2 – missing moment between Han and Leia, on transport to the Resistance base
Leia
She'd left an empty seat next to her when she strapped in for takeoff, and she is beginning to think he stayed with Chewie on the Falcon when suddenly he's there, standing in the aisle, looking down at her. His hands are in his pockets and he looks… apprehensive. Han Solo, unsure of himself. When had that happened? He gestures with his chin at the empty seat, raising his eyebrows in a silent question.
She nods – of course it's your seat, nerfherder – and then closes her eyes while his jacket brushes her forehead as he passes in front of her to reach the empty chair. She feels the heat of his body moving against her side as he settles into the seat and straps himself in. When he is still, she tilts her head to the left, eyes still closed, and feels his arm drop around her shoulders.
She stretches her hand across his lap, and his hand, warm and familiar, is there waiting. Their fingers weave together, his thumb tracing the shape of the ring she wears. Does he wonder why she still wears it? No, she thinks, surely he knows. For her the ring is the only tangible reminder of the things she keeps locked away inside of her. He has his talismans, too. They both have reason to forget, but she doubts that either of them could. Their hearts were torn apart years ago, and the broken pieces are held together most precariously. To forget would be to let go, and neither of them have ever been very good at that.
"Rey," she whispers, softly. "It's really Rey, isn't it?"
His voice is a rumble in his chest beneath her cheek, and a gentle flutter of breath in her ear. "Yeah."
"She doesn't know, does she?"
"No."
"Oh, Han…" She bites her lip, hard. There's so much to say, but she can't fall apart now, not here. It's her job, to be the General.
His hand tightens on her shoulder. "I know," he sighs.
She nods, digging her head into the hollow of his shoulder as she squeezes his hand tightly, her breath unsteady. He raises their entwined fingers to his lips and brushes the back of her hand with the briefest of kisses. His chin is rough with stubble and she lets her thumb slide against it for a moment before their two hands drop back to his lap.
The crew members in the seats nearby speak in lowered voices, hesitant to disturb this unexpected scene. They are young, and none of them have known the General long, but they all know the stories. Some of them sneak looks at the man who sits beside her, a legend come to life.
They travel to the base in silence, because it's been years since they needed words to tell each other how they feel.
He holds her, because it's what he always does. And she lets him, because in his arms, she is able to believe, for the moment at least, that things will be all right.