4 - Han and Leia's farewell scene, Han's POV. Also incorporates some of my original thoughts about the hug before I knew where it fell in the movie.
Han
Flying the Falcon again, after all these years, he'd forgotten – for a while, at least – that he was an old man. And – although he'd never admit it, especially to Leia - he'd sort of been having fun.
But he'd missed her, every moment. Even in the years they'd lived together, he'd missed her whenever they'd been apart – from the moment he left their bed in the morning, right up until the moment she was back in his arms at night. She completed him. For thirty years he'd wondered what he'd done to deserve her at all.
He'd watched her crossing the landing field, toward the Falcon, in full view of a thousand curious eyes. Her back was straight and her head was high. She walked with purpose, and the crowd parted for her. She stopped, a few steps away from him, and planted her hands on her hips. He knew that pose by heart.
"No matter how much we fought," she said at last, "I always hated watching you leave."
"That's why I left. To make you miss me." If I stayed, you might stop missing me.
Her laughter was a welcome surprise. He hadn't heard it in so long. "I always missed you."
They laughed together, and it was easier than he'd guessed it would be. He heard himself say "I missed you, too." This wasn't what she'd been expecting from him, and she gave him a curious, but pleased look. He took a chance and said what he'd been thinking for the last hour. "Come on, it wasn't all bad, was it?"
At this she shook her head and without warning, tears spilled from her eyes. She never let anyone see her cry. Maybe she'd been thinking the same things as he had.
He took one long stride toward her and then he was pulling her in against him. Her head fit perfectly in the palm of his hand, and his fingers closed, tightly, in the fine threads of her hair. She slid her hands beneath his jacket, as she always did, settling them at the small of his back. This simple gesture was her way of giving their embrace an aura of intimacy while still maintaining the appearance of propriety, and his reaction was the same as it always had been. For a moment her shoulders shook as she laughed softly, nudging him with her hips to let him know she'd noticed, and then her laughter faded and he felt, rather than heard, the brief sniffle that was buried in the depths of his shirt. He knew she had the tears under control already, but his arms tightened around her anyway.
She was so small. In his mind she stood tall and proud, stronger than all of them. In his memory she was always full of fire and nerve and she never hesitated. But here, in his arms, she was a tired old woman carrying the weight of a galaxy on her shoulders, and her heart was breaking.
He wished, more than anything, that he could make things right. But he couldn't. No one could.
All he could do was hold her. It was all he had ever been able to do. It had always been enough.
"I'm sorry, Leia," he thought. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't here when you needed me. I'm sorry I have to leave again." But the words wouldn't come. All he managed was her name, in a voice that was thick with pain and loss and regret.
Still hidden under his jacket, a slender hand trailed along his ribs and came up to rest on his chest, her palm spread flat over his pounding heart. She understood. She'd always understood.
He tipped his head back to tuck her against the hollow of his throat, breathing in her scent and savoring the soft brush of her hair beneath his chin.
He'd never been good with words. It didn't matter, though - because there was really only one thing to say. It was what he always said.
"I know."