Leia dropped into the mass of jumbled white sheets and pillows, giggling and gasping for breath. Han turned into her, still wrapped in the erotic embrace of her milky white thighs. The sweet, musky scent of their lovemaking filled his nostrils. His lips met hers in a passionate kiss. He never could have imagined when he fell in love with her that he could love her or want her more desperately but the fact that she was carrying his child made him crave her madly. His greedy lips moved to her glistening throat, eliciting a sensual laugh.

"Han, I can't breath," her fingers were tangled in his moist brown hair, massaging his neck, his shoulders, but still she made no move to stop his ministrations. Her feet stroked his thighs and buttocks leisurely.

"Neither can I," he panted, allowing his hands to wander over her exposed flesh.

"We have to get dressed." She pulled his head playfully away from her throat and looked deeply into his eyes. "You know we have to be there."

"Why?" He kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose, "We'd have so much more fun here."

Her beautiful laughter echoed in his dream. Han lurched awake in bed, sweat beading his brow, heart pounding in his cheat. Throwing his long legs over the edge and he sat there in the dark, hands over his face, trying to push the painful memory out of his mind. It was the last time they had made love. He blamed himself for this. If only he had tried harder maybe this wouldn't have happened. He really had wanted to stay at home that day; just forget that campaign and celebrate being pregnant. Or if he had been by her side, not halfway across the terrace, maybe he would have seen the shooter. Damn.

He dragged himself out of bed and into the fresher. He took a long, cold shower and then, somehow, ended up back in bed, engulfed in a heavy curtain of depression. He was so in love with her. He mourned her amnesia as if it was her death. He had to get his princess back. She had to remember. She was his life.

Leia entered their apartment with Han trailing close behind her. She could feel his eyes following her. She hadn't spoken to him the entire ride home, her silence, a black hole between them. He had tried to make conversation but she was not interested in anything that he had to say. The fact that she was married to him was something she was just going to have to deal with. Even though she had already considered it, she knew that divorce was not an option. Organas did not divorce. Marrying him had disgraced the name, she would not bring further shame to her families memory by divorcing him.

She walked into the spacious living quarters and regally took in her surroundings. It was very tastefully decorated and comfortably furnished. A large portrait, obviously their wedding portrait, adorned one wall. In the portrait, the two of them had just been married and were smiling, peering lovingly into each others eyes. Han followed her gaze and approached her hesitantly. A small smile played across his face as he remembered. He hoped the picture would stir something in her memory. He remembered the day well. It had been one of the happiest days of his life.

"You looked beautiful that day." He placed a tentative hand on her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.

"The dress is horrible," Leia remarked critically pointing out the portraits flaws, trying, quite successfully, to hurt the man standing next to her, "and my hair should be up. I can't imagine what I was thinking leaving it down like that."

She brushed his hand off her shoulder rudely and walked away. Han could feel his tension already turning into a headache. He rubbed his hand across his brow trying to relieve the pain that was starting there.

"I like your hair down. You wore it like that for me."

"Well, "she eyed him for a moment, appraising him coolly over her shoulder. Then she looked back at the portrait, "At least you wore a uniform."

Walking quickly away from him, she ran her hands over each piece of furniture, looking down at her tiny fingers after each sweep, looking for any speck of dust or grim to complain about. She walked around the entire apartment until she finally reached their bedroom. For a brief moment, she hesitated. She hoped he hadn't noticed. Although she was putting on an icy front, she was actually quite nervous. Unless something had changed, she would have been a virgin until she became involved with him. She should have saved herself until marriage but Luke had said they were "lovers" for a year. It distressed her to know that she had absolutely no memory of ever being intimate with him and her stomach was in knots. Not wanting him to see her hesitate, she entered the bedroom.

She looked around the beautifully decorated room, purposefully overlooking the bed. The room was, at the moment, dimly lit and smelled faintly of the flowers that Han had placed by the bed before he had left to pick her up.

"Our room," Han pointed out quietly.

"I know that," Leia harshly snapped, "I'd appreciate some privacy so I can look through my things, if you don't mind, General."

Han stood frozen. It had been so long since she had spoken to him like that he had forgotten how painful it was, how angry she could make him. Something in him wanted to lash out at her but he knew this wasn't her. This was not his Leia. She didn't remember their life together or how happy they had been. She was confused and angry right now and he had to be patient.

"All right." He hesitated before leaving," if you need me, I'll be in the next room,"

"I don't think I will."

Han left the room and strode silently to the bar. His hands were trembling slightly as he placed ice cubes into a large tumbler and poured himself a drink. What he needed was something to calm his nerves. He didn't even bother leaving the bar before he drained his first glass. He mixed another and went to the sofa. The white hot burn of the liquor felt good going down. This was a woman he hadn't seen in a very long time. This woman despised Han Solo and, for a long time, he had despised her. Now here she was again by some crazy twist of fate or the force, she was back and he was desperately in love with her. He drained the second glass and slammed it down on the table beside him. What the hells was he supposed to do now?

Leia wandered into her closet. It was huge, even larger than the one she had had on Alderaan. She had every kind of business suit, formal evening gown, casual dress, shirt, skirt, pant and dressing gown, all with shoes, purses and jewelry, cataloged to match. She was quite impressed and glad to see that she was still very organized and well prepared for any and every occasion. At least being married to Han Solo hadn't changed her for the worse. And their apartment was actually quite tasteful and extremely clean. She had also lied about theirwedding portrait. Although she had said otherwise, it had been rather beautiful, her gown and hair complimented each other splendidly. In all truths, she had always had an aversion to wearing it up as per Alderaanian custom.

After a long enjoyable search Leia opened the last large drawer in the back of the closet and began sorting through the last bit of her things. This time she found herself somewhat taken a-back by what she found. As she began pulling the small pieces of lingerie from the drawer, she could feel the color begin to drain from her face. For a while, she had been able to forget about her marriage to the roughish star-pilot. Now it was coming back to slap her squarely in the face. Each piece seemed to be more sexy and revealing than the last.

She slid down the wall, clutching her arms tightly around her body. The fact that he knew her body so intimately when she remembered almost nothing about him brought tears to her eyes and left her racked with quiet sobs. She felt so violated and dirty, thinking about his hands roaming over her, touching her in her most intimate places. What had he done to her? What had she allowed him to do? He probably reveled in the fact that he had bedded and married Alderaan's last princess. He probably treated her like some port-side slut while having some actual port-side slut on the side, probably several. She crammed the offending garments back into the drawer and rushed from the closet into the fresher. Inside the shower, the water was scalding hot. She leaned into the wall and cried until she could cry no more.