A/N: I made use of some formatting on this document that is apparently allowed on AO3, but not on FFN - primarily strikethroughs. I've tried to remedy this by indicating the text that is struck through on the original document by both surrounding the text with dashes and underlining it. -For example, this should be read as text that was crossed out-. Apologies for that; I format with AO3 in mind and generally just cross-post here because I know a handful of people aren't on AO3, so this is all I was able to come up with.

Day 8

Han,

I'm supposed to journal, but I know I'll self-censor. The therapist Carlist is making me see (can you believe it? Honestly, after all these years, he finally found a way to get me into therapy indefinitely) said she could tell I was self-censoring when I told her about some of what I'd written in a journal entry. I said I wasn't sure how to not write in a way that isn't at least a little censored. I'm always careful in writing, especially in electronic documents, and my first attempt at journaling was on my datapad and addressed to no one in particular, so of course it sounded like a memo. She asked if there was anyone I wouldn't censor my thoughts for, if there was anyone I could pretend I was writing a letter to who I wouldn't hide anything from, and you're the only one who came to mind.

I think it will be good for me to write about what's going on while you're away. That way, you'll be able to catch up on what's happened, and hopefully, if I forget to tell you anything, I'll have written it down so you can at least read about it. It's only been eight days since I last saw you, and I think I've already forgotten things that have happened; writing them down as they happen will ensure I don't forget anything else. So, it's useful what I'm doing here, I think, not just "emotionally beneficial", which is what Khatja (the therapist) said is the purpose. I know it's a worthwhile pursuit, the emotional benefits, but I think if I can remember the practical benefits, too, I might find it in me to write more often.

I can practically see you shaking your head at me, and if you were here, I would be annoyed about it, but I'm just glad I can picture you doing anything other than being hurt or frozen now. For the first few days, every time I tried to think of your face, I just saw you on the scan grid.

I love you.

Day 9

Han,

I forgot to mention in my first entry that I borrowed some items from the Falcon before Lando and Chewie left. Yes, Lando's flying the Falcon. I know you won't be pleased, but just know that I threatened dire enough consequences if anything happens to the ship that Chewie said you had clearly rubbed off on me. He seemed sort of proud when he said it.

Inventory of items shamelessly stolen from Han Solo by one Leia Organa:

-One (1) paperback copy of Spice-Runners of the Outer Rim, 5th edition, annotated by H. Solo with contribution from L. Organa
-One (1) paperback copy of They Shall Not Prevail: an Examination of the Rebellion's Inner Workings, 1st edition, annotated by L. Organa with contribution from H. Solo (for someone with "a contact on the inside of the Rebellion", they sure got nearly everything wrong)
-One (1) paperback copy of Forces of Love Book Two: Her Jedi, Her Passion, 3rd edition (can you believe anyone printed this book more than once?)/
-One (1) paperback copy of Forces of Love Book Five: Forbidden Attachment, 3rd edition (Wonderful! Another 3rd edition! If we can find the other 3rd editions, we can have an entire matching set!)
-One (1) datapad on which lives the only known copy of Forces of Love Book Six: We Need to Think of a Better Title if We Ever Want to be Published, Sweetheart, a work-in-progress co-authored by H. Solo and L. Organa
-One (1) blue men's medium-weight jacket
-Two (2) plain men's t-shirts
-One (1) green woven blanket (not your favorite; the other one)

Perhaps it wasn't okay for me to take these things. Chewie said it was fine, and I really am only borrowing them. I just want to feel close to you somehow, and I thought having items around that remind me of the few good weeks we had might help with that endeavor. The jacket is your favorite, but I promise I'm taking good care of it. I expect to be present when we get you back, so you shouldn't miss it, but even if Chewie and Lando have to go in without me, I don't think you'll need a jacket on Tatooine. If you do need something, I left all the others in your closet. And I didn't take your favorite blanket; I thought you might want it on the flight back if I can't be there.

I am learning as much as I can about carbonite freezing. You aren't, as it turns out, the first warmblooded being to be frozen in carbonite; far from it, actually. Unfortunately, not much scientific research has been done on the topic, so I'm left trying to parse anecdotal evidence from legends and myths. I'll spare you the details, but just know that I am working tirelessly to understand what we need to do for you once you're free. Actually, maybe you won't love that I'm working tirelessly, but I am, as we both know, dreadfully stubborn, so there's not much that you can do about it. I am sleeping most nights and eating most meals, so that should please you well enough.

I love you still.

Day 14

Please come back.

Day 15

Han,

I am tremendously angry right now and I'm afraid you'll have to be the one to -hear- read about it because Luke is…Luke hasn't quite been the same since we returned from Bespin, though I suppose none of us have been. It's understandable; he had to fight Vader, lost a hand (I am assuming we've had a chance to tell you that and this isn't the way you find out), and I know he misses you. But I can't seem to talk to him like I used to, at least not all the time. And I'm angry with you, anyway, so I suppose you should be the one to know about it.

I know this anger is nonsensical. You didn't do anything. You can't do anything, and that's sort of the issue, isn't it? I know what I'm feeling has no logic supporting it, but I am just so…so…

Why didn't you just pay Jabba off before?

Why didn't you have the Falcon running like it should have been when we left Hoth?

Why did you have to drop that damn spice shipment?

Why did you have to run that damn spice shipment in the first place?

I know these questions are pointless. I know what's done is done, and it is very possible that, had none of these things happened, we would never have met, or perhaps would have met but would have never begun to care about each other. I would probably be dead two or three or ten times over if all of these things hadn't happened. But after the day I had yesterday and the morning I had today, I could use you here on my team. I want you here because it would make my life easier, and I know that makes me selfish.

And wrong. I know it makes me wrong, because I'm actually less mad at you and more mad that Carlist sent me home halfway through the morning today because he could tell I didn't sleep last night, and I know if you were here, you'd say, "Good. He's doing his job." instead of siding with me, so it's not like you being here would fix the thing I'm mad about anyway. And I'm sure if you were here, you would say that making sure I get actual rest is the definition of siding with me whether or not I agree.

Except, if you were here, I'd probably be sleeping better anyway, so Carlist wouldn't have had to send me home in the first place.

I don't want you to feel bad reading this. It isn't your fault, what happened. Vader is to blame, that bounty hunter is to blame, and few others beyond them really hold much responsibility for what happened. Even Lando…I know it'll take you awhile to see it this way, but I do think he was doing the best that he could in an absolutely horrible situation. Vader didn't give him much of a choice in the matter.

I don't think I'm quite so angry any more. I think I'd be even more angry if you were here to tell me to go to bed. Still, I wish you were here to make me even more angry.

I love you.

Day 20

Han,

You may be angry with me this time, but I realized this morning I hadn't eaten since breakfast yesterday. I remedied the situation as soon as I could, and Luke is meeting me for lunch today, so I will try to make up for what was missed. I wish I had a valid excuse, but I didn't have any meetings yesterday (unbelievable, I know) and I just lost track of time. I was researching more about carbonite freezing and got into the weeds learning about the side effects of hibernation sickness. I don't want to alarm you, but I assume if you are reading this, then it is well and truly behind you: it sounds like you may be in for a miserable time once we're able to get you out of the carbonite. Don't worry, though; it should be temporary. I will make sure we get you the proper medical treatment as quickly as possible to limit the side effects.

Luke is back flying with the Rogues today. He was cleared for flight last week, but has been worried that the phantom limb pain he's been experiencing might cause issues. They aren't venturing far, so I shouldn't be worried, but I find myself worrying just about every time someone I care about is out of my sight right now. Chewie should be glad that I couldn't go with him and Lando to track down your location; I'd probably frustrate him by following him around the ship or something equally annoying.

I haven't heard from them in several days, and they didn't know much when we last corresponded, but it sounds like Boba Fett — the bounty hunter, though you may know that already — has not taken you directly to Tatooine. We do not know what his intention is, and it, frankly, has me on edge. But I am trying to focus on what I can control myself.

Khatja thinks I need something to focus on that is not related to work, and she doesn't think compiling my carbonite research counts. She asked what I used to do in my free time, and I didn't have an answer, at least not one that I wanted to give her. I realized that a lot of my free time back on Echo was spent with you and Chewie and Luke, and most of our free time on the way to Bespin was spent doing things I'd rather not do alone. I cannot open the books we read together without thinking of how we didn't finish writing our own. I tried watching one of the five episodes of Wild Space that you had loaded on that old holoprojector, but I just kept remembering your commentary and laughing and then crying, and I don't want to watch any other episodes without you.

I sound entirely pathetic, I know. I think that's why Khatja wants me to find something else to focus on. There is a commander on board Home One who wants to start a self-defense class for those who don't intend to see ground combat since they don't get a chance to practice those skills often. My own skills are a bit rusty, but I thought I might drop in to see what it's like. I imagine you'd encourage me to go and "kick some ass", and I figure working on my defense skills can only help me. Maybe this could be my thing to focus on for now.

I am certain Lando and Chewie will find you soon, but until then, I will try to kick some ass.

I love you.

Day 36

Han,

You have been gone longer than we were together, romantically at least. I still haven't told anyone. Chewie knows, of course, and I think Lando got the general idea in Cloud City, but I haven't mentioned it to Luke or Wedge or Shara. Carlist and Mon both asked some very pointed questions my first week back, but they didn't push me when I deflected and they haven't brought it up since.

I am not ashamed of you. I hope that thought didn't even enter your mind, but I feel it needs to be -said- written regardless. I would kiss you in the middle of the Command Center or the mess hall or even the Rogues' hangar, though you and I both know that would mean rumors flying around faster than a fully operational Falcon. I'm certain Carlist and Mon know more than even they realize; I don't think my desire to have you back has been at all subtle. But, still, there is a part of me that wants our story to be ours and ours alone, especially since you are not here to share in the sharing of it. It is so new and the memories so fragile; I just don't want anything to harm what we have when you aren't even here to see what might harm it. I do not want to taint what few memories I have of us happy together with the opinions of others, and you know someone will see fit to spew their opinions out to me.

I know we had plenty of good and jovial times before departing from Hoth, too, but they aren't quite the same. I just don't have any interest in detracting from the sweet memories I have of us together. I know you will soon be here to create even more.

I don't think I've left room for doubt, but just in case, I love you.

Day 38

I need you here

Day 41

Han,

I nearly cried in the mess hall today. Someone said that his older sister died when he was sixteen and, even though he had sixteen full years with her, after a decade of her being gone, he can tell that his memories of her voice are warped. He still has the memories, but he can tell it isn't quite her voice and I just kept thinking about the fact that I spend the time before I fall asleep thinking of you and my mother and father and I began to wonder if what I'm remembering is even accurate, or if I'll know when it becomes inaccurate, when the voices warp and my memories aren't reliable any more, and I had to leave the table.

The idea kills me.

Not so much for you, because we are going to get you back no matter what and I will hear your voice again no matter what, but my parents. It's already been over three years since I last heard their voices in person. And, sure, there are recordings out there of my father in the Senate and my mother presiding over some ceremony or other, but what if the recordings aren't true-to-life, either? What if every available source I have to help me remember them is slightly twisted? What if what I remember even now isn't quite right?

This is one of the things I cannot focus on because I cannot control it. But if I let myself consider for more than a moment that I might someday just not recall what my parents' voices sounded like…

How very awful.

-I wonder if you remember your mother's voice. I know you lost her much earlier than I lost mine. Is your memory clear? Is it warped? Do you even remember her at all?-

Don't worry about those questions. They are invasive and I shouldn't have written them. Maybe someday I will just ask you.

Whether or not I ask you, I will see you again to ask you other things. I am sure of this. Very sure.

I love you.

Day 62

Han,

Khatja knows about us now, though I still haven't told Luke. He seems so distant, so not-quite-here, but every time I try to dig to find out what's wrong, he brushes me off. I think if you were here, we could get him to talk together, but it's harder with just me. Everything is harder with just me.

Maybe if Luke keeps up hiding things from me, I just won't tell him. Maybe he can find out when he sees me kiss you once we're together again. (I am joking, of course. I won't withhold information in principle. I just am not sure when we would have told him if things hadn't gone so badly.)

Anyway, Khatja knows finally and she said she had sort of guessed that I at least had feelings for you, and she had heard base gossip that you obviously felt something for me, but she hadn't confirmed it with anyone (who she would confirm it with, I don't know).

Chewie and Lando have a lead. They said it isn't a guarantee (what is at this point?) but I'm prepared to leave as soon as they give the word. I feel like I did that night when all of Blue Squadron was over a day later than their ETA, just waiting and waiting for any definitive word. You stayed in the Command Center all night with me back then. I wish you were here to wait with me now, but I suppose if you were, we wouldn't be waiting to hear any news anyway.

I love you.

Day 62 (cont'd)

They found you. Carlist said there's an A-wing I can take. I should be on my way in an hour. I'll tell you the rest when I see you.

Day 65

I am so sorry.

I love you.

Day 74

Han,

We had your location and were making a plan and Fett rerouted. We weren't able to keep up with you. I got to see Chewie and Lando and the Falcon in person at least. All appear well. I was a little sneaky about checking the Falcon for damage, but my rival for your affections appeared as good as it ever does. I'm sure you'd have done a more thorough check, but I did the best I could with the time I had.

I am back on Home One, filling my days with work and my nights with self-defense lessons and strength training. Do you think it's possible to work up enough strength to damage beskar? I want to be able to crush armor with my bare hands. I realize it probably isn't actually possible on my own, but I figure if I add in the fury and spite and hatred that I currently feel toward two armor-wearing cowards in particular, I might just be able to.

Don't worry. We are going to keep trying until we get you home.

I love you more than I hate them, if you can believe it.

Day 100

Han,

One hundred days without you. It is impossible to believe.

Nearly as impossible to believe is the fact that I have been stationed on Home One for ninety-five days and have only set foot on ground twice in that time. Living in space full-time is strange. I don't think I like it. I'm not sure how you and Chewie used to go for such long stretches of time flying from port to port with hardly a break between jobs.

I miss being outdoors. I miss trees. I won't go so far as to say I miss Hoth, but we did at least get sunlight on occasion even on Hoth, though the cold was truly miserable.

I hate that you hate the cold. Or, rather, I hate that the last thing you likely felt before entering whatever state you're in now (stars, I hope you aren't the least bit conscious) was cold. If I hadn't seen the expression frozen on your face by the carbonite, I might be able to trick myself into believing that your last memory was of seeing me or perhaps Chewie — someone who loves you at the very least. But when they pulled you out, you looked to be in agony.

Your last memory might have been something painful, but I'll be damned if your first one on the other side of all this isn't of someone who loves you.

Day 129

I don't think I can

Day 149

Han,

It's my birthday today and I think only Luke, Wedge, and Carlist remembered. Tycho probably actually did too since the day was officially recognized back home, but he didn't say anything. Which is fine by me. I don't like a big deal being made out of this day anyway. Or, maybe I do, but I need the people who are bound and determined to make a big deal out of it to be the right people.

Chewie remembered, too, actually. He sent a holomessage just to tell me that we would have to celebrate it late this year and he promised me sweetmallows, so really, it is shaping up to be a most excellent birthday.

You promised that you'd let me fly the Falcon for this birthday, you know. And don't act like you don't remember — hibernation sickness can cause memory loss, but not extremely selective memory loss that only applies to promises about ships, so I'll know if you're lying. I flew it part of the way back from Bespin, but those were not the circumstances you described to me, so I will be holding you to the promise you made. I managed a tempermental A-wing all the way from Bothan Space to Jekara and back. I think I can handle the Falcon for a quick trip. I haven't yet decided where we'll go, but I'll be sure to have a few options ready once I see you again.

I would never, ever claim to love you more than you love your ship, but it has to be pretty close.

Day 163

Too long

Day 199

Han,

Here's something to remind you of the good ol' days: Wes Janson managed co-opt the public address system on this entire kriffing star cruiser for four hours just so he could play a selection of love songs for Sweetheart's Day. I don't know if Mon and Admiral Ackbar would have been half as angry if his music selection hadn't been so terrible, but Janson really does have the absolute worst taste. I'm just realizing I'm not entirely sure what happened to him, but Carlist had a headache after the second hour, and you know how he gets when he has a headache. I'm not convinced that Wes acted alone this time, but no one else is 'fessing up, and when I last saw him he was refusing to throw anyone else to the jakobeasts, so I suppose whatever punishment they come up with will be his burden alone to bear. I don't think Carlist would have spaced him, but I can't say I'd be surprised if I looked out a viewport and saw him floating by.

I have never given much thought to Sweetheart's Day, and I truthfully forgot it was today until Wes announced it between every song. It occurs to me that I'm not even sure if you feel any particular way about this holiday. I'm not sure that I do. But I do miss hearing you say "sweetheart".

I hope to hear that sound soon.

Day 215

Han,

-Another lead, a good one. I will leave in the next day to meet up with Chewie and Lando. I know you're going to be tremendously upset with Chewie for allowing me to land on Nal Hutta but you should keep in mind that Chewie isn't actually allowing me to do a damn thing and, in fact, he's pretty upset that I'm insisting on going. He and Luke have spent the better part of this morning trying to convince me to stay put, but I refuse. We all put ourselves in danger constantly. You put yourself in danger for me countless times. I am not going to sit back while you're within our grasp. I simply won't, and if that makes you or anyone else mad, fine. You at least have to be alive to be mad.-

-I'm all packed and ready to go. Just waiting on clearance. Luke is going to follow in his X-wing this time. I think we have a much better chance of bringing you home compared to last time.-

-I'll see you soon.-

Never mind.

I love you.

Day 226

They've built another Death Star.

I've vomited twice today.

I'd love for those two facts to be unrelated.

Day 228

Han,

I had it a bit wrong. They're building another Death Star. As in, it's still being built. As in, it isn't operational yet. As in, we have a chance to prevent another Alderaan.

If I could stop dry-heaving about it a few times a day, I'd probably already have the solution to this monumentally catastrophic situation, but unfortunately, my brain and body are in full agreement this go around that they want nothing to do with the entire situation.

Unfortunately for them, I have to be involved in this.

No one is making me, if that's what you're thinking. Mon and Ackbar and Carlist all asked if I wanted to appoint someone else as an advisor in my stead. But I cannot. I cannot. I cannot allow the Empire to get away with this again.

Perhaps I should set a new strength goal: become strong enough to rip a space station in two with my bare hands.

I think if anyone has enough rage to accomplish such a feat simmering just beneath the surface of their skin, it's me.

And if anyone has love enough in their heart to bring someone back from the brink of oblivion, it's also me.

I love you. I do hope to rescue you soon.

Day 257

Han,

We have been collecting intelligence on the new Death Star. I can't say what sort or how we're doing it, but we have more details than we did previously. Luke has been pulled in as an advisor as well, so meetings feel less lonely, but I have been unable to devote as much time as I'd planned to continuing to gather research about hibernation sickness and carbonite poisoning. I am being pulled in multiple directions at once, and I fear I very well may break, but everything I'm currently spending time and energy on is imperative.

Destroying this new Death Star: imperative.

Searching for you: imperative.

Ensuring we have the best possible care for you once we wake you up: imperative.

I will not burden you with the knowledge of how much I've been sleeping and eating. Just know it's not enough to please you or Chewie or even Luke, and we can move on from that topic entirely.

I need you here. I've needed you here this entire time, but I really, really need you here.

I love you.

Day 271

Han,

I am too too tired to write -cohear- -choere- thoughts that make the full amount of sense.

Happy Birthday.

I had hopes for a much better one for you.

I'm so sorry that we don't have you back still.

I do love you.

Day 300

Han,

I imagine someone in a holo or a Forces of Love novel might write something like, "I can hardly believe it's been three hundred days since I last saw you!" but I have felt every excruciating minute. Even in my distractions, in my busyness, I have felt the gaping wound left by your absence.

I wish you were here for the obvious reasons, but also because you're good at strategizing and we could use all the help we can get. We are no closer to destroying the Death Star than we were previously, which means I get to spend large swaths of my day staring at a holoprojection of it while we try to locate a fault in its construction. The schematic is the stuff of nightmares — literally.

I am not sleeping well, as I'm sure you can imagine.

I can't promise that I would sleep much better even if you were here, but I don't think my sleep would gradually get worse, either, and that is saying something.

We are going to destroy this kriffing thing or die trying, I swear.

I love you.

Day 308

Han,

It is the anniversary of Alderaan's destruction today, and I realized this morning that I have never had to face this day without you. I remember the first year, we wanted you to go on some job or other that would have had you off-planet that day, and you turned it down. I was so mad that you wouldn't just take the damn job because I had to use a less-reliable contractor and you had never turned down a job before. But then the day rolled around, and you had Luke and me over for dinner and you taught us a card game that I'm still not convinced is entirely real. You did the same thing last year, and that was around when I realized Luke's aunt and uncle died the same day that my parents did, at least by the galactic calendar — that week was so chaotic and full of horrible anniversaries, we had never nailed down the exact dates for each other's tragedies before, I suppose. And we both realized you were sticking around base on that day for us, though we swore we'd never mention it to you. I'm clearly doing an excellent job of upholding my end of that pact.

I am selfish. I want you here so you can hold out your arm and say 'C'mere, sweetheart' and I want you here so I have a shoulder to cry on and I want you here so you can tell me it's okay for me to be sick with grief and I want you here so I can stop wondering if you're alive or dead and I just want you here.

I just I want you here.

You know already, but I love you.

Day 314

Han,

We have confirmation that you are on Tatooine. We were unable to intercept you before you were handed off to Jabba. Lando is staying on Tatooine while Chewie returns with the Falcon so we can make a plan. Luke is helping as well, along with Threepio and Artoo. You are a very beloved individual if it isn't obvious.

I do not know how long we will be stationed on Tatooine before we free you, but we will free you. I am not leaving that planet without you alive and well and on your ship. I swear, we will do right by you this time.

We all love you. Me especially.

Day 349

Han,

You're here. You're here. You're here. And the only reason I haven't permanently attached myself to your side is because you need rest if you're to make a full recovery. You're asleep right now, and I thought I might record what happened over the past days so we don't forget. I know you likely won't remember much. I can't imagine what sort of sensory overload you're experiencing right now even with your eyesight in less-than-ideal shape.

I can't believe you're really here.

We've been on Tatooine a mo

They had too much stuff. They barely had anything that hadn't been issued by the Alliance, and Han would later say they needed more stuff so the apartment didn't look so bare, but while they were the ones packing, flying, and carrying crates from Home One to their new place on Coruscant, he remained adamant that they had too many things.

Leia was having way too much fun with his exasperation."We could always hire out. It's basically just a cargo run. I'm sure one of the contractors would be happy to make some extra credits for a side job."

Han, of course, pointed out that he was the contractor she usually went to for cargo runs, and his new role as a commissioned general shouldn't get in the way of that, and did she actually want some random guy packing and moving everything they owned when he was perfectly capable of performing a simple cargo run?

And so they didn't hire out or even ask for help loading the few crates holding their paltry belongings onto the Falcon. The ship's cargo hold was plenty big enough for what they had — they planned to buy furniture planetside, so there weren't many large items in the hold at all — and loading was really a one-being job. When all was said and done, Han realized somewhat sheepishly that he had spent more time complaining about their abundance of items than they spent packing and loading the ship.

Getting unpacked and settled took far more time. First, there was the issue of the furniture: some of it was on backorder, so they had two armchairs but no couch, a mattress but no bed frame, and a shelving unit and desk chair for the office but no desk. The dressers and various tables weren't in the apartment yet, either, which limited what they could unpack right away, and they hadn't even decided which holoprojector they wanted, so there was no distracting themselves in the evening with news or holofilms unless they wanted to crowd around a datapad.

Leia still found a way to keep them both busy at least for a few hours: organizing what could be unpacked right away versus what would need to wait, and working on getting the items in the former category placed around the apartment. Han had finished making the kitchen serviceable enough that they would at least have access to caf and porridge in the morning and was reading over the labels on the remaining crates when Leia pointed to one in particular.

"That one has a few books in it that can go on the shelf in the hall," she said.

Han nodded, though he wasn't sure what books they even owned. He had had a small collection of poorly written paperbacks with nearly destroyed covers that passengers had left on the Falcon over the years, but both he and Leia usually read on datapads. Most of the galaxy read on datapads. The only time he recalled either of them reading a physical book had been on the trip to Bespin. Stuck at sublight for over a month, boredom had set in rapidly, and they had distracted themselves with the poorly written paperbacks, finding the funniest, most dramatic passages they could and reading them aloud to one another.

The crate mainly contained the paperbacks, though how they had migrated from the Falcon to Home One, he wasn't sure. Han placed them on the small, built-in shelf in the hall, deciding to save his questions for later. In addition to the terrible novels, there were a couple of very fragile Alderaanian children's books that he had happened upon shortly after their wedding. He had, he was sure, paid far more than they were worth, but the expression on Leia's face every time she gingerly turned the pages to look through them was worth more than any number of credits. Han carefully lined them up on their own shelf — it seemed insulting to lump them in with the paperbacks — and grabbed the last book in the crate.

It was newer, bound with leather of some sort, and had no title printed on the cover. He flipped to the first page with anything on it and saw his wife's familiar careful script. It looked like a journal of sorts, and Han didn't want to snoop. He had every intention of just shutting the cover until he saw his name written at the top of the page, as if the entry were a letter addressed to him.

Still unsure if he should read it, he carried the journal along with the empty crate to the living room. Leia was slumped in one of the armchairs, eyes closed, clearly tired from the activity of the day. Han set the crate down and dropped the journal on her lap before sitting on the floor and resting his head against her knee.

"What's this?" she asked, fingers stroking his hair absently.

Han glanced up at her. She had yet to open her eyes. "Has your writing in it. Figured you'd know."

Leia's eyes shot open and her expression fell slightly. "Oh." She looked at him. "Did you read any of it?"

He shook his head and kissed her knee lightly. "Looked like a journal. Thought it might be private."

"It is, sort of," she said softly, touching the cover reverently. Her voice held a note of sadness that made Han want to jump into action to find whatever or whoever had caused her to feel so down out of nowhere. She ran her knuckles across his temple affectionately. "I wrote this for you," she said finally. "While you were gone. I was supposed to journal, but I felt silly writing notes to no one, so I wrote to you and thought I might show it to you when we got you back to try to catch you up. But then you had to recover and we had to hurry to Endor and we got married and it's felt like constant busyness ever since. I forgot about it."

Supposed to journal? "Who was makin' you journal?"

Leia wrinkled her nose slightly, a small smile appearing on her lips. "Carlist said he'd only support my request to be involved with your rescue if I went to one of the therapists for awhile after I got back from Bespin." She shook her head. "Think he'd been just looking for an opportunity to get me into therapy."

"It help?" Han asked.

She shrugged. "I think so. Helped me get my thoughts in order when they were jumbled up. I had somewhere to be emotional when I couldn't afford to express those emotions anywhere else. Luke was acting…strangely. I suppose we know why now, but at the time, I didn't feel like I could always talk to him. And I wasn't sure I wanted to talk to him about us right then anyway." She stroked his hair again. "I think therapy helped. I was a little mad that it did, actually." She chuckled softly.

Han was somewhat surprised at the admission. Leia had been adamantly opposed to therapy during much of the war, only seeing the base therapist when it was required by Rieekan or Dodonna after a particularly harrowing mission or battle, but he had occasionally wondered if going without there being a crisis to discuss would help her work through some of what she had experienced in the early days of her Alliance career.

Not that she needs to be fixed or anything. He had always resented the implication that had occasionally been made by others over the years that Leia was in any way not whole or not fully herself because of her time on the Death Star, because of the loss of her planet. Of course she was different than she had been before; she had told him as much herself, and he had assumed it anyway. No one could experience something like that and be unchanged. But she wasn't broken and that, he knew, had been a fear she had harbored about going of her own volition. If she went when it was required by protocol, no one could say a damn thing; if she went on her own, people might think there was something wrong with her, that she wasn't fit to lead. That seemed to be her concern, at least.

Leia slid from her place in the armchair to the floor and climbed sideways into Han's lap, her knees bent and draped over his thigh, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. That was one of the many problems with their current lack of couch: they couldn't sit together very comfortably in any of the available seating in the apartment, which meant a lot of floor and mattress sitting in the meantime. It made Han's back ache after too long, but he could power through if it meant Leia was close. They had been separated far too violently and for far too long over the years, and even with field work winding down for them both, there was still always the chance one of them would be called away for days or weeks at a time. Spending as much time as possible in each other's arms seemed almost imperative to counteract that inevitability.

She gripped the journal to her chest with one arm even as she draped the other over his shoulder. "You can read it if you want," she said, her nose bumping into his neck as she spoke. "But…you know I didn't do well while you were gone. It might be sort of…I'm not sure. Depressing, maybe. I don't remember much of what I wrote."

Han felt a bit queasy considering reading the thoughts of someone he had put through so much pain, but the idea that she had gone through whatever was written in the journal feeling so alone made his heart ache. She shared with him, of course, bits and pieces of how she felt while he was gone, but it had all been expressed after she had him back and with the luxury of both distance and hindsight. He wondered at times if there was a sort of filter colored by the fact that everything had worked out over everything she had told him about the eleven months he had been frozen in carbonite. He wanted to know what she had been through. Even if it hurt to find out.

"D'ya…" He hesitated, unsure. "Is it something we should read together?"

Leia was quiet for so long that Han began to question why he had even asked. Obviously she wouldn't want to relive such an awful time. She already had to relive so many pain-filled events for a variety of reasons: early on, the Alliance had needed details about her experiences in captivity to help paint a clearer picture of how the Empire operated; more recently, she had been talking about attending the war tribunals once they started up; the Alderaanian diaspora wanted to discuss her parents and planet; Luke wanted to talk about their shared heritage. Leia didn't need one more reminder of a time pain had been dropped into her lap.

He was about to take it back, about to tell her she didn't ever need to go back if she didn't want to, when she nodded her head, his shirt bunching beneath her cheek. "That could be…Yes, I think that could be good."

"You sure?" Han asked, wary. "You don't need to, sweetheart."

She lifted her head and looked him in the eye. "I think I want to." She pressed a kiss to his jaw before settling against his chest again. "It'll be okay. You're here with me this time."

Han pulled the journal from her grip and set it on the floor before wrapping both arms around her. Leia sighed contentedly and he leaned back against the chair so he'd be able to hold her a little longer. He wanted to know what she had been through, but delving into the journal could wait. Spending as much time as possible with her in his arms seemed more imperative at that moment.

A/N: Hey, so this was really different from my usual stuff, and yet there was a bunch of Leia angst, so was it actually all that different? Tell me what you think and also if the formatting is driving you crazy. I went back and forth on the formatting a lot, actually, and I'm still not sure if I made good decisions there.

Just a reminder, while I intend to continue cross-posting here, I do also post all of my stories over on Archive of Our Own (AO3) under this username (WalkAwayTall).