Of all the things Han enjoyed not thinking about, money was at the top of the list.
The subject had been a constant worry for most of his life. He didn't have credits; how would he get some? And whenever he did manage to accrue a small sum he always seemed to owe a far larger amount. How would he pay off those debts? For years he had been unable to come up with any satisfactory answers to those questions and yet they only grew more and more insistent. By the time he joined the Rebellion he had resigned himself to shouldering a poverty-induced burden for as long as he lived.
After the war those worries abated somewhat. There had been numerous complications surrounding the funds Leia was entitled to receive as the heiress of Alderaan's royal family, but the money did exist in some form, somewhere. Her parents had had the foresight to store much of their wealth off-planet but cutting a path through all of the official channels to access that wealth proved to be a drawn out endeavor for the newlyweds. For a long time the effort seemed never-ending, just one more headache that refused to resolve itself.
Finally, a year after the war ended, there came a day when they realized that everything that belonged to them actually belonged to them. As in: credits existed in their accounts for their own use; no financial advisors or bank consultants or joint co-signers had any sway over the funds. And although Han wasn't greedy or even particularly interested in the ins and outs of how he might make their money work for them, that day had been a very happy one. At long last his worries were over.
The stash of credits they owned weren't infinite, of course. They still needed their jobs – and obviously they would have jobs; what else would they do with their time and ambitions? – but they never lived paycheck-to-paycheck and could always pay their bills and treat themselves to luxuries without considering the effect on their account balance.
But now... well, now they had technically zero income. Leia's resignation from her job had precluded a severance package, though at one point she had vaguely mentioned to Han something about Mon making sure a few extra paychecks made their way to her. Han had even seen those payments materialize but it had been several weeks since the last one arrived. His clients had mostly delivered what they owed him and he expected a couple more deposits to trickle in, but essentially this was it. They had what they had and if they needed more they'd have to find a way to earn it.
Han was pondering all of this in an environment designed to prompt questions about financial security. Directly behind them stood their private vacation villa, an airy suite with a thatch roof and a wraparound porch that was almost entirely secluded from their neighbors. A small villa, Han reminded himself, but a villa nonetheless. In front of them stretched the green-blue sea of Galmorra which girdled the planet in a wide equatorial band and was dotted with an array of verdant islands. Nearly ninety percent water with the majority of the land undeveloped, Galmorra was a haven for the galactic elite. The diving had been spectacular.
Han glanced over at his wife. Leia was reclined on a beach chair, her eyes no doubt closed beneath her dark sunglasses. She was wearing a one-piece swimsuit with so many cut-outs to showcase her gleaming, sun-kissed skin that a two-piece bikini would have been less revealing.
As if sensing his concern about their finances – and most likely she did sense it, Han knew – Leia turned to him and smiled. "Thank you."
Han reached over and fingered a ribbon of spandex that stretched across her right breast. "For what?"
"For this. For everything."
"You don't have to thank me." He resolved to put the topic of money out of his mind for a while. "Or maybe," he drew his finger lower, "you can thank me properly later."
"Oh I can, can I?"
"Uh-huh. By letting me take this... outfit... off of you with my teeth."
"Would that be before or after our private dinner on the dock?"
"Either. Both."
Leia's smile widened as she turned back to the ocean. Gulls swooped and dove and cawed shrill cries. "Both sounds good to me. If you're up for it, of course."
"When am I not?"
Before she could respond, a shadow settled over their chairs. Han looked up to see one of the resort's many servers, pad in hand. "Sorry for the interruption," the man said. Han thought he didn't look very sorry and may have been discreetly ogling Leia. "Would either of you like to order a drink?"
"Yes, please," said Leia at the same time Han said "No."
The man smiled ingratiatingly. "Whatever the lady wants. Isn't that right?"
It seemed like a remark aimed at Han but he struggled to respond in a way that would be considered polite. "Sure," he said halfheartedly.
"And would you like some food to go with it?" the server inquired.
"Not at this time," Leia responded.
"Very good." The server nodded and started in the direction of the next villa.
"Whatever the lady wants," Han mimicked under his breath.
"Oh, hush. What do you expect at a place like this?"
"Complete and total privacy," Han groused. "And preferably without the cute commentary."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his wife rise from her chair. Slowly, she sauntered over and lowered herself onto his lap. "How about I offer you something else that's cute."
Han toyed with one of her suit's many ties. "Cute's not the word I would use."
"Oh?" This was playful Leia, one of his favorite Leias. "And what word would you use?"
"Doesn't matter. My mouth will be busy doing other things."
Leia laughed and, much to his disappointment, climbed off of Han's chair. "Come with me, Captain Not-Cute." She held out her hand. "Let's find out exactly what you can do with your mouth."
And Han could do nothing else but follow her. The drink could wait. Everything could wait. Wait until what, he wasn't sure. But while he was figuring that out, there were sure to be plenty of enticing distractions in the meantime.
They were in a village in the trees. Despite having visited Kashyyyk twice before, Leia still marveled at that fact: homes and shops and services for the planet's inhabitants had been built and maintained ten, fifteen, even twenty meters up off the ground. Life here was an endless treehouse to explore, and perched in a branch-lined enclosure halfway to the overstory a visitor could look out and see nothing but wood-lined huts, each an echo of those around it. Squinting even further into the distance, the untrained eye could detect no difference between the Wookie-built and the natural, the roots and branches and leaves of the Woshyr forest making any distinction impossible, and after a day or two on the planet the existence of modern cities and starships would no longer be thought possible.
Most of any given day was spent on the move. An interlocking system of paths wound between the huts and knitted the village together: some were of wide wood planking with handsome rails that absorbed the playful tread of Wookie youngsters; others consisted of not much more than braided vines and had to be traversed carefully, fingers and toes clutching swaying tendrils. Living spaces were multistory affairs and there seemed a never-ending system of ladders and ropes going in and out of hidden rooms. It was a gigantic playground, for children and adults alike. You can go days without touching the forest floor.
It was their second week on Kashyyyk and Han and Leia had made themselves at home in a large room in the visitors' section of the village. The six walls of their hut consisted of felled and polished branches that had been mudded together with small windows carved out of them. Wide planks had been sawed and smoothed and laid as flooring. Intricately detailed rugs, woven on one of the several large looms that were shared among the Wookies, surrounded the bed, protecting their feet from the morning chill. The roof was open and airy but the room was protected by a fine-meshed netting and the bed was layered with blankets of various weights for nights both warm and cool. Even though the days were spent elsewhere, Leia's heart lifted on return to that room, one that constituted a private haven in a communal forest.
The buzz around Chewbacca's village centered on the planet's rebuilding efforts. By day schools and homes and trading huts operated as normal; in the evenings, nearly everyone gathered in the common areas where debate about the future stretched into the night. The village was a contained ecosystem and Leia had to remind herself that numerous other villages and cities stretched around the planet. Each had historically governed themselves independently and interacted with their neighbors for trade, but painful experience had revealed the limits of that system. They were stronger together than apart.
The evening debates were the highlight of Leia's days. By now she had a fair knowledge of Shyriiwook – not nearly as comprehensive as Han's, but still respectable for a human – and she and Han frequently participated in the discussions. As Chewbacca's old friends they also interacted with the Wookie governing council but they were still outsiders; respected outsiders, yes, so their opinions would be considered, but the council would make decisions that served the best interest of their planet without especial consideration of other species.
"I'm trying to encourage them to strengthen their relationships with their historical allies," Leia told Han late one night in their room. "They're going to need to hold their friends close if the galactic government turns more authoritarian. We all will."
"You can tell them that." Han pulled off his shirt and debated whether it could be worn for another day. The plumbing and power infrastructure on Kashyyyk tended to be on the rustic side and water was carefully rationed. Long-term visitors usually had a youngster assigned to make sure their needs were met but Han hated to burden Stravi, the energetic cub assigned to them. "But we can't make the decision for them. They'll decide what works best for their planet."
"Yes, but they don't know the extent of the rot," Leia argued. Dressed only in a long shirt, she climbed under the layers of blankets. "Given my experience, I can help them. I want to help them."
"I know, Lei. I know you do. But it's not our planet. It's not our government. They're perfectly capable of using their knowledge and experience to figure things out. It may not be the perfect solution, but no planet or species is capable of that. Life's too complicated for perfection."
Han rarely called her Lei. He used it sparingly, she knew, perhaps as a way to catch her attention. She lay back and stared at the stars through the netting. It had been cloudy the last few days but tonight the sky was deliciously clear. She tried to orient where they were in the galaxy, what star systems they were peering up at, until there was a movement next to her and Han rolled over and kissed her.
The next day Malla and Lumpy returned home. They had been off-planet wrapping up Lumpy's educational term abroad, and there was great celebration in the village when they appeared. Fires roared, songs rang out, and more food and drink than could be consumed by twice the number of Wookies was passed around.
The festivities had died down somewhat after the evening meal. Leia made her way to Malla and Chewie's home where remnants of Lumpy's galactic adventures were strewn around the edges of the rooms. The younger Wookie patted Leia's head and sat down in an oversized chair, anticipating that his Basic-to-Shyriiwook translation would be needed.
It is good to see you, little one.
"You too, Malla." Leia reached in for a hug. "We're happy to be here with your family."
It has been a long time. Too long, perhaps.
It wasn't an accusation, just a statement of fact. There was nothing Leia could say besides the platitudes of time flying by and everyone having busy lives.
Chewie told me of your decision to leave the government. Have you come to regret it?
Leia smiled wryly. Always with the direct questions, this one. She glanced over at Lumpy and thought she detected a knowing look in acknowledgement of his mother's manner.
"No, I haven't," Leia replied. "My work wasn't having the impact I thought it was. In the end, it had no impact at all. I thought – I think – I might be able to find something that fits me better. There are too many parts to the government, too many competing entities, too many beings with opposing aims." She broke off in frustration.
That's always the challenge, isn't it? Anything big must one day fall apart. That's why the debates about our planet are in no hurry to be completed.
"Why is that? Why must everything fall apart?" Leia asked curiously. "Does a start of a new system only begin the decay toward its end?"
Malla looked at her son. Lumpy warbled a few words and Malla nodded.
I do not know. What you say sounds too simple and yet everything dies in the end. It's just a matter of how.
Leia frowned, not sure if she caught the last few words correctly. "A matter of... ?"
The reason for demise.
"I don't know if I agree," Leia said. "Things change, yes. Change is inevitable. And people die, beings die. But does that mean that systems die or disintegrate? Why can't we learn and improve as we go along?"
Because it is not the nature of things.
"How can you be so sure?"
It seems obvious. There will be recovery for a time, good things built on each other, but then the system becomes too heavy. It topples over.
Leia thought about that. She wasn't sure if she understood or if there was actually anything to understand. Maybe inevitable decline was baked into everything, from the smallest particle to the largest galaxy. The laws of physics will cause the universe to expand infinitely, to a state where nothing and no one can exist. Everything follows that path; there is no other way.
Malla bared her teeth in a smile. But my feeble attempt at philosophy does not help you decide what to do with your gifts, does it?
"I keep thinking that something will come to me," Leia admitted. "But I'm not any closer to finding out than when we started."
You need purpose. This was warbled in a firm tone. And meaning.
"The Rebellion was nothing but purpose," Leia said. "And it ended with the best, most improbable result. And look where it got us. Alliances are forming between former Imperials and planets eager to shortcut the slow, painful road to recovery. The democratic processes are being threatened by departments coming up with their own laws that cannot be challenged in court. They are rigging the game and are unapologetic about it. The Senate does nothing as usual. After three years I have run out of options."
You could stay and work. That is an option.
Leia shook her head. "I can't go back," she said softly. "Even if I wanted to. I've burned my bridges and Mon would no longer trust me."
There was a lengthy silence. Leia felt Malla's scrutiny and even Lumpy's interest.
And what does Han think?
"He's supportive. I think he enjoys the freedom of our new lives, of not being tied down to a planet or anything else."
Except to you.
"Well, yes. Except to me. And me to him."
But he wants you to find a new purpose?
"I think so. I'm sure he does. He supports me," Leia repeated.
"Who supports what?"
They turned to the door to see Han and Chewie enter the hut. Chewie was inhaling a long, twisted pipe that expelled smoke just off his left shoulder. Han was bright-eyed, from the fire and drink, Leia presumed.
"You support me," Leia said. She went over and leaned against his side. "You've been wonderful."
"It's been fun," Han said. "This trip. Like a vacation. A long, carefree vacation."
Vacations must come to an end, Chewie intoned.
"Thanks, Professor," Han quipped. "Got any other nuggets of wisdom floating around in that pipe of yours?"
Yes. You should sleep off your drinks.
"Yeah, I figured that one out."
And you both should decide on a path for yourselves.
"We will." Han kissed the top of Leia's head. "When we encounter an opportunity, we'll know it."
"Will we?" Leia questioned.
"Sure. That's the one thing we know how to do. Grab something good and hold on for dear life. Like when you met me." He grinned down at her. "I swept you off your feet and all you could say was I love you, Han, I'll follow you anywhere."
"Yes, that's exactly how it happened." Leia rolled her eyes. "And yet you're the one following me now," she added.
"Well, following your directive, maybe," Han admitted. "But who controls the Falcon's navicomputer?"
"Me, most of the time."
A regular comedy duo you two are, Chewie said drily.
"Sounds like a challenge," Han said. "Maybe we should practice a routine, hit the stand-up circuit. We've got the time, after all."
Chewie waved his paw. Go practice somewhere else. It's late.
"We'll get out of your way," Leia said quickly. "Malla, Lumpy – I'm glad you're back. I'll find you tomorrow. Good night, Chewie."
Good night, little one.
They left, walking slowly along the swaying bridges. Fires dotted the distance and the low hum of Shyriiwook filled the night air.
"I'm gonna say good night to Ragwa and Tanner," Han said. "See you back at the room?"
"Sure." Leia let her hand linger on his arm. "Don't be too long."
She walked a circuitous route, one that had taken her days to discover. Ducking under branches, weaving in and out of open huts, up a staircase and down a ladder, three more turns and then a single step up to the entrance of their hut. She parted the mesh netting and stepped inside. Standing in front of the small mirror that hung on the wall she took down her hair. A shallow bowl held enough water to splash her face and brush her teeth. Suddenly tired, she took off her clothes and pulled on a night shirt.
Consciousness was receding from her when a shadowy figure moved carefully around the bed. Han, she thought, and reached out a hand toward his side of the mattress. His fingers brushed her palm and a few moments later he settled onto his back. She waited for him to say something.
"I'm glad Malla's back," Han said softly. "And Lumpy. Do you think we're intruding on their reunion?"
Leia turned onto her side and slid her hand under the blankets to touch his chest. He was warm and vibrant, his smell familiar even in an environment fragrant with plants and Wookies and all the other aromas of daily life in the forest.
"I think they're happy to see us," she said. "We've never spent so much time here. There was always something else we had to do. Work. Who knows what else."
He turned his head, a ghostly movement in the moonlight. "You must miss it. Work. It'd be weird if you didn't."
She didn't answer for a while. "In some ways, yes. I miss knowing what I needed to do every day. Even on the days when we had surprises and had to figure out solutions to new problems. But I'm also – happy – being here and being able to think about something else for once."
"I never thought you weren't happy, y'know," Han said quietly. "You should have told me if you were."
"I wasn't unhappy," Leia said quickly. "I never could be, unless you and I –." She stopped.
Han rolled onto his side, facing her. "You and me – what?" he asked playfully. "Tell me what obstacles you foresee in our future, oh wise one."
"Oh, shut up. You're drunk."
"No 'm not."
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not. I'll prove it." A large hand landed on her thigh and moved up under the hem of her shirt. He cupped her breast and brushed his thumb over her nipple. His hand was heavy and warm as he touched her and she felt the center of her body being pulled toward the roots of the tree that held them aloft in this bed. She was being pulled down, down, and she didn't want to fight any longer.
I'm tired of fighting. She remembered she had said that years ago but not in reference to her work. The years in the Rebellion had frequently exhausted her, yes, but she had never lost her will to fight the Empire. The only time she had lost her will was when she was fighting the inevitable with Han. And when they finally came together and he asked her how it had happened, what had changed, that is what she had told him: I'm tired of fighting.
And now she didn't have to fight. He was kissing her, his body a reassuring weight on top of hers, and she opened herself to him as she had done so many times before. She drew her hands over his shoulders and down his back and squeezed his buttocks as he entered her. He breathed in her ear, his breath a damp mixture of alcohol and sweat and the sweet-sharp smell of the forest. She kept falling, falling, toward those roots that pulled her down and she offered no resistance to the inevitable collapse when it came.
At long last, she had given up the fight.