a/n: these are essentially going in "order" as in, they're chronological in the story. so i won't be skipping around.

Outtake 2: Leia, Han, and Bail: Bail stops by & thinks Leia is in a "meeting" with Han.

Reference: Identity, Chapter Eleven (11)

Leia stood in the kitchen, picking half-heartedly at a half-eaten plate of food. She'd come home from work eager for dinner, but she'd changed her mind after beginning to eat – not altogether uncommon, in times when she was particularly stressed.

She was listening to the tap of the fork against the plate as she pushed food around, letting it drown out her thoughts. Vaguely, she asked herself if that was troublesome behavior, but since she wasn't actually harming herself –

She poked at some vegetables that were quickly becoming lukewarm, and then speared one and nibbled on it, deciding if she wanted to go as far as eating it or not. She closed her eyes, pulling the fork out of her mouth and frowning – it was good, she had no complaints there, Han's cooking was always good, she was just –

Walking into the kitchen behind her, Han nudged her shoulder as he passed, pausing to lean down with his head close to hers.

"Eat, Leia," he suggested, kissing her cheek.

He strode over to the sink and threw his empty plate in, along with the remnants of other dishes he'd used to cook.

Reinvigorated, Leia resumed her efforts with the vegetables, managing a few more bites before she leaned forward and resumed her picking at the food, finally giving up. She just didn't feel like eating. There was too much going on – in her life, in her head.

She rubbed her forehead with her free hand, set her fork down, and pushed it aside a little, turning slightly to give Han an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry, Han," she murmured. "There's nothing wrong with it," she assured him.

He glanced at the half-eaten food, said nothing, and washed soap off his hands, drying them on a towel. Leia watched him grab a container and save up the food for later, giving her a pointed look as he placed it in the icebox. He turned the sink off and stepped up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders.

He started rubbing his thumbs in small circles, tilting his head to catch her eye sideways.

"You sure your day was okay?" he asked gruffly.

She shrugged roughly, and nodded.

It was the same as it had been yesterday, and the day before – outrageously unconventional, completely abnormal, and yet so still and eerie and routine. She went to work and then carved out increments to handle the return of a hundred or so Alderaanians, and to handle her father himself, and she didn't know when it was supposed to feel like it was real.

The moment she and her father were completely alone, in a casual setting together, she supposed – if she ever let that happen. She'd felt such an outpouring of emotion for him on the landing platform and yet since –

She was locked up again, inside herself, protected; scared of what this meant, and who he was now, and what he'd think of her. She didn't know how to express it to Han without sounding insane, and she knew he was on edge himself, wondering when his big introduction was going to happen, and how it was going to go down.

Han lowered his head and kissed behind her ear, wrapping his arms around her in a hug.

Leia took a deep breath and shook her head.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, Han," she said rapidly.

She shifted, shaking him off gently; he stepped back, holding his hands up. She turned, leaning back against the counter, chewing on her lip.

"I don't want to do this," she said.

He looked bewildered.

"Do what?" he asked.

She waved a hand, and then put it to her forehead.

"This," she repeated, exaggerating the word. "I don't want to be," she waved her hand again, "like this – upset, tense," she muttered. She sighed edgily. "I want to have a nice night."

"I'm bein' nice!" Han protested, narrowing his eyes warily.

She held her hands up to him, palms flat.

"You make it too easy for me to fall apart sometimes," she said, exasperated. "I don't need it right now. I don't have time."

He put a hand to his hip, rubbing his jaw with the other.

"It was a hug," he muttered gruffly.

Leia compressed her lips and looked down at her feet, rubbing her heel against her ankle. Han shook his head and shrugged, running a hand through his hair. He shrugged again and turned silently and left the kitchen; Leia listened to him head back towards the bedroom, mess around, shut a door – then saw a flash of his clothes as he headed past the kitchen, and back towards the sitting room.

She bowed her head and rubbed her hands over it – Sith, Leia, she thought to herself tiredly – don't do this to him. Had she really snapped at him over a touch, and affectionate gesture? She really couldn't afford to lose her composure presently, because she wasn't all too confident in her ability to regain it very well considering everything that was going on, and now was not the time to display damage to her father.

Still, Han was worried; Han meant well and she – it was ridiculous to take a tone with him because he made her feel too safe.

She took a deep breath and pushed loose strands of hair out of her face, pushing away from the counter and going into the sitting room after Han. She noticed immediately that the Holo wasn't on – he was looking through some mechanical manual on the couch. She came up behind him, leaned down, and kissed his temple, and then ran her hand through his hair before coming around the couch and sitting next to him closely. She was silent for a moment, studying his profile.

"I know I sound crazy," she said finally.

"No," Han drawled, turning his head slightly and looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "It's just that you're starving," he said pointedly.

Leia smiled softly, and he set the manual aside, leaning back. He crossed his arms and shifted to face her better, arching a brow. She brought one knee up on the couch, running her palm back and forth over her knee.

"I just don't feel like eating," she justified quietly. "My stomach," she said, gesturing vaguely. "It's in knots, all the time."

"Yeah," Han acknowledged. He frowned, both worried, and accepting – he knew the stress she was under, knew the uncharged waters she was navigating. It wasn't wholly unnatural for her to be too distracted for gluttony.

He tilted his head back and forth and then sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Leia, I don't know what's bothering you – "

He started, but the door chimes interrupted him, and he broke off, swearing internally. He knew, in an obvious manner, what was bothering her, of course: she didn't know how to adjust to her father's return. There seemed to be something underlying that, though, something more specifically sinister, and it was there in how pale her face seemed lately.

She got up, her brow furrowed, while he rubbed his jaw, pretending he wasn't too annoyed to be interrupted.

"Expecting anyone?" she asked lightly.

"I don't invite people here," Han retorted under his breath, sitting up a little.

Leia shot him a look, and then disappeared around a stunted wall into the hallway. She scanned a thumbprint over the pad and brought up a holographic image of the caller, freezing for moment when she recognized the image – Father.

He was looking at her door with interest, almost bewildered interest, and Leia stood there watching his blue shimmery image, her teeth clenched – should she yell and warn Han, opened the door and turn him away – she felt unnecessarily alarmed, considering this was her father, the man who she'd loved, who'd raised her –

Swallowing hard and trying not to over think it, Leia opened the door.

Bail Organa looked up, blinking as if he'd just been struck by sunlight. He looked at her blearily for a moment – and she didn't know if it was her casual clothing, or her loose hair, that threw him – and then he cleared his throat.

"Hello, Leia," he said gently. His lips turned up in the mild, but cautious smile he'd been giving lately. "I – I haven't woken you up?"

She blinked.

"Woken - ? No, Father, these aren't pajamas," Leia said, gesturing at her pants. "They're - it's," she realized she was wearing a pair of Han's old bloodstriped trousers, pale blue, with the faded gold stripes. She trailed off. "Not pajamas," she said lamely.

He nodded at her, and she shook herself, stepping back.

"Come in," she said firmly – she couldn't let him stand aimlessly in the hallway, and whatever was going to happen – well, if this was how he was going to meet Han –

"I was on my way back to the Embassy residence, from one of my," he sighed tensely, "briefings," he said, frowning – he meant the sessions he got, periodically, to fill him in on the things that had happened since he was out of commission, "and I thought I'd like to see where you live."

Leia nodded, allowing the door to shut.

"Of course," she murmured, inclining her head, leading him in. "It's – well," she said dryly, arching a brow, "nothing like what you'd imagine, I'm sure."

Bail lifted one shoulder wryly.

"Yes, I suspected your home was another thing that's much different," he said tiredly.

Leia gestured to a grand room to the left, just beyond the hallway that led to the door.

"My rarely used dining room," she remarked – she didn't entertain here often; she and Han never even ate in that dining room, if they were alone. They'd eaten on the balcony tonight, until Leia had gone in and retreated to the kitchen.

She paused in the hall, gesturing.

"Kitchen," she said a little dryly. "Do you want something to drink?" she asked, reaching up to brush her fingers at her throat – why was she having so much trouble speaking?

Her father shook his head. He peered into the kitchen, tilted his head curiously.

"Do you have a cook?" he asked, noting the small size.

Leia pressed her fingers against her pulse.

"You could say that," she said dryly – if Han counts.

Her father gave her a quizzical look, then turned, and wandered around the corner into the living room; Leia followed close on his heels. Her heart leapt into her throat and nearly choked her as she tried to plan what she was going to say – Father, this is Han, you remember him – he's my – he's my –

"Oh," Bail said aloud, stopping in his tracks.

Halfway into the living room, he'd spotted Han, and he paused.

Leia stepped around her father, and Han sat up, alarmed. A muscle jumped in his jaw and he glanced at Leia, silently demanding direction, and she just gave him a wide-eyed look, lifting one shoulder – she had no idea what had inspired this, either – heavens, her father was just so disoriented by these adjustments –

"I apologize; I didn't realize you were in a meeting," he said formally, folding his hands into the sleeves of his robes and inclining his head to Han. "It was – Solo, was it not?"

Han stared at him a moment, then blinked, and nodded.

"Yeah, Solo," he said – and then immediately decided he probably should have said 'Yes, sir.'

Bail nodded.

"Forgive me, I'm afraid I've – forgotten your rank," he said.

Han cleared his throat.

"General," he answered gruffly – still shooting Leia a subtle, alarmed look – what do you want me to do, Sweetheart?! But Leia wasn't saying anything; no introduction, no remarks – just letting it unfold.

"Ah, yes; General," Bail said, nodding again seriously. "You – own the ship that I was told, ah, made the difference at the Rebel victory on Yavin?" he inquired.

Leia came forward, resting her hands on the back of the couch, placing herself between her father and Han without a word. Han nodded warily.

"Millennium Falcon," he said gruffly.

"What kind of ship is it, if I may ask?" Bail asked. "I know pilots frequently take pride in their ships.

Leia's brow furrowed slightly; she smiled a little – ever the elegant politician, her father; engaging in small talk as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"It's, uh, a Corellian YT-1300 light freighter," Han said. "F series."

Bail glanced at Leia.

"That actually means nothing to me," he said dryly. "I'm afraid I am only well-versed in," he paused, sighed quietly, "Alderaanian ships." He paused for a longer moment. "It's the ship that rescued my daughter?" he asked Han.

Han gave a jerky nod.

"Yes," he said.

Bail gave a pained smile.

"Well, I suppose they ought to contract you specifically for rescuing Organas."

Leia moved towards him and took his elbow, sensing his difficult in referencing their home and their trials over the past few years – she knew that difficulty well; she'd experienced it too, for so long. Han cleared his throat for her attention, giving her a sharp look.

"Leia, you want me to leave?" he asked.

Leia stared at him a little oddly – leave your own home? But Han couldn't hear her thoughts, and he didn't know what she wanted from him.

Bail gave Han a somewhat startled look, though Han didn't understand what it was for, or really notice it – the Viceroy was merely taken aback that this general had just called Leia by her given name, and nothing else.

"No, I do not," Leia said, firmly finding her voice.

Her father shook his head, eyes sharpening.

"I should excuse myself," he said hastily. "Calling without warning was – entirely presumptuous – Leia, I know you have duties; I should not have disregarded that and assumed you would be free – "

"Father, it's alright," she soothed gently.

He shook his head, looking around.

"No, another time," he said. "I can return another time."

Even so, Han was getting up, brushing out the wrinkles in his shirt. He gave them both a wary look, his eyes lingering on Leia with a certain blank nature that worried her – he must be bothered that she was just going to let her father think this was a professional meeting –

"I'll step out a minute, Leia," he muttered – and before she could blink, Han was sliding open the balcony door, disappearing outside.

Leia turned to her father, cringing a little. He looked back at her, mildly curious, mostly confused.

"He's rather forward," he remarked calmly.

Leia smiled faintly, and her father seemed to forget about it, turning to look around.

"It looks comfortable here," he said. "Cozy." He turned back to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Forgive me again for the intrusion, Lelila," he said quietly. "I only wanted to see how you lived."

She nodded, placing her hand over his and patting it.

"It's no problem, Father," she assured him. "It's no problem."

He smiled, and inclined his head towards the door.

"See me out," he suggested, and she gestured for him, showing him the way as a gentle reminder. He glanced towards the balcony for a moment, his brow furrowing, and though he frowned slightly, all he said was – "Will you pass my thanks to General Solo once more for leading the rescue mission?"

Leia inclined her head, stopping with her father at the door.

"I'll tell him," she promised.

The Viceroy smiled. He made a movement as if he were going to hug her, and then paused, frowning, as if it may be unwanted. Leia smiled at the awkwardness of the gesture, and leaned forward and kissed his cheek, squeezing his shoulder.

"Goodnight, Dad," she murmured softly, dropping the formality of Father.

He smiled at her with relief, and nodded, silently taking leave. Leia allowed the door to shut and felt like all of the air left her lungs in a great rush, leaving her winded, and unsteady.

Meeting – meeting, he thought she was in a meeting – and what had he said; he's rather forward – he was such a shell right now, scrambling to adjust, and Leia didn't know whether to laugh or cry over his assessment of Han's presence, and she didn't know if she had done the right thing in letting it be for now, or if she should feel horribly, devastatingly guilty for letting him think even for a second that Han wasn't the most important person in the world to her.

She closed her eyes briefly, and then went to find Han. He was still on the patio outside, standing at the railing idly, and Leia stood in the doorway, folding her arms in around herself in the evening breeze, and watched him.

"Han?" she asked, trying to gauge his mood.

He turned around after a moment.

"'S he gone?" he asked neutrally.

Leia nodded, feeling bewildered about the whole occurrence herself. Han gestured between himself and her, his eyebrows going up.

"And, when our meeting is over, you want me to go back to the Falcon?" he asked, deadpan.

Leia bit her lip tightly, unsure if he was joking, or being nasty. He looked at her for a moment, and then smiled charmingly, and though Leia sensed there was a small part of him that did resent what had just happened, she let herself smile, and her shoulders relaxed.

"Oh, you can stay the evening, General," she said, turning her nose up snobbishly.

Han grinned, and came forward, reaching out to grasp her shoulders.

"I can?" he asked, feigning shock. "Wait 'til the holo reporters hear."

Leia laughed, leaning her head against the doorway. She sighed, shaking her head. Han squeezed her shoulders, resisting the urge to pull her close, because of how she'd reacted earlier.

"What are we gonna do, Leia?" he asked.

He meant about them, and about her father, and meshing all of that together, but Leia, though she gave him an understanding look, chose to interpret it as a different question, and tilted her head fetchingly.

"Shower, sex, sleep?" she suggested.

Han gave her a silent look that said he understood her evasion, and then tilted his own head.

"In that order?"

"Preferably," Leia murmured. "Though, two of the three can be done simultaneously."

Han gave her a deliberately dense look.

"So, you want to sleep in the shower, or sleep through the sex?"

Leia tilted her head back.

"Han," she laughed, leaning forward to rest her head on his chest, and swatting his arm.

"Ahh," Han drawled, feigning innocence. "You meant shower sex."

Leia kissed his chest through his shirt.

"Well, if you're up for it," she murmured sweetly.

Han tilted her head back and leaned down to kiss her.

"I'm up for anything, Sweetheart," he assured her.

This time, when he wrapped his arms around her for a hug, she automatically threw her own arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly. He kissed her against the wall, half-inside the apartment, half-out, and she read between the lines of his playful words – I'm up for anything Sweetheart – so she knew he'd be up for it later, when it wasn't all so playful.

chapter 11 would pick up directly after this

-alexandra