I've gotten tired of coming up with a new disclaimer. George Lucas please don't sue me – now, or for any future chapters. Okay? Okay.

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The halls were dark and quiet. The Sanctuary ran with a skeleton crew at night and Ackbar had wanted some sort of normal planet-like schedule, and so the lights dimmed and the machinery quieted down when the chronos struck 20:00. Most Rebels were asleep, she knew. She could feel them around her, calm and dreaming but always ready. Ready and willing – she'd always thought of them like that, ever since she'd first learned of the Rebellion. But now, as Leia walked between the white bulkheads she could feel them, the soldiers lying in their bunks just beyond. Their dedication to their cause was like warmth on her soul, their good hearts and good intentions a balm to a stressed spirit.

She paused for a moment outside her own cabin. Well, not her own cabin, the cabin she shared with one Han Solo, ex-smuggler and current…what? There was so much unsaid between them, and now they barely talked at all. It had been all right before Leia had found the lightsaber, and even after when she had been teaching herself. Goodness knows, with the fleet in uproar and Luke missing and supplies to be gathered and plans to be made, there had enough to keep Han busy. And, to be safe, she'd always trained when he was on duty. But today marked the fourth day of her training with Masters Kenobi and Yoda, and she was beginning to understand that "dedication" and "Jedi dedication" were not the same thing. She'd thought she was training hard before – but now she was carving every spare moment out of her day, spending long hours in her little training room and returning long after her shift was up and long after Han had turned in for the night. She checked her chrono. 03:00. She had to be on duty again at 06:00. She pressed the panel, felt the whoosh of air as the door slid back, and saw light spill into the corridor.

Light? Was Han awake? Immediately, she looked up. Two pairs of brown eyes met, one with a bit of surprise, the other without the usual twinkle.

Han was seated at a chair belonging to a small desk beside their (shared) bed, but he'd turned the chair so he could put his feet – his booted feet - up on the bed. He looked perfectly at his ease, and she wondered how long he'd been waiting. She chastised herself mentally; she'd felt the presence of most every other Rebel on the way from the training room. Why hadn't she been clever enough to realize Han wasn't asleep?

"Well Your Worship, glad you could join me. I was beginning to think you'd moved out." Justified or not, his words stung. He hadn't called her by anything other than Leia since…since Bespin. With a deliberate effort, Leia cleared her mind. Once she might have snapped back at him, but now she knew it wouldn't do anything – it was late, they were both tired, and she knew he didn't mean to hurt. Han just didn't deal well with being insecure. Besides, if she was to be a Jedi she couldn't afford anger or frustration.

"Han, I-" She stopped short when his eyes left hers to stare very fixedly at her left hand. For a moment she wondered why, and then she felt a chill run through her. The lightsaber. She kept it with her at all times now, and she hadn't been thinking about it when she'd walked in here. She tried to move it out of sight against her leg, but it was too little, too late. He'd seen it, and they both knew it. But did he recognize that it was a lightsaber? His eyes returned to her, no less hurt but a lot more confused.

Under the gaze of his brown eyes, she couldn't stay silent. But she wasn't going to lie to him, or fight with him. She licked her lips. "Han, of course I still live here. It's just…we've both been stressed…" Her voice was warm, caring, and honest, but she didn't think he'd buy it. After all, this was Han Solo. She doubted she'd be getting to sleep tonight (this morning) without telling him just what it was she did with her every waking moment.

"It's Luke, isn't it." It was a statement, not a question, and for a moment she was confused. The ex-pirate had a strange expression on his face, pained but resigned – as though he'd found proof of something long dreaded.

"Han…" she wasn't sure where she was going with her speech, but Leia knew she wasn't going to talk to him from a doorway halfway across the room. She moved to the end of the bed and turned to look at him over her shoulder. But still she found herself at a loss for words; how could she even begin? He thought the Jedi were a bunch of fakes (or so he said). And what would he make of her family ties? Luke as her brother would be easy, she guessed. It was their father that would prove more difficult. She glanced down at her lap and swallowed hard.

She was still looking down when she felt the bed shift and heard his chair move across the floor. He stood, but did not move further. She looked up at him, lips parted as though she were about to speak. But he just looked at her, his face speaking of pain and longing, of caring and of fear.

"Let me guess: you can't tell me." His face twisted into that sad, wry grin that only he could ever wear. "Well Leia, if you ever decide you can tell me, I'm not hard to find." And he looked down at her once more as she looked up at him, and then he walked toward the door. His boots, she noted, made a sharp sound on the white floor. She took a moment to breathe, and then she was up and moving, reaching the hall just moments after him.

"Han!" Her voice was commanding, piercing. He stopped and turned toward her, and she stopped short. So short that the object she'd been holding absently in her left hand slipped from her grasp. Both watched as it tumbled, finally coming to rest near Han's feet. Treacherous little thing that it was, it then proceeded to roll the final distance, coming to rest against the smuggler's leather boot with a delicate thump. Naturally, he reached and picked it up.

Leia simply stood in the dim light of the doorway, waiting. Of course Han would recognize the saber – after all, he'd even used it once. He looked to the cylinder, then to her, then back to the cylinder, his expression strangely unreadable but very serious. As though he still didn't believe it, he flicked the switch and ignited the weapon. After studying it for a moment more, he let the blade go dark again. He looked back to her, holding the weapon with a strange tenderness, but in his eyes she saw the unspoken question. She could not withhold the answer.

Reaching easily into the power of the Force, Leia called the lightsaber out from his grasp. It came easily to her, landing lightly in her outstretched right hand. Her eyes never left Han's. His face was a shifting mass of emotion, sliding from confusion to disbelief and hitting most everything else along the way. But he still remained guarded from her – he was veiled, as though he wasn't sure if he could trust her with the full intensity of whatever he was feeling.

"Han, I - " "Leia, I - " The two lovers spoke at the same time, suddenly wanting to explain themselves and stumbling over one another in their haste. Han recovered first. "You're…you're a…" He wasn't quite sure how to put it; when it was Luke, the Force was one thing. But this was Leia.

"Force-sensitive?" She finished his sentence for him. He nodded. And then it was her turn to nod. "I should have told you." She dropped her gaze, eyes sinking to the floor. When she looked back up to Han he had taken a few steps toward her, but he remained silent. She was suddenly aware of how quiet the ship was around them; they might talk, but not here in the hall.

"Come back inside – please." Her voice was earnest, and Han hesitated only for a moment. He paused again for half a moment just outside the doorway, but then slid past her quietly. Neither missed the closeness of their bodies in the narrow space, and both realized how much of a mistake it was for them to argue. Regardless of spats or strong wills, they were magnetic in a way that was difficult to deny. With a small sigh Leia turned and followed him in, closing the door with one hand but keeping the lightsaber in the other. Somehow, the weapon helped her to focus, and there was little point in hiding it now.

Han took a seat by the desk again while Leia remained standing. He watched her in the artificial light. Looking at her like this, it was glaringly obvious that something within her had changed, maybe had been changing ever since Endor. He'd held her after Luke had left. He'd held her when Luke hadn't returned. But then, she'd stopped asking to be held. Now perhaps he knew why.

"Luke told you, didn't he?" Leia nodded in confirmation. "Just before he left Endor." Her voice was soft, but strong. "But that's not all. He told me that-" her voice caught a bit, and she had to steel herself to continue. "He told me that if he didn't make it back, I was the only hope for the Alliance." She stared determinedly at a bulkhead, unable to meet Han's eyes. Fierce emotions and memories flowed through her, searing like molten ore. She took a deep breath and reached for the calming comfort of the Force. Dimly she heard the sound of Han rising from the chair, and before she knew it she felt his strong arms wrap around her. She melted against him, glad for the very human comfort.

"I'm sorry." The apology was muffled by the closeness of his shirt, but she knew he heard her. "The training is…intense. That's where I've been – practicing." He hadn't asked her outright, but she hardly needed to use the Force to know that he'd been wondering. He was by nature a rather jealous sort, complex and with much more of a fragile ego than he let on. It was all she could do to stroke that ego every so often – especially when it had been so incorrectly bruised.

They remained in easy silence for a moment that dragged into eternity before both realized that it was late and they needed sleep. With the practiced ease of two people newly living together, they prepared for bed and crawled beneath the sheets, content and together. Han slipped instantly into sleep, but Leia lay awake for a moment longer and studied his sleeping form. She should have told him the rest of it. It would have been so easy. She sighed and closed her eyes. There would be other chances. And with that thought she drifted into the easy world of dreams.

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Author's Note:

Well, that turned out quite a bit longer than I was expecting. Han is by far the toughest for me to write for, so I hope you can forgive me if he's a little out of character here. Oh and, even though I had already started work on this scene before I posted Ch. 2, hopefully this answers the "where's Han?" question that some of my reviewers were asking. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed this, put it on story alert, and the one person who favorited it! Keep giving me feedback – I really want to know what y'all think!