CHAPTER 4:
"The water's too shallow for sea monsters, Your Grandness," Han Solo stood on the middle of the wooden plank that stretched between the boat and the land.
The princess warily looked down at the water then at Han. She lifted her chin and crossed her arms over her chest, "I know that."
Han's grin morphed into a smirk, "Then what are ya' waiting for?" His brow lifted, "Expecting me to come an' carry you across?"
Her brow raised and her lips pursed, "So you can throw me into the water?"
His eyes widened and he used both hands to point at himself, "Me? I'd never do that."
"Yeah, I believe that," she rolled her eyes and caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she surveyed the thick rope tied to a round tree trunk that jutted out of the soft earth. Though the knot looked secure, the boat still swayed with the soft waves of the river.
"I'm telling you," Solo sighed. "It's perfectly safe. See?"
Han jumped up and down and up…
"Han!" Leia's white-knuckled fingers tightened around the railing as she dared to lean over it.
Han's head then shoulders popped out of the water and he impishly grinned up at her.
"Don't think she'll fall for that one again, Solo," Harding shouted out as he passed by.
"We have anymore planks?"
"Over here," Grif called out.
The princess stared at Han who now stood shoulder deep in the murky purple water. Her mouth formed a silent 'O' as her cheeks heated. "I can't believe you!"
"What? You think I did that on purpose?"
Leia narrowed her eyes, "I wouldn't put it past you."
"Of course not!" Han huffed as he waded toward the riverbank. "You're always thinkin' the worse of me."
"Maybe because you're always at your worse around me," she clenched her teeth together, pushed herself off of the railing, and stormed away.
Leia stalked across the deck, keeping her brown eyes focused on the ground until she found herself alone and out of sight. She leaned against the wall and pressed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. The morning air felt heavy and awkward in her nostrils and mouth as it filled her lungs, weighing her down. Her heart bumped against her sternum, echoing hollow in her ears as her thoughts drifted from Han to that of her cousins swimming in Lake Aldera. And what came with her cousins were their hands tugging her hair and legs, pulling her under the cold lake water while she tried to kick herself free. Their fat grubby hands grabbed and released, their malicious toothy smiles shone crystal clear, and their taunting laughter escaped through their mouths and noses in large bubbles.
"Hey," Han softly called from behind her.
The princess jumped and her eyes popped open.
"You okay?"
Her chest rose and fell in silence. Was she okay? Why did everyone ask her this idiotic question? She hadn't been okay since she was taken prisoner on the Death Star.
"Leia?"
Leia closed her eyes as the syllables of her name floated over her. Leia…Her name in his mouth, all mocking absent from his tone, penetrated her skin and caressed her ears. Her knees weakened a touch as her emotions tangled her stomach into knots.
"Look at me, will ya'?"
She reluctantly turned around to find Han still dripping wet from his impromptu swim. He put his hands on his waist and rocked from his toes to his heels, "I didn't mean to upset you."
"You didn't upset me!" her voice harsher than she meant it to be.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course, I'm sure!" she snapped again.
Han pushed his hand through his hair and raised his eyebrows, "You don't sound like you sure."
Leia opened her mouth and gaped at him for a moment. She then shook her head and pushed passed him, "There's work to be done and you're fooling around as usual."
"I didn't do it on purpose, Your Worship!" Solo called after her.
The princess clenched her fists and picked up her pace.
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Princess Leia placed a hand on her hip and arched her back as she stole a quick glance at Han. He rested his foot on a fallen log and pulled at his chin. His brow was furrowed and he nodded every so often as Harding traced lines on the flimsy he held. Han then dropped his foot to the ground and ran a hand through his hair. He looked up in her direction, lips tense and eyes steady. She froze. The way he stared at her… something wasn't right.
Leia frowned, pushed some errant strands of hair behind her ear, and turned her attention to the small crate in front of her. With a stifled grunt she lifted it, resting most of the crate's weight on her hipbone. The princess grimaced as she stalked towards the other crates. She should have insisted on being part of the tactical planning team, but considering Han didn't even want her to take part in this mission, insisting on anything wouldn't have played out in her favor. Still, not having a say in the planning was driving her crazy.
"I'll take that, Your Highness," a portly rebel with a wide, toothy smile offered his hands out.
"Thank you, Grif, but I can do it."
"But—"
Leia twisted away from Grif and quickened her paced before he could take it from her. She maneuvered her way passed a few other rebels then dropped the crate next to another.
"This should be the last of the medical supplies." She placed her hand in the small of her back and arched out the kink. "I don't think those two hover pallets will be enough to carry all this."
"We might be able to get most of the medical supplies in the canvas bags," Kindler said, "but we might have to leave some of the weapons crates here. Hide them or somethin'."
Leia nodded as her large brown eyes grazed over her comrades, searching for a certain smuggler. Han had disappeared into the canvas tent that she had helped erect. She sighed as she knelt down beside Kindler and helped him pry off the lid. The man began to empty the contents of the crate, dropping them in various piles. She reached into the box—
The muscles in Leia's thighs rippled and a weight pressed heavy upon her chest as she stared at the individually wrapped hypodermic needles. Small beads of perspiration dotted her upper lip and her skin rose in bumps. She pulled back her hand but couldn't tear her eyes from the neatly packaged needles.
"Hey, Your Worship!"
Leia slowly raised her eyes. The sunlight was too bright, casting halos around everything.
"Why don't ya' go collect some firewood?"
"What?" she blinked up at his silhouette.
"Go find us somethin' good to burn," Han slowed his words.
She rose to her feet, hoping no one would notice her shaking knees, "Why me?"
"Cos according to Luke, you're the best," he hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, and all eyes fell onto him and the princess.
"The best?"
"At building campfires," Han smirked. "He wouldn't stop ravin' about your fire making talents. Now I doubt someone of your upbringing would even know how to light a match."
The princess' mouth opened, "What?"
"Now Luke, being a good friend of mine, I'm apt to believe him, well at least give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he witnessed first-hand your fire building talents."
Leia gaped at Solo, "I've never—"
"Then again, Luke's been known to exaggerate. All that talk of bombing womprats," he rolled his eyes and walked away. "Either way, we need firewood so get to it!"
The princess watched Han for a moment then looked down at the packaged hypodermic needles. She carefully inhaled as she rubbed her hands against her skirt.
"Guess I should…" she backed away from the open crate and forced a smile for the Kindler.
Kindler just gaped at her.
Leia shrugged her shoulders and turned around. She walked toward the wooded area that encircled their camp with her chin held high doing her best to ignore the dumbfounded stares of her colleagues. Once she reached the edge of the woods, her large brown eyes scanned the area. She then glanced at Han over her shoulder. He had moved closer to the woods and was involved in a seemingly tense conversation with Grif and a few other rebels. When she turned away, she could feel his eyes on her. She closed her own, slowly inhaled, and focused on her task.
Leia lifted her skirt and began loading twigs and sticks in the basket-like center of the skirt. Soon her firewood collecting consumed her thoughts, and all that remained in her head were sticks and twigs and branches. The mindless task soothed her anxiety, releasing some of the tension in her shoulders. The weight in her chest lifted and her legs were steady. She smiled to herself. Who would have thought a tedious task would be so relaxing.
Then a swift wind blew through the trees, rattling the leaves. Leia stiffened and held her breath as the wind wheezed its way through the woods. Not whistling like the breezes in Aldera but wheezing. There was a clear cadence to the wheezing, steady and ominous like the mechanical breathing that haunted her dreams. But it couldn't be. She had to be imagining it.
"Your Glorified Highnessness," Han had his hands on his hips. "Haven't you collected enough wood yet?"
With wide large eyes she whispered, "Do you hear that?"
Han furrowed his brow, pressed his lips together, and took a moment to listen, "Yeah, it's the wind."
Leia blinked and straightened her spine, "I know that."
He opened his mouth but quickly closed it. He stepped closer to her to examine the pile of wood in her skirt, "Yep, looks like you have enough wood there."
"Whoa!" he took a step back, "now I understand your odd taste in clothes."
"My odd taste of clothes?"
"What you normally wear," he shrugged then grinned at her. "If you did all your rebel duties wearing outfits that showed off your legs, no one would get any work done."
Leia rolled her eyes and bit back a smile, "Not everyone is as single-minded as you."
His grin stretched wider, "You'd be surprised. I'll take that for you."
Before she could object, Han scooped up the larger branches from her skirt and started toward the camp.
Still carrying the smaller sticks and twigs in the hollow of her skirt, Leia's trotted to catch up to him, "I don't need your help!"
"Never said you did," he continued on without looking at her.
"Then why did you take it from me?"
Han stopped and looked down at her, "I was just bein' nice."
"You? Nice?" Leia scoffed.
"Yeah, I can be nice when the occasion arises," he huffed. "What? Surprised?"
Leia frowned at him, "Yes, I am."
"That's cos you make alotta assumptions about me," Han stared into her eyes, "when you really know nothin' about the kinda man I am."
For a moment she held his gaze then nodded her head and let her eyes drift from him, "I suppose you're right."
Han's lips slid into a wide lop-sided grin, "I usually am." He winked at her then started off toward camp.
Leia's large brown eyes scanned the darkening sky overhead. How long was she collecting wood? She shook her head and jogged to catch up with Han. He slowed his pace as she approached to allow her to fall in step with him. Her eyes slid to Han. His posture and gait were relaxed, easy-flowing, but his jaw was tight and his hazel eyes alert. He carried the pile of wood mostly in his left hand, leaving his right to hover over his blaster. Leia rolled her lips between her teeth and stared at the ground. She knew enough about him to be worried, but she wasn't. She felt…safe.
"Han?" her voice was tiny.
"Yeah, Leia?"
"I don't know anything about building a campfire."
"I know."
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Leia gazed at the flickering flame in the glass lantern as it danced with the light breeze. The brilliant yellow light threw shadows upon the canvas walls of the tent, bending the hard edges of the crates across from her. She tipped her head to the side. Such a small thing that flame was, just one soft breath and it would no longer exist. Like Alderaan… The flame dipped down until it was almost nothing and then popped up larger than before. Leia swallowed in a futile attempt to clear the foul taste in the back of her throat. Bitter, metallic, acidic, the taste of her guilt and anguish. The taste of Darth Vader's hand clamped on her shoulder and of Governor Tarkin's hand as he squeezed her chin. The taste of losing something she could never have back.
The princess inhaled as deep as she could before shifting her legs and adjusting her knapsack under her head. The lantern, with its twisting flame, didn't offer a lot of light, only enough to see what obstacles might lay in her path. And still she bumped into things. Her companions weren't faring so well with their lanterns either. Grif elbowed one by accident and that tiny little flame grew into a blaze big enough to cause a bit of panic and concern. Han calmly poured a bowl of water on the fire, putting it out before harshly warning the team to be more careful.
The princess ran her finger along the edge of her data pad. Han Solo wasn't behaving so…so Han-Solo-ish. He still called her names and teased her. He fooled around and joked with the team, and he still took risks that made her chest tighten, but he was acting peculiarly on this mission. He gave orders to the team with an air of authority she had never seen before. He conferred with the team with no ego at all. She could see the weight of this mission heavy in his dark hazel eyes like he wasn't so certain of the outcome.
You make alotta assumptions about me when you really know nothin' about the kinda man I am.
Leia rested her forearms against her makeshift bed and leaned forward. The flap of the tent opening swayed gently in the wind, giving her a partial view outside. Han reclined in a canvas chair as he stared at the data pad resting on his lap. The crackling fire illuminated his face, softening his furrowed brow and pulled-down mouth. Leia pressed her front teeth into her lower lip. Whatever he was puzzling over couldn't be good.
The princess sighed, readjusted her own data pad, and tried to read what was on the screen. The voices that soon started to gather outside her tent, however, tugged at her attention. They were enjoying themselves—not as carefree as they were on the boat—but still savoring the last moments before the mission truly began. Words layered upon words, good-natured needling, and scattered laughter floated through the tent walls. Han's chuckles, though restrained, loosened the knots in her stomach and tickled her ears before seeping into her smile.
"Hey, Your Highnessness! Come and join us!"
Leia bristled. Why did he always have to ruin the moments when she thought he was an okay guy? She dropped her head down on her knapsack and held her breath.
"Your Glorifulness."
The princess snapped her eyes shut and wished him away. His heart may have been in the right place but she was too tired to paste a polite smile on her face and pretend not to notice the discomfort her presence inspired in the others. All she wanted to do was read her data pad until she was tired enough to drift to sleep.
"Hey…"
Leia focused on the rhythm of her respiration as the tent flap rustled. The course gravel scattered in the grass crackled with each step he took until he stopped inches from her makeshift bed. She could feel his presence like a rock jutting out of a river, and his eyes…
His fingers brushed against hers as Han removed the data pad from her loose grip. The pad chimed off before he slipped it under her hand. The glass containing the flame chinked against its base as it was lifted and replaced. But he didn't leave like she expected him to do. Instead he remained where he was, close to her, so close that she could feel the heat rising off his legs. And she had to remind herself to keep breathing. In and out, in and out…
The back of his hand touched her temple then smoothed over her cheek. Her skin rose in bumps as he repeated the gesture. Han then pulled the coarse blanket over her body until it covered her up to her shoulders. His hand was there again stroking her hair one, two, three times before it stopped. He sighed loudly, and Leia's breath caught in her throat. The gravel and grass under his feet crunched as he retreated, leaving a cold space where he had stood. The tent flap slapped against the side of the tent wall and Han softly warned their companions to keep their voices at a decent volume.
Leia touched the place on her cheek where Han had touched. The gentle pressure and warmth of his skin against hers, it was the same gesture her father made when he comforted her after a nightmare. Han's hand was callused, scratchy but not at all unpleasant. Her hand then followed the motions Han's hand had made when he stroked her hair before she grabbed the edge of the blanket that he covered her with. Tears escaped from her closed eyelids and her mouth opened to swallow gulps of air. No one had touched her since the Death Star. There were the claps on the back, the reserved embraces of condolence, victorious hugs. They proclaimed her a hero, made her the symbol of all the Rebellion was fighting for, and treated her like an idol. She didn't feel like any of those things. She just felt invisible, unreal.
But Han Solo, loud-mouthed, cocky, obnoxious Han Solo, had done something no one else dared to do. He touched her in a way that confirmed she was real. That she was still Leia. Her tears fell uncontrollably now, and she used the edge of the blanket to wipe them away. She twisted her head and silently screamed into her knapsack until all of the air in her lungs was used up. Though she feared someone would find her in this state of disarray, she found that she couldn't stop crying. She cried for Alderaan and her father. She cried for the crew of the Tantive IV and General Kenobi, for Luke. But mostly she cried for herself.
As her sobs simmered down to hiccups and slow tears, Leia realized that this was the first time she truly mourned all that she lost. Fatigue took over and she fell into a dreamless sleep.