"Are you sure you'll have time?" Luke looked at her with skepticism. He pushed the flimsies back across the table. "You're still only one person."
"That only proves how little you know." She added the flimsies to a stack in front of her. "I've already completed the work of two people by the time you wake up."
"I'm not sure that's a positive, Leia."
His voice had a joking lilt but his eyes were serious. He thought it was his responsibility to remind her now and then that she worked too hard. Leia appreciated his concern but also didn't have time for it.
"Worry about getting these new recruits set up in the schedule. I can take care of myself."
"I know." Luke smiled, gave a single nod. He worried but he also had faith in her.
They both looked up at the sound of an emphatic, C'mon!, followed by laughter. One of the pilots sitting at the training console held her head in her hands as Hobbie slapped her shoulder.
"Tough break!" He nudged her to move from the seat. "Maybe you need a lesson in how it's done."
"Wait! Are you the pilot in this scenario?" Janson laughed. "Think the scoreboard tells a different story."
Hobbie continued ignoring his fellow Rogues and their mocking as he reset the screen.
"Fire 'er up, Solo." He checked the alignment and yoke before putting on the helmet. "Get ready for the new course record."
Han shook his head and walked back to the side panel. His jacket was off and shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His shirt rode up, revealing his lower back, as he reached in. It was a brief glimpse of taut flesh and muscles that Leia couldn't quite ignore. She hadn't seen him in a few weeks so let herself have that quick moment. He adjusted something—Leia had no idea what was happening with the inner workings of the flight simulator—then closed the panel and rapped twice on the top to indicate it was ready.
He stood a few feet back with hands on hips. She had yet to suss out when and why Han chose to keep his distance. There was an underlining design, a reminder that he didn't truly belong, and she wondered if he forgot his own plan sometimes.
"I still wish I didn't know about this game." Leia gave Luke the side eye. "I'm certain General Dodonna and the others wouldn't be too pleased knowing he's tampered with expensive equipment."
"I think this is an ignorance is bliss situation." Luke leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him.
She gave Luke the once over. He was no longer the over-eager farm boy sitting on the edge of his seat, impatient for the next adventure to start. He was still optimistic, full of hope, but a year at war weighed on him. He understood that adventure often came at a heavy price.
"It's a good work around." He kept his eyes on the crowd and Hobbie. "It's not on the official record but patching in the old programs provides some wild scenarios. Pilots will be ready for anything."
Leia wasn't supposed to know about Han's modifications. They likely didn't anticipate her setting up an occasional workstation in the training room and assumed no one on the leadership team would ever notice.
But as much as she needed distraction-free work at times, quiet offices and meeting rooms could also be overwhelming. Her own thoughts were too loud. She used the excuse of keeping abreast of the training and getting to know the new pilots and took over one of the tables. It was just a coincidence, of course, that the nights she chose to visit were the nights Han was leading the sessions.
She figured out fairly quickly that something was up. Conversation stopped when she walked in the room but that wasn't unusual. She expected the polite hellos and nervous glances. It was everyone shifting, attempting to hide something, that was the dead giveaway.
Han didn't bother with the subterfuge, though. He rested his hands on her table and leaned in close.
"Nice of you to drop in, Princess." He matched her hard stare with a half-smile. "We've made those adjustments you requested."
It was a calculated move on his part. She could admit she knew nothing about it and let everyone in the room know she missed this detail. She could shut it all down immediately and be that person who ended what was, for the most part, harmless fun. Or she could look the other way and let everyone think that Han got away with it. All options felt like a trap and she didn't know if she was angry about the modifications or his ridiculous half-smile.
She agreed to not say anything to the rest of base leadership as long as they only touched one of the simulators. They didn't have the finances to replace anything that broke but she understood the pilots, everyone on base really, needed something to distract them from the day-to-day.
After their kiss, Leia had weeks of feeling awkward then angry. She directed almost all of that anger at Han because he was a very easy target and there was always some new reason to upset her. He really didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. But she knew, in those moments when she allowed self-reflection on the topic, she was mostly angry with herself. Yes, he was an attractive man. Yes, she was attracted to him. But she didn't have an issue with impulse control and she should have known better.
Mixing work with anything that might be construed as pleasure was a mistake. There was too much at stake if, when, things ended. She had always managed to dissolve any relationship or dalliance on a friendly note and that seemed unlikely with Captain Solo. Look what happened after one kiss.
"How's your scouting mission coming along?" Leia turned back to her datapad. Her mind was wandering a bit too much.
"We're good for the next month or so. Rotating shifts going out. Two- or three-day missions. We don't have the numbers we need so trying to keep it covered without burning everyone out."
"The new recruits will be ready soon." She stopped typing to look at him.
"And they'll be shipped out right after." He tried for a reassuring smile. "It's what happens when the training is more successful than recruitment."
It had been a tough few months. The Empire had renewed their efforts and several bases were discovered and destroyed. The Rebels didn't slow down but campaigns, even the successful ones, suffered losses. The recruits were still arriving, though in fewer numbers, and they didn't all stay. Some were injured and sent home. Some left on the own accord. Others, too many, lost their lives.
They asked a lot of their members. They were often living in cramped and less than ideal environments. The Osler base was carved out of a cave system at the bottom of a canyon. The planet was covered in a semi-permanent fog most days and many of the Rebels stationed there hadn't seen the sun in weeks, if not months. Unless there was supply run windfall, they survived on meal rations. The pay was promised but inconsistent. The hope for better days often dimmed when faced with exhaustion and yet another battle and more loss.
"What are you working on now?" Luke nodded to her datapad. He looked genuinely curious and Leia felt a surge of gratitude for Luke's steady nature.
He was the calm one. He could get angry, be impatient and, quite frankly, a bit whiny, though he was outgrowing that one, but he was always there for her when she needed him. He was ready for any mission or meeting. Took her side in arguments, even with Han. Defended her when accused of being cold or emotionless or too driven. He was her biggest supporter.
It was obvious and easy with Luke. They came from wildly different backgrounds but were so similar. They shared ideals and determination. Put others first. Wanted to make a true difference. They even celebrated their birthdays together. She depended on him, relied on his strength but she didn't seek him out.
When she needed calm, needed that something she couldn't quite name, it wasn't with Luke.
"I'm preparing a speech for Mon."
"She doesn't write her own speeches?" Luke looked confused. "Isn't that kind of her whole job?"
Leia turned back to her typing, almost muttering. "Not quite."
Luke pulled a small bag out of his coat hanging on the back of his chair. He opened it and offered some to Leia, who shook her head no, then started eating. He looked like a kid at a theatre waiting for the holo to start. Leia found herself wondering if Luke had ever been to a theatre. He talked about Tatooine often but never mentioned seeing a holo in a theatre. She resolved to ask him more questions.
"It's quite common for a politician to have speech writers on staff." She folded her arms and rested them on the table. "I used to write many of my father's speeches before I went to Senate."
"And that's another job you have here?" Luke looked almost pained. "You write everything for the Chancellor?"
She shook her head. "No. Mon does most of her own composing these days and has aides to assist when necessary. These are special circumstances."
They both turned to look at the rush of cheers and jeers that erupted at the flight simulator. It was hard to tell exactly what transpired but it seemed Hobbie didn't complete the course as expected and may or may not have been defeated by a surprise foe. He was accusing Han of rigging the game.
"Hey, you gotta play the cards dealt." Han held his hands up. It wasn't a sign of surrender. More likely demonstrating there were no proverbial cards up his sleeves. He loved the got nothing to hide gesture when, quite obviously, the man had a lot he wanted to hide.
Leia watched as the pilots jockeyed for position, arguing who was next, but Han shook his head.
"'Nuff of this." He made sure the panel was shut then slipped the bolt fastener into his back pocket. "I'm not here to entertain you clowns."
There were a few complaints and mild protests as Han unrolled his sleeves. He picked up his jacket from another machine as the group spread out.
The training room had become something of a social club. Most of the Rogues, a few techs, Cyn and Corporal Lauza were there, most drinking from bottles of, presumably, ale. They were all comfortable with each other, relaxed in their interactions. Leia kept her observer's position, trying to unravel the various pairings and unpairings that Han not-so-eloquently referred to as a game of musical bunks. She didn't have much interest in the gossip that ran rampart through base, especially if it had anything to do with her, but that didn't stop her from indulging in a story or two when it came to Luke.
She first noted something was odd when Luke showed up late for breakfast. She was on a tight schedule and didn't tolerate tardiness but something about Luke's rumbled glow made her wonder if there was more to it. She thought it might be a Jedi thing, training more, getting lost in mediation, but it all became clear when he showed up for dinner on the Falcon with a date.
Gialli was a medic's assistant and so impossibly shy that Han wondered if she might spontaneously combust from blushing so much. Every time she came to dinner, maybe three times, he couldn't take his eyes off her. Off of them. Han wasn't sure he'd ever seen anyone act so smitten. He was mesmerized. Leia had to elbow him, punch his thigh, to bring him back to the conversation.
Luke claimed the issue was that Gialli was star struck by Leia. She joined the Rebellion after Alderaan's destruction. She heard Leia's speeches and was moved to do something.
"I don't think she ever thought she'd get so close to Princess Leia." Luke tried to look reserved but couldn't stop smiling. "It's hard to meet your heroes."
"Does this mean she's sleeping with you to get to the Princess?" Han smiled an almost wicked smile and nodded to Leia.
She thought it was an obnoxious question but she couldn't help laughing. The whole affair had a strange innocence to it. Nothing like anything she had experienced and clearly far removed from Han's world.
She also felt somewhat relieved. Luke's crush on her was a thing of the past and she and Han could have a close to normal conversation again. They'd had more than one intense, stress-relieving fight and managed missions and meetings together but they were circumnavigating each other. Remaining in each other's orbit but moving with great caution. It made sense that Luke, acting as common, neutral ground, helped them move past the aftermath of the kiss.
Leia learned about the next one, a mechanic named Pol when they were back on Lumen between missions, as she left a meeting. She stepped out of the room and found Han waiting for her in the corridor.
"Did you know?"
"Know what?" Leia didn't stop to talk. She walked toward the officers' galley, expecting Han to follow. He did.
"About the kid." When she gave him the side-eye but didn't react further, he knew he had her. "He just stopped by the Falcon for a chat."
Leia put a cup under the spigot and hit the button for kaffe. "How is that unusual?"
Han leaned against the counter and bent toward her. His voice was low and conspiratorial. "He wasn't alone."
She handed him the full kaffe cup. "Go on."
Han smirked. Then smiled. Then straightened up and tried to keep his facial expressions in check. They were sometimes caught in the cycle of being a bit too pleased with themselves and the reactions they elicited from each other.
"This one's a talker." Han poured some cream into the kaffe as she filled the next cup. "A mechanic. He's really into the Falcon so I like him."
"And now I'm biased against him before we've even met."
He handed her back the kaffe with cream and took the other cup.
"How are you adjusting to not being the light of Luke's life?" He put a hand to his chest like he could feel her heartache. "Must be hard not being the center of his universe."
"That's a myth that you are desperately clinging to, not me."
Han backed away from her, smiling. "I'm just calling it like I see it."
"You're imagining things." She waved her hand at him like she was shooing him away.
"Am I?" Han gave her a quick salute before turning and walking away.
Leia, realizing she wore a hint of a smile, straightened in her seat and tried to compose herself as Han pointed at two newbies.
"You and you. Strap in. You're next."
Leia watched as everyone fell in place, either at a flight simulator or along the sides. The spectators gathered in smaller groups while Han gave the pilots instructions.
Wedge and Han were the leads on these training sessions and, even though they were both Corellian and learned to fly at the Imperial Academy, they had very different styles. Wedge wasn't exactly hard lined but he set clear goals for the trainees and the steps to get there. It was more in line with how Leia was taught and how she worked. Providing the necessary resources and let them find the answers. Han's attitude was more, Get through it anyway you can. Making it to the end, however you did it and no matter what happened in-between, was the goal.
"Seems more like someone should be doing that for you."
It took her a moment to process Luke's words, remember what they were discussing. Mon. Speeches. Writers.
"These are special circumstances." She gave Luke her full attention. "She's arranged an audience with King Jahn. It's over the holo so she's going to read a message from me. Technically, the funds are in my name so I am making the formal request."
"I thought that king said no."
She nodded. "We are hoping to change his mind."
"But it's your money. Doesn't seem right that he's keeping it from you."
"It is House of Organa money." It sounded like a subtle difference but there were complications. "I have personal accounts but those are locked up in banks. In theory, they are protected by the guild but the Empire might have absconded with it all. I've no way of knowing. House of Organa funds reverted to the Elder Houses when Alderaan was destroyed. As senior member of the Houses, King Jahn has control. He answers to advisors and the council but he has final say."
It was an arcane, hierarchical system that she didn't like but couldn't avoid. Not in this instance. It had been in place for thousands of years and there were still a few strict royalists who insisted rules be followed. There was nothing in the charter about what happened to accounts when a planet was blown apart by an evil overlord so they were left with whatever King Jahn decided.
"Do you like him? This king."
Leia looked around the room, perhaps stalling for time. Likes and dislikes seemed almost foreign to her. Almost juvenile. What did it matter if she liked someone? Could they help the Alliance win the war? Were they on the right side of history? What she liked didn't matter.
"I've only met him a few times." She watched a small group at the side of the room drink and laugh. Hobbie, Tycho, Cyn, Corporal Lauza. What was her first name? Andra? Andrya? "At royal and state functions. Very formal affairs."
In the days when she wore expensive gowns. Attended elaborate balls and private dinner parties with forty guests. Mingled with dignitaries and engaged in small talk that was anything but. She watched her parents move effortlessly through rooms, negotiations, after-dinner drinks. They were going to set the galaxy right again. They were the light that guided her, guided so many.
She tried to follow suit, provide that hope and guidance for others, despite their many challenges and setbacks. The Alliance was thriving and they were falling apart. Every day she woke up and made the decision to fight. To renew her commitment to the cause. Every morning a promise. She would not give up. Every night she went to bed, hoping for more sleep than nightmares, telling herself that new days brought new hope.
"Alderaan and Pynterra had a long-standing and close relationship and Bail often went to Jahn for counsel. Pynterra was an early, undercover, supporter of the Rebellion."
"He sent General Galadotte—and Fron—so he must still be on our side."
"We assume so."
A month or so after Alderaan, Galadotte and Fron connected with Alliance High Command and offered their services. They stuck close to Mon and central leaders, staying in safe houses or with the roaming flagship. Although they disagreed often, Leia had respect for the General. Galadotte had served in the Clone Wars and spoke out against the Jedi purge longer than most.
Fron, however, was still complaining that he was given the rank of Colonel. The fact that his only credential up until that point was King Jahn's great-nephew didn't factor in on his demands. The fact that Leia, who had received combat and espionage training, worked in political circles, and was now leading successful missions against the Empire wasn't given a military title at all went unnoticed.
"Why don't you talk to the King yourself? Instead of sending a message through Mon?"
Luke continued to pick at his snack. It smelled heavily of fried oil and some spices she couldn't identify.
"What are you eating?"
He held up the bag. "Bloddle chips. It's a vegetable from Tatooine. I've never had the store-bought kind but Aunt Beru used to fry them up as a treat."
This time she accepted one and bit into it. It wasn't quite what she expected but liked the taste.
"Not bad."
Luke nodded. "I didn't even know they sold them off-planet. Han brought in a crate but not sure if anyone else is interested."
"How much did he charge you for that one?"
"He always says the first one's free."
Leia laughed. Captain Solo was always looking for a way to make a few more credits. She also suspected that he wasn't consistent about demanding payment from certain parties.
She looked over at him. He was watching her and Luke but seemed more lost in thought, like he wasn't quite taking them in. She looked away, quickly, scanning the room instead. Leia noticed Hobbie's arm was around Corporal Lauza's waist.
"Hey, what's her first name?" She nodded toward Lauza.
"Andrya."
"Why can't I remember that?" She was usually so good with names.
Luke shrugged. "She hasn't been around much. She was on Yavin but after the evacuation she ended up on Sullust, I think. She transferred back a couple weeks ago."
"I should know that."
"You were at the memorial." He put on his sympathetic face. "You've been a bit…busy since."
She tried not to clench her jaw. What he meant was stressed and difficult.
The memorial was held on the Lumen and attended by High Command and select members of the remaining Alderaan elite. Not Carlist or Tycho. Dignitaries and intellectuals who then joined a series of closed-door meetings. When the Falcon dropped her off on the Lumen, Leia felt prepared. Her speech was ready, vetted and approved. She knew exactly what to do and what was expected of her. But she went off script and the calm she felt upon arrival was swiftly pulled apart by the nattering concern of colleagues and allies.
Back on Osler, Leia chose work over sleep, determination over self-care. She planned missions, reorganized supplies. She pushed Luke to establish a patrol schedule with the other squadrons and helped Wedge with the less technical aspects of training. She consumed herself with duties and duty, trying to calm her swirling thoughts and when that didn't work she added more items to her list. She was barely aware of time passing until the Falcon landed that morning and she realized it had been more than two weeks since she had seen Han.
He didn't come to find her in the command center and she didn't greet him in the hanger. She intended to—there was a long manifest to go over—but when she received word they had safely landed she couldn't move from her chair.
"So why not you? With the king."
"Mon doesn't think I should appear on camera at the moment. She thinks it might be better if he pictured Princess Leia in royal garb rather than a patched together Rebel uniform."
"Wouldn't the uniform reinforce the need for the funds?"
"That's my thinking but it's not my decision. I have to accept Mon's strategy for now."
She should get back to her work, finish the document, but she was starting to feel irritated.
"I've communicated with one of the King's advisors, Lord Tomaj Jahn. He was also a close associate of my father's. He indicated he would try to influence the decision. Or at least bend King Jahn's ear."
This was veering into territory she didn't want to consider right then. There were many meetings between her father and Lord Jahn. Dinners. Family gatherings. Her parents never put pressure on her—well, no pressure beyond what already came with a life of service and then her work with the Rebellion—but she was always aware of expectations.
The life of a Princess was somewhat predetermined. She would never be able to fully carve out her own future but she wanted some leeway. She negotiated for more time to devote herself to her studies then inter-galactic work in the Senate. She loved Alderaan. She planned to return, hopefully once the galaxy was democratic and free, and rule as Queen. She would do whatever was necessary to be the leader Alderaan needed.
But that future was gone. Alderaan was no more. There was nothing to return to, only open space and endless time.
The only way Leia could move forward, continue the fight, was to not look back. She kept her memories locked up, afraid they would swallow her whole. She couldn't avoid talking about her parents, thinking about them in the context of the Rebellion and their work, but they were carefully controlled images. If anything more slipped through, she increased her security system.
Yet Alderaan did not belong to only her and her life was not her own. She understood why she needed to make the speech at the memorial and it was simply one more thing in the name of service and duty.
Her only request was joining Saiira and others on the Appenza Peak beforehand. Han insisted on calling it the Big Brain Frigate because it was mostly populated by a group of Alderaanian intellectuals, writers and artists in exile. The Appenza Peak and a few support ships moved through systems, trying to keep out of reach of the Empire as the occupants published papers, essays and treatises on the Alderaanian genocide. They were protected by the Alliance, who in turn shared and utilized these works to further promote the cause.
Leia hoped this detour would offer a reprieve. It had been almost two years since she had seen Saiira. They spoke over holo shortly after the disaster, a short side conversation once Alliance business was done, but Leia felt too numb and angry to connect on anything close to a personal level. A year later, she wasn't sure what she was capable of but suspected what she might need.
She was nervous on the flight in but kept it in check. She didn't respond adversely to any of Captain Solo's attempts to get a reaction out of her, though it did provide some distraction. She thought he mostly liked to hear himself talk. He kept up an almost steady stream of questions about the Big Brains or a long, ridiculous story about delivering artefacts to a university museum only to discover the items were stolen and the Dotatians who owned them had no problem taking their anger out on the messenger. As much as she tried, she couldn't help laughing at that one. He somehow managed to tell stories where he served as both foil and hero.
They were both past worrying or feeling awkward about their kiss. They could talk or laugh, fight or ignore each other, as they saw fit. The kiss hadn't been unwanted but she wondered if it had less to do with attraction and more because she craved physical touch. Something more than Luke slinging his arm over her shoulder. Maybe it wasn't specifically about Han, however handsome he might be. There was a time when she didn't deny or refuse that aspect of her life. When if she wanted something, maybe someone, she wasn't afraid to ask for it.
On the night of the kiss, still feeling the excitement of joining High Command and making real in-roads moving the Alliance and war forward, she welcomed that attention. She was encouraging of more. It was a sensation she thought was lost to grief and pain but it quickly washed over her, warm and enticing. Maybe it could have been someone else. Maybe Wedge. Not Janson or Luke but someone. Maybe Han just happened to be the person there.
As soon as it was over, though, it was a rush of fear and confusion. The certainty that the feeling, sensation, wasn't hers to take. It was too much. Opened the door to too many things. Distracted her from her true purpose.
Yet something was reawakened. Finally, months later, she had to admit she missed affection and human contact. It wasn't sex necessarily but she needed to be held. To know that the chaos surrounding her, the demands and deaths and struggles, being hunted down, rushing head-on at the enemy, didn't need her full attention. That for however brief a time she could feel safe. She only needed to be Leia and that would be enough.
That hadn't been her relationship with Saiira when they were at the university. She didn't feel unsafe, not at all, but it was a torrent of ideas, endless conversations and philosophical musings. Saiira was brilliant. Leia was in complete awe of her and loved being swept up in whatever direction Saiira's mind took them. It was an intellectual excitement that also manifested in the physical.
Dommin teased her mercilessly, insisting Leia didn't want to date Saiira. She wanted to be her. He had that way about him. He could make her laugh and still cut through with the truth. It was hard not to think of Dommin and not feel her heart breaking but she was trying.
Leia connected Saiira with the familiar, a remembrance of home and what they were all fighting for. She was one of the few that she didn't lose. Leia thought time together before the memorial could be beneficial. Give her the strength she needed to make her speech, to be the symbol of loss and hope others needed.
That wasn't what she found. Saiira was welcoming, as was everyone on board, but Leia quickly realized she had made a mistake. The hug hello didn't feel right, reminded her of distance not connection.
As they walked to the dining room, Leia with her bag slung over her shoulder and wishing she took a shower before leaving the Falcon, the group was caught up in a conversation about Imperial Forces invading an Alderaan hideout on Kinsat. Leia was well aware of all the details. She had responded as swiftly as possible. Contacted the nearest base, sent in a rescue team. Somehow, whether luck, timing or good intel, they managed to save everyone. She flew to meet them, offer what comfort she could and ensure they would be relocated together. But that wasn't what the Big Brains focused on.
Saiira was writing a paper on refugee rights in a warzone and the psychological trauma of unstable living conditions. Her colleagues offered support, critiques, research, and Leia was stuck on a single thought.
No, shit.
Didn't they all feel that trauma? Was she the only one who wondered how long her seams would hold? That all she would be left with was a cobbled together psyche. Except, for Leia, some of her scars were real. A map of torture, blaster bolts skimming the surface of her skin. Leia didn't like to think of herself as damaged. She preferred to focus on the strengths that pushed her forward and not the failures that might drag her under. Leia could understand their retreat into the life of the mind, and knew the value of this work and engaging others, but it was not her world. Not anymore.
Leia felt a sudden panic thinking of everything else she should be doing. She should have planned for more time with Mon and other members of High Command. New contacts for supplies, credits and intel needed to be established. Her sleep, which was erratic at best, had been practically non-existent leading up to this trip and she felt simultaneously exhausted and wired. She was coiled, ready to spring into action, or curl up into a ball and hope for the tears that rarely arrived. When Saiira touched her am, Leia jumped, snapping to attention.
"Don't worry." Saiira's voice was kind. She was trying to reassure Leia. "It's quiet here. We haven't had any trouble in months."
Leia gave a small smile. She could try for reassuring, too, though she imagined she was just as unsuccessful.
"Well, what do you know? I haven't had any trouble in days."
Saiira placed her hand on Leia's shoulder, gently massaging her collar bone with her thumb.
"I don't mean to be harsh, Leia, but who's fault is that?"
Leia lost her smile. "The Empire? That would be my educated guess."
"Not the war itself." Saiira moved to gently stroke Leia's upper arm. "It's a point of contention among this group but I agree with the need for armed conflict. My question is how deeply you need to be involved. You have a marvelous mind and could put it to better use here. Or with the leaders in safe houses if you prefer more militaristic involvement. You can serve Alderaan better from your proper vantage point. A princess in the trenches is oxymoronic."
Leia stepped back and Saiira's arm fell. She thought she missed, desired, physical contact but she was wrong. She did not want Saiira's touch.
"I will best serve Alderaan by ensuring this galaxy is safe for them and every other being."
"Now you're being didactic." Saiira looked stern. She took on the aura of a disappointed teacher. "Come and have dinner. You'll feel better when you've eaten."
Leia didn't follow as Saiira walked into the dining room. She looked down at her feet, rooted to their spot, and realized she didn't know what to do. She had no idea what her next step should be. There was always a point to move toward. Always a clear path, though perhaps not a straight or easy one, to guide her. She took a few deep breaths, hoping to clear her mind, and when she lifted her head again Han was standing a few feet away watching her.
He was holding containers she recognized from the Falcon, probably full of dinner he talked someone in to giving him, and a bottle of something dark. His brow was furrowed, his eyes narrowed. She would have expected to feel agitated at the sight of him but instead experienced a wave of calm.
"You need a lift?"
She barely gave a nod before following him back to his ship.
Chewie was surprised to see her again but didn't ask questions. When they hit hyperspace, she went back to her routine of working at the games table. She wasn't plagued by racing thoughts but rather the opposite. It was like her mind had shut down. There was nothing.
Han didn't try to entertain her but also didn't leave her on her own. He stuck around the lounge, doing small repairs, as she pretended to work. Exhaustion came at her hard. She decided to stretch out on the bench, intending on taking a very short nap. She woke up hours later in the crew quarters as the Falcon dropped out of hyperspace. She had no idea who carried her in or how she didn't wake up in the process.
Leia watched Han as he stood behind the two pilots on the flight simulators. He called out the occasional comment or suggestion but otherwise exuded his usual casual cool. He may or may not care overall. He may or may not be there when next she looked his way. But in that moment, he was invested. He was a part of her world.
Han confused her. She considered herself a good judge of character. Her ability to read people had served her well in diplomacy and politics, and just about anywhere. Yet she was often lost when it came to Captain Solo.
He said he was leaving soon to pay his debts and she honestly didn't understand why he stayed. It wasn't that she wanted him to leave. He had proven himself invaluable on many levels and she was grateful for his involvement. He claimed to need the credits and a place to hide out but the Alliance was broke half the time and everyone was looking for them so there wasn't a lot of logic behind his reasoning.
It was hard to predict how things would go with him. He was infuriating most days. Erratic and egotistical. And as much as it irritated her to admit it, these traits could be advantageous on missions. He got them out of a lot of bad situations by doing the unexpected. She didn't trust him to stick to a mission plan or any rule book and he definitely wasn't going to listen to any order or command without question but she trusted him to get the job done. He might insist it was to get paid but she knew he cared. About her and Luke, in particular.
But she never knew what would set him off. They could be having a quiet conversation and he would suddenly stomp off in a snit. One time, mid-flight, they were keeping company in the cockpit as she told him about a General on the Sandorva base who promoted according to star charts. The General thought Leia should be removed from any position of authority because she didn't know her exact day and hour or system of birth. Han was laughing, clearly enjoying the story, when he slipped up.
"Yeah, Jaina used to charge people for charts at parties. She had no idea what she was doing but was great at the bullshit."
His face fell immediately. By the time she asked, Who's Jaina?, his jaw was set and eyes dark. He mumbled something about checking some sensor or another then barely spoke to her for the rest of the flight.
If he could react that poorly at an accidental mention of an ex-girlfriend, or whoever Jaina was, then it was best to keep her distance. She certainly didn't need to associate sex with love, in fact it was best to keep them separate in her mind, but it was obvious that anything that went wrong with Captain Solo was likely to happen in a grand and destructive manner. It was best if they remained colleagues, friendly colleagues, and leave it there.
"Does everyone on the planet have the same name? They're all called Pyn or Jahn. And the planet is Pynterra." Luke shook the last of the chip crumbs into his palm. "That's confusing."
She watched him, wide-eyed, momentarily confused by his presence. It took her a second or two to take in the room again. The training. The laughter. Luke.
"I guess this means you were done sharing?" She nodded to the now empty chip bag.
Luke sheepishly shrugged his shoulders. "I could put in a good word for you with Han."
"First off, the planet is named after the royal family." She took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. She wasn't sure she remembered all the nuances of Pynterra history and politics. "Most of the nobles and elite share some heritage with the royal family. Those that don't often adopted one of the royal names, either Jahn or Pyn, in some fashion."
"And your Lord guy is a relative."
"Stop referring to them in the possessive like they belong to me."
He laughed, his eyes almost twinkled. Luke was never going to be as aggressive in his teasing as others but even he enjoyed getting a reaction from her.
"Yes. Lord Tomaj is a distant relative of the King, though I believe the connection is several centuries back."
"Really?" Luke crumbled the bag into a ball and pitched it into a receptable a few feet away. "That's kind of stretching it, don't you think? I know I don't have much of a family tree but there should be a cut-off after a few generations. You're hardly related after centuries."
"People cling to any connection with the Elder Houses, however tenuous and distant, with unnerving desperation."
"I guess it makes them feel important. I suppose some people need that kind of thing."
She laughed. "Says the future and last Jedi Knight."
"Is there someone you can complain to? To get a hold of the money."
"King Jahn is that someone. The Elder House council is also against funds being released. The argument is the funds belong to all the Alderaanian people and shouldn't be used to fund the Rebellion."
Han dropped into a chair beside her and perched his feet on the table. She had to move quickly to pull her flimsies before his boots landed on them. He shrugged and gave a small apology though he didn't look particularly sorry.
"All done?" Luke leaned back, almost in an imitation of Han, minus the feet on the table.
"They're gonna run through some courses on their own." He looked around the room than landed on Leia, locking eyes with her. "I'll go over 'em later."
His gaze gave her a moments' pause, made her heart skip a beat, then he turned away, behaved like nothing happened. Maybe the skipped heart beat had more to do with anger and frustration because she was starting to feel both. She honestly couldn't tell if this was something he was intentionally doing to her or she was doing to herself.
"Leia's writing speeches for Mon Mothma."
Why did Luke sound like he was tattling on her?
"Sounds like homework to me."
She narrowed her eyes at Han. Their first chance to speak since dropping her off on the Lumen and he went with annoying.
"What would you know about homework?"
"Hey, I was at the top of my class at the Academy. Near the top. Topish."
Leia turned back to her typing. "And somehow still dishonorably discharged."
"I was demoted and then I left." Han sounded like he wasn't sure why he was defending that point. "There's a difference."
"I agree with Han on this one." Now Luke was sounding smug. "It definitely sounds like homework."
She didn't look up from her datapad but spoke loudly to ensure they both heard. "I'm done with the both of you."
Leia left Han and Luke to talk while she immersed herself in the letter. She needed to balance Alderaan's position in the Elder Houses, their shared history with a firm reminder there were no limits to what the Empire might do. There was no limit to how far the Alliance would go to stop them.
Mon didn't want Leia speaking directly to King Jahn because she didn't want a repeat of Leia's memorial speech. Mon didn't say it outright but Leia recognized political maneuvering. She had done it enough herself.
The preapproved speech used sweeping language, universal messaging. We are all victims of tyranny. When one suffers, we all suffer. We could all be Alderaan. The idea was to draw everyone in. Remind listeners that Alderaan's fight was everyone's fight. But there was only one Alderaan and its people were no more.
She named names. The ones responsible—Palpatine, Tarkin, Vader—and the ones she lost. She couldn't speak for everyone so she would speak for her dead. Say their names so everyone else would know them too. She promised they would fight every day, the entire Alliance and its supporters would work tirelessly to bring an end to the Empire, but that day was about Alderaan. Her home. She asked for a moment, but not of silence, so everyone listening could list the names of those they lost to the war, to Imperial oppression, to tyranny by any name.
"Say them out loud. Remember. Share. Keep them alive and with you."
She thought about her parents as only she knew them. The private world they shared. She thought about her Aunt Tia's love of soap operas and Rouge's fascination with the Mandalorian Death Watch. Her tutors and teachers and mentors. Denison, who cared for her thranta, and Ilia, who tended their gardens. She knew it would be difficult to hold all these memories in place, to not let them lose shape and disappear over the years but if she didn't think about Dommin, his ridiculous laugh and insistence on keeping every situation light, then who would?
"Hey!"
Leia looked up to see Janson and the others moving toward the door.
"We're heading back to the barracks."
"Sure. See you later." Luke gave a quick wave and turned back to the table. "You guys done for the night?"
"I'm off the clock." Han looked at Leia. "What about you, Princess? Done with your brown-nosing?"
He flashed her a grin and she refrained from rolling her eyes.
"Alas." She let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "A princess' job is never done."
Han's grin got wider and he laughed. He dropped his feet to the floor and stood up with an almost flourish.
"Let's go."
"Where are we going?" She looked up at him, almost straining her neck to take in his tall form.
"Getting a drink on the Falcon. Got more of that whisky you like." He winked at her and she laughed.
Han was infuriating. Impossible. He could make any situation difficult for no apparent reason. He could set her off, make her angrier than almost anyone else. Even worse, he seemed to enjoy doing so. But the stress and worry of mere moments ago, everything that had consumed her in the weeks since returning to Osler, had dissipated because of bad jokes and banter.
Because she knew despite it all, despite everything, and gods help her, he also made her feel calm. And for some reason that realization wasn't upsetting her as much as she thought it might.