The great shield doors gaped open in wait hours longer than they should, and the hangar was freezing, even more so than usual. Two men paced before the opening, blasters held at the ready. They were no match against the blizzard, which encroached inside little by little, forming a snowdrift. Their weapons could do nothing against the wind either, which whistled around the anchored space craft, lifting wings with a shudder.
Chewie had not moved in a long time; not since Leia had asked him to stay with her. He rested his forehead against the landing thruster of the Millennium Falcon, and Leia worried if it was possible to become frozen to it.
He wanted to be out there. He wanted- to die, Leia thought, and she wondered if she was supposed to want that too, and why didn't she.
She hadn't let him. Had even lied to him, that Han said for him to stay with her. At the time, she couldn't let him go. She could now. She saw, now, how she was meant to have nothing.
She felt cold. Lightheaded, dazed. Her thoughts were little more than the swirls of snow tossed about by the storm.
She might die in here.
The air was so cold she thought her nostrils were bleeding. Every time she drew breath the frigid temperature sliced the corners of her nose.
And she was sheltered. Outside-
There was a clatter of tools, and some cursing. Wedge Antillies kicked a generator and the lamp hanging over the snow speeder dimmed for a second. The men were yelling at each other. Nerves were frayed.
Leia checked her chrono. Hours ago since Han had gone out, and the situation had deteriorated as badly as the storm. The hangar was full with extra bodies, pilots and friends who should be at mess or in their quarters, not fussing around a snow speeder like it was on a sick bed.
She kept expecting Han to come back. She kept wondering why he didn't.
Luke was, most likely, dead. She couldn't help having a little bit of hope, but deep down, she knew the facts pointed one way. His last transmission was hours and hours ago, and she would never forgive herself that she had raised the alert far too late.
Apparitions, two men- not the ones she was waiting for- suddenly stood in front of her. She was too cold, too... nothing to gasp, cry, beg or deny, but the officers waited for her to do something. Finally, one spoke, expressions of sympathy and worry on their faces. "Commander Skywalker has still not reported in, Your Highness."
She nodded mutely. She wanted to scream at them, but she lacked the energy and the words. She might die, she realized.
To her face, they called him Commander Skywalker, but he was Luke all other times. Their boss, their colleague. Well-liked for his ability, his humility, and this way to death was-
Well, they all expected different. Only Luke didn't, that his end would be grander, heroic. Not lost in a snow storm.
Unless he had found a cavern, and kept his head and his pack, and was waiting out the storm...
A glimmer of hope warmed, then extinguished just as quickly. If that was the case Han would never find him. That meant it was Han who was dead, he and his weak-lunged tauntaun somewhere on the plains, covered by huge drifts of snow, and they might never recover his body.
If only, Leia prayed. If only out of the darkness, Han Solo came in through the doors, practically sauntering because he was lucky, that dashing conceited smile wide on his face, a shoulder supporting Luke because he was Force-blessed, embarrassed and frostbitten.
One was worse than two. And if she didn't want one, and couldn't bear two, then...
... she would die.
She didn't want to, but she would. Leia was nodding to herself. Languish away. This was heartbreak.
Something spoke. From deep within her. You've had heartbreak before.
Yes, she told the reminder. She remembered it. It was going to kill her then, too. Darth Vader had ordered her brought back to her cell, kindly enough. If heartbreak didn't kill her soon enough, then he would see to it that she was put out of her misery.
And she had lain in her cell, cold and numb then too, and she welcomed death and wondered why it took so long.
But then, Luke came and snatched it away.
You don't need that, he seemed to say. I have something else.
He called it a rescue, but it was something else, visible on her skin. A flush over her cheeks. And her eyes had gleamed.
Life is what he had. Not pulse or breath, but... an energy. She could move. There was fight, determination. She was alive, and she knew it. By the time she met Han out in the corridor exhilaration had banished death.
She was wrong, though, wasn't she? And Leia felt very hurt, that death had let her deceive herself for so long. If she had known she was on borrowed time, she wouldn't have bothered with Luke and Han.
Wouldn't have bothered to love them.
"Your Highness."
It was Major Deklin, come to seal Luke and Han's fate. Leia couldn't meet his eyes.
"The shield doors must be closed," he said as if it pained him.
She gave permission, and told death to wait a moment longer. Let her have this vigil, because Han and Luke meant more to her than they would ever know.
That was a mistake of her life, one she kept repeating. That's what the other deaths taught her. So she would wait the night through, and if they were not found or if they were brought in dead, then she would go to her quarters and settle herself on her cot like she had in her cell, and when they came to check on her later Princess Leia would be dead.
She had died, finally, of a broken heart.