Hope you all like this chapter :)

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Leia was hesitant to join Han in bed. Since their earlier conversation, she had avoided him.

Why did he always have to be so erratic? It was as if there were two Han Solos: one who was kind and caring, and the other, who was immovable and churlish. Who was the real Han Solo? Would she ever know? He seemed a riddle with no answer.

It was well into night cycle. Sitting in the co-pilot's seat—she did not want to sit in his chair—she stared out at the stars, longing for peace. In every way.

When she did retire, should she sleep in the crew quarters? His 'icy' characterization of her, his agreement with onlookers who did not know her, had brought hurt and anger to her blood. In the moment, she wished this trip had reached its conclusion, that they were on their way to rendezvous with the Fleet.

But then she thought of the comb and sighed deeply. That caring, steadfast part of him, regardless of how small, shone so brightly at times. It seemed to render all else insignificant.

There were moments when she wondered why she had fallen in love with him. At others, her feelings seemed as simple and obvious as her need for oxygen.

Although she had been trying very hard not to look ahead, Benny was suddenly in her thoughts. He was her future, and all that came with him. Her anger at Han began to dissipate.

A loveless marriage, that's what she was destined for. It hadn't mattered one bit when she was sixteen. Or even at nineteen. Now…the thought dug mercilessly into her heart like a vibroblade.

And there they were, her feelings for Han, rising and intense like a tidal wave. All anger and resentment were gone and she was left feeling simply lost and lonely.

Not much would change on a day-to-day basis. The marriage would be secret, so that both his family and she would not be targeted by the Empire. For the most part, she would remain with the Rebellion. But she would still be married to a man she didn't want.

Things had changed so much in the last three years. She had changed drastically. Her former life of luxury was so insignificant now. She didn't miss it. She only missed her family, her friends, and the beauty of her planet. She had no need for a title or castle. Nothing mattered less to her.

But she was honor-bound to the agreement made in the name of House Organa. And the Palacio family would bring such greatly needed aid to the Rebellion. Then, perhaps they might finally defeat the Empire.

When she thought about it that way, it seemed terribly selfish that what she really wanted was for Han to whisk her off to a place where she had no such obligations.

Not that she could ever abandon the Rebellion. And Han had his own path to follow, one that didn't involve the Alliance. He would never stay, and she could never go.

He had told her he would stay when they were on Ord Mantell, before Benny had arrived to ruin everything. But, how long before Han grew tired of staying in one place? He never believed in the Rebellion's cause, and he had repeatedly declared his independence and wanderlust.

Yet, he had stayed for three years already. Would she ever understand him?

She was startled from her thoughts by the door opening and her eyes flew to see Han standing in the doorway, clad in only his sleepshorts. His expression was somber and his furrowed brow made him appear irresolute.

"C'mon," he ordered quietly, holding one hand out to her.

She stared at his proffered hand and the last, tiny bit of her resolve disintegrated. Quickly on her feet, her hand was in his and he allowed her to lead him to his cabin. As the door slid shut behind them, he turned to her and gently lifted her shirt over her head. As she pulled off her pants and undergarments, he slid his pants past his hips and dropped them to the deck. Han gestured for her to precede him and Leia climbed into the bunk and took her place against the bulkhead. He quickly followed. Then, as she faced him, he pulled her tightly into his arms, slung one leg over hers, and she buried her face in his neck. He kissed the top of her head and it was almost her undoing. Sorrow flooded her. There was no way to resist him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The hazy, orange light was everywhere. When Leia looked down at her hands, they seemed to be glowing orange as well. Where was she? How had she gotten here? What was the source of this light? It disturbed her, filled her with an ominous feeling, yet she didn't know why.

More carefully, she examined her surroundings, trying to see through the heavy, orange fog. If only she could figure out where she was, perhaps it would relieve her of this indiscernible fear that gripped her in its dark embrace.

A shadow loomed in the light ahead. She couldn't see it, but somehow, she could feel it. What was this place?

Suddenly, she realized Han was missing. How had she not realized that sooner? He had been by her side…and now he was gone! Panic surged and fluttered, causing her to spin in a circle, but still, she could not see beyond the orange fog. Holding her hands out in front of her, she began to walk quickly forward. She had to find Han!

Her pace was brisk, her steps careful, but no matter how far she walked, she still could see nothing, seemed to be in the same place as when she started. Her chest grew tight with worry, breath now labored and gasping. For a moment, she was light-headed and had to stop, close her eyes, and take several deep breaths. It did nothing to calm her but when her eyes opened again, the environment no longer swam around her.

Was she going the wrong way? It was impossible to know. Where could Han possibly be? The only noise was her pulse hammering in her ears.

She spun to the left. Was there anything that way? Abruptly, up ahead, it looked as if the orange light was shining more brightly! Was that the source? Could Han be there? A tiny spark of hope sent her sprinting in that direction, heart aflutter.

A stitch attacked her beneath her rib cage, but she did not slow down, only sucked in a sharp breath. She had to reach Han! She had the most horrible feeling that he was in danger.

The light ahead grew brighter, but she had been running for what seemed like forever and it felt as if she would never reach it. Fear grew to a frenzied terror as her search for Han seemed hopeless.

And suddenly, she was in a different space, with no idea how she had gotten there. The orange glow was now blinding, forcing her to close her eyes against it. A high-pitched hum filled her ears and, with a quick intake of breath, she stuck her fingers in them to dull the deafening sound.

The noise stopped as suddenly as it had started, the bright light dimming beyond her closed lids. Opening her eyes and dropping her hands to her sides, she looked around wildly. She was surrounded by darkness.

A low hiss began to seep into her awareness. It was subtle, but grew quickly louder, that horrible, sucking in and expelling of air, regulated by some machine, the sound of her nightmares.

Vader.

He was near. The threatening wheeze grew louder, filling her ears. Horror trickled down her spine, making the short hairs of her arms rise to terrified attention.

What would he do to her this time? Did he have Han?

The orange light shone again, dim but growing brighter. Surveying every direction, she couldn't see Vader, nor the source of the light.

Something began to appear around her, as if the illumination were slowly coalescing to something more solid. A deep feeling of foreboding settled over her and she knew something horrifying was coming. She spun slowly around, trying to take in her surroundings.

A stark viewport came into focus and, at first, Leia did not recognize it. As she became aware of where she was, revulsion brimmed in her chest, climbing up her throat to choke her. She couldn't breathe…then, in a rush, her breath returned with a gasp.

Grids of light lined the large room on either side against bulkheads of dark gray. Ahead of her, the lights tapered to plain walls, leading to a wide viewport through which Leia could see the endless sea of stars ahead.

No, not Alderaan, she thought desperately. Hadn't this already happened? Hadn't Alderaan been destroyed?

Suddenly, the blue, green, and white orb came into view, and Leia had never been so confused.

A second chance, I have a second chance to save Alderaan!

She didn't know how it had happened, but here she was again! She spun around, but there was no Vader or Tarkin. What did that mean?

If she could just find the controls and somehow destroy them, they wouldn't be able to pull the lever that doomed Alderaan.

They had only just arrived, no one was here yet, maybe this time she could save her parents and everything she loved! She poured through the chamber, searching for the controls to the superlaser, but could find no buttons, no levers, nothing. Frantic, she glanced to the viewport to find that they were quickly approaching Alderaan.

No! She had to save them!

The viewport began to blur before her eyes, to glow orange.

The light…and Han! How had she forgotten Han?!

Now, she was being ripped apart. Search for Han, or the controls for the Death Star's weaponry?

The light coming from the viewport was growing too bright again and Leia shielded her eyes. It dimmed, dulled, and when she looked back again, the viewport was gone, and there was Han, suspended in the air by some unseen force, an orange light bursting from the middle of his chest. He dangled from nowhere, eyes closed, arms slack and hanging as if he were a child's ragdoll.

She vaulted forward, breath stuck in her throat, terrified that he was not simply unconscious. When she touched his hand, he felt cold as ice and she shrank back in horror and fear.

No…please, no!

Reluctantly, she reached one hand up and placed it against his chest. At first, she detected nothing and her stomach plummeted. Then…a slight, slow beat sounded against her hand and a relieved breath gusted from her lips and her own heart began to beat again.

Alive…he's alive.

But, what had happened to him? What was this orange glow in his chest? And how could she revive him?

And Alderaan…what had happened to Alderaan? Was it too late?

The viewport was no longer visible and she couldn't imagine where it had gone. What was going on?

She had to get Han out of there! She had to get him to a medbay!

The mechanical breathing was back…she hadn't even realized it had disappeared. Now, it grew louder, rising to a crescendo inside her head! Where was he?! She still didn't see him!

The room began to spin around her and she grabbed her head in both hands, trying to steady the galaxy as her stomach dipped and she fell to a crouch on the deck.

It was too much, the tears were choking her, she didn't know what to do. And he was coming, Vader was coming…

A single sob escaped her…she tried to scream, but there was no sound…Alderaan was damned…Han was damned…they all were…

Leia!

Han's voice! He was awake! He was okay!

Leia! Wake up!

Confusion, dread…

Jolted awake by a hand shaking her shoulder, Leia sat up, heart pounding furiously, a sheen of cool sweat covering her body. For a whisper, she couldn't take in air and everything around her seemed frozen and wrong…

And then Han's arm was around her and he was murmuring soft words near her ear, his breath breezing against her skin, reassuring her that he was alive and well.

She couldn't seem to understand a word until she took in a sharp breath and things seemed to sweep into place.

"You're okay, Leia, it was just a dream, I've got you."

She was trembling, could feel it throughout her entire body as Han seemed to be repeating the same words over and over. He pulled her more tightly into his arms, one hand moving to stroke her hair.

As she slowly became more awake and aware, her heartbeat began to slow and her tremors began to subside. The strength of Han's arms seemed to bolster her until her own strength started to return.

"I'm all right," she finally whispered hoarsely. She was able to recognize that it had simply been a nightmare, but it still felt so vivid, the string of fear almost tangible.

But she was not on the Death Star, she reminded herself. Vader was nowhere nearby, and Han was perfectly safe.

As for Alderaan…there were no second chances.

"You want some water or something?" Han asked from above her head.

"Just hold me," she breathed, clenching her eyes shut. She wanted to lose herself in his embrace.

His arms tightened around her, bringing further comfort. It had been some time since she had suffered such a frightening dream. Having Han there to bring her back to reality made the aftermath easier.

"I'm okay. Really," she said when most of the aftereffects had disappeared and she was able to breathe freely. "Can you turn on the glow panels?" The dark felt oppressive.

One arm unwound from her and reached for the controls. Faint light illuminated the room, just enough to reassure her. Leia leaned back and guided them to lie against the pillows. Keeping her eyes open, she burrowed against his chest and his arms encircled her again, warm and heartening.

"You wanna talk about it?"

Absolutely not. "No," she answered quietly. She pictured that orange glare again, streaming shadows across Han's tortured visage. She couldn't recall his expression, but somehow it conveyed suffering in the harsh, orange light. Her heart pounded steadily again and she took several, deep breaths to beat it back. A slight shudder shook her and Han placed a soft kiss on her brow. It flooded her with feelings of love and safety.

"You want a shot of whiskey?"

That actually sounded good just then. "Okay."

His arms left her and he rose from the bed. Not wishing to be alone, Leia quickly followed. "I'll go with you."

They each shrugged on some clothes and, with a hurried step, she was at his side, clutching his arm as if he might disappear if she didn't hold on tight enough.

In the galley, she let go of his arm and he reached up to the cabinet to retrieve the bottle of whiskey.

"Actually, can you put it in some tea?" she asked.

"Sure." He left the bottle on the counter, took a mug from the cabinet, and placed it in the kaffe maker. Setting it to heat, he waited a minute then sprinkled tea leaves in the mug before adding the whiskey.

She watched him place the mug in front of her. "Thank you." After blowing on the steaming liquid, she took a careful sip. The combination of the tea's warmth and the burning sensation of the whiskey was soothing. Han sat beside her and she could feel his eyes on her.

"Was it about the Death Star?"

She grimaced internally. "More or less." Her eyes remained on the mug as she fiddled with the handle. That glowing, orange light continued to haunt her. She had the strangest feeling that there was something significant about it, something dark and threatening. Brushing it off, she tried to tell herself she was being paranoid.

Beside her, Han reached up and came away with a shot glass. He poured and downed two shots in quick succession. He caught her watching him and sent a wink her way. "Didn't want you drinkin' alone."

She forced a small smile that she didn't feel at all and drank more tea. It was clear she wouldn't sleep anymore tonight. Curiously, she turned to him. "How old were you the first time you drank alcohol?" It seemed a safe enough topic.

His surprise at the question was obvious with the widening of his eyes. "Hm. I'd say, uh…twelve? Maybe thirteen? What about you?"

"Drinking wine was never a big deal on Alderaan. Even the children would have a small glass with dinner." A small, wistful smile played across her lips. "I had ale the first time…oh, I suppose I was about sixteen." She smiled at him more broadly. "But you were the first one to give me hard liquor."

He sat, leaning to one side, elbow on the counter, head resting against his fist. That lazy grin surfaced, his most attractive. "Really? Imagine that. I knew I'd be the one to corrupt you." His smile was all teasing now.

"That's what scoundrels are for." Her grin mirrored his and, slowly, the bad feelings of her dream were beginning to dissipate. Han always was a balm to her soul…whether he meant to be or not.

"I think every princess needs a scoundrel in her life."

Her eyes sparkled into his. "I highly recommend it." After downing the last of her tea, she returned her attention to him, mimicking his pose of head in hand. "I knew you were trouble the moment I first saw you."

"Oh, c'mon," he protested. "You were the one who was trouble. I was just lookin' to make a fare. You and Luke dragged me into that nonsense."

"Excuse me? I didn't drag you into anything. I never asked for your help."

"Yeah, you didn't." He seemed to sober a bit, eyes downcast and pensive.

"What is it?" She was surprised by his sudden seriousness.

He was silent for a long moment before his eyes snapped to hers. "Did Luke ever tell you what I said when he told me we had to rescue a princess?"

"No, but I imagine you thought he was crazy." She knew enough about Han's cynicism and Luke had told her about first meeting the smuggler on Tatooine.

"Yeah. I did," he answered slowly, gaze growing distant again. "I told him flat out, no way was I doing any such thing."

"Of course." She couldn't help but smile, picturing that scene.

"And I wasn't gonna. Until he promised a huge reward. I've thought about it before. I know if I hadn't gone with him, Luke'd still set out to rescue you. You were this unknown entity, nothing to me, not worth the risk without a good reason. I'm sure the kid couldn't have pulled that whole thing off on his own." His eyes shot to her then to the counter. "So, I thought about what if I hadn't gone with him. And what would've happened to both of you."

A bit puzzled by this philosophical conversation, she just smiled. "But you did. And here we are."

"Funny how someone can mean nothing to you…and then suddenly be important. In such a short time."

Having never heard Han be so candid with his feelings, she was intrigued and anxious for him to continue. "How short a time was it? Before Luke and I became important to you?" she asked softly.

He thought about it. "Well…I came back for the Death Star."

"And I distinctly recall you telling me that coming back was Chewie's idea." Her voice was chiding.

He gave a small shrug. "It was his suggestion. But that's all I needed. Was the suggestion. An excuse."

Warmth steeped in her chest, more comforting than any tea with whiskey. She wondered what had come over him. Reaching out with one hand, she covered his, squeezing gently. "I think…you've always just needed an excuse to think about more than just yourself. You want to be this callous mercenary…but you aren't really. Not deep down." Her tone was gentle.

His lips twisted dubiously. "I don't know about that. I've done some pretty shady stuff. You might think differently if you knew."

She smiled warmly. "We all have a past. I don't think there's anything that could change how I feel about you."

He sat up and gave a slight roll of his eyes. "'We all have a past,'" he muttered. "I'm sure yours is full of scandal." His eyes widened and he threw up his hands dramatically.

Sitting up to face him, she flashed him a look of disdain. "We grew up in very different environments."

He snorted derisively. "That's an understatement."

"Our past is what makes us who we are today. That's why I wouldn't want to change anything about yours. It made you the man I know now."

His eyes remained skeptical. Leia leaned close and kissed him lingeringly on the lips, one hand palming his cheek. The nightmare had faded to almost nothing now, overshadowed by this sudden, new dynamic between Han and her.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Every time Han passed by the dark, inanimate form of Threepio in the corner of the hold, it brought a smile to his face. After the incident with the hair comb, he had no tolerance for games and had deactivated the droid. And he swore that if Chewie turned the golden menace back on, he would have to space the droid. And maybe Chewie too.

In the galley, he found the Wookiee and Leia at the counter, both staring into a large bowl. From the side, he could see that she had worn her hair down and he smiled appreciatively.

"What's goin' on?"

They both looked up at where he was standing in the doorway and Leia's mouth settled into a grimace.

"I tried making something new…but, it came out terrible and Chewie is going to try to salvage it."

Han was about to suggest they just toss it, but then remembered that they couldn't afford to waste any food. They were lucky that they would be able to stretch it to the end of this trip.

"That's what I get for trying to reach beyond my limits in the galley." Her tone was wry but she appeared a bit chagrined.

Chewie growled encouragement and praised her for making the attempt.

"I'm sure it's better than I could do," Han insisted. "Lemme try it."

At the same time, Chewie and Leia both discouraged him. As the Wookiee roared, she spoke urgently.

"Oh, you don't want to do that. It's terrible."

"How bad can it be?" He flashed her an easy smile and approached the bowl before her. He wasn't sure what he was looking at, but picked up the spoon and placed a small portion in his mouth. They were watching him closely.

At first, it seemed to have no flavor…then, as he chewed, the tastes blended together and became…unpleasant was the only word that came to mind. He tried to smile at Leia around the mouthful but knew his face was not cooperating.

"I told you," she said with an apologetic raise of her brow.

Chewbacca was trying to stifle a laugh and, when Leia tossed him a pointed look, he forced a more sober expression.

"Well, hey, you're new to this cooking thing."

She didn't look reassured, only turned to Chewie. "Do you think you can fix it? I don't want to waste any food."

Chewie grumbled with a shrug and took the bowl in his large, furry hands. Smiling, Han took her hand and tugged her from the room, keeping her hand in his as they journeyed through the corridor. In the main hold, he faced her and took her other hand, noting suddenly that she had used the Alderaanian comb to brush back the hair on one side, near her temple. A grin swept across his face, disarmed and genuine.

"That looks…" He floundered for a word to describe the way she looked with her hair flowing around her, the comb tucking that one corner back. "Great." He fingered the comb, knowing his choice of description was inadequate.

She smiled in return as he ran a hand down her hair to her cheek. "I love it," she said earnestly. "And I want to give you something in return."

"Not necessary."

"I want to, though. But, as you know, my resources are limited." A crooked smile skewed her lips. "So, I had to be a bit creative. Come." With a gesture, she urged him to follow, leading him by the hand to the engineering console. When she sat down, she let go of his hand and her demeanor shifted. She seemed suddenly shy and nervous. "I put it in the ship's computer so you would always have it."

Han's curiosity was piqued. "What is it?"

Her smile was suddenly diffident and her eyes lowered to the computer terminal, glanced up at him, then returned to the screen. "I...I did some research and I found this poem." She hesitated for a breath then spoke in a rush. "It's Corellian."

Han was surprised, with no idea what to think.

With a quiet clearing of her throat, she began to read in a slow cadence, voice low but clear.

"Maybe love is just like the rain

You never know how hard it will be

Or how long it will last

Love can come so fast

Love from first sight

Or it can take so long a time

To be meant to be…to be so right

Love can put you into darkness

And can bring you the brightest light."

It took him a moment to realize she had finished. Time seemed to stretch between them, creating distance. The word love…was still so new and hard for him to accept. And it just reminded him how finite their time together was. That this wasn't going to last.

He realized he had to say something. "That's nice," he grunted. "Thanks." His eyes fell to the deck and they settled into an awkward silence.

"You don't like it," she finally said in a tone that conveyed disappointment and embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I suppose it was silly…"

He fumbled for words briefly. "No, I…it's nice. I just…I'm not into poetry."

The awkward hush descended again and he saw that her cheeks had reddened. The only viable course of action seemed to be escape.

"I got some stuff to finish up, see ya later."

He leaned down, kissed her cheek then ambled down the corridor without looking back. When he reached the circuitry bay, he surveyed the scene, looking for something to work on. It hadn't been his plan, but at the moment, he needed an excuse for some time away from Leia. The whole poem thing had left him unsettled.

Should he replace that frayed cable? Or work at removing the carbon scoring from the transistor? The cable wouldn't take long. The carbon scoring would be a long, arduous task.

Carbon scoring it was. That would allot him plenty of time. He went to the number two hold in search of his tool box and returned with his carbon chisel. As he went about removing the scoring, he recalled the small explosion that had caused the excessive carbon build-up. He had been lucky not to be standing so close to it when it blew.

After some time, the chore became mindless and his thoughts turned unwillingly to Leia. He wondered what she was doing. Often, she sought him out to hand him tools, help with repairs, or simply to keep him company. Her current absence implied that the whole poem thing had been as awkward for her as it had been for him.

The only line from the poem that he remembered was the line about love putting you into darkness. That had seemed appropriate enough to strike a chord. Because once this trip was over, Leia would be out of his life forever. And the future looked empty without her.

Part of him regretted ever meeting her. He had been perfectly content, just Chewie, him, and the Falcon. He hadn't needed anyone else. Love had certainly never crossed his mind.

Now, there was Leia. And she had turned his galaxy upside down. He had spent a lifetime outrunning pain, and now he was about to bound headfirst into it, an eager, compliant fool. At a fairly young age, he had learned that forming attachments led to being hurt. Keep to yourself and you'll be just fine.

Without even trying, Leia had beckoned him from the start. Han had spent a lot of time trying to tell himself it meant nothing. As it turned out, it meant everything.

She was special, remarkable even. Too much so for some low-life smuggler. He knew it. And clearly, she knew it too. It hurt to know he was not the better choice, that even if he were to try to convince her to stay with him, he had no argument to favor himself.

This prince could give her everything she had lost and anything she wanted. What could Han give her? Nothing much. Just a stupid hair comb.

Although, she did seem quite pleased with that. But it was nothing compared to what the Prince could provide.

Besides, there was still the matter of the debt he had to settle. He had been willing to let it slide as long as possible to remain by Leia's side. But now, what did it matter? He might as well deal with it already. He had let it go long enough to greatly endanger his life. All for a woman.

Oh, but what a woman.

And that was the part of him that couldn't regret her. The part that still looked at her and felt whisper moths flutter in his chest. The part that fell gratefully into bed at night, anxious to curl her into his arms, feel the warmth she offered.

That was what made him a damned fool. He never would have believed he'd be a fool for a woman. She would be leaving to marry another man, and yet, he still couldn't resist her. The thought had managed to dwell in the dark recesses of his mind, but somehow, the poem brought it buoying to the surface.

His fingers had finally tired of chiseling away at the carbon scoring and he sighed down at his filthy hands. With a glower and a grunt, he returned the chisel to the tool box and decided to take a shower.

He met no one on his way to the refresher, which pleased him. His thoughts still felt heavy and he was not prepared to deal with the current situation.

After scrubbing underneath the hot water, he toweled his hair until it was just slightly damp, wrapped the towel around his waist, and headed to his cabin. When the door hissed open, he was surprised to find Leia sitting on the bunk with a datapad.

"Hey," he said slowly.

"Hey." Her response was low, soft, and tentative.

He hesitated a moment, one hand holding the towel cinched at his side. "What're you doin'?"

"Writing a report about our escape from Hoth and everything that's happened so far."

"Everything?" he asked, raising a dubious eyebrow.

She gave him a tiny smirk. "Well…not everything."

A small smile curled one side of his mouth. "If you did include everything, that's one report I'd be willing to read."

She laughed lightly and turned her eyes back to the pad in her hands. Han stood awkwardly for a moment then began drying himself. He tossed the towel in a corner and searched his locker until he came up with a pair of undershorts. As he stepped into them, Leia spoke up from the bunk.

"The poem was a stupid choice. Sorry about that."

Pulling the shorts over his hips, he saw that she had placed the pad aside and was nervously flicking her fingernails. He made a show of adjusting his waistband to stall for time.

"No," he replied, tone sounding stilted to his own ears. "It wasn't stupid. I just…" Planting his hands on his hips, he struggled to finish that sentence. He was relieved when Leia spoke again.

"I have all these feelings for you." She was staring dismally at her clenched hands. "I know this isn't an ideal situation."

Han would have laughed had it not all been so depressing. "I have feelings too," he said tentatively. "But…" His lips compressed together. "We know where this is ending. So, let's just not turn it all serious."

She was staring up at him with large, sad eyes. "It's serious already. No?"

He didn't know how to answer that. His eyes flicked all over the cabin before returning to her. "Let's not talk about this." His mouth curled to one side and his shoulders hunched in dreadful discomfort.

"You never want to talk about anything."

He couldn't deny it. "Yeah, well…in this case, I don't see the point."

"You're the one who forced me to admit my feelings. Now, you don't want to hear them." Her voice was quietly accusatory and her gaze never wavered from him.

"You're the one who made a choice," he countered.

She went quiet at that, and now she did look away. "It's not a choice," she whispered to the deck.

"Looks that way from where I'm standing." He tried to keep his voice mild, not to let it sound like an accusation.

He wanted this conversation to be over. They could discuss this time and time again, but it would not change anything. If only he had the strength to simply exist on this ship alongside her without succumbing to his feelings and desires. But he was weak when it came to this woman.

"Look," he implored. "This isn't easy. But I'm trying to do what I always do and just live in the moment. Not think about what's gonna happen. And when you talk about certain things…" He paused with a quick shake of his head. "I can't do that. So, let's just not go there."

Her eyes rose to meet his, lips parted as if she were on the verge of speaking. Then they closed and she nodded, averting her gaze again.

Needing the distraction, Han ambled to crouch on the bunk on hands and knees, face close to Leia's.

"Now," he said, voice low and gruff. "Let's do something you can't write in your report." Leaning forward, he kissed her, trying to blank his mind through passion. The two best distractions were alcohol and sex. And it was too early for alcohol.