I have tried to upload the next chapter for 2 days and it keeps coming up with code in it. Fingers crossed that the third time is the charm!
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Eating a bland ration bar, Leia's eyes remained on Han where he sat at the engineering station. From the acceleration couch, she could only see the back of his head, but she was perfectly content with that view.
His scruffy hair fell just below the collar of his white shirt, as if he himself were too unruly to contain it. He managed to somehow sit up straight, radiating confidence, and yet, at the same time, maintain that casual air that was Han Solo, as if nothing could faze him.
Things between them seemed to be in a state of animated suspension, consisting of questions they did not ask because they had no answers. And so, they were stagnant, sharing gentle, tentative overtures that became no more because neither knew how to make it into more. Or even if they should.
But it didn't stop her from wanting him every single moment.
Han spun his chair around suddenly as she swallowed the last of her ration bar and crumpled the wrapper. At least he hadn't caught her dreamy stare.
His eyes wandered to the floor, surveying something unseen to Leia. "You know…" He looked back to her. "Between you and Chewie, there's enough hair all over this ship to make myself a second Wookiee."
She raised her eyebrows in his direction. "A small one, I'm sure."
He smirked in return.
"I'll run the auto zoomer," she volunteered with a sigh.
"If I have to deal with it, the least you could do is make it worth my while."
Puzzled, her eyes tightened in question.
"You should wear your hair down," he drawled casually. "Looks good down."
A rush of pleasure shot through her. "I imagine that would only leave more hair around," she replied with a breezy air.
"You'll just have to run the zoomer again."
She smiled at the teasing expression that barely shone through his impassive mask. It was subtle, but it was there.
Chewbacca passed through the hold, grumbled a terse greeting to Leia, ignored Han completely, and was quickly gone.
Leia greeted him as his long legs carried him out of sight. She turned back to Han. "He's still angry about that little trick?"
He shrugged. "Yeah. I'm sure he'll find a creative way to get back at me."
"Do you two always do this?"
"No. I think we're going stir crazy," he replied flatly.
"I thought you love being on your ship."
"Never had to spend so much time on it without touching down. How would you feel if you were stuck in your house and couldn't leave?"
A knot formed in her stomach. "Right now, that sounds lovely," she said quietly.
Regret softened his eyes and they dropped to the floor. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"No reason to be sorry. It is what it is."
He offered a contrite smile and Leia returned it.
"It's okay," she reassured him. "I'm okay."
He nodded, but his eyes told her he didn't believe it.
"At least now I can talk about it. Before…I couldn't even think about it. You helped me with that."
"Me?" He looked genuinely startled.
"Yes," she said with a gentle smile. "You were the first one, the only one still that I've ever talked about Alderaan with."
His eyes swirled with confusion then seemed to settle to dubious comprehension.
"After Wasichi," she said quietly, growing a bit somber with the memory. "You were very comforting. You're the only one I've allowed to see me cry. We barely got along then, yet something made me trust you with that."
Their gazes held, intense and reflective, and Leia almost believed she could sense that his feelings mirrored her own. She dismissed it as being lost in the moment.
He cleared his throat, looked away, and broke the enchantment of the moment. "I didn't do much."
Leia's eyes fell to her fingers and she rubbed them together in sudden self-consciousness. "Well, it was a lot to me." When she looked back at him, he was staring at the deck, brow knitted. His eyes snapped to hers with startling suddenness.
"I never got my five questions," he said, leaning back in his chair with a casual air.
She blinked then frowned. "That's because you didn't win."
"Well, a tie calls for somethin'," he drawled.
"Like what?" she asked with a smirk.
"One question. Each. You go first." His smile was cocky.
Disbelieving, it took her a moment to respond. "You're giving me the opportunity to ask you one question? Anything?"
"Yes."
"Is this a trick?"
He chuckled. "No."
"And you will answer the question. No matter what it is?"
"Yes."
"How do I know you'll keep your end of the bargain?" she asked suspiciously.
"That's why I'm lettin' you go first. If I don't answer, you don't have to answer my question."
She examined him carefully, taking in his expression that was a mixture of smug and amused. "Okay," she finally replied.
"Fire away!" Han exclaimed.
"Give me a minute! I have to think of the perfect question."
His eyes remained on her as she tapped her fingers on the table top, pondering the possibilities. One question…should she ask about his childhood? His time in the navy? His family? There were so many things she wanted to know, it was hard to choose. Her eyes sought him out, drew away then returned, while too many thoughts swirled in her mind.
She settled at last, on the one thing he never, ever mentioned. "Where is your family? Are they on Corellia?"
His casual expression hardened slightly, eyes tightening just a bit. Someone who didn't know him so well might not have noticed.
He shrugged. "I don't have any family," he answered in a dead voice.
Leia supposed she should have felt some sort of surprise at finally receiving this information. But it only brought up more questions.
"What happened to them?" she asked in a gentle voice.
He gave her a crooked grin, eyes still giving away nothing. "Sorry, Sweetheart, you got your one question."
She blinked in return, realizing he was right. And dammit, she didn't really know any more about him than she had before. With a frustrated sigh and a shake of her head, she folded her hands in front of her on the table.
"My turn now," he declared.
She looked at him, found his expression uncharacteristically serious as his eyes bored into hers. A nervous ripple tickled her stomach, a sense that something was imminent. Their gazes fixed on each other, neither wavering.
"Do you love me?"
A startled intake of breath caught in her throat, an ache stabbing her heart. For an instant, there was no thought, just a million feelings colliding inside her. And Han's eyes continued to pierce hers, intent and expectant.
"That's not fair," she finally whispered, voice quavering.
His tone lowered, a deep baritone rippling through her. "You knew the rules."
She turned her gaze to the table, certain that her eyes betrayed everything she felt without her saying a word. It truly wasn't fair, that he would make her say the words while he admitted nothing.
"You have to answer," he reminded.
Why did things between them always have to be so complicated? She could lie to him, he would never be the wiser. But no…he probably already knew the answer, or she didn't think he would ask the question. What would happen if she told him, if she said those three words? What would change? Would it even make a difference?
Resolute, she forced her gaze back to his. He hadn't moved, still remained staring at her patiently, as if he had all the time in the galaxy. She struggled to thrust the words past her stubborn lips. Feeling more vulnerable than ever, her head automatically rose to a more regal bearing, as if she might maintain some semblance of pride in spite of her discomfiture.
"Yes," she said in a strong, quiet voice. "I love you." She held her breath without realizing she was doing so.
There was a shift in Han's eyes, something that darkened and deepened, even as the rest of his expression remained the same. For an endless time, they simply looked at each other and Leia couldn't imagine what might happen next as the air between them grew more tightly drawn.
Han finally broke the silence, eyes now stormy, voice coarse and strained. "Then how can you go and marry that guy?"
Her air was briefly stolen as she choked on a response. His pain seemed palpable, as if it were mixing with her own, binding them together even as it wedged them apart.
"You only get one question," she said quietly, apologetically. There was no answer that could possibly satisfy that question.
He nodded very slowly. "You're right." Then, he stood and left the hold.
Leia watched him go, doubting everything and wondering if there was a way to make things right.
OOOOOOOOOOO
He had wanted his answer and had finally gotten it. Leia loved him, she had admitted it. The truth hadn't surprised him.
What did surprise him was the effect her answer had on him. It caused everything to fall away. His anger, resentment, and hurt all just drifted away as if it had never been. Left in its wake was resolution. They had four more weeks on this ship, destined for some unpredictable situation. He hoped it would lead to salvation. But there was really no way to know. Anything could happen along the way. And here they were wasting precious time, time they could never recover.
And if they made it, in a few weeks' time he would confront Jabba. He might not survive that encounter. Then, would it even matter that she would be flying off to marry someone else? He will have spent all this time denying himself what he wanted most, when this might be all the time he had left.
What would it matter if they loved each other for a little while? He missed her. He couldn't hold on to all those bad feelings, when deep down, he loved her.
But he couldn't tell her that. That would remain his secret.
On his way to the crew quarters, he snagged a bottle of wine and two glasses. He was deliberately bare-chested, clad in only a pair of loose-fitting gray pants.
He knocked lightly and she was quick to call for him to enter. The door slid aside and, had he had any doubts left, they would have evaporated to nothing at the sight of her.
Leia sat on the bunk furthest from the door, wearing a long, white, short-sleeved shirt. Her hair was unfurled all around her, covering her shoulders and arms, long, dark tendrils flowing over one wrist where she held a data pad in hand. The contrast against her light skin captured him and it took a moment to recover and meet her eyes.
"Hi," he said dumbly.
She was looking at him with a wistful expression. "Hi," she replied quietly.
Her slender legs peeked out from below the hem of the shirt, her dainty feet slanting off the edge of the bunk. He frowned with sudden recognition.
"Is that my shirt?"
She nodded. "Yes. I've been sleeping in it. I don't have anything else. Is that okay?"
"Sure." He actually liked the idea of her sleeping in his shirt. Liked it quite a bit. Warmth spread through his chest and his confidence wavered.
"What do you have there?" She nodded towards his hand.
The wine had been forgotten and he glanced down, feeling a bit foolish now. He held up the bottle. "Wanna share this Tagorian wine with me?"
She smiled. "I would love to." Sitting up, she placed the datapad aside, tugged the shirt bottom closer to her knees, and moved over to make room for him on the bunk.
Feeling oddly awkward, he sat down at the end, leaving some space between them. He handed her both glasses then pulled the top off the bottle.
"What's the occasion?" she asked as he filled both glasses.
He gave her a derisive smirk. "We're still alive," he answered dryly.
"I'll drink to that," she said lightly.
He closed the bottle, placed it on the floor and took his glass from her, fingers briefly brushing together, warm and inviting.
Glass raised, he met her gaze and raised his eyebrows. "To being alive."
"To being alive," she echoed. Eyes still joined, they each took a sip. Leia looked down into her glass then smiled at him. "This is a lovely vintage. Where did you get it?"
Frowning, he glanced down at the bottle, trying to remember. "I dunno. Picked it up somewhere. Had it a while, I don't drink much wine." He took another sip.
"Well, aren't I lucky?"
Han watched her take another sip, her low, husky voice still sounding in his ears. There was something seductive there, in her tone and the dark eyes that remained on his above the rim of her glass. Did she know why he was here? She lowered her glass and they continued to stare at each other in the silence. He wanted to reach out to her but felt strangely frozen in place. He downed half his wine instead.
"Do you think the Alliance assumes we're dead?"
He looked back to her, thoughtful. "Hm. Dead or captured."
She stared at nothing, brow puckered. "I would rather be dead," she said quietly.
For perhaps the hundredth time, Han wondered what she had endured at Vader's hand on the Death Star.
"I hope Luke hasn't returned," she added. "I would hate for him to be grieving unnecessarily for us."
"Guess that depends on if he found his Jedi." He swirled his eyes around the room then towards the ceiling to indicate how unlikely he found that possibility. When he returned his gaze to Leia, she was shaking her head at him. "What? You think he's really gonna find some mysterious Jedi guy?"
"I don't know, but I hope he does."
He snorted derisively.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You saw yourself Obi-Wan Kenobi battling Darth Vader."
"Yeah, and I saw him get killed. That doesn't tell me he had any special powers."
"The Jedi were still the guardians of the galaxy when you were a boy. Surely you knew of them."
"Yeah, I heard the stories. Just a bunch of tales, myths. Like the Gods of Age."
"Many believe in the Gods of Age."
"Oh, please," he muttered with a purse of his lips. "Do you?"
She tipped her head to one side and raised her eyebrows. "Not necessarily."
A triumphant smirk broke through his disdain. "See?"
"That doesn't mean I don't believe in anything. I believe in the Force."
"Why?"
"Because my father told me about the Jedi for as long as I can remember."
"And that makes the Force real?"
"My father spent much time with the Jedi, he saw what they could do."
Han shook his head in disbelief. "So, they played a few tricks on him. Big deal."
Her lips compressed together in frustration. "They weren't sorcerers or magicians."
He downed the last of his wine and reached for the bottle. After filling his own glass, he gestured to Leia. "Drink up."
Clearly irritated, she swallowed her remaining wine and held out her glass for a refill.
"Call 'em what you will." He returned the bottle to the floor. "But I don't believe in all that mystical hocus pocus." He swallowed a large portion of wine, realized they had gone off course to a controversial topic, and vowed to get back to his intended agenda. "Anyway, I imagine the Rebel higher-ups wouldn't count you out so easy."
"I don't know," she replied more quietly. "At this point, my absence implies the worst."
"Maybe they think I kidnapped you." He grinned lazily, finished the last of his wine, and placed the glass on the floor.
The corners of her mouth quirked upwards and her eyes gleamed brightly. "Well…you are a scoundrel."
His grin widened as he found her term endearing. "A scoundrel, huh?"
She nodded and ingested a bit more wine, still smiling.
"What makes me a scoundrel?"
Her brow rose. "You don't know?"
"Nah, that's a new one for me."
After another sip of wine, she sat up straight and appraised him with a simper. "For one, your reputation."
"And what reputation would that be?"
"As a ladies' man."
A loud bark of laughter escaped him. "That's just talk." He couldn't temper the grin that spread his mouth wide.
One brow rose towards him. "Oh? So, you deny it?"
This time he just chuckled. "Well…"
"I thought so," she declared caustically, downing the rest of her glass.
He laughed again. "Well, whadda you want me to say? That was my past." He grabbed the wine bottle from the floor and filled her glass before she could protest.
She gave her full glass a wary look then turned her eyes to him.
"What else makes me a scoundrel?" he asked quickly, before she could further explore that statement.
"Your attitude."
His grin returned, slanted to one side. "What about my attitude?"
"You always give me a hard time. And most everyone else." She took a sip of the wine and frowned at her glass. "I don't think I should have any more of this."
She held the glass out to him and he took it.
"So, is that it? My attitude?" He gulped down half the wine.
Leaning forward slightly, she crossed her arms over one knee, so that the space between them was lessened just a bit. "Your criminal activities don't help."
Suddenly offended, his spine stiffened. "They certainly helped your precious Alliance!" he boomed in the small space.
Her hand reached across and landed atop the hand he was resting against his upper thigh. "I didn't mean it that way," she said softly, attritional. She squeezed his fingers in hers. "I just meant, it added to your image. That's all."
He held her steady stare, saw that she was sincere. With a gruff nod, he guzzled the last of the wine, and placed the glass on the floor. When he looked back to Leia, he saw that she had somehow scooted forward, leaving only a small space between them. Her warm hand still held his firmly and he turned his over to cradle their fingers together. Staring down at their joined hands, he felt the air around them swell, charged with a sudden, undeniable electricity.
"Maybe the Alliance thinks you ran away with me," he suggested with a twinkle in his eyes.
She smiled in return. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if that rumor were going around."
He wondered how many rumors she was aware of, but was too captivated by her to think. She was so alluring, that dark, endless swirl of hair surrounding her, eyes seemingly enormous, tugging him into their charcoal depths. They seemed to beckon him to lose himself.
And he was lost, always had been, since the moment they met. This is going to hurt, his mind whispered. I don't care! he shouted back.
He leaned just a bit closer and noticed her lips curl upwards as her eyes lingered on his mouth.
"I think I'd rather them believe I kidnapped you," he whispered, drawing closer.
"So that you can maintain your scoundrel's reputation?" Their mouths were just several breaths apart.
His responding smile was tender. "Hey, I've worked hard for that reputation."
"Too bad no one knows what a softy you really are." Her breath whispered against his parted lips.
"Softy?" His tone was low but incredulous. "I take exception to that."
"You do?" She smiled into his eyes.
"Yeah. I'm a scoundrel, remember?"
"No, you're not, you're—"
He cut her off by pressing his mouth to hers, effectively silencing her. They kissed slowly, tongues intertwining to spiral around each other. Quickly, Leia's fingers were warm on the bare skin of his shoulders and his hands sinuated to surround her waist and pull her closer.
To Han, it felt like finally being where he belonged, as if everything inside him fell solidly into place. There was no regret, no anger or hurt…there was just this. And he surrendered to it, helpless.
He leaned over her, bending her back against the mattress and blanketing her body with his. Burying one hand in her luscious hair, he moaned at the feel of her beneath him, her heat and softness. He could feel her heart pounding against him, even more rapidly than his own, as if it were calling out to him, urging him closer.
Her hips tilted into him and they moaned in unison, their need for each other escalating. Fingers gently drifting along his spine, shivering through him, at his buttocks, clasping tightly, one leg twirling around his hip. The slow undulation of their bodies drove their passion and he stopped kissing her long enough to look into her eyes, one hand lost in the silky tresses behind her head.
She stared back at him through lowered lashes, eyes dark and smoky. Feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the intensity he saw, he brought his mouth to her neck and gently sucked with his teeth, slipping a hand beneath her shirt and drawing soft gasps from her as he skimmed one palm across her nipple. A deep moan emanated from someplace low in her throat and he repeated the motion over and over, until she was squirming beneath his touch.
He stopped suddenly and pulled the shirt swiftly over her head then pushed her panties past her ankles for her to kick them from her feet. In one smooth motion, he managed to yank his own pants off, and then they were pressed together, skin on skin, and the beauty of that left Han with a feeling of reverence.
He ran his lips along her curves, treasuring every kiss on her silky skin. This is love, he thought with absolute certainty.
Her hands, lips, tongue were alternately feathery soft and urgent, demanding. Bodies fused together and yes, this was where he belonged. Clasping her tightly, Han rolled to his back and now she sat astride him, abundant, radiant hair seemingly everywhere, flooding past her shoulders, brushing his thighs, his knees. Her head tipped back as their bodies danced in harmony, and she was exquisite, enthralling, and achingly beautiful. His hands gripped her thighs, binding her in place as she met his upward thrusts, reaching towards her center.
Her moans grew louder, rhythmic and frenzied, as her hips jerked back and forth, and then he felt her throb from deep inside as she toppled onto his chest and he drove inside her more deeply. She froze for a moment, body taut and straining towards release. Then she was bucking wildly, crying out with unbridled fervor, tremors charging through her. Her inner flesh tightened around him, hot spasms sending him thundering over the edge.
"Leia!" he growled into her hair as he burst inside her, streaming, sultry and molten, his guttural roar filling the air. They shuddered together in the after throes of passion, Han's fingers finding the underside of Leia's hair slightly damp with sweat.
Their breathing began to relax and her lips pressed tightly to his neck as he bestowed a tender kiss against her temple. The silence surrounding their slowing exhalations was comforting and lovely. He ran his fingers across the smooth skin of her back, relishing her softness.
"You're amazing," he whispered, voice husky and unwittingly filled with wonder.
Her head shifted, the bounty of hair grazing him at various points on his body. Eyes twinkled up at him, lips arcing upwards, teasing. Han was transfixed.
"I bet you say that to all the girls," she chided softly.
His smirk was half-hearted. "Never meant it before." He realized what a dangerous game he was playing. The walls he had erected around his heart had lowered, practically to the ground. He knew what lie at the end of this long journey and he couldn't allow those shields to drop completely, couldn't let her see all that was in his heart.
Her cheek returned to rest against his chest. "Your heart's beating so fast."
"You gave me quite a workout." He remained deliberately cavalier, in spite of the fact that his emotions were careening wildly, like the asteroids they had soared through so recently. His thoughts and feelings were racing, too jumbled to sort through. This underlying urge to confess his feelings lie just beneath the surface, a mistake he couldn't make.
They were quiet for a time and Han wondered what she was thinking but refused to ask. Her voice finally drifted up to his ears, low and tentative.
"Han?"
Don't. He closed his eyes. "Yeah?"
"I…" She paused breathlessly. "I want you to know—"
"Save it," he interrupted, voice deliberately hard. "Don't go gettin' all serious on me. Like you say, it is what it is."
Her subsequent reticence left him realizing the force behind his tone and he searched for a way to soften things. He stroked the hair away from her cheek with a gentle hand.
"I just mean," he began in a considerably less harsh tone. "We both know where things're going. There's no point in making it any harder than it already is."
Several beats passed before she answered in a quiet, stoic tone. "I understand."
He wondered if she really did. Hell, he wasn't even sure he understood their current situation.
