From a Certain Point of View
Han rolled over in his bed. A sliver of daylight winked through the screens on his window, teasing his eyelids open with its brilliant warmth. As he stretched his arms over his head and yawned, he glanced over at the chrono and stared for a moment.
It had been five days since he left the Medical Center and he had over a week and half left before he had to return for a follow-up visit. Slowly tapering off of his pain meds, his bouts with dizziness and nausea were becoming less and less frequent. And other than that 'incident' in the 'fresher, his days and nights living with Leia had been uneventful.
Like a stray nerf that she had brought home, the young rebel tended to his wounds, fed him and cared for him with a tenderness that often surprised him. But her protective guard never dropped, he still knew very little about her personal life and he wasn't even sure where she disappeared to everyday.
On a few occasions, like when she changed the bandages on his fingers or administered his medication, he could almost see her struggling to remain unemotional and detached. The signs weren't hard for him to recognize; he had made a life out of remaining detached. Only now, in the harsh light of his recent loneliness, did he wonder just where that life had gotten him and he worried where it was taking the fallen Princess.
His thoughts went to his old friend, Chewbacca, the loyal Wookiee that had been as much a part of his life as the Falcon. The manner in which they had finally parted ways hadn't exactly sat well with him. With all this newfound time to reminiscence, he slowly realized that the price of that loner life he clung so hungrily to had come with a hefty penalty. Loyalty and friendship had suffered greatly at the hands of freedom and autonomy.
Turning on his back, he looked up at the ceiling as a heavy weight settled on top of his chest. Each morning he was greeted by these alien thoughts of regret and despair. Never before had he been plagued by such self-doubt and self-pity and as his medicinal fog cleared, their persistence sharpened to what now seemed to be a razor's edge.
Han recognized these familiar demons from the debilitating night terrors he had suffered sporadically while in the hospital. And although they no longer plagued him in his sleep, he found them lurking in the shadows of his wakefulness, pacing back and forth like wild animals frothing at the mouth. They bore down on him, relentless and carnivorous, they ate away at him and he felt powerless against the overwhelming pressure and intensity of their hunger - a hunger, it seemed, for his very soul.
Pushing several long deep breaths through his lungs, he rolled out of bed and headed to his 'fresher to get dressed. He wondered if this was rock bottom for him, sure that he was unable to fall very much farther from here. Splashing his face with cool water, he did his best to shake off the unsettled feelings and ready himself for another day.
Later that afternoon, lounging in Leia's living room reading last week's edition of the Coruscant Comet, Han looked up at the sound of the apartment door sliding open. Leia walked in and placed her satchel on the entryway table.
"You're early," he stated as she walked towards him.
"You took the bandages off your fingers."
Han looked down to his half-grown fingernails and then back up to her. "Yeah, they don't hurt too much anymore." Taking another look at the raw, exposed skin, he added, "I can put the bandages back on if it bothers you."
"No." She shrugged off her jacket and flung it on the conform chair by the window. "I think you should wear the bandages at night, though. To apply the bacta effectively."
Han swung his legs over and placed his feet on the floor.
Leia moved towards him and sat at the edge of the lounger that his legs had just vacated and relaxed back against the cushions with a sigh. "Any more dizzy spells or light-headedness?"
He stared at her, she had her head tilted back and her eyes were closed. "No."
Her head lifted up and she opened her eyes to find his. "Well, that's good news." She finished with a tender smile.
"Yep." Placing his hands on his knees, he moved to get up as he said, "And speaking of good news, I thought I would cook us dinner tonight."
The pair had been "enjoying" Leia's cooking since Han had arrived and it turned out that the watery soup she served him that first day had been her flagship meal.
Standing now, he watched as she cocked an eyebrow at him. "Are you insinuating anything about my cooking, Captain Solo?"
"No," he replied quickly as he flung the Coruscant Comet onto the kaffe table. "I wouldn't dare."
"That's not exactly a retraction."
Han chuckled. "I'm still here, ain't I?"
"Meaning my cooking hasn't killed you yet?"
"Your words not mine." He winked at her and began to walk toward the kitchen. "I'll get started while you get comfortable."
Han entered the kitchen and went directly to the chiller. Leia had been bringing home miscellaneous grocery items over the past couple of days, what she had kept in the kitchen before he arrived was anybody's guess. Regardless, he began to set various spices and vegetables on the counter as he mentally patched together a recipe with the limited ingredients on hand.
Most of the vegetables were chopped and the nerf steaks were marinating by the time Leia entered the kitchen. She was wearing a cream-colored, long-sleeved thermal tee shirt that Han began to recognize as one of her favorites. It bore a red Alliance symbol on the upper right and hugged her tiny frame intimately. She wore some dark grey, casual pants that cinched at the waist with a small chord. On her feet, were large, thick socks, another Leia-staple. It seemed no matter what the temperature of the apartment, she was always cold.
Drawing in a deep breath through her nose, she wrapped her arms around herself. "Oh, that smells wonderful."
Letting out a chuckle, Han replied, "I haven't even turned the burner on yet. That's just the raw seasoning."
"Well, it still smells good," she pouted as she reached around him and grabbed a chopped tekli sprout, sniffing at it for a moment before popping it into her mouth.
Han shook his head and looked at her. "Do you even know what you just ate?"
"A sprout?" Leia answered while still chewing, forming her words definitely more as a question than a statement.
Han watched her as she chewed and waited for him to answer her. There was something about Leia in the kitchen that he liked instantly. Maybe it was because it was the one place he had ever seen her appear off-balance and unsure of herself. She seemed younger and innocent and unguarded. He felt a silly smile crawling across his face, but he couldn't stop it.
"What?" Leia placed her hand over her mouth, covering her own shy smile. There was a sparkle in her eye that could have illuminated the entire Coruscant underground.
"C'mere," he said as he placed his hands on her sides and lifted her to sit on the kitchen counter, "You can talk to me while I cook."
She hadn't resisted his handling of her, but the giddiness instantly vanished. Arching an eyebrow at him she swallowed the remainder of the tekli sprout and replied, "What do you want me to talk about?"
Han recognized her defensive shields shooting up and he looked back down at the vegetables and shrugged. "Whatever you want."
He made a point to avoid eye contact as he left her on the counter and began to gather pots and miscellaneous food items, not wanting to scare her off. After a short silence, he suggested, "You know, like your hair…or makeup…or the latest fashion trends."
He looked over at her and gave her a wink and she allowed a smile to caress her lips. Her shoulders relaxed and she drew her legs up and crossed them in front of her, her elbows resting on her knees. She watched him cook in silence for a long time, however, before she finally decided to speak.
Han hadn't really had anything specific in mind for her to talk about. And when she started off by discussing the New Republic he certainly hadn't been shocked. But it was only by the time the nerf stew was simmering and he was leaning on the opposite counter giving her his full attention while she sipped on a glass of red wine, that she finally surprised him.
"We had a chef at the palace. His name was Nat. And no one was allowed in his kitchen…ever." She lifted her eyebrows to add emphasis to this fact.
Han took a sip of his drink and remained silent.
Leia stared at him for a moment, twirling the wine around in her glass, before she continued. "My father and I would sneak into the kitchen at night, after Nat went home. Bail would make me some of the silliest concoctions. Like…" Her eyes drifted up to the ceiling, her thoughts a million parsecs away. Meeting Han's gaze again, she continued, "Bayberry jam and muja fruit sandwiches." She smiled and took a sip of her wine. "Always messy, sometimes double and triple decker…always way too much for us to eat."
Her eyes came down to rest on the glass of wine in her hands and she straightened up her posture. There was a time that he hated her for what she had done to him, a time when he had equated everything that had gone wrong in his life recently to the day she walked back into it. But for better or worse, right or wrong, he no longer blamed her for the decisions that had landed him here. He wondered if she had made peace with her decisions.
"Sounds like fun," Han finally offered with a warm smile.
"It was," she answered simply and then shook her head as if chasing painful memories away. "Anyway, we would of course, do our best to clean up before Nat came back in the morning."
"Of course."
"But he always somehow knew that we had been there and he had an uncanny ability to name our previous night's inventions." She drew a long sip of wine. "And so it became a game between us."
She smiled broadly, and Han saw the young woman who had run across the hangar to greet him and Luke after they blew up the Death Star. He felt something inside of his chest wind up tight. She had had a family full of love and cherished memories and it had been maliciously stripped away from her. Now here they were, living in the same self-appointed exile, alone and guarded from the rest of the universe - her by a cruel twist of fate and him by his own design. Han didn't know which was worse.
"Sometimes our stomachs paid the price, though," she added into his silence, as she rolled her eyes and rubbed her belly to accentuate her point.
"I can imagine." He decided that he could sit and watch her talk like this all night. The spirit of that younger Leia was pouring out of her once again, her eyes wider, her smile all teeth and cheeks. A few freckles, usually hidden by a light layer of makeup, dotted her freshly washed face. Her innocence, whatever was left of it, exuded a beauty that filled the room.
Han certainly would've thought that Alderaan and her lost childhood would have been hard for her to talk about, depressing even, but the more she spoke it seemed just the opposite was true. So he settled back and let her talk, asking innocuous questions here and there and soaking her in like a luxurious bath.
Like Leia's thick socks and Alliance thermal tee, these kitchen conversations quickly became an established routine for the unlikely pair. As Han cooked, Leia would sit on the counter and talk to him. She also helped chop seasoning and was a very diligent taste tester. His entire day now centered around this time they would share together and his dark mood and depressing thoughts were kept in check by her stories and those smiles that he knew not just anyone got to see.
And so, their days together went much like that over the next week and a half. And the morning of Han's appointment was upon him before he even had time to worry about it much more. Deciding not to mention it to Leia, Han waited until she left the apartment to get dressed and head to the Medical Center alone.
With a clean bill of health and a new determination blooming in his gut, Han left the hospital and made his way to the main military hangar. He was surprised at how many friendly, familiar faces he found when he arrived there. As he engaged in some idle chatter with Wedge Antilles, Han's heart jumped up into his throat when he recognized Leia skirting around the hangar floor and climbing up into an X-wing - Luke's old X-wing.
She had indicated to Han that Artoo remained at her office every evening and he recalled how strange he thought that had sounded when she had first said it. Watching the little domed droid being lowered into the infamous X-wing, all of Han's misgivings regarding Leia's whereabouts during the day surged inside of him.
Wedge followed Han's line of sight and confirmed the spacer's suspicions. According to the New Republic General, Princess Leia left the planet almost every day.
She came home late that evening and dinner was all but ready by the time she arrived. Sitting down at the table across from her, Han worked on suppressing the mistrust that had flourished inside of him over the past several hours. If Leia noticed anything, she declined to comment.
After rearranging the food on his plate in silence, Han put his fork down and asked, "So, how was your day?"
"Fine. And yours?"
Something inside of him screamed to tread lightly. "Great. In fact, I went to the med center today and got my final clearance."
"Oh." She looked genuinely surprised. "That's wonderful."
"Yeah. And then I went by the hangar and talked to Wedge for a little bit."
Her eyes shot up and her face turned about two shades paler, but she said nothing.
"He says he can set me up with a job and an apartment."
Her mouth fell open and her head immediately began to shake back and forth. "You don't have to leave."
"I think I've worn out my welcome, Your Highness." Han picked up his glass of ale and drank from it. "I'm fully recovered now." They watched each other as he set his glass back down.
"I'm the reason you lost your job, your ship-"
"You don't owe me anything, Leia. And if you insist that you do, you can consider that debt paid."
She placed her hands on the table and pushed herself up to a standing position. "Let's talk about this later."
But there was no later. She disappeared into her bedroom and didn't come out for the rest of the evening. Han certainly didn't make a habit of trying to figure out women, but Leia definitely had him thrown for a loop here. There was no doubt in his mind that she wanted him to stay with her and that their 'relationship' had developed into some sort of friendship over the past several weeks. And he would be lying if he said he was in a rush to leave, especially to go and bunk with a bunch of single pilots.
But if there was any one thing that could gnaw at Han's gut it was the feeling of being lied to. He knew that technically she hadn't lied about anything because she never really talked about where she went during the day, but something about the sight of her lifting off the planet in Luke's old X-wing just didn't sit right with him. In fact, it set in Han's stomach like a lava rock – heavy, hot and uncomfortable. Han went to bed unsure of his next move, but like any good gambler, he kept playing his hand over again and again in his mind.
The next day she arrived home later than she ever had before, missing dinner altogether.
When she finally entered the apartment Han barely gave her time to set her bag down when he stood up and said, "Where've you been going during the day?"
She placed her bag down gently, her movements slow and deliberate. Turning around to face him she stared at him for a long moment as if gauging how much he could possibly know. "That's none of your business, Captain."
He began to walk toward her. "Oh, so now I'm 'Captain'. Yesterday you were practically begging me to stay but the minute I ask you to be honest with me, I'm demoted to your personal pilot again."
"I was not begging you to stay. If that's what you heard then you've got quite an imagination."
Standing in front of her now, he looked down at her, their eyes furiously locked on each other. "Then why don't I just leave tonight?"
"Suit yourself."
She held her ground and glared back at him for several heartbeats before she turned on her heels and stormed out of the room.
That damn woman! Han stood there for a moment shaking his head. He walked to the dining room and began to clean up his dinnerware. After placing all the dishes in the sanitizer, Han poured himself a drink and returned to the dining room table. He took a seat facing the living area and sipped on his drink.
He barely had time to contemplate his next move when he heard her bedroom door slide open. Her small figure glided like a shadow down the hallway until she came to a stop at the other end of the table. "You're still here."
"Disappointed?"
"I did beg you to stay, remember?"
Her flippant reply, the words steely and cool, glaringly contradicted her body language. If he had ever seen her putting up a front before, it was nothing compared to what she was doing now. "What are you hiding, Leia?" His tone was soft and his eyebrows were wrinkled in worry.
The hint of compassion or fear or whatever he had seen before vanished and a cool façade slid over her like a second skin. "Leave or stay, it makes no difference to me. But don't start thinking I, in any way, have to answer to you."
For the second time that evening their eyes locked in a long silence. Han wasn't sure what else to say. He wanted to grab her and shake it out of her until she crumbled in his arms and told him everything. But he was afraid that he wouldn't be strong enough to hold her together if she did finally break and he dreaded hearing what she might actually have to say. So any reply that came to his mind stalled deep in his throat until he swallowed it down – silencing the words forever.
He stood up, grabbed his empty glass and headed to the kitchen without a word. When he came out, just moments later, she was gone. In her room, out of the apartment, he couldn't say for sure. He walked to his suite and readied himself for bed.
Han slept restlessly and for the first time since leaving the hospital felt the horrific grip of his night terrors return. No more than a hazy fog of anguish and horror, shock and sorrow, his dreams had no storyline or face, just raw, unadulterated emotions. And not unlike the torture he had endured in captivity, his nightmares meticulously tore him apart, dragging him to the edge of self-destruction, only to cruelly yank him back. The vicious cycle repeated until Han yearned once again for the comfort of death, the only answer to the overwhelming pain.
Teetering on the edge of subconscious sleep, Han slowly felt his body sink into a peaceful serenity like a warm embrace wrapping around him. Something hovered over him like a canopy offering him shelter from his emotional storm. It was familiar and comforting and his body went limp with a thankful exhaustion. He wondered if he had succumbed to the sweet pull of death, but the drumming of his heart convinced him otherwise.
Fighting to maintain control of his mind, Han tried to identify this mysterious salvation. His eyelids, heavy as the metal doors of Jabba's Palace, refused to obey his request to open. A mental gauntlet thrown down now, he struggled to take back control of his senses, his every muscle fighting him the entire way. Finally a flicker of light invaded his consciousness as his eyes fluttered open.
What he had expected to find he couldn't say for sure but what he did find rocked him to his very core. Leia's face just centims from his, resting on a shared pillow, her breath washing over him in delicate tufts. Her eyes closed, her face marred in intense concentration and her chest rising and falling in a deep rhythm.
It wasn't until her fingers stirred that he realized they were holding hands and he slammed his eyes shut and worked on calming his now frantic breathing. She disengaged herself from him and he felt the mattress lift as she rolled off the bed. The sound of his bedroom door sliding shut signaled him to open his eyes once again, finding himself alone, his room drenched in the darkness of early morning.
Gliding his hand over the mattress where her body had just been, the warmth that remained there convinced him that what he had just experienced had not merely been a dream. He took the pillow and pressed it against his face, inhaling that familiar scent that she had left behind. Turning on his back, he closed his eyes, trying to discern exactly what had just happened.