Ratings/Warnings (this chapter only) * * * * MA * * * * ADULTS ONLY!
Note: If sexually explicit material is not your thing, you can easily skip this chapter without missing much. (Well, Han would probably take exception to that comment, but you know what I mean.)
Remain in Light – Chapter 13: Leia and Han by Erin Darroch
Chapter 13: Leia and Han
Part 1: The Couch
"And she'd already rescued herself by the time we got there," Han's voice, tinged with wonder and pride, rumbled in his chest and reverberated against Leia's ear. "When I saw her climbing down that wall, it was like looking at you at that age. But she reminded me of me."
"She's the best of us both," Leia murmured her agreement, not even bothering to open her eyes.
She was too content to move. She was stretched out on the hotel couch, barefoot and loose-limbed from too much whiskey, half-draped over Han's long body. He was propped against a cushion, one arm bent behind his head, the other resting heavily across her back. They'd been talking—mainly about Rey—for almost an hour and Han was starting to repeat himself. She smiled against his chest. She didn't mind. They had fourteen years of catching up to do where their daughter was concerned, and only a few scant stories to share.
There will be more stories, she told herself. There must be time for more.
She recalled with a warm thrill the look on Han's face an hour before when she'd confirmed that his suspicions were correct—that the girl he'd intercepted above Jakku was indeed their daughter, returned to them at last. He'd been stunned, then exultant and, finally, overwhelmed. He'd dropped his head into his hands, choked with emotion. The sight had moved Leia to tears again, then they'd laughed together over the evening's unprecedented amount of weeping. Han had raised a toast to their absent daughter, and they'd started exchanging detailed accounts of their all-too-brief interactions with her.
There were some stories Leia hadn't shared with him. Not yet. Tonight was not the night to tell him that Rey had watched the confrontation at Starkiller Base, and had witnessed the moment Kylo Ren put a lightsaber through his chest. Someday, she would tell him in greater detail about the first night on D'Qar, when Rey had lain her head in Leia's lap and sobbed her heart out once she finally understood what she'd lost in that moment. It had been a rough night for Rey, and for Leia, too. Ragged with grief, euphoric with relief, devastated, bereft and overjoyed, all at once. They'd stayed awake talking almost the entire night, and had arisen before dawn to sit in the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon, thinking of Han and telling stories.
We need more stories together.
"We need to send her a message," Leia said suddenly, her eyes popping open. She lifted her head from Han's chest and saw him crack open one eye to look at her. She raised herself up on one arm and looked at him in mild alarm, her hand coming to rest on his chest. It had almost slipped her mind. "And Chewie! Han, we can't let them continue to think that you're dead!"
"You haven't told them already?" Han asked, surprised. His eyes were open now and he squinted at her in puzzlement. "Why not?"
Leia hesitated, lowering her gaze for a moment before looking back at him."I wanted to wait until you were here." I wanted to make sure you were actually going to make it here, she thought. She was nothing if not a realist, and Han's safe return had not been assured, as far as she was concerned, until the moment she'd seen him step off the shuttle.
Han's lips quirked in silent acknowledgement. "It's alright," he said after a moment, reaching up to smooth a loose strand of hair away from her face, "we can record one on the ship in the morning."
A sudden gurgling noise filled the air, loud enough to be heard above the soft strains of music that wafted through the cosy room. Leia clapped a hand across her middle.
Han's eyes widened. "Is that your stomach?" he gawped. "Are you starving?"
Leia laughed lightly and shrugged. "I didn't eat breakfast," she admitted.
"Breakfast!" Han exclaimed. He made a show of craning his neck around to look at the local time displayed in glowing amber characters on the entertainment unit. "Leia, dinner should've been two hours ago."
"Mm, I know," she said, ruefully, disentangling her limbs from his and swivelling around to sit on the edge of the couch. She eyed the level of whiskey remaining in the bottle of Whyren's Reserve on the low table in front of her, and recognised that acquiring some food would probably be a good idea. "I'll order something from room service."
She stood up with her back to the couch and took a moment to stretch languorously. The whiskey and the evening's cathartic conversations had left her feeling pleasantly drained and relaxed to the point of drowsiness. It had been a very good day—but a long one. As she lowered her arms, she felt Han's presence rise behind her, his body grazing against hers as he stood. Wordlessly, he slipped his arms around her waist and she tipped her head to one side to give him easier access to her neck. It was a practiced move, a tender embrace that they'd shared a thousand times in over thirty years of marriage, but the feeling of his mouth on her skin never failed to send an electric arc down through her centre, setting up a warm throb low in her core. The sound of his breathing, the rough scrape of stubble, and the heat of his hands on her body always made her feel giddy. With a pang of regret she thought of the wasted year they'd spent apart, and the months before that when she'd so viciously rejected him, too trapped in her own misery to tolerate his touch. No more of that, she told herself firmly. To deflect the intrusive thoughts, she focused her mind on the pleasurable sensations he was creating with his roaming mouth and rubbing hands, as she gazed through half-closed eyes at the nightscape of Ord Mantell arrayed before them. It felt so good to be with Han, to be loved and wanted, and to be utterly at peace, at least for a while.
The hours since Han's shuttle had touched down had evaporated in a haze of powerful emotion, delicious Corellian whiskey and Force-enhanced kisses. Their weighty conversation had gradually given way to more pleasurable pursuits as their emotional reunion became a more physical one. At first, the combination of sweet words, sensual touch, and telepathic connection had been too potent for either of them to bear for more than a few minutes at a time, and they'd discovered the need to exercise some restraint. At one point, utterly overwhelmed by sensation, Leia had finally stumbled to her feet and crossed the room to put some distance between their bodies, laughing all the while. As much as they were amused by their own reactions, though, they seemed to have tacitly agreed to cool their jets, to slow things down a bit. Shaking, Leia had taken herself out of his reach completely by disappearing to the fresher to splash cold water on her throat and catch her breath. Mingling intimate physical touch with the use of the Force was exhilarating and deliciously exhausting. She couldn't wait to do it again.
Han had the same idea, she realised, as his hands began to roam further afield. He continued nuzzling her neck, his breath hot against her skin. At the same time, he slid his hands from her waist, up her sides, and around to cup her breasts, synchronised thumbs grazing across both nipples through the thin fabric of her camisole. The physical jolt she felt was magnified by a Force vision—the briefest flash—of what he wanted to do to her, what he fully intended to do to her. The combination was intense and she groaned softly.
"Forget about food," Han rumbled, rubbing his mouth against her ear and repeating the gentle flicking across both nipples with his thumbs. "Let's go to bed."
"Mmm," she responded dazedly, "but I'm starving."
She could feel his erection hard against the small of her back, and wondered how they had reached this point again so swiftly. The two of them were like splintered tinder and shaved magnesium, ready to burst into flame at the barest friction. She toyed with the idea of giving in to it, of turning around and shoving him back onto the couch, of straddling him and giving him exactly what he wanted without delay. But the slow-motion dance of approach and retreat was its own great pleasure, and she was enjoying it. And despite his suggestion that they should take it to the bedroom, she knew he was enjoying the teasing, too. The mysterious energy that surrounded them and penetrated them was turning out to be more fun to play with than either of them had imagined.
"I'll order you some Crathulan food...," Han cajoled enticingly, continuing his seductive campaign. He nudged her head with his own to make her tilt it the other way and continued dragging hot kisses up the skin on the other side of her neck. His hands left her breasts and began a slow, meandering descent down the length of her body. "And I'll meet you in the bedroom."
Leia's eyes drifted closed and she struggled to hang on to her train of thought. "But then...we'll be interrupted...when the food arrives..." she said weakly. She recognised that her delaying tactics were growing rather feeble.
Han's low laugh against her ear sent a shiver down her spine. He placed a soft kiss on her cheek, suddenly tender. "You're very generous, Sweetheart. Or optimistic. The food will take at least an hour."
"Maybe so," she murmured, turning in the circle of his arms, and lifting her face to his. "But we'll be making up for lost time." She pushed one hand down between them, fingertips curling around the thick length of his erection through the fabric of his trousers, as she stretched up to meet his offered kiss. His whiskey-flavoured mouth was hot, and his tongue stroked against hers with an urgency that belied his relaxed manner. He wanted her. And he was getting past the point of waiting to have her. She felt his hand on the back of her neck, then his long fingers sliding up into her loosely braided hair, raking softly along the skin of her scalp, making all of her nerve-endings tingle and twitch. As her mouth opened fully to his insistent tongue she sent him a vision of her own making, a quick flash of her near-future plans for him, and was rewarded with a heavy groan.
"On second thought," she said, pulling away abruptly and sidestepping his reaching hand, "meet me in the whirlpool."
"What?" he said blankly, staring after her as she moved towards the bedroom. "Whirlpool?"
Leia stopped in the doorway and turned. "Didn't you see it when you went to the fresher?" she asked. "I made sure to get a room with a hot tub. It would be a shame not to use it."
He stared at her for a moment, clearly flummoxed, and then moved as if to follow. She stopped him with a look. "Not yet, Flyboy," she said. She pointed to the comms panel near the door. "You have Crathulan cuisine to order, remember? If I'm going to keep you busy for an hour, I'm going to need to sustenance. I'll meet you in the pool."
She left him standing with his hands on his hips and a bewildered expression on his face, and headed to the bedroom to strip off her clothes.
Part 2: The Hot Tub
Leia lay adrift and boneless in the bubbling water. Only the back of her head, propped against a headrest at the end of the tub, anchored her in place and kept her from floating to the centre of the spacious pool. The water was very warm and the sensation of millions of miniscule bubbles rising and skittering along the surface of her skin was pure bliss. She gazed vacantly at the vista beyond the wide window, and the faint glimmer of stars above it, her mind as adrift as her body. The room was dim, lit only by the myriad colours shining from the Ord Mantell cityscape, and the drifting lights of the ubiquitous spaceships as they moved up and down past the window. The lazy motion of the lights—and no doubt the heavy dose of Corellian whiskey coursing through her body—made her feel even more drowsy and limp than she had earlier. She closed her eyes.
There was a soft splash to her right a few minutes later, as Han entered the pool. Leia dragged her eyes open and turned her head to look in his direction. He stood for a moment on the second step, water lapping around his knees as he stared down at her. His face was partially in shadow, but even without being able to see his eyes, she could feel the heat of his gaze as he took in the sight of her bare body afloat in the effervescent water. She felt an appreciative smile steal over her face as she watched him move, too. His entire form was illuminated and shadowed in turns by the vagaries of the ambient light coming through the window. He is still as gorgeous as he ever was, she thought, noting with a thrill the obvious evidence of his strong desire for her. As he stepped down into the water, she frankly admired the lines of his body. He was bulkier now than he'd been in youth, but his skin was still taut; his muscles still powerful and well-defined. Leia's gaze rose higher to seek his face, and, in so doing, she caught a glimpse of the scar on his chest.
Her expression must have given her away because he paused in his movements, suddenly wary. Leia pulled her legs in and sat up against the wall of the pool. She felt her gaze flickering between the scar and his face. The moment stretched between them, the only sounds the liquid bubbling of the whirlpool and the faint strains of the music coming from the common room. We've already had this conversation, Leia thought with conviction. There is nothing more to say. And then she remembered their silent resource. She reached out to him through the Force, swelling that slender golden channel with love and reassurance, overcoming his hesitation. He held her gaze as he sank deeper into the water, moving as if drawn by the shimmering mystical cord that stretched between them. He sank down beside her, bumping softly against her with the motion of the water.
She turned towards him then, unreservedly opening her legs and letting the buoyancy of the bubbling water help her drift astride him, her wet hands coming up to his shoulders to keep her balance. Han backed against the side of the pool and slipped his hands behind her knees, pulling her against his hips. The tips of her breasts grazed his chest as they bobbed in the roiling water. She felt the slow slide of his fingertips against the skin of her thighs, as they dislodged thousands of infinitesimal air bubbles and sent them racing to the surface. The hard proof of his desire nudged between her legs, but he did not move immediately to complete their union. Instead, he held her gaze, his eyes glittering with purpose in the dim light.
Leia recognised that look. She had no need of the Force to help her sense his intentions, because she knew that expression very well. His occasional self-deprecating comments to the contrary, Han had always been a generous and patient lover. He seemed genuinely to derive as much enjoyment from giving Leia pleasure as he did in receiving it from her. And now he had that look in his eye that said she was going to be on the receiving end of his attentions. She shivered and gripped his shoulders, feeling her core muscles clench and quiver in anticipation. Her pulse quickened and her breathing changed again as Han's gaze flickered to her parted lips and then back up to her eyes. His eyes crinkled in a smile as he moved to kiss her.
The kiss was kaleidoscopic. As their lips brushed together, Leia felt a rush of vivid emotions flooding from Han, and her throat closed up with the intensity of it. Love—love, most of all. As his mouth claimed hers, she felt the depth of his admiration for her, the strength of his attachment and the warmth of his devotion. His tongue stroked against hers, and she understood his lust and his powerful yearning to be joined to her in every way. Underneath that flood she felt a surge of wonder and a faint thread of trepidation. This was the delicious fusion they'd been toying with all evening, and it was easily living up to Leia's expectations. The sensations were intense, but then they seemed to double when she opened her own mind to his. She wanted Han to feel the same powerful assurance, the certainty of her love for him, the ancient root of it, the complex texture. The intimacy of their telepathic link—combined with the sensual touch of lips, tongues, and roaming hands—eventually overwhelmed them, and they parted on a mutual gasp, dazed and smiling into each other's eyes.
The room was filled with the sound of their heavy breathing over the bubbling of the hot tub and the faint musical notes wafting in from the other room. Under the water, Han's hands continued to roam, making a warm circuit up her thighs, curving over her hips, up her back and then gliding around to massage her breasts. After so long apart, his touch was at once sweetly familiar, and exquisitely new. Aching for more, Leia moved her hips deliberately against him, feeling a hot flush suffuse her core as she felt his body's eager response. They shared another intense kiss and then Han withdrew, gently guiding her hips to put some space between them. Holding her gaze, he wrapped one arm around her back and slipped his other hand between her legs. Leia shivered, dropped her head next to his and closed her eyes to concentrate on the sensation as his fingers sought her core, gliding through the slick folds with a gentle confidence borne of long familiarity and years of practice. She was already quivering, her muscles clenching in expectation as he slipped his finger through the cleft in her tender flesh. Sliding obliquely around her most sensitive point, and then up and around again with perfect pressure and rhythm, he manipulated her body as expertly as she could do it herself.
Oh, I have missed you.
Leia clutched his shoulders and lifted her head, seeking another kiss like the last. Han complied, tilting his head to capture her mouth with his as she writhed against his stroking hand, aided in her movements by the natural buoyancy of the water and the clutch of her knees around his hips. The occasional brush of her nipples against his skin sent sporadic electric currents through her limbs and jolts to her innermost muscles.
Gripping Han's shoulder with one hand, she lifted the other to his head, trying to hold him still in the turbulent water as their mouths slipped and caught together. Her fingers raked up through his hair, revelling in the familiar texture of it. She delighted in the feel of his skull beneath her fingertips, and in the warmth of his skin under her resting palm. Alive. Somehow Han had survived and returned to her, and she couldn't seem to touch him enough, to absorb the reality that he was whole and safe, and in her arms.
She pulled away from his kiss, trying to see his face in the dim light. His expression was one of intense absorption and deep satisfaction as he seemed to monitor the effect he was having on her. A flickering smile passed over his face as his fingers caressed the sensitive skin between her legs, and he watched her react to his touch. He lifted his eyes to hers.
I love you.
She answered him with a broad smile, magnifying and returning his feelings through the Force, pouring all of her heart into it. In all their years together, she'd never felt so completely connected to him, although she suspected there were still deeper levels left to explore. The thought made her tremble with anticipation.
Han shifted his arm around her back to hold her steady, as his other hand, already nestled between her legs, inched gradually downward, seeking the entrance to her body. She was already throbbing, aching for him, as he slipped a finger deep inside her, and resumed nuzzling kisses up the side of her neck. The combined effect of his strong arm curled around her back, his mouth on her skin and his hand moving between her legs made her arch against him in reflex, growing more breathless under his touch. She could feel him smiling against her ear as his caressing finger curved up inside her, stroking lightly against the spot that he knew would drive her wild. She jerked involuntarily and clutched his shoulders, shuddering as he slid his fingertip delicately against the tender place. As he withdrew the touch and then slowly repeated the motion—then again, and a third time—she heard herself moan. The sound seemed to excite Han further and she felt his hot mouth on her throat, the graze of his teeth against her skin. Continuing the careful stroking motion, he then adjusted his hand to introduce the light pressure of a knuckle above her swollen flesh, and Leia began to lose control. Her breathing grew laboured and she dropped her head against his shoulder, holding onto him with fierce concentration as he continued his manipulations against the mindless push of her own moving hips. He had a perfect understanding of her body and how to bring her to the edge, drawing her tighter and tighter through a complex pattern of caresses, and strategic withdrawals of his touch. She was helpless to do anything other than strive with him to reach that apex, and all her concentration was bent on it. She felt his hot breath against her ear and, then, for the first time since he'd joined her in the pool, she heard his voice.
"That's it, Sweetheart," he said, his voice rough with desire. "Come for me."
The soft command inflamed her. She turned her face to receive his kiss, then, and shuddered hard against his hand as his tongue invaded her mouth. The stroke of his finger matched the stroke of his tongue, both motions working together in exquisite counterpoint to the erratic bump of his knuckle against that place, that sweet, sweet place...
She groaned into his mouth as she convulsed around his hand and the muscles of her thighs clamped against his hips. For a long moment, with her fingers digging into his shoulders and her eyes shut tight in concentration, the low centre of her body became the centre of everything, the only thing that mattered. She writhed against his touch as the strongest of the spasms receded, and then lay gasping against his shoulder, quivering.
Han brought her gently back to herself, trailing kisses down her neck to her collarbone, as his fingers tenderly retreated from her throbbing body. He relaxed against the side of the tub, steadied her shaking hips with his hands and brought her floating down to rest against the hard length of his erection.
You are so good, she thought fervently. So, so good.
She felt him smile against her shoulder as he placed more tender kisses on her fevered skin.
His answer, when he gave it, reverberated in her ear: "I know."
Part 3: The Bed
Han smiled against Leia's laughing mouth, enjoying the fact that he'd amused her with his conceited quip. He felt immensely pleased with himself on several counts, not least of all with the fact that he was neither dead nor incarcerated—nor was he rattling around the galaxy, light years away from home, and lonely. Instead, he was in a hot tub on Ord Mantell with Leia's naked, pliant body straddling his, her muscles still trembling from the aftershocks of his attentions. Furthermore, she was laughing, smiling into his eyes and looking utterly, completely relaxed. That was a sight he hadn't seen in more years than he cared to remember, and he took a long moment to absorb it.
It had been a very good night so far, and he hoped it would get just a little bit better before the end. With that goal in mind, he wrapped his arms around her again and pulled her close, relishing the feel of her hot core rubbing along his erection. He was burning for her, but long familiarity with this woman had taught him a fine sense of timing. He watched her through half-lidded eyes as they kissed, enjoying the flutter of her dark eyelashes against her cheeks as his tongue explored her yielding mouth. Her lips were soft, and her kiss was languid, tender, in the aftermath of her orgasm. Her breathing was growing calmer, and the pulse under his hand was slowing down, but he didn't want that fire to go out completely; not yet.
With Leia's arms around his neck and her knees braced around his hips, Han's hands were free to explore her body. His slid both hands up to cup her breasts, buoyant and slick in the effervescent water. Rolling her rigid nipples softly between thumb and fingertip, he deepened the kiss and felt her quiescent passion reignite. Her response was immediate and fiery, and he realised with a pang that he was soon going to have to call a halt to the hot tub adventure, and get her into bed before something unfortunate happened. As that thought drifted through his mind, Leia slipped a hand down under the water to take hold of him. Swiftly, he redirected her, lifting her hand out of the water to lay a kiss against her wet knuckles. She gave him a questioning look and rocked her hips against him under the water.
"No?" she asked, her dark eyes quizzical.
"Not yet," he murmured, leaning in for more light kisses, and returning to his rediscovery of her soft body. It had been more than a year—closer to two, in fact—since he'd last enjoyed the feeling of her bare skin against his, and he intended to savour it thoroughly. He nibbled her jaw line as he stroked her, and felt her shuddering against him.
"You know," she said breathlessly, squirming against him as he rubbed and tweaked her under the water. "You've made all of my hot tub fantasies come true."
Han stopped kissing her for a moment to look into her eyes.
"You have hot tub fantasies?" That was news to him. Leia had never been the type to indulge in much verbal exposition in the bedroom, preferring instead to let her actions do the talking. It was a characteristic that had always suited Han just fine, but he was intrigued by her mention of a specific fantasy. Although their newly-formed telepathic bond promised more of that sort of thing in the future, as things stood now, glimpses into that corner of her mind were relatively rare.
"Tell me," he urged, running his hands past her hips and around to squeeze her bottom. He reached a bit further to run his fingertips briefly along the hot crevice between her legs. "What do we do in these fantasies of yours?"
A soft moan escaped Leia's lips at his touch, and he could feel the heat of her core intensifying. She was nearly ready for the second phase of his plan, he noted, smiling at the predictability of her reactions. He loved the way she responded to him. He felt a deep sense of satisfaction, seeing her tremble and melt at the touch of his hands even after all this time. From their first encounter aboard the Falcon until this moment, more than thirty years later, sex between them had always been good, and the introduction of the Force into the equation promised to make it even better.
"Leia," he prompted, seeing her eyes glazing over."Your fantasy?"
"Um," she said, clearly struggling to gather her thoughts. "It started as a dream."
"A dream?" he murmured, inching kisses along her collarbone.
"Yes," she rolled her head back, exposing her throat to his mouth. "I had a dream about us in the whirlpool, the first time we were here on Ord Mantell together. Do you remember that trip?"
"Uh, yeah, I remember that trip," he said darkly, recalling the disastrous consequences more than the romantic aspects. "I don't remember being in a whirlpool."
"We never used it. But there was a hot tub like this one, in our suite," she reminded him, then gave an exaggerated sigh as he continued to caress her body under the water. She was growing breathless again under his touch. "I had a dream...about that hot tub...but it didn't end the way I wanted it to...so that...turned into...a sort of fantasy...for a while..."
He chuckled against her throat, and lifted a hand to her face, guiding her mouth back to his for another molten kiss. Leia's hand left his shoulder and disappeared under the roiling water, reaching between them again with obvious intent. He realised then that it was time to move her out of the water and onto a firmer surface where he could fulfil one of his own fantasies.
"Not here," he said, again halting her advance with a firm hand. "Bed."
She gave him a smouldering look, then released the grip of her knees to drift free of him in the water. He grinned at her as she floated backwards across the pool, holding his gaze with her dark eyes. She'd always been most highly biddable in her post-orgasmic state, Han reflected. It wouldn't last, he knew, but for the next half-hour or so, she would enjoy—well, tolerate—taking orders from him.
"Go," he commanded and watched with satisfaction as she turned to obey.
He followed closely behind her as she emerged from the steaming water and, on impulse, stopped her with a touch as they reached the top. Turning her in his arms, he pulled her warm, wet, naked body against his and slid a hand around the back of her neck as he claimed her mouth again. Releasing her, he reached for one of the towels that hung neatly over the heated rail on the wall, and began to dry her off.
"This is better than my fantasy," she murmured, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as he worked his way down her body with the warm towel.
She submitted to his ministrations, hands resting lightly on his shoulders as he stooped to swab the water from her legs and feet. He whipped the towel around behind her and worked his way back up, planting occasional kisses on her heated skin as he slowly straightened to his full height. Leia was flushed pink and breathing heavily by the time he dropped the damp towel on the floor and grabbed a dry one for himself. She reached to take it from him, clearly intending to return the favour, but he shook his head and gently pushed her in the direction of the bedroom.
"Bed," he said firmly. "I'll be there in a minute."
She gave him a strange look, but turned and disappeared into the next room without comment. Nice to see her do as she is told now and then, he grinned to himself.
He rubbed the hot, dry towel hurriedly over his skin, painfully conscious of the straining erection between his legs. He had deliberately tried to pace himself, to extend their intimacy and to give them some time to get reacquainted, but the delay was beginning to take its toll, and he was growing impatient for release.
As much as he'd fantasised about carrying Leia to bed immediately and having his way with her, he wanted more than that from this reunion, and he knew that she did, too. A year of physical separation—and the months of emotional estrangement that had preceded that—had cost them dearly. Even with the aid of the Force to support and enhance their communication, Han knew that their relationship required careful rebuilding if they wanted to get back to something like where they were before their universe had imploded. And he wanted that more than he wanted anything else—not only to be reunited with Leia in their marriage, but to gather together the remnants of their scattered family, to salvage something good from the ashes that Ben's betrayal had left behind. Tonight, he felt, would be the first step in that direction. Dropping the damp towel on the tiles beside the other one, he went to join his wife in bed.
The darkened bed chamber was richly furnished with a spacious, deep-filled mattress atop a raised platform, a pair of bedside tables and lamps, and an arrangement of a small table and two upholstered chairs near the tall window. The floor was of a rich, dark, polished wood that was almost entirely covered by a thick, luxurious carpet. Leia had kicked most of the sumptuous bedclothes onto the floor and was lying stretched out like a pittin in the middle of the bed, her hair at last unbound from its intricate coils, her body covered only by a thin silken sheet. She lay against a soft pillow with both arms bent above her head, one knee slightly raised, and her dark eyes fixed on him as he entered the room. Han smiled at the picture she made, the very image of relaxation and readiness. Some knot hidden deep inside him seemed to unravel as he looked at her.
He approached from the foot of the bed, slipped the sheet away from her feet and encircled one slender ankle with his hand. Her foot squirmed reflexively as he leaned down to graze the tender skin of her ankle with his lips. He trailed kisses up the inside of one leg, using his hand on the other side to caress the bend of her knee, the flesh of her thigh, the swell of her hip, crawling onto the bed as he advanced to his goal. He kissed his way to the patch of dark curls at the apex of her thighs and enjoyed the shiver that went through her when he planted a lingering kiss there, too. Her fingers clutched at his hair as he tasted her, briefly, a promise for another time, and continued his loving advance up her body. But as he placed a kiss on the softly rounded curve of her belly, he felt her tense slightly. Looking up, he saw her gazing down the length of herself to where his last kiss had landed. Something in her expression made him pause, and he moved up to see her more clearly. Leaning on one elbow, he peered into her pensive face.
"You okay?"
She lifted her eyes to meet his and he could see that there was definitely a shadow there in the dark depths, some spectre that had taken her away from the moment. He frowned in concern and started to speak, but she stopped him with two fingers against his lips and a shake of her head against the pillow. To emphasise her point, she reached out to him through the Force.
Don't stop.
In reply, he lowered himself on bent elbow to kiss her waiting mouth. Whatever the worry in her mind, she wanted to set it aside for now, and he was more than willing to let her do that. She responded warmly to his kiss, sliding one hand up to the back of his neck and reaching between them with the other hand to wrap her fingers around him. He groaned with the pleasure of her touch—an achingly familiar sensation he'd come to believe, during the lonely months of their separation, he would never feel again. He didn't want to stop her, but the taste of her mouth and the warm stroke of her hand made an exquisite combination, and he was too far gone. He was afraid that a few more caresses like that would bring the evening to an ignominious end. In any case, he wanted time to reignite the heat in her that had cooled a touch since he'd sent her to bed ahead of him.
With regret, he gently pulled her hand away, unfolded her arm and lightly pinned it above her head. It was his fourth deflection of the evening, though, and Leia looked confused, and slightly piqued.
"Is something wrong?" she said in a tone of mild exasperation, her brown eyes flashing.
"Nothing's wrong," he murmured, releasing her arm to drag his fingertips down the bones of her wrist, across the sensitive skin of her elbow, up to her shoulder and down to her breast.
He leaned in to kiss her and she complied readily enough, but he could feel a touch of reservation now. Reaching out through the Force, he sensed uncertainty, confusion. Suddenly grateful for the insight that the new power provided, he suspended his kisses and placed a soothing hand against her side.
"Leia," he said patiently. "There's nothing wrong. But eighteen months is a long time, and I'm wound a little tight."
She stared at him, and it took him a beat to realise that he'd said something significant, or that what he'd said seemed to have some other meaning for her than it did for him. He wasn't sure how to identify the flutter of emotion that he sensed from her now.
Replaying his words in his own mind, he was still mystified. "What?"
"Eighteen months," she said, her voice hoarse. "So you didn't..." she trailed off, not wanting to put the rest of the question into words.
As her eyes scanned his face, Han suddenly understood where her thoughts had gone, and felt his stomach lurch at the idea of that conversation. He'd just revealed the fact that he hadn't been with anyone else during their time apart, which was true, so it was unlikely to be the cause of any trouble between them. But it did lead on to the obvious next question. Had she?
Frankly, he didn't want to know if she'd taken a lover during their year-long separation. They'd certainly parted on bitter enough terms to warrant it and, if she'd taken pleasure or comfort in another man's arms, he supposed he had no right to blame her—although the idea of confirming it filled him with dread. Leia had always attracted admirers, and Han had always been aware of who those admirers were, just as he also knew that Lee Statura was the likeliest candidate to have made an overture to Leia in Han's absence. She'd worked closely with Statura for years and although—to Han's knowledge—he'd never stepped over the line, the younger man's open professional admiration of Leia did little to mask his obvious personal attraction to her. But if that were the case, if Leia had taken up with someone like Statura in his absence, it wasn't something Han wanted dragged out into the open either. So, he hadn't asked. But here it was, in the open, and he was suddenly afraid she was going to break his heart.
As he struggled to think of what to say next, Leia opened the telepathic channel between them. Han realised then that he ought to be quicker to reach for that conduit whenever the terrain between them seemed too difficult to navigate. It sure beat the hell out of fighting. As he stared down into Leia's dark eyes, he felt the warmth of that connection, the rosy-golden glow that emanated from her and enveloped him. She reached up to frame his face with both hands, thumbs tracing the outline of brow and cheekbone, lips and chin. Her eyes roamed his face with an open expression of desire, devotion and love.
Only you. Only you.
Han held her gaze, feeling the wave of strong reassurance washing over him. It was as plainly expressed as if she had spoken the words aloud, and he couldn't help the relieved grin that spread across his face. She returned his smile, and suddenly Han felt he could take on anything, survive any number of calamities, as long as Leia would continue to look at him like that.
He felt her stir against him then, as she drew her knee up along his side and wrapped her leg around his hip. Han lowered his head to nuzzle behind her ear as he slid one hand up the length of her thigh, then around to reach between her legs. He teased through the curls there with light, lazy circles, and then with long, slow strokes of his fingers against her soft skin. Leia slipped a hand down between them, and her knowledgeable touch soon brought him surging back, rock-hard and aching. As he turned his face to hers for another kiss, Leia pushed against his hand and moaned softly into his mouth, a signal that sent a blaze of lust rushing through him. He was seized then with an overwhelming need, instantaneous and powerful, to be inside her, to reclaim her as his own.
A moment later, he was poised above her, one knee nudging her thighs apart, the weight of his body on his arms as he lowered his mouth to hers. Leia reached down to guide him inside, even as her lips parted to accept his tongue. With a low groan, he slid slowly into warmth and exquisite wetness, then dropped his head down next to hers and thrust himself fully into her pliant body, forcing a gasp from them both. He didn't move for a long moment, overcome with the warm rush of love and pleasure emanating from Leia as she settled beneath him, taking his weight and his presence inside her with a feeling of deep satisfaction that he could sense through the open channel between them. The sensation was novel and thrilling, as if he were experiencing their union from both perspectives. He lifted his head and saw the same look of surprise and wonder reflected in her dark eyes.
"Leia," he whispered, imbuing her name with all of his desire and devotion. He felt her muscles clench around him in response, even as she wrapped her legs around his hips and her hands came up to frame his face. Locked together for the first time in a long time, they drifted in for another deep kiss, tongues stroking together in intimate imitation of their joining.
Han's body began to stir almost of its own accord, the primitive demand overriding all thought. He moved within her and felt her respond on every level—writhing most appealingly against him, using her entire body to express her physical desire—but also reaching out through the Force, inundating him with tenderness and love, and the joy of reunion. Their yearning spirits met and entwined in that golden channel as their bodies strained together, and awareness of everything else fell away. For an age, Han lost himself in exquisite sensation, feeling the succulent sheath of Leia's body pulsing around him with each thrust of his hips. She held him close against her, one hand tangled in his hair, the other roaming up and down his body as she whispered in his ear, sweet sounds that filled an aching, empty space inside him that had long ago been locked down and ignored. Han lifted his head to meet her eyes again, and felt their connection intensify. This was his wife—the woman at the centre of his life for over thirty years—and he'd come perilously close to losing her forever. The fleeting thought made him hold her even tighter, made him pour his heart out to her in the only way he knew how. As their mouths locked together again, Han had the strange and thrilling sensation that they were merging, bonding on some level beyond anything he'd experienced before, and he could tell that Leia felt it, too.
As they moved together in perfect affinity, he could feel her climax building. She began moving beneath him with increasing urgency, reaching down to grip his hips, and grinding against him with intense concentration—but he was too far ahead of her, and he knew it. Changing the angle of his body, he reached for one of her hands and guided it between them. Needing no further direction, she found the place where they were joined, and added the delicate circling of her fingertips to the movement of him inside her. Han was inflamed by the sight and sound of her, by the bump of her hand between them, and the gasps and wordless vocalisations coming from her with each thrust. Arching beneath him was the feral version of Leia, her hair unbound, her whole body aglow and covered in a sheen of perspiration, with that faraway look in her dark eyes that he recognised and adored. She was free, for a fleeting moment, of everything that had come before. Nothing existed of war, pain, loss or sacrifice; nor of tragedy or betrayal. For a few moments, the only thing that mattered was the love they shared, and the complex, beautiful connection between them.
The sensation of slick friction finally unhinged Han's capacity for thought, and his body took over, mindlessly thrusting with urgent need as Leia began to clench and convulse around him. She moaned softly with each push of his hips, and the dim room seemed to darken further as he lost himself inside her writhing body. He lifted his head at the last instant to look at her face—she was flushed and wild, her head tilted back, and a soft, satisfied groan emanating from her throat. He buried his face in the hollow by her neck and finally let himself go.
Part 4: Pillow-Talk
"Oh, that was...pretty good," Leia pronounced, gasping for air as Han finally lifted his weight off of her, and collapsed onto his side.
A laugh burst from him then, and it took him a moment to summon the strength for a more articulate response.
"Pretty good!" He lifted his head to gape at her in mock outrage. It was an old script, but he knew his lines by heart.
"Okay, I'd go so far as to say really quite good," she amended, right on cue. She kept a straight face, but her rich voice was laden with laughter.
"I'd get up and make you change that to...to...excellent, at the very least...," Han gasped, abandoning the game. He dropped his head back to the mattress, and tried to catch his breath. "If I could move."
She did laugh then, and rolled towards him as he shifted onto his back. Ducking under his embracing arm, she wrapped herself around him, her head on his shoulder, one arm and one leg draped across his body. Her heartbeat thumped against his ribs, and the heat of her skin and her laboured breathing matched his own, as their vibrant telepathic link began to fade. The sensation of being fused together in that invisible dimension gradually subsided, leaving behind a slender golden thread of connectedness that hummed between them. As Han's pulse began to slow, he rubbed one hand up her bare back and sighed with deep contentment.
After a moment, he felt the faintest brush of her lips against his heated skin, as Leia confessed in a whisper, "That was amazing."
"You sound surprised, Princess," Han mumbled, without opening his eyes. He agreed wholeheartedly with her assessment, but he could feel himself swiftly descending into a post-coital coma, and he didn't feel very much inclined to fight it.
"Well," she said, stretching against the length of him and running a warm palm over the contours of his abdomen. "It has been a while. And we're not as young as we used to be."
Han cracked open one eye to peer down at her. "Yeah, well, we're not as old as we're going to be, either. I still have a few good years left in me, Sweetheart." He gave her a gentle squeeze and a pat on the hip. "And so do you."
"Gee, thanks," Leia smiled against his chest.
"And that business with the Force..."
Han knew he didn't need to elaborate. As he'd suspected, their telepathic link had greatly intensified the pleasure of their physical communion, but it had also—thrillingly—seemed to strengthen the emotional bond between them.
They lay in warm, companionable silence for a while. Han drifted in a half-dream, feeling drowsy and satisfied with Leia in his arms.
"I had almost forgotten this...," she said suddenly, startling him back to wakefulness.
"What?"
"Mmm, the way you smell," she murmured, rubbing her face against the skin of his chest, "I missed your scent."
Han was flummoxed by that. "You missed my scent?" he said incredulously, wondering if he would ever really understand women. "Of all my wonderful qualities, you missed that the most?"
"I didn't say I missed it the most," she corrected, stretching up to nuzzle his neck, sniffing in an exaggerated manner. "But, yes, you smell so...you. And it was the most difficult thing to recall..."
"Interesting," Han mused drowsily. "I would've thought you'd miss other things more..."
"Well, I did. I missed your magic hands."
Another laugh erupted from him then. "Magic, huh? Well, you're getting closer, I guess," he said agreeably, opening his eyes to look at her smiling face. "What specific part of you missed my 'magic' hands the most?" he leered, playfully running his fingertips around to the most likely spots.
Leia's laughing response was a balm for his soul. It reminded him of the first time he'd ever heard that sound, when he, Chewbacca and Luke had returned to the Rebel base after the Battle of Yavin. Leia had hailed them all as heroes and grabbed Han in a warm hug. That feeling—being on the receiving end of her genuine approval and her high regard—had become something of a life goal for him, a fact he only scarcely acknowledged in his own mind and had never verbalised to her. He wondered if their increasing reliance on the Force to enhance their communication would lead to some interesting revelations on both sides. He hugged Leia to his side.
"Anyway, I think it's pretty obvious you missed some of my other magic parts, too," he ventured, and then grinned when she snorted. He could almost feel her rolling her eyes.
They rested in silence for another moment, and Han was on the verge of sleep when she spoke again.
"I missed everything. I missed this," she said quietly, nestling against his shoulder and running one hand down his bare abdomen. "I missed you."
She lifted her head to give him a sweet, lingering kiss. As she drew away, she glanced down at his chest and seemed to realise where she had been resting her head, atop the livid pink flesh of the hollowed-out scar where Ben's lightsaber had impaled his body. She blanched and pulled her head back, then propped herself up on one elbow to look at it more carefully. Han waited, suddenly wide awake and mindful of the fact that his heart was racing again, and not in a good way. He hoped like hell that one day the prospect of talking about Ben with Leia wouldn't scare him so much, or cause either of them pain.
"Does it hurt much?" she asked.
She looked disturbed, but not distressed. Her fingertips traced the hard, puckered edge of the roughly oval cavity. It was deep, although not as deep as it might have been. The hydrogel had done its job in rebuilding much of the tissue that had been burned away, but there remained a divot that would never disappear. The surface of the scar still showed the livid, shiny pink colour of new flesh, although the medics had told him the intensity of that shade would fade in time. For now, however, it remained a nasty reminder of what they would face when they returned to the Resistance base and resumed their regular lives. There were some difficult conversations ahead—about Kylo Ren, his master Snoke, and the First Order. Although Han wasn't looking forward to those, he felt much more confident now that he and Leia would be able to survive those discussions without turning on each other or imploding.
"Yeah, it hurts a little, sometimes," Han said quietly, finally answering her question. He knew what she was really asking. "But the worst thing is that it reminds me of what's happened to Ben. Makes me think of things I don't like thinking about."
She nodded her understanding and rested her hand over his heart, looking profoundly sad.
"But I'm alright, Sweetheart," he continued, addressing the question about his mental and emotional state that she'd left unspoken. "I survived it, and that may make some sort of difference to how all of this plays out." He shrugged, thinking of Phasma and her view that Han's survival would somehow slow or halt the rise of Kylo Ren. He hadn't yet explained all of those details to Leia, but he would have to do it soon, he knew. He would need her counsel on how best to proceed—or indeed whether to proceed at all. Perhaps the situation with Ben would be better served if Han stayed "dead" for a while—or perhaps it was a matter of some urgency that he should fulfil his promise to Phasma to make a public showing of his survival. As impatient as ever with such political manoeuvring, he heaved a deep sigh. For now, he was content to set those thoughts aside, and to enjoy the feeling of having his wife in his arms again. He hugged her against his side. "I don't know. But, anyway, it brought me back here, to you. So, it's not all bad."
Leia blinked at that and met his gaze. Her expression lightened slightly and she gave him a little nod.
"That's one way to look at it," she said, and she lowered her head again, hiding the scar from view.
That seemed to put the matter to rest for a while, Han realised with relief. Reaching up to caress Leia's hair with one hand, he tenderly stroked fine strands away from her face with his fingertips as he peered down at her resting head. Her once-dark hair was mostly cinnamon now and some of those strands were fading to gold; a few had already turned to silver. His heart swelled with a rush of love for her so strong it overpowered his ability to control it, spilling out unbidden into the mystical channel between them.
I love you so much, Sweetheart.
He could feel her smile against his skin in response to his silent message, before she turned to prop her chin on his chest.
"I want to know," she said, her tone brightening with curiosity, "how you're able to use the Force to communicate now."
He gave a short laugh and rocked his head against the pillow. "No idea. I was stuck in that cell. I wanted to talk to you. I really needed to talk to you. And I had nothing better to do, so I just sat there 'reaching out with my feelings' until you picked up the comm," he said.
She stared at him for a moment before she started to laugh. She buried her face against this chest and he could have sworn that her light laugh was verging on a giggle. She calmed down for a moment, but then she started laughing again and he couldn't help but join her. It was funny, when he thought about it. At length, Leia's amusement subsided and she reached up to wipe her eyes, gasping softly.
"You, of all people," she said, mirth lacing her voice as she rocked her head against his shoulder. "I can't imagine how it happened. Or why now? After all this time? You should be far too old to develop sensitivity to the Force."
"Hell if I know," Han said flatly. "I'm still not convinced this isn't all just a weird dream."
Leia sobered slightly. "I hope not. I mean, I hope this part isn't a dream. And I hope we can keep communicating that way. It helps. It helps so much."
Han craned his head down to catch her eye and they exchanged amused glances, recalling the other useful applications of their telepathic link that they'd discovered this evening. He grinned at her and dropped his head back with a sigh.
"I think it has something to do with Breha," he ventured, then acknowledged Leia's corrective nudge with a shrug and a smile. "Okay. Something to do with Rey."
It wasn't the first time he'd had the thought, but it was the first time he'd voiced it aloud. In the hours he'd spent waiting for his extraction from the medical centre, he'd carefully retraced his steps back to the first moment he'd become aware of something strange going on—what he now recognised as the Force working within him—and he was convinced it had begun within moments of discovering his daughter and her friend crouched under the deck plates aboard the Falcon. Han waited for Leia's response, wondering what she would think of his speculation. To his surprise, he felt her nodding against his shoulder.
"The Force is at work here, Han. It brought her back to us. Somehow, it helped her find you—or you to find her. I don't understand it. I don't know if anyone understands it. But I can feel it..." Her voice trailed off as she mulled it over. "And if you can feel it now, too, I think there's something amazing going on."
"I have to agree with the 'amazing' part. Amazing and really, really weird."
Leia laughed softly, then stretched up to nuzzle her face against his neck in affection. He smiled and squeezed her tighter. The longer he held her, the better he felt—about everything. Through the Force, he could feel her love for him washing over him like a warm wave. He closed his eyes and drifted for a while in contentment.
"Funny how it works, though," he murmured at length. "Emotions come in loud and clear, and imagery. But words...not so much." In all the years he'd been exposed to Force users, he'd never asked for details about the way they'd communicated with each other, but he'd always assumed it resembled a normal conversation. The whole business had seemed mystifying and a little creepy.
"Luke can do it," Leia said. "He's much better at that sort of thing than I am."
Her casual comment made Han think about the mission that Chewbacca and Rey had embarked upon to retrieve Leia's brother from his place of exile. He wondered what Luke would make of Rey, and she of him.
As that thought flitted through his mind, the door chimed, announcing the arrival of their long-forgotten dinner.
Part 5: Dinner
"Not bad, Hotshot," Leia said, arching one eyebrow at him as she popped another piece of crispy Crathulan tsitchen in her mouth. Reaching for another handful of the golden-brown delicacies, she nodded her head towards the local time display on the entertainment unit. "Almost an hour."
"Nope," he corrected her smugly, taking a swallow of his drink. "One hour and ten minutes. If you count some of that business on the couch..."
She smiled at him—the genuine, eye-crinkling, very Leia smile that he loved best—and resumed her enthusiastic munching. Han sighed as he sat back from his own empty plate, enjoying the spectacle of Leia trying to consume her own body weight in Crathulan food. Han had pulled his trousers on to answer the door, as she'd slipped away to the fresher. He'd been pleased to see her join him in the common room a few minutes later wearing his shirt, with her legs and feet bare. They now sat across from each other on the floor, with the low table between them. The lights were still low, the music was still playing, and Leia's cheerful mood continued undiminished. Han was content.
Leia sat facing the window, with her back against the couch, gazing vacantly at the ceaseless drifting lights of the Ord Mantell evening. She was slowing down, he noted, and nibbling somewhat less ravenously now. The lights shining in from the window changed colours, limning her face in blue and gold, and Han was reminded of Rey.
"She looks a lot like your mother," he said abruptly, as soon as the realisation popped into his head. He didn't need to explain who he meant. His thoughts and Leia's naturally kept circling back to their absent daughter, as did their conversation. Leia looked at him and nodded her agreement.
"Yes," she said softly, dropping the last piece of tsitchen onto her plate, untouched. She reached for a napkin and wiped her hands. "Very like her. She's beautiful."
They shared a smile, and Han thought about the images of Padmé Amidala Naberrie that Luke had found on the Holonet years ago, and had shared with Leia. After discovering the identity of their biological father, it had been a relatively straightforward task to identify their mother, too. Han had been interested to learn that Padmé, like Leia, had become embroiled in politics at a very young age, and had lived a life in public service, first in a royal house, and later as a senator. The images Luke had gleaned from old archives showed a small, slim, dark-haired woman whose lovely features were echoed in those of her daughter and—now that he thought about it—in those of her granddaughter, too.
Han liked to think that Rey got at least some of her spirit and cunning from himself, though, as well as her height. Every time he thought about her, of what he'd learned about her in the scant time they'd spent travelling from Jakku to Takodana, and later at Starkiller Base, he was impressed all over again. The idea of her abroad somewhere in the galaxy looking for Luke made him feel queasy, though, and he had to remind himself that she was with Chewie. She was also as capable and resourceful as her mother and, reportedly, still strong in the ways of the Force.
On the journey to Ord Mantell, Han had grilled both Poe and Finn for details about what had happened at Starkiller Base. Dameron had demurred, explaining that he had no first-hand knowledge of Rey's encounter with Kylo Ren, and citing Leia's express wish to talk to Han about it in person. Finn had been slightly more forthcoming, but he could shed little light on the subject; he'd been injured and rendered unconscious by Kylo Ren and had awoken only after Rey was gone. Neither man—whether by Leia's directive or of their own accord—had mentioned Leia's recognition of Rey as their lost daughter.
"What's on your mind?" Leia asked.
Han realised with a start that she'd been watching him, and that his face had been unguarded. In the next instant, he remembered that they had finally developed the capacity to talk about their children without the conversation ending in an argument or tears. And they had a secondary form of communication to resort to, in case words failed them. He gave her a wry smile.
"Just thinking about her," he admitted. "And Luke. And what it means."
"What it means?" she echoed, leaning towards him.
Han sighed and tried to find the words. "The Force. Rey's abilities. Luke training her again, and where that will lead her. I don't know. Everything. All of it. I'm afraid for her."
The simple admission moved Leia to reach out a hand across the table, and he took it. "Me, too," she said quietly.
"I don't want her to confront Ben," he blurted, conscious of the fact that his voice had grown hoarse and his chest felt tight. He hadn't realised until he said the words aloud how horrified he felt at the thought of Rey facing off with Ben, and what that would mean for one or both of their children, as well as for himself and Leia. "I'm afraid that's where this is heading, and I don't like it." That was putting it mildly; the thought made him feel sick. "And I don't want Snoke getting his hooks in her, either, Leia. I couldn't live through that again. We couldn't.
Leia gripped his hand to get his attention and he looked into her dark eyes.
"That is why we need Luke," she said softly. "Rey is strong. She's incredibly strong in the Force, Han. You know that. She's stronger than Ben, and always has been. She stood against him more than once, despite the fact that he's had years of training, and she has not. She needs to work with Luke, to develop her abilities and to prepare."
Leia paused. She scanned his face, and he could tell that she was also reading him through the Force, trying to determine how he was responding to her words. After a moment, she continued. "Ben knows by now that his sister has found her way back to us. And we know that Snoke is in complete control of Ben now, but we don't know if that was the case when he—." She faltered and swallowed hard. "We don't know how much control Snoke had over him back then. Maybe Ben dumped her on Jakku to spite us—or maybe he hid her there and wiped her mind to protect her from Snoke."
Han blinked. He hadn't considered that possibility before, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Before he could process his thoughts, though, Leia forged ahead.
"Regardless, Han, I think we have to go on the assumption that there will be another confrontation. Sooner or later, Rey will meet up with Ben again, and if Snoke has found out about her, we can count on the fact that he will want to turn her, too. She needs to be ready."
Leia's words chilled Han to the bone. It was exactly what he didn't want to hear. But he knew that Leia was a pragmatist, and she believed wholeheartedly in the necessity of facing her enemies head-on. And it seemed, after what Ben had done to Han, even Leia accepted that their son must be counted among that number now. He nodded.
"Well, we can't let her do that alone," he said, his throat going dry at the thought.
"She won't be alone," Leia said firmly. "She has all of us. You and me. Chewie. And Luke, too, I hope. We're Ben's family, and we must all face him, together. If he won't turn back to the light, then we're going to have to stop him—and his master—before they do even more harm."
On that sombre note, Leia climbed gracefully to her feet and extended a hand in invitation. He took it and stood up beside her. He felt her reaching out to him through the Force as he gathered her against him. Through that fluid connection he felt the truth of her words, and realised that she was at peace with those stark facts, or as much as she could be under the circumstances. He placed a soft kiss on her temple and simply held her in his arms, amazed all over again at her remarkable strength. They swayed together for a while, lost in peaceful communion, and then Leia spoke again.
"Rey has something else besides us, Han. She has this. She has access to this incredible energy, and she's truly gifted at manipulating it. We've known that since she was born. She has her family around her now, to help and support her, but she also has the Force, and we both know by now what a powerful ally that can be."
She looked up at him with her dark eyes shining, her cinnamon-silver hair loose around her shoulders, and the soft glow of the distant lights on her luminous skin. Han sighed and bent to kiss her again.
He could no longer argue with that.
Note: Many thanks to BonesBooth206, CoriMariee and Aquarius-1977 for their generous beta services.
NB: You could stop here and read "Recursion" and then "The Double Edge", as they fall chronologically between this chapter and chapter 16 (Rey). I wrote them a little later, after I'd already finished this story, so they can be found as separate stories on this archive.