a/n: some fun, really; this was actually the first outtake that was planned - inspired the series.

Outtake 3: Leia & Winter's girl's night.

Reference: Identity, Chapter Eighteen (18)

Han had called it a slumber party – hopefully, with a stupid, roguish look on his face, because he probably thought of a girls' night as a man's fantasy – but that's not what this was at all. Aside from the fact that, of course, no girls' night had anything to do with men and what they wanted women to be doing in private, this was Leia's reclaiming of time with her best friend, her sister in all but name – the first night of many to come, if the future treated her kindly.

Winter arrived, two bottles of Chandrilan champagne – 'We each get one; I'm not sharing' – in hand, carrying with her a small bag with only sleep attire and chocolate within it, and Leia locked the apartment door and shut them up inside.

Much like when she'd come over for dinner, before the press conference, before Bail and Han had started snarling at each other's throats and Han had chosen to leave to take the high road, becoming familiar again was effortless – Winter was so effortless, the only one she needn't have worried about, and who felt the same, a breath of fresh air.

She was like Han, almost, in a way; she had a knack for treating Leia the same – she didn't care what had happened, she didn't care what she heard or saw about her; Winter just tried to adjust to the world she'd been rescued into, clutching at vitality and youth and seizing onto youthful resilience. Winter's crowning glory was that she had known Leia before the Death Star, and she brought to the table that added element of depth, so Leia could find peace in a friendship and tell herself – see; you can weave your two worlds together.

They abandoned the holo; no need for cheap films, or droning distractions; Winter started with a glass of champagne and light conversation about what it was like to watch Bail Organa twiddle his thumbs all day – she asked about Luke, she asked about Leia's day; she talked about Rouge's fascination with the marriages she'd missed among the galactic royals –

She and Leia sat on the couch like two teenagers; Leia, with her bare feet up on the table, Winter with one leg tucked under her and the other tapping the carpet, her blonde head resting comfortably on Leia's shoulder.

"I'm only slightly sad Han isn't here to cook us dinner," Winter murmured, tipping her drink into her mouth.

Leia smiled, tilting her head back. She laughed quietly.

"He's somewhat useful," she complimented.

"Well, I should hope," Winter said seriously. "If you're going to forgo fortune and status, you at least need a man who can do the cooking and fixing and cleaning you previously paid servants for."

"You think Han cleans?"

"He seemed like a decently clean male human," Winter assessed critically, tapping her teeth on her champagne glass. "You let him sleep in the bed, after all."

"Only when he isn't covered in engine grease."

"No? Oh, where do you sleep with him when he is covered in engine grease?" Winter asked, lifting her head primly, raising her glass. "In the shower?"

Leia grinned, looking at the ceiling pointedly.

"Ah, against a wall, then – or, this table?" Winter lifted her foot and nudged it against the table. "The floor," she guessed. "No matter if there's engine grease on the floor."

"There's a hazard of slipping," Leia pointed out in a murmur.

"If you're having sex on the floor, there's plenty of mess to slip in."

Leia closed her eyes, opening her mouth, appalled.

"Winter."

"Swallow that scandalized tone, 'Lila," Winter chastised smartly. "There's no point in having a lover when there's no best friend to gossip about him with."

Winter sat forward, pouring additional champagne into her glass, and then taking Leia's, and topping hers off. She returned the glass, and Leia brushed her hair back, laughing. She'd missed Winter so much – the uncensored honesty of their conversations, complete trust in each other, supportive, judgment free sisterhood –

Winter arched a brow, touching her glass to her lips –

"Alright, Leia," Winter said dramatically, giving an exaggerated wink. She sat sideways on the sofa, facing Leia, leaning back against the cushions. "Enough foreplay," she joked. "What's he like in bed?"

Leia shrugged and sipped on her drink and Winter threw her head back.

"Goddess, Your Highness, I understand discretion as well as the next girl but you are one stubborn vixen," she sighed, shaking her head. "You agreed to girl talk!"

"Yes," Leia laughed, "but I didn't agree to give you a graphic description of my sex life!" she protested. "That's Han's privacy, too, you know."

"You think he doesn't throw around a brag or two around his guys?" Winter asked skeptically.

Leia shrugged. She shook her head mildly – she supposed she didn't really know, but it would take her by significant surprise if he did. Despite all the flirtation he'd engaged in around her, and directed at her, and all of the sexually charged jokes he tended to make, she'd never heard him discuss details of his trysts.

"Hmm," Winter hummed. "Class act, then. Knock me over with a feather," she said primly.

She leaned forward, glass resting on her knee, resting her elbow on the back of the couch as she lowered her voice in mock menace.

"You denied me these juicy details for years, you know," she accused. "I was turning your head with ribald tales left and right and your chaste little self only let it slip that you let Giles take pictures of you."

"I prefer to exude an air of mystery," Leia retorted.

"Liar. Prude. Is Han good in bed or not?" Winter fired back.

Leia sank down, shaking her head with amusement. She rested her own champagne glass on her knee and threaded her fingers into some loose hair, shrugging after a moment.

"I'm satisfied every time," she said finally; purposefully cryptic.

"Okay, that was an uneventful comment; wildly uninformative and evasive," Winter teased, rolling her eyes. She kicked up a brow skeptically. "Every time? You've never had to fake it?"

Leia blinked unassumingly. She held her hand out flat.

"I still enjoy it if I can't get there," she said flatly. She narrowed her eyes. "Had to fake it?" She quoted. She gave Winter a look. "No one told me I was required to fake pleasure."

"So, he's that good?"

Leia ignored her, continuing innocently –

"Why would I fake it? Seems like rewarding him for nothing."

Winter shrugged simply.

"Sometimes I fake it because I'm bored," she said seriously. "Then, it ends, and I can go get a snack."

"And then you leave a man thinking he's good, and screw over the next woman, I expect," Leia quipped.

"Is this you saying all of Han's previous women left him thinking he was good when he's not?"

"I just told you Han keeps me very happy."

Winter groaned.

"I want details, Lelila, details!" she demanded. "You don't have to be crude, but are we talking – best sex of your life?"

Leia gave her a look, and Winter laughed loudly.

"Alright, fair enough," she teased. "Well, then – is he better at," Winter gestured to her mouth, and then between her legs, "than Giles?"

"I never let Giles do that to me," Leia said shortly.

Winter stared at her.

"Leia – what the fuck were you doing with Giles if you were doing that to him, and letting him take pictures, and getting nothing – "

Leia shrugged.

"I'm a privilege and he never earned me."

Winter rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

"All I want to know is whether or not Han Solo is a beast in the sheets. A man to end all other men."

Leia put her heel against her chin and sighed.

"Winter, my frame of comparison regarding sex is not a difficult one to beat," she said dryly.

Winter started to say something smart about Giles again – and then abruptly her face fell into a grave expression and she drew her lips back in a horrified wince, her fingers flying to her lips. She hadn't even been thinking – and what if Leia had been sitting across from her thinking of Han compared with her other – experience, if one could even call it that – and Winter was just insensitively stirring up flashbacks –

She leaned forward and touched Leia's knee gently.

"Leia, I'm so – I didn't think about," she trailed off, and recomposed herself after a moment. "I'm sorry, Leia."

Leia smiled at her a little, and shrugged.

"Suffice it to say he's the best I ever had," she said wryly, and Winter reached up to squeeze her hand, contrite for a silent moment.

"All I mean is that I hope he makes it good for you," Winter said, searching her friend's face. "I imagine it must have been…difficult."

Leia shrugged again. She smiled, taking a sip of her champagne.

"Han takes care of me," she murmured.

She smiled at Winter again, really trying to reiterate that it was nothing. She didn't like being treated any differently, and she was glad that Winter was here, sharing girl time with her like it was a long ago Alderaanian night.

It was only that – she wasn't used to this kind of girl talk. She remembered Winter's stories, of course, but she'd never had her own to respond with, and the words felt private on her tongue, now.

Winter placed her hand on Leia's shoulder then, and squeezed, looking at her earnestly.

"He does, doesn't he?" she asked, seeking reassurance. Winter licked her lips. "I don't just mean in bed. That's nice, of course, but it's not everything. I've slept with men who blew my mind, but wouldn't have cared if I died right next to them."

She tossed her head, studying Leia's face.

"I know I've met him," she said. "I know you want to marry him, so tell me; he's it, he's everything?"

Leia looked down at her lap for a moment, and nodded.

"Everything," she repeated.

"I can trust him with you, blindly?"

"Yes, Winter," Leia promised softly.

Winter, clearly not done, rested her chin on Leia's shoulder aggressively.

"Is he the living embodiment of a fairytale knight?"

Leia laughed hoarsely, throwing her head back.

"No," she protested, amused.

"Excellent answer; they were such bloody whiners," Winter noted seriously.

She straightened up again and looked at her champagne contemplatively.

"Would he die for you?" she asked quietly.

Leia sighed, and turned her head.

"Han knows better than anyone that I would find it unbearable if one more person died for me."

Winter nodded, taking a sip.

"I value that, too," she said quietly, "because willingly walking into death is not how you show love to a woman who wants to keep you."

Leia held her glass to her lips and nodded, turning to mirror Winter's posture.

"He's worthy," she said.

"Don't worry; we'll convince Pasha," Winter assured her.

Leia gave a soft sigh, a quiet groan.

"Is it just because it's Han – or would it have been this way with any man?" she asked, exasperated; half-curious, but really already knowing the answer.

Any man would have shocked him, made him aggressively paternal, but mostly – it was Han.

Winter held up her palm seriously, composing her features.

"Here's the problem – the men you used to know, and who he'd have expected to court you, looked like they'd bow to you as they held open the boudoir door and gently lay you down on a bed of roses with your nightgown neatly placed around your hips – "

Leia glared at Winter, anticipating a wildly risqué statement to follow –

"Han, on the other hand, looks like this – animal who has probably - bent you over something – more than one thing, if he's any fun, always gets you completely naked, talks dirty, makes you swear - am I getting close?"

Winter eyed Leia pointedly – details, Lelila; I want them! You promised!

Leia arched a brow.

"Anyhow, Pasha cannot handle that."

"I sincerely hope, with every fiber of my being," Leia said, deadpan, "that when Father is scowling about Han, he is not thinking about how he fucks me."

"You said fuck," Winter announced, pointing at Leia triumphantly. "Have another glass of champagne; before the end of the night, you'll be telling me what your favorite position is."

"You took this conversation to a precariously creepy threshold," Leia retorted.

"Fine; I won't mention Pasha again."

Leia grinned, and downed the rest of her champagne, holding it out expectantly while Winter poured more. Winter laughed, her eyes shining, and Leia gestured with the drink a little, giving Winter a look.

"You know, I'm certainly not one to lavish any praise on Giles Durane," Leia remarked, "but your mockery of my dalliance with him is a little misplaced."

"I'm merely offended on your behalf that there was no reciprocation – "

"It lacked reciprocation by my decree, but what I received was invaluable education in certain arts," Leia interrupted, holding her palm up and gesturing gallantly. "You want all of this gossip on Han's skill; did it ever occur to you that I blow his mind?"

Winter put a hand to her heart, feigning shock.

"Do you?"

"He couldn't stand when I was done with him."

Winter gave a shriek of laughter, leaning forward to shake Leia's shoulder in amusement, and pride.

"And he couldn't believe what had happened, no doubt," she laughed wickedly.

"He certainly wasn't expecting it," Leia laughed, blushing smugly even as she recalled the look on Han's face the first time she'd gone down on him.

"He must've thought you'd been schooled in it," Winter snorted.

"Well," Leia waved her champagne glass dramatically, "I was raised to be a magnificent orator."

Winter sank down on the sofa laughing, wrapping one hand around her middle to clutch at her ribs.

"Fine, fine," she gasped. "I'm almost satisfied with your emerging salacity," she held up one hand. "I do want to know what your favorite position is," she said shamelessly, "then I will leave you alone – I swear; saint's honor."

She held her hand over her heart; Leia rolled her eyes, turned them up to the ceiling – and for all her conservative tendencies, she couldn't deny Winter, and it was such a rush to feel this young, and this unburdened, and this comfortable with someone who was purely a female companion.

So, Leia took a bracing sip of her champagne.

"I like," she said, choosing a demure tone. "I like it all," she said diplomatically, "I like it most when he's not on top of me."

Winter rested her chin on her palm, thoughtful.

"That," she remarked intently. "Is not what I expected."

Leia lifted one shoulder.

"Me neither," she answered, lifting her brow a little. "I think it's Death Star residue," she murmured.

Winter removed her chin from her hand and let her arm fall forward, curving it around Leia's shoulders. She didn't say anything, just squeezed her shoulder, and Leia nodded in understanding.

"You should just tell me, if you don't want to talk about something," Winter said earnestly. "I won't be offended."

Leia waved her hand.

"No, I think there's favors to be done, to myself, in saying some things out loud," she murmured. "Talking," she added.

She sighed, and tapped her glass.

"Father and Luke are coming over tomorrow," she said. "To have the conversation," she said, stressing the word: "Vader," she hissed ominously.

"Your…blood mother?"

Leia nodded. She looked at Winter curiously.

"I wonder why he told you," she said softly. "After all these years, keeping it from my mother – and he didn't tell Rouge," she mused. "He told you, on that ship."

Winter's eyes were wide.

"Leia, Pasha was fading, those last few weeks. He was holding us all together and it was so tough. I think he started to wallow in his regrets. It was just a moment of weakness."

Leia's chest ached for their plight, for her father's sadness.

"And what did you think?" she asked.

Winter, brushed her hair back, shrugging.

"I was shocked," she said bluntly. "I don't care, though."

"Has it made you afraid of me?"

Winter shook her head, giving Leia a skeptical look. She just shook her head again, implying the question hardly merited an answer.

"I don't think it matters. I think it's a credit to you that it's so starkly unbelievable – you have lived your life in such a way that anyone would think – I thought – Darth Vader? That's absolutely impossible. She's nothing like him."

Winter paused, and smiled wryly.

"Did he know?" she asked.

Leia looked surprised.

"Who – know what?"

"Lord Vader. Did he know you were his?"

Leia gave her a startled look – well, she'd never – had he? He'd known Luke; yes, and Luke had said Vader's last thoughts were for the two of them – but had he known who? When he told Luke he figured out that he was not the only one, had he known that the sister he spoke of was the girl he'd mercilessly tortured?

"I don't know," Leia confessed, with a sense of wonder.

"Well, that's the story I want to hear," Winter said. "Not – how should Leia cope with her father being Darth Vader, but – how should Vader cope with his daughter being Leia Organa? I think he'd be petrified."

Leia blinked at her – and then smiled at her brilliantly, so brilliantly it almost hurt. She'd have to hang on to that – she'd have to hang on to thinking of it that way, for tomorrow night's conversation; she'd have to tell herself Vader ought to be petrified of her.

-would have taken place at the very end of chapter 18

* s/o to Carrie Fisher's unabashed penchant for talking about sex with frankness.

-alexandra