3 - Han and Leia's farewell scene, incorporates some of the original story

Leia

She crossed the field slowly, wishing she could make this moment last. Wishing she could keep him here with her, just this once.

He seemed to sense her approach and stopped his work on the Falcon, wiping his hands on a rag and turning to give her that lopsided grin that always caused her heart to skip a beat. Across the years she heard his voice, long ago in the circuitry bay of this very ship. "My hands are dirty, too. What are you afraid of?"

She'd been afraid of so many things back then, afraid to let herself feel again after the loss of Alderaan. Feeling nothing, she'd decided, was better than heartbreak. Han had changed her mind about that, and about a lot of things, and that day in the circuitry bay had been the first step. Would her life have been simpler, if she hadn't let him in? Maybe. But it wouldn't have been much fun.

"No matter how much we fought," she said, "I always hated watching you leave."

He shrugged. "That's why I left. To make you miss me."

Unexpectedly, laughter bubbled up inside her and she heard herself chuckle. "I always missed you." He smiled and laughed with her and for a moment it was like it had been long ago, on the good days. Despite everything, there had been some very, very good days.

"I missed you, too." Her surprise at this admission must have been evident, because he cocked his head and asked, "Come on, it wasn't all bad, was it?" His words were so close to her own thoughts that all she could do was shake her head, and that was all it took for her laughter to dissolve into tears, tears that poured freely, but silently, down her cheeks.

Then his hand was in her hair and he was pulling her to him with the same fierce tenderness as he had the first time he'd kissed her. The memory of that kiss, and of a thousand others they'd shared in the years since then, still made her toes curl inside her boots. She always forgot, when they were apart, the sheer power of her need for him. He infuriated her sometimes and he made her laugh sometimes, but he always awoke something inside of her that lay silent when he was away.

Maybe her life would have been simpler without him, but without him, she might never have known what it was to be truly alive.

She pressed harder into the familiar strength of his chest, and drank in the comfort of his presence. His hair was long and unkempt, he smelled of grease and engine lubricant, and the stubble of his jaw was rough against the thin skin at her temples. But he'd tucked her beneath his chin as easily as he always had, and they fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

Neither of them had ever been perfect, but it had never mattered.

"I love you," she thought. "I love you so much."

And although she hadn't spoken the words aloud, he answered her anyway.