From a Certain Point of View
Han shut his eyes and drew back into his thoughts, the remnants of Leia's presence still lingered in his subconscious like the phantom warmth she had left behind on the sheets. Feeling at once violated and exposed, fragile and vulnerable, Han drew in a deep breath and then held it. She had been that warm embrace, that shelter from the storm, that mysterious salvation from the demons of his dreams.
He released the breath he was holding and opened his eyes. Just what to make of this strange turn of events, he wasn't exactly sure. Was this an isolated incident spurned on by their argument the night before? Maybe she had sensed his distress, and feeling guilty, had come to his aid. Or was this the reason he had not suffered from his nightmares since moving in with her?
Her very curious reticence regarding him leaving and getting an apartment now took on a whole new light. Was she afraid for him? Should he be afraid for himself? The burning desire to get answers to any one of these questions encouraged Han to get out of bed as he heard the telltale sounds of Leia moving around in the apartment.
Dressing quickly, he rushed out of his room to catch Leia before she left; they didn't usually see each other in the morning. She was standing in the foyer, rummaging through her bag and her movements froze at the sight of him. He slowed his pace as he walked towards her, utilizing the last bit of time to determine his course of action.
Something between the time he had woken up and now had convinced him not to mention what he had discovered earlier that morning and the very sight of her confirmed his decision. Whether it was the apprehensive look spread across her face or the nagging uncertainty if perhaps it had never really happened, he couldn't say for sure.
"Mornin'," he offered as he came to a stop a few steps away from her.
"Good morning," she replied as she slung her satchel over her shoulder.
"I'm sorry about yesterday. I never meant to insinuate that you answer to me in any way. I guess where you go is really none of my business."
She heaved in a deep breath. "This…," she began as she fanned her hand between them and let the air out of her lungs, "relationship that we've started…you living here, someone waiting for me when I get home. It's just all new to me. That's all."
"Well, I've decided to take that job with Wedge. And I'll definitely talk to him about an apartment, too."
"No," she answered abruptly and then her shoulders fell and she sighed. "That's not what I meant. I guess we should just…maybe talk about expectations…and boundaries. There's no need for you to spend money you've barely earned on an apartment. Not just yet, anyway."
Not just yet, he dissected her every word and studied her every movement searching for any hidden meaning buried in them. Running his fingers through his hair, he heaved a sigh of his own. "What about Roman? I mean, I ain't seen him around, but I'm sure he's bound to start-"
"Let me worry about Roman."
"No. You say that, but if I were him, I'd-"
"When I left to find you…let's just say that the New Republic wasn't the only relationship that I broke off."
Han's breath caught and he stared at her for a moment. Shaking his head, he replied, "All the more reason, Leia."
"It's not like that. It had…or has nothing to do with you."
Han tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. When he brought his eyes back to her, she was patiently waiting for him.
And there, in the dark puddles staring back at him, he lost his desire to fight or flee. He took another deep breath and said, "Alright. I'll meet with Wedge today, see what this job pays and decide about the apartment once I get started."
One corner of her mouth ticked up in a small smile. "Alright."
He offered a hesitant grin in return. "Expectations and boundaries," he said like a statement.
She nodded her head but didn't respond.
"Will you be home tonight to discuss 'em?"
Taking a moment to stare at him, she smiled and nodded before she turned around and left.
"Rogue Squadron, Solo. Not just anybody can walk into something like this, you know that."
Han sat across the desk from General Wedge Antilles. A fellow Corellian, he and Wedge had become fast friends during his short stint with the Alliance. "I know that, Wedge, and I appreciate it. But like I said, I'd rather something that didn't come with so many…stripes."
"Can't blame a guy for trying. It actually does my heart good to know that the years haven't changed you."
Han nodded, his stomach turning at his old friend's words.
"Anyway, I'll see what I can dig up that's…suitable for you."
Han squirmed in his chair and said sardonically, "Why does that make me feel so uneasy?"
"Either because I'm Corellian or because you are."
"I think it may be a little bit of both."
Wedge chuckled as he started to shuffle through some flimsiplasts. "And what about that apartment?"
"I think I'm set on that, for a while anyway."
After some good-natured negotiating, Han accepted the highest, non-military position that Wedge offered him and agreed to begin work that very day. The job would keep him on the hangar floor, supervising security, scheduling and maintenance crews.
"Alright." Wedge stood up and the two men shook hands. "I look forward to working with you, Han."
"Same here, Wedge." Han took his hand back and then stood for a moment.
"Was there something else?"
"Do you know anything about where the Princess goes in that old X-wing?"
Wedge opened his mouth and then closed it again, regarding Han for a moment before he spoke. He took a hand and massaged his chin. "That's right. You took her off-planet right after the news broke, didn't you?"
Han nodded.
Wedge looked down at his holoscreen and punched a few buttons on his input terminal. "I'm not at liberty to disclose her flight paths, but…" He looked back up to Han and after a deep breath added, "It would be my best guess…"
"That she's using a dummy jump," Han completed the General's thought recalling his own 'dummy jump' towards Naboo when he flew the Princess to Dagobah.
Wedge nodded.
"How'd she get an X-wing, anyway?"
Wedge sat back down in his chair, waving a hand at Han to do the same. "That's Luke Skywalker's X-wing, as I'm sure you realize."
Han remained silent.
"Anyway, there were several things that happened following Commander Skywalker's death…and let's just say…" Wedge leaned forward, placing his arms on his desk. "I'm not going to be the one to mention to the Princess that that X-wing belongs to the New Republic…and I'm not alone on that."
"These things that happened…"
Wedge leaned back in his chair, rested his elbows on the armrests and steepled his fingers together. "Most are classified, and the rest…" Wedge brought his hands up to his mouth and then lowering them and lacing his fingers together, he said, "Well, the rest, I believe, would be for the Princess to tell."
Han's entire day was spent completing forms, attending training, gaining security clearance and meeting personnel. The welcomed distraction of people and work did not allow him to dwell on anything too long; the echo of Wedge's words the only thing that persistently swirled through his mind.
Something told him that even Wedge only knew half of the story regarding Princess Leia and most probably the 'classified' half. Whatever the rest was, it safely rested inside Leia alone. But even the general idea of it, the hint of what might have happened, was enough to garner respect from the seasoned General as well as, it would seem, many others.
An endless parade of possibilities marched through Han's mind throughout the entire day. Wild scenarios that explained everything from her mechanical arm to her apparent birthright both entertained and disheartened him – some, so preposterous they were comical and some, so horrific they were depressing. But before Han knew it, his first day of work was complete and he headed 'home' and was showered up and preparing dinner by the time Leia arrived.
She entered the kitchen tentatively with a timid air that definitely wasn't the norm. He looked at her and stared. She wore a skirt and tank top, apparently having shed her blazer when she entered the apartment. Her legs were short, yet muscular and lean. Her biceps were curvy and defined but still very feminine. Her collarbones protruded in sharp angles and her breasts stood at attention like two compliant soldiers. He could see the outline of her ribcage through her tank top and her stomach beneath was a flat plane.
She was a bundle of muscles and nerves and, for the first time, she appeared like a weapon to him – a highly polished sword. Vague memories of her battle to save him flashed through his mind along with several of those wild possibilities he had entertained earlier. Just what had she been through? What was this story that only she could tell?
"What?" She asked defiantly, apparently not appreciating Han's overt study of her.
"Nothing," he replied quickly while he shook his head and looked away. "How was your day?"
She scooted up on the counter and took a seat, her legs dangling as she crossed them at the knees. They started off with the usual small talk, Han giving her a brief synopsis of his first day of work and Leia asking all the normal questions. He continued to study her, not knowing which was more mesmerizing: her smile, her legs, her breasts…her eyes or the mystery of everything that hid beneath them.
It wasn't until he was fixing their plates that he broached the subject of 'expectations and boundaries'. "So, I'm not allowed to wonder where you disappear to every day or ask any questions about anything regarding your personal life."
"That sounds about right," she replied flatly as she slid off the counter and landed softly on her feet.
"Meanwhile I'm an open book." He handed her a plate of food.
She scoffed. "I'd hardly describe it that way."
"Well, for the past few weeks I could barely go to the 'fresher without you knowing about it."
She set her plate down on the counter and folded her arms across her chest. "Who's the one that's been doing most of the talking while you cook?"
"We have yet to reach anything close to current events in your life."
"Oh, okay. Current events, is it? So tell me, what exactly happened between you and Chewie?"
She threw it at him like a professional smashball player and Han didn't even have time to think about fielding her question before he felt the color rise to his cheeks. "Alright," he replied steely and he felt his nostrils flare. "Maybe we both have things that we don't want to talk about."
"Precisely." She wore a victorious air as she grabbed her plate and turned toward the dining room.
Han stood in the kitchen for a moment before he moved to fix his plate. If everything about Leia seemed to confuse him, this exchange certainly did not. What she was alluding to was not a new concept to the worldly spacer. Everything had a price: credits in exchange for spice, dirty deeds in exchange for under-handed favors and information in exchange for information. He shook his head and headed for the dining room.
He joined her at the table, sliding into his chair in silence. Stealing quick glances at one another, he could feel the questions climbing up his throat, begging to be set free. What were you doing in my bed last night? Have you been digging around inside of my head? Is Darth Vader your father? But nothing came out. Han swallowed them like a hollow, tasteless meal and his stomach rumbled as they churned inside of him. Looking down at his plate, he could only stare, he had fixed his favorite dish, but somewhere along the way his appetite had been completely lost.
Nearly three weeks later, Leia sat in her now traditional spot near the sink in the kitchen, washing some fresh fruits and vegetables. Han had gone to the market, his first paycheck loaded on a credit chip, and had purchased everything for a celebratory meal that evening. He felt particularly liberated and energized as he moved around the kitchen with a light spring to his step.
Leia was easily swept up in his mood as she entertained him with stories and the pair bantered back and forth with light teasing. Things had been touch and go between the two following their argument several weeks ago, but the easy conversation had been slowly returning and the excitement of this evening seemed to get them right back to where they had been.
The day had been breezy and chilly, the temperature dropping at the first signs of the winter season. Han had suggested a nice hearty soup was in order and the two worked together; she sliced, he diced and eventually all the ingredients were in a large pot. Han set the burner on high and turned to look at Leia.
The blustery day had left her hair unruly, with wispy strands sticking up here and there and the color on her cheeks was now a tantalizing combination of red, both from the toasty warmth of the kitchen and wind burn. She had just finished popping something into her mouth. Han just barely caught the quick hint of purple disappearing behind a guilty smile, as Leia's eyes met his from across the room.
"Was that a grape?" Han asked. His eyebrow arched in curiosity as he began to walk towards her.
As if unable to control the reaction, she immediately closed her eyes and hummed in delight as she nodded her head in the affirmative.
"Where are they? I wanted to try one."
Her eyes flew open and her lips parted slightly, a sprinkle of color deepened the redness on her cheeks.
"You ate them all?" Han stopped in front of her, his voice elevated in disbelief. "Those're my favorite!" He had bought an entire cluster.
She bit her lip and nodded as her hand began to disappear slowly and discreetly behind her back.
Han's face turned serious and he cocked his head at her. "What's that behind your back, Princess?"
"Nothing," she mumbled around a half-chewed grape.
He took one more step toward her, placing his hands on the counter at either side of her legs. "Nothing?" He whispered the word although he had not meant to. Sliding his hand down the counter slowly, he added, "Okay, let me see this nothing."
Her elbows jerked and Han pounced in response, grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand in between them amidst shrieks of laughter and protests from Leia. Concentrating on her captured hand, Leia squirmed as he pried her fingers open to reveal an empty palm. Quick as a flash out of the corner of his eye, Leia's other hand went to her mouth, her cheek bulging out visibly as she pulled her hand away.
"Leia!" Han screeched in response as he grabbed her other wrist, only to find another empty palm, this one tinged purple.
Her jaw bit down on the plump fruit and a tiny bit of juice escaped from the devilish grin she fought not-so-successfully to suppress.
"They were sooo good." Her words were delivered with a slight whine to them, apparently attempting to combine an apology and an explanation of her childish behavior.
Han still held both of her wrists in his hands and he stared at her while slowly shaking his head. Between the redness on her bloated cheeks, the juice dribbling down her chin and the wicked glint in her dark eyes, he wasn't sure where to focus his attention.
And then the frivolity in the air burst like the ersatz grape in Leia's mouth and the mood in the room instantly sobered. Han felt his cheeks fall as his smile quickly faded, suddenly acutely aware of how close he was to her.
Whatever this relationship was between the two of them, neither one ever dared to venture toward the serious, both finding comfort in the barriers they had carefully erected around themselves. Han could feel her pulse pounding beneath his fingertips and a memory of her lying next to him in his bed flashed through his mind. In recent weeks, he had tried unsuccessfully to catch her again, but he never could. She had been there though, perhaps not every night, but often enough. He had become more and more adept at recognizing the signs.
He watched as Leia bit her bottom lip, a habit that made her appear deceptively vulnerable. Dragging his eyes back to hers, he forced a faint smile as he asked, "Were they really that good?"
He looked down at her mouth again as she released her bottom lip from between her teeth and nodded very slightly in answer to his question.
The silence hung between them, the bubbling soup the only sound in the room. He still held her hands in his, his stomach pressed against her folded legs as his eyes locked back on hers. He pulled gently on her arms fully expecting her to resist, but her body willingly gravitated toward him.
The wide, brown eyes staring back at him did not belong to any Leia that he had ever seen before. His heart thumped inside of his chest as he leaned into her, their faces just centims apart. Tell me to stop, he silently begged her as he swallowed and said, "I would've liked to judge that for myself."
She shook her head almost imperceptibly and her mouth opened but she seemed unable to form words. Her eyes were wide with a hint of fear and desire married inside of them.
He had certainly dreamt of kissing the Princess more times that he would ever care to admit, in fact, he had dreamt of doing things to Leia that he was more than sure would earn him a lightsaber to the gut. But something stopped him.
He pulled his head away slightly and studied her for a moment, diving into the murky water of her eyes, as deep as the Mon Calamari oceans yet as dark and mysterious as the swamps of Dagobah. He felt lost and confused and he blinked several times to find himself again.
Looking down at her chin, he took his thumb and swiped the trail of syrupy liquid from her face. Meeting her eyes once more, he slowly brought his thumb up to his mouth and kissed the nectar from his finger, savoring the sweet, tangy flavor as he watched her watching him. The silence in the room was as dark as the depths of her eyes.
The lid on the soup clanged against the pot as the hot liquid burped bubbles of steam. Leia blinked at the sound and reality filed back into the room like so many soldiers. Han watched her for a moment longer and then he stepped away and turned his attention back to the simmering pot.
They sat across the table from one another, suddenly strangers - as if an invisible line had been crossed. The memory of that faint hint of desire in her eyes was teasing him cruelly. He wanted her…and not just in his fantasies or as a phantom of his dreams. He wanted to stand up, walk across the room and kiss her until the line they crossed was no longer invisible. But there were some things in his life, like flying or the love of his ship, that Han knew from the start he could never do in half-measures and the woman sitting across from him was one such thing.
"Chewie and me didn't agree…about leaving after Yavin," Han started before he even knew where he was going.
She looked up at him and visibly swallowed but said nothing.
"He wanted to stay. Join up even." Han sighed heavily, the words escaping his lips leaving a void in his soul. "But I was the Captain. It was my ship. My call."
"And you wanted to leave."
"I wanted to pay off a debt."
"I believe Chewie might have wanted the same thing."
Han stared at her and then blinked. "Yeah."
"But he stayed with you all that time afterwards." She shrugged her shoulders. "What suddenly changed?"
Han took a sip of his drink and then set the mug down. "I think the problem might have been…what didn't change."
She bit her lip and then pressed them together as if stifling a reply.
"Wookiees see time a lot differently than we do, because of how long they live and all." Han looked away from her, down at the table in between them. "It wasn't actually all that long."
"Before he finally gave up on you?"
He met her eyes again. "Yeah."
"Or was it that you gave up on yourself?"
"Does it matter?"
"It probably does to Chewie."
He stared at her, not able to formulate a reply. She took a sip of her wine and went back to her soup. Han watched her for a moment before he finally did the same.