8. Day 11 – Part III

A headache was brewing behind Han Solo's tired eyes. Although no physical display was required from him, the emotional toll had been heavy, and the night had been long. Only a little before the time he was supposed to relieve Chewie, Leia had retired to her cabin again. She had been there since then, as far as he knew.

The shock he'd felt upon her confession hadn't disappeared yet. He still felt nauseated and moved to his very core. What she had endured had broken down people apparently stronger than her, and yet here she was still bossing people around. It was not fair by any means that she had had to suffer that much at such a young age. Even if she had been a pampered Princess once.

That had been one of the many surprises of the night. He had had that holo-vid for many years; he was sure that he had downloaded it for one of his former girlfriends but didn't recall exactly which one of them. He had always known that Viceroy Bail Organa was the man in white, because he was acknowledged and thanked profusely in the credits. Since he'd met Leia on the Death Star, he had watched the last half-hour of the vid probably a hundred times. However, it had never gone across his mind that the girl with the flowers could be her.

Her Royal Highness Leia Organa. The Senator that had been tortured by Darth Vader and didn't give in. The woman that had caught his eye since they first met. The Rebel leader he'd been infatuated with for three years. The friend that had almost died because of his stupid debt with a Hutt crime Lord. The damaged girl that had been crying in his arms for her lost father. The stranger that had kissed him like she'd never kissed him before. Which one was the true Leia?

The sensation of her arms around him still lingered in his flanks. She had curled up in his lap and let him comfort her as long as the tears run free and beyond. He had held her tight till the shaking of her body stopped, whispering sweet nonsense in her ear. At first she had cried and shouted, punching his shoulder with her fist more than once, letting go of her grief, her anger and her guilt. In the end, he would had thought that she had fell asleep if it weren't for the occasional sigh and the grazing of her eyelashes against the skin of his throat.

Chewie had peeked in for a moment and cast him an interrogatory look somewhere along. Seeing that everything was under control, he retired again to the cockpit. Fortunately, he had taken the precaution of deactivating Goldenrod while he was waiting for her to dress or he would had shot him for good if he had started asking his damned questions.

He wondered how she would react when she got up. Would she be resentful because their mouths had drifted together and the inevitable had happened? He had not intended to. Certainly, he wasn't thinking about it. And he was pretty sure he didn't start it.

Well, fairly sure.

Moderately sure?

What had he done, for kriff sake?

The thing was that his lips had found hers already parted and they had joined like drawn by the powerful, unavoidable gravity well of a black hole. First just the soft, enticing brush of wet flesh over wet flesh, the savoring of their breaths, and the tentative, exploring tongues tasting the salty remnants of her tears. And then there was chaos and hunger and need and they battled against each other and against themselves wildly and both surrendered, hands franticly recognizing each other shapes.

But any living creature needs to breath now and then and the smuggler and the Princess were no exception to that rule. They finally had to part and their eyes locked for a moment in awe and fear.

And then she fled.

He followed her as soon as his body responded to his commands again, but the hatch was already closed and he remained there, dreading to hear her crying. Or cursing.

Something.

Anything.

But he heard nothing and it was almost time to relieve Chewie.

It was not as they had never kissed before. But their few previous kisses had not felt like this. She had not felt like this before. It had caught him off-guard, hey, everything had caught him off-guard last night. And to his despair, he had behaved just like the half-witted nerf-herder she had called him a few days ago, and taken advantage of her vulnerability. She had confessed her abuse by the Imperials and what had he done? Abuse her further. Betray her trust. And it didn't matter who had started it, he shouldn't have been carried away.

His ruminations were interrupted by the sound of some light steps he knew well.

Leia was coming.

Han sunk in his chair and prepared himself for her scolding. Here we go again, he thought.

She stepped into the cockpit cautiously. Han was in the pilot's seat but did not turn around to greet her. Was he mad at her? Yeah, he probably was. She revised in her mind what she wanted to say to him and sighted.

"Han," Princess Leia said.

He turned at last and looked at her straight in the eye. "Good morning, your Highness, or should I say afternoon?"

"Han, we need to talk," she insisted. "I... was not... myself last night."

"Spare me, Leia." His voice sounded harsh and hurt, and his hand raised as to put a barrier between them. "I behaved myself like a bantha and I know it. I'm... sorry. I'll tell Chewie that if he sees me being closer than arms length from ya, he can rip my arms out of its sockets. But for the record, I don't think you weren't yourself last night, I think you were perfectly like you, ya just don't wanna admit it!" His long tirade left him out of breath.

The Princess tapped her foot twice on the deck. "You finished?"

"Yeah," he sputtered defiantly. Wait, the Corellian thought, was she... smiling?

"I wanted to say thank you."

"What?"

"Thank-you. Thanks for being there for me when I needed you."

His jaw dropped slightly first and then he smiled. No, not his sarcastic smirk nor his lopsided predatory grin. Just his smile, the one that crept into his hazel eyes and made them sparkle. And the Princess smiled with him.

It was then that she noticed the three thin reddish lines on his cheek. "Did I do that?" She asked, touching them lightly with slim fingers.

"Alright, you win, that wasn't like you," he said, covering her hand with his own and added, "...I hope. Or maybe it wasn't me, was it?"

She seemed to ponder her answer for a moment but she never had the opportunity to answer. An ominous rapping on the hull made them switch to full alert mode.

"Leia, the shields!!" Han shouted.