Thank you to all my wonderful readers :) It's about to get interesting...

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He found her in the dining room, at the table with no breakfast, only a half-empty cup of kaffe. Her eyes met his and the unease he had felt last night returned. It took a moment before the silence was broken.

"Good morning," she said briskly.

"Mornin'." He ran a hand through his hair, uncertain where to pick things up. "What're you doing?"

"Waiting for Mother to come down for breakfast. You're up rather early." Her voice was chilly.

He shrugged and sat several chairs away. It was the same room where they had eaten the night before. He had checked the bedroom she was sleeping in then scoured the downstairs until he found her.

"Are you hungry? I can bring your breakfast."

He shook his head. "That's okay, I can wait." He observed that she was dressed casually in a beige tunic and brown pants, clearly borrowed, since she hadn't had a chance to pack. It reminded him of Tatooine, the only time he had ever seen her in something so casual, other than the uniform she occasionally wore. She had left most of her hair down in loose curls, with a thin, long braid trailing down her back. She looked softer, more approachable, unlike the tough leader she presented to the members of the Alliance.

"Would you like some kaffe?"

He perked up. "That'd be great." He started to stand but she waved him to remain seated.

"I'll get it."

"No, I can—"

"I'll get it," she insisted more loudly, rising and heading from the room.

He watched the doorway where she disappeared a moment longer than necessary. She was being very reserved and slightly formal, as if they were mere acquaintances. Last night had been strange. The whole idea of being owned always angered him. He tried not to think about it, tried not to think of the reason he was helping out the Rebellion. But, when something reminded him, he felt resentful. He valued very little above his freedom. Only Chewbacca and the Falcon mattered more.

The conversation had gotten out of hand the night before, he wasn't even sure how. It had ended on a bad note and he almost felt like he owed her an apology. But, apologies weren't his style, so he hoped they could move easily past it.

She returned with his kaffe, black with one sweetener, just the way he liked it.

"Thank you," he said as she placed it in front of him. He took a long, soothing sip.

Back in her chair, several seats away from him, she sipped her own kaffe and the silent tension filled him with discomfort as he tried to think of a way to break it.

"You been to Naboo before?" he asked.

"Yes. Quite a few times. Have you?"

"Just once. Went to Theed to pick up a shipment."

She nodded, still stilted and unfriendly.

With a burst of pleasant noise, Breha Organa entered the room. "Good morning!" Leia lit up at the sight of her mother as she leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. To Han's surprise, she did the same to him. He squirmed in discomfort.

"Mornin'," he mumbled.

"I'll go get breakfast." Leia stood and left the room hurriedly.

"Did you sleep well, Han?" The former Queen was again dressed formally, a sharp contrast to Leia's casual attire.

"Pretty good. Birds woke me up at dawn. Not used to that, sleeping on a ship is pretty quiet." He sipped his kaffe.

She smiled. "I can see how that might take some getting used to."

Leia returned and placed a large tray on the table. She handed her mother a mug of kaffe then distributed plates to each of them.

"You cooked?" Han asked, surprised.

Breha laughed with a delicate cough into her hand.

Leia's lips pursed for a moment. "Eden's chef cooked breakfast. She went into town and left everything ready for us." She placed several serving plates before them and Han dug in heartily. The food was delicious, quite possibly the best he had ever had.

"My husband speaks very highly of you, Han," Breha said pleasantly.

As he chewed and swallowed, he tried to form a response. "Thank you." He thought to add more, but nothing else came to mind.

"Han is a very talented pilot," Leia volunteered, surprising Han completely.

He tried to look unaffected by her praise, although it pleased him. "And you're a pretty good gunner." He aimed a crooked smile her way.

"Thank you," she said quietly, returning to her plate. A small, gratified smile tugged at her lips.

"Leia has taken self-defense and shooting lessons. But, only with a hand held blaster. I am impressed that she is so skilled with the gun of your ship."

"Those lessons really paid off," he replied. A glance at Leia showed her smiling to herself, although she remained quiet. For some reason, it made Han want to smile as well.

"You're Corellian, correct?"

He glanced at Breha. "Yeah."

"Corellia seems to breed the best pilots."

He grinned and his eyebrows rose. "Can't argue with that." He saw Leia smiling at him and assumed the worst was over. For now.

When they had finished eating, Leia cleared the table. Breha engaged him in small talk until her return.

"Leia, let's take a walk in the gardens."

"That would be lovely, Mother."

"I have a few things to attend to. I will meet you on the back patio in a few minutes."

Leia nodded and her mother left the room. She began to drift to the doorway.

"Would you like to join us?"

Han was surprised by the invitation. "Nah, you should spend some time with your mother alone. But, I'll keep you company till she comes back." The idea of making more small talk did not excite him. But, as always, he liked to have a reason to remain in Leia's company. He followed her out to the gardens.

A huge sea of green was punctuated by the presence of colorful flowers and Han could not see where it ended. He stared out, unable to deny that it was quite beautiful.

"The gardens at home on Alderaan are even lovelier than these." Her voice was quiet and wistful and Han could hear the longing there. A sudden anger entered her tone. "The Empire has seized the Palace."

It took him a moment to respond. "That sucks," he said simply.

She nodded and was quiet for a long moment. "When we end the war, we will take back everything we've lost."

The possibility of the war ending in her lifetime was miniscule, but he kept that to himself.

Something flew into his eye, stinging sharply, and he blinked a few times, tears forming. He rubbed at it but it only made it worse.

"What's wrong?"

"I think a bug flew in my eye." He tried opening the eye, but it just hurt more.

"Maybe it's an eyelash. Here, let me see."

His hands fell to his sides and he angled his head down.

"Sit down over here so I can see." She took him by the hand and led him away.

He followed, unable to do much else.

"Take a step up," she instructed, still holding his hand.

He did as told and she tugged him forward, up the step, guided him to a chair, and quietly told him to sit.

Closed, the eye didn't feel so bad. He opened it and the pain returned, causing his lid to flutter.

"Close your eyes, hold still."

With a sigh, he complied. Then, her fingers were at the bottom and lower lids, gently holding them apart. A soft breath grazed his eyeball and he tried to blink, but she still held both lids beneath her fingers. His pupil had rolled back in his head and he saw nothing.

"It's an eyelash," she whispered. "I see it, hold still."

That gentle breeze again, and now he could smell the sweetness of her breath; suddenly she let go of his eye and he blinked again, pain gone. She came into view, smiling softly.

"Is that better?" Her knuckles wiped gently at the moisture that had seeped from his eye.

She was bending down, her face level with his, and the gesture felt oddly intimate. He couldn't remember the last time he had been on the receiving end of such a caring action. He felt the craziest urge to take her hand in his and kiss her palm. It was dizzying.

He swallowed, at a loss, before forcing words. "Yeah. Thank you."

Her gaze turned serious, eyes never leaving his. Her lips were parted, a hint of a question hanging; eyes beseeching, seeming to ask for something unknown to him. The look held and a tension rose between them, threatening a crescendo. Growing uncomfortable with the intimate moment, he wanted to look away, but she held him captured in her gaze. Her eyes fell to his lips and he went breathless. It was for only a moment, but it was unmistakable. With a jolt, his breath returned, fast and suddenly hot in his throat, accompanied by a harsh pounding in his chest.

He wanted desperately to kiss her. Attraction blossomed to a nearly irresistible desire, dragging him towards her, almost imperceptibly. Her eyes seemed to beckon him, there was no mistaking it.

The clearing of a throat burst through the tantalizing haze between them and Han started at the sudden interruption. Leia stood up straight in front of him and he sat back as far in his chair as he could. His eyes turned to the sky and he took a long, deep breath.

"Leia, are you ready?"

"Yes, Mother." Her voice was strained and Han glanced at her to find her face crimson.

"Would you like to join us, Han?" Breha sounded unfazed.

"No. Thank you." His throat was coarse and he cleared it noisily. "Enjoy yourselves."

"Thank you. Come, Leia."

She fell into step beside her mother, eyes on the ground, cheeks still pink. He watched them disappear down a path.

Leaving Han restless, confused, and filled with a profound longing.

What had just happened? Had he imagined the stream of emotion between them? Now that the moment was gone, he began to doubt it had ever happened.

Regardless, he hadn't imagined the way her eyes had lingered on his lips, or the dark blush at their interruption. What might have happened had Breha not arrived when she did?

He had to find out. He had to get her alone at some point and find out her feelings. His were now undeniable.