulders in splendid disarray, but pulled back neatly into one long braid that travelled down her back. She stood tentatively in the doorway, as if uncertain to enter.

"How do you like your tea, Your Highness?" He held the cup aloft.

The question seemed to propel her inside. "One sweetener, please." She still seemed agitated.

Han turned, reached into the cabinet for a sweetener, and dropped it into the metal mug. He placed it on the counter for her and took a seat on the middle stool.

Leaving her no choice but to sit next to him on either the left or right side. She chose the right.

"Thank you," she said quietly, lifting her mug and blowing on the hot tea.

Han watched the rounding of her lips as they blew steam into the surrounding air, longing whisking through him. He sat angled towards her while she faced straight ahead.

With one foot swiveling him lightly back and forth with nervous energy, he ended the suffocating silence. "What was your nightmare about?"

She met his eyes, defensiveness clouding hers. "I don't remember."

Han had the distinct feeling she was lying. Then again, why would she confide in him?

A slight, wistful smile brushed her lips and her gaze went vacant. "If only things were as simple as when we were children and we could climb into our parents' bed to be comforted."

He balked inwardly, crossing his arms over his chest. Of course, she assumed everyone had experienced such a luxury of comfort. Defensive and impulsive, he deepened his voice and grinned with maximum charm. "Hey, if you need some comfort in the middle of the night, you know where to find my cabin."

The Princess' eyes darted to his and her cheeks blazed red. Shock quickly turned to anger. "No, thank you." Her voice was harsh and breathy. "I think I can manage." She returned to sipping her tea.

Dumbass, he silently berated himself. What had urged him to say such a thing? He was unused to dealing with women like this one. He wasn't about to kiss her feet, but saying things like that would just widen the gap between them. And that gap was plenty big already.

The lines of her face had hardened and she seemed to be concentrating a bit too hard on her tea.

Han struggled to recover from the moment. "So, you don't remember your dream?"

"No," she responded tersely.

He nodded thoughtfully. "Wouldn't be surprised if it was about the Death Star."

Her eyes were on him faster than he could realize it and she looked surprised and suddenly vulnerable, like a child caught in a fib. Han knew he had guessed right. They stared at each other for a long moment before she turned back to her tea in silence.

"Couldn't blame ya," he added in a mindful tone. "I mean, after everything that happened. Can't be easy to get past."

The Princess took a long sip of tea, eyes aimed downwards. Han had the sense she was stalling.

"I don't need your pity, Captain," she replied staunchly, still averting her eyes.

"Hey," he said with a touch of defensiveness. "I don't feel bad for you. And its Han, remember?"

She turned to look at him, glaring slightly with a touch of uncertainty. "Why should I call you by your given name when you don't call me by mine?"

"Well, Your Worshipfulness, you are a Princess. And you've never given me a pass to call you anything but." He raised his chin in a challenge, making his point.

She seemed uncertain if he were mocking her or not and studied his expression intently.

Admittedly, he was poking fun at her status somewhat, but he remained stoic, revealing nothing.

"You may call me Leia," she finally responded, the timbre of her voice still guarded. "After all, we have been in garbage together." A slight smile pulled up one side of her mouth.

He grinned appreciatively. "That's right, we sure have."

She returned to her tea as the small smile faded and she took a deep breath. "Everyone looks at me as if they're waiting for me to fall apart. I can't stand it." Her voice was low but seemed to resonate throughout the small galley.

Han slid his hands down his legs to rest on his knees and chucked his head to one side. A disdainful breath flew from his lips. "I know you're not gonna fall apart. You're too strong for that. Knew it when you first yelled at me in the detention center."

She smiled again. "I suppose I did yell at you. Sorry about that. Rough day." The smile shifted to sardonic.

"Yeah, I kinda figured that." His grin returned. They grew quiet but he continued to watch her. This softer side of her was appealing, sparking something inside that he couldn't quite identify, that was beyond lust. It was a powerful feeling, yet unnerving at the same time.

"I dunno how anyone could think you're gonna fall apart. Then again, maybe they've never seen you shoot a hole in the wall with a blast rifle without batting an eye. Where'd you learn to shoot like that? I'da thought you'd blast a hole in me instead."

Some pride was in her responding smile now. It quickly melted to sadness. "My father made a point to have me trained in combat and weaponry."

"For the Rebellion?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been involved?"

"For years now." She remained staring down at her mug.

"Years?" Han asked, a touch of incredulity in his voice. "You must've been just a kid. How old are you?"

Her spine became rigid and she eyed him with leery irritation. "I'm nineteen."

His brow rose. "Nineteen?" His voice rose an octave in surprise. "You can be a Senator at nineteen?"

"I was appointed Senator at eighteen." Defensive pride was clear in her tone. "The youngest Senator ever elected."

"Huh." Han mulled that over. Eighteen seemed awfully young for a Senator. Then again, at eighteen, he had already been on his own for several years, wise in some ways beyond his age.

"I don't mean to be intimidating."

Her words pulled him from his thoughts and he had to search his memory for where this confession had come from. Abruptly, he recalled their conversation in the hangar.

"Well, maybe you should try relaxing a little," he answered honestly.

"Relaxing?" Her narrowed eyes were on him in a heartbeat.

He shrugged. "Yeah. You're always so cold and uptight. If you relaxed, you might seem more approachable."

Her expression only grew angrier. "You don't seem to have any trouble approaching me."

His grin was brash. "That's cause I'm not easily intimidated." He paused, smile growing broader. "Plus, I've seen you in garbage. Hard to be intimidated after seeing a Princess waist-high in muck."

She rolled her eyes but a smile tugged her lips upwards. It sent a glimmer of warmth through him. He wondered what was going through her mind.

Her fingers traced the rim of her mug, which was now empty. "Well, Cap—Han," she said deliberately, almost smiling. "Thank you for the tea. And the company. I'm off to bed now. We have a long day tomorrow."

He nodded, knowing he needed to sleep as well, but reluctant to see her go. His eyes followed her as she placed her mug in the recycler.

"Good night," she called softly before turning and leaving the galley.

"Night." He watched her until she was out of sight, marveling at how he could find her so damned attractive in the virginal get-up she had on.