AN: Set during the Vong war - where Han "Needed space" and "couldn't deal with life" and everything else that was stupid and crappy about the Lucas Canon EU. Oh, how I miss it now.
Someone was in his ship. The ramp was firmly up and locked, but Han knew - something was wrong.
His breathing became laboured. Please. he thought as he sidestepped up the ramp was care, hand resting lightly over the grip on his blaster. Please, don't be Leia.
The cockpit door was open, and through it he could make out the small, slightly hunched shoulders of a woman. Hair pulled hurriedly off to the side in a thick messy ponytail.
Jaina.
He head snapped around, focused as she had been on whatever had grabbed her attention.
"I was just leaving." She stood and strode passed him.
"You don't have you." He croaked.
"If you wanted to see us, you would have docked somewhere besides here. I expected you to be away longer."
They stood, a standoff of sorts. Stubborn against angry. Lost against left.
She turned to leave, breaking first - a win for him perhaps if they had ever been keeping score - before shifting back slightly, a small sad smile played quickly across her lips. "I like the black. It's fitting." Han merely nodded. He had seen that look before. But not in her eyes - never before in her eyes. Leia had used to watch him like this. Like a wild thing, a fleeting figure.
"And I like the beard." her head tilted up; again so much like Leia, and she was down the ramp before he could respond. At the bottom, she stopped and without turning, broke his heart further. "I'll tell mom you said 'Hi'. I know you didn't - but I'll tell her anyway."
Her name caught in his throat. And she was gone.
Jaina.