CW: Past character death mentioned, blood
Happy May the Fourth! In honor of the day, I'm posting this chapter a whole day early :D.
It was strange, the way the definition of endless shifted with age and experience. When Leia was a small child, she'd thought any event where she was just expected to smile and wave and keep mischief to a minimum felt endless. She could still recall a few school lessons and Senate hearings that had given her a new appreciation for the idea. The mind probe on the Death Star had been, she was certain, the true definition of the word; it seemed to make events fold in on themselves, distorting everything about her sense of time and space. Every moment during the mind probe had felt truly endless at the time. She still wasn't sure how long the entire exercise lasted.
The rain on Renatasia was actually endless, though. It was getting to her. Leia liked thunderstorms in moderation, and Renatasia had thunderstorms in moderation. They just unfortunately tended to transition quickly into ceaseless, quiet rain showers that lasted days or even weeks at a time. In the four months spent establishing an outpost on the planet, she had seen a cloudless sky for a grand total of fifteen hours stretched over one afternoon and one evening, weeks apart. Both times, she'd sought relief from her responsibilities in order to sit outside and enjoy the rare weather; both times, she'd ended up on the roof of the Millennium Falcon with Han and Luke, hoping to remain undetected by anyone on the ground who might be looking for her.
Her need for their presence — Han, Luke, even Chewie — had grown unexpectedly with the move, but she wasn't sure how to express exactly how much she depended on their being around and available without sounding entirely soft. Leia had a couple of other friends on base — Shara and Wedge, mainly — but overall, her relationship with the rank was fraught. They mostly respected her, but she knew many didn't like her, and a fair few seemed scared of her. The sharp and immediate divide joining High Command had caused only reinforced just how much she needed the friends she had.
On the third instance of a cloud-free sky on Renatasia, Leia walked up the ramp of the Falcon, rapping on the hull with her knuckles as she entered the ship. "Han?" she called, glancing around for the ship's captain as she made her way through the corridor.
"Cockpit!" he answered.
Leia followed his voice to the small cockpit where he was surrounded by parts from a half-dismantled control panel. "What in the…?"
Han turned to look at her, the tiny headlamp he wore nearly blinding her in the process. He turned the headlamp off a few seconds after she began squinting. "Just gettin' some things in shape. Need something?"
Leia bit her lip, suddenly a bit nervous to ask for something so silly. But they'd done it twice already, and she felt like she was about to lose her mind if she couldn't get away from beings asking her questions for a few minutes. "It's a Dry Day," she said. "I was thinking—wondering if—" She glanced up without finishing her sentence.
He nodded once. "Yeah, you can head on up if you want."
Leia hesitated, wondering if he really intended to let her sit up on top of the ship by herself. "Wouldn't mind company," she said before hastily adding, "Luke's on a mission," as if she wouldn't have wanted Han along otherwise. She didn't know why she did that; she just knew that admitting she wanted him around out loud didn't always feel safe.
The slightest hint of a frown flickered over Han's face before he nodded. "Sure. I'll be up in a few."
Leia exited through the hatch that led to the top of the Falcon and sat. She rolled her sleeves and pant legs up and closed her eyes, drinking in the sunlight while it remained unobscured. When Han settled down next to her a few minutes later, she opened one eye to peer at him curiously. Something seemed off about his entire demeanor. He was hesitant and antsy all at once. Leia didn't like it.
Han held two long-neck bottles full of fizzy, pink liquid. Leia couldn't see the labels, but the bottles looked very much like…There's no way.
Han handed one of the chilled bottles to her without a word and Leia's breath caught in her throat. "Where…" She trailed off. It didn't matter where he'd gotten it, not really. He'd managed to find sparkling starblossom juice, something she'd only ever seen on Alderaan. Leia felt tears threaten to spill from her eyes. She swallowed the lump of emotion that had formed in her throat and looked at Han directly. "Thank you. This is one of my favorites."
It wouldn't have mattered if it had been her most-hated drink; Leia would have cherished anything from home. But, this was significantly better. Anything starblossom-flavored had been a favorite of hers. Her father always said that Leia must have gotten her preference for the fruit from her mother; Breha had loved it, too.
"They said it was authentic, but you never can tell who's just tryin' to make a credit," Han said, already downplaying whatever effort it had taken to procure the two precious bottles.
"I feel like I should save it for a special occasion or something."
Han scoffed good-naturedly. "Sweetheart, you're in the middle of a war you declared on the Empire. Think every day you're still alive is a special occasion."
His words, sarcastic though they were, rang true. Leia nodded slowly. "Can't argue with that."
"I got two bottles. Why don't you drink that one now and save this," He wiggled the bottle he held in the air, "for your special occasion?"
She frowned. "Oh, I thought it was for you."
Han shrugged. "Don't even know if I like it. Would hate to waste it."
Leia pulled the knife from her boot — she'd hung onto it even after being issued a blaster, and Han hadn't asked for it back — and used the spine to pop the cap off the bottle. She shoved the cap in her pocket before turning her full attention to the drink. The light scent of starblossoms flooded her nostrils and she felt the same tears she'd forced back moments prior attempt to make an appearance again.
She offered Han the first sip and, when he began to refuse, all but shoved the bottle into his empty hand. "I want to share it with someone," Leia insisted. He took the smallest taste humanly possible before handing the drink back to her.
"It's nice," he said.
Leia took her own sip, allowing the fizzy, sweet juice to sit on her tongue for a moment longer than usual before swallowing. She closed her eyes and laughed. "If this isn't real, it's a damn fine counterfeit," she said. She looked at Han again. "I don't know if I even want to know where you found this, but thank you."
He shrugged. "Underground marketplace on our last run. No sketchier than anyone else you've bought supplies from."
Leia frowned, the implication of his words sinking in. "These weren't purchased with Alliance funds, right?"
Han feigned an injured expression, placing his hand over his heart. "Your Worship, I would never." He chuckled. "I bought 'em myself. Not that I think it'd be misappropriating funds for them to buy a coupla juices for you considering everything you do around here."
She smiled again, relieved that she wouldn't have to fight him on that point, and took another small sip of juice, savoring it for as long as she could. She tilted the bottle in his direction, another offer to share. She thought he might try to argue, to give some reason she should drink the entire thing, but to her surprise, he took another sip from the bottle. She was glad. Sharing a piece of home with someone who'd cared enough to bring it to her in the first place felt better than experiencing it alone.
"Thank you," she said again. "This means a lot."
Han shrugged. "Wasn't any trouble."
Of course it wasn't.
Leia looked over the outpost. From their elevated spot, she could see the rows of tents in the distance, the shelters that had been erected to serve as mess halls and meeting spaces, the other ships nearby, Chewie heading toward the Falcon carrying some ship part. After a few moments of passing the bottle back and forth, the quiet between Han and herself struck her as odd — and not in a pleasant surprise sort of way. Leia tried to break it, to make things feel normal.
"I'm leading my first mission as an official Alliance member," she said. "Next week."
"Congratulations," Han said. Distracted as he was, he seemed to really mean it. "What nightmare they have you heading into?" He paused. "If you're allowed to say."
"It's not confidential," she said.
"Notice you didn't say it isn't a nightmare."
Leia chuckled. "I need a pilot." She looked at him pointedly. "For a scouting mission for the new permanent base."
Han hesitated. "I'm sure Luke would jump at that chance."
She shook her head, his aversion to acknowledging what they both knew she was getting at giving her pause. "I need someone who's good enough to land blind in a blizzard."
Han raised his eyebrows and finally met her gaze. "Oh, yeah? Why d'ya need someone that skilled for a scouting mission?"
Leia tapped her finger against the bony protrusion of her wrist. "Because the likelihood of us having to land blind in a blizzard is quite high."
He didn't question her on the mission any further, but she noticed him hesitate for a long time again. "When'd you say this is happening?"
"About a week from now. Why, do you have conflicting plans or something?"
"Or somethin'," Han muttered, brows knit together. The expression on his face said more than he seemed able to. Leia's stomach dropped and her mouth went dry. This is it. By the time he spoke again, she was already shaking her head in disbelief. "Look, Leia—"
"You're leaving," she said softly, a bitter note in her voice. "Aren't you?"
He nodded. "Yeah, we're gettin' ready to go. Probably tomorrow. Next day at the latest."
She squinted at him. "When were you planning on telling me?" she demanded. Realization hit her and she stared at him, anger beginning to stir in her belly. "When were you planning on telling Luke? He's off-planet for at least three more days."
Han seemed unable to articulate his defense quickly. It took quite awhile before he said, "Luke'll be fine."
"You weren't going to say anything, were you? To either of us." He made no attempt to deny it, so she continued. "So, what, you were wanting this to be like a last hurrah without me knowing? We drink juice and talk, and you leave without saying goodbye?"
Han didn't answer right away, but he didn't need to. The way he avoided making eye contact with her said plenty.
Betrayal. That was the only word to describe what she felt. Han and Chewie had been around for seven months and he had planned on just leaving without notice?
"I didn't want anyone making a big deal outta anything."
"Unbelievable," she spat. "That is low, Solo."
"Leia, you'll be fine without us," he assured her. "You're more than fine already."
She wouldn't be and she wasn't, but it wasn't a safe time to admit that. "I handle outpost and personnel resources," she said cooly. "I should have been notified."
Han set his jaw, but Leia couldn't help but notice the look of guilt that flickered across his face. "I'm not personnel. Rieekan's in charge of contractors."
Leia stared at him. She'd begun to tremble, the heat of panicked fury flashing through her body. "Okay, well, how about we're friends and most people let their friends know if they're planning on never seeing them again." She stood, shaking her head and gripping the empty juice bottle so tightly, her fingers began to throb.
"Well, you know now," Han said irritably.
An enraged squeak exited Leia's mouth before she was able to compose herself. She hated how worked up she was, how the mere idea of Han and Chewie leaving placed her heart and lungs in an ever-tightening vice while the smuggler remained apparently unaffected.
Leia shifted her weight from foot to foot, unable to keep still. "I know because I guessed. That's not—that's not how you treat friends, Han. It's not even how you treat coworkers, disappearing without a word."
Han pursed his lips. He was still avoiding eye contact. "You'll notice we work alone."
She snorted, exasperated by…whatever this sudden attitude from the man was. "Fine. Whatever. Thanks for the juice." She set the empty bottle next to his feet and walked quickly to the hatch, willing the tears she could feel gathering to at least wait until she was out of Han's sight before falling.
She avoided Chewie as she left the ship, vowing to find him before they left for good, and headed toward the temporary structure that sheltered the mess hall from rain and sun alike. She busied herself fixing caf, buying herself some time to think of the next thing to do. The outpost therapist would call it avoidance, her always looking to the next thing without pause, but Leia hadn't actually gone to a therapy session since they'd become optional so what she would or wouldn't call it seemed irrelevant.
Han and Chewie…gone. Leia found it difficult to imagine. They had been around since her life's path had been altered, since everything had changed. As much as she'd wished Han away in the weeks right after Yavin, she'd grown to like having them both around. Han had never treated her like some precious thing, hadn't acted like she was broken or damaged, even knowing all the sordid things she'd spilled to him in her sleep-deprived state right after the medal ceremony. He'd tease her and argue with her like he did anyone, and she liked that; it felt honest. And Chewie, while he possessed more tact than Han, was always good for a frank opinion or a good laugh. Leia had eaten most of her meals with the two smugglers when they were on-base, had an open invitation to the Falcon, had gone on a couple of runs with them and had hoped to go on more. Thinking of them being gone with no expected return date caused her heart to twist.
Why wouldn't he tell me? she wondered. The thought ate at her. Han had never acted as if she couldn't handle something. The only time she recalled him doing something even close to that had been the night Col had died, when he'd shielded her, Luke, and half the camp from what had reduced Tycho to a sobbing, mumbling mess. She'd been mad about it a few days later and had confronted Han, irritated that he'd dictated what she did and didn't want to see.
"Leia, I wish I hadn't seen 'im like that. There are some things you can't unsee; they stick with you forever. That woulda been one of yours."
She'd let it go, in part because Tycho had later confirmed that seeing Col haunted him. She understood why Han hadn't wanted anyone near the man's body unless absolutely necessary. This, though, hiding that he was leaving them? This, she didn't understand.
Leia seethed as she sipped the lukewarm caf and walked back to the Command office. The feeling of betrayal lingered, piercing her chest and burrowing into her heart. We're friends. Aren't we? We're friends and he wasn't going to tell me he was leaving.
It hurt. She didn't want to admit it, but it hurt.
She spent the rest of the afternoon and evening at a desk with a datapad in hand, reworking plans for her scouting mission. She needed the mission to go well. Her last big mission, the last thing she'd been entirely in charge of, had ended in her capture with millions of people dead. Her very first unofficial Alliance mission had ended with Kier Domadi dying in her arms. There had been a fair few successful missions in between the two, but Leia couldn't shake the weight of all of the lives lost. She needed this mission to Hoth to end with everyone alive and well, and she'd been counting Han piloting to make sure that happened.
She had time to get another pilot, but barely. She could probably manage the trip to Hoth herself, though landing would prove difficult if they ended up in a blizzard, which seemed likely by all accounts. The problem was that she didn't want another pilot.
Well, you need a pilot and the one you want isn't available, so you need to get it together and find a different one, Organa. Han had been right; Luke would likely be fine with the trip. He was on the scouting team anyway. Though Luke probably hasn't even seen snow. Maybe Wedge? He'll be there…
The dinner hour passed her by, and Leia could practically hear her mother sighing in that way that somehow simultaneously conveyed concern and irritation. She took a moment to promise herself and the memory of Breha two ration bars when she returned to her bunk to make up for the missed meal before returning to working through mission details again.
Someone entered the office and Leia wondered briefly if Han had decided to apologize before looking up. Shara grinned at her, swaying ever-so-slightly. Leia smiled at her friend.
"There's cake for birthdays," Shara said, easing the datapad out of Leia's grip and setting it on the desk. "You should come celebrate."
"My birthday was five months ago."
Shara rolled her eyes and tugged on Leia's hand. "I know, but my birthday is this month and my one wish is that my friend would come eat cake with me instead of working herself to death."
"Your one wish?" Leia eyed her suspiciously. "Your husband is stationed at another outpost, and your one wish is that I eat cake?"
"Maybe I've had a few one wishes." Shara grinned again. Her eyes were a little glassy, and Leia wondered how much of the Rogue's jetjuice had already been consumed that night.
She checked the time. It was later than she'd thought — overnight shift had already started. She supposed the mission details could wait until morning; she couldn't finalize them until her entire team was planetside, anyway. Leia stood and allowed Shara to pull her by the wrist out to the makeshift mess hall.
A light mist had begun, though it wasn't enough to deter birthday revelers from standing outside the mess with their cake and the cups that, as far as Leia was concerned, were filled with very standard, boring juice that just happened to smell as if it could take the paint off an X-wing. She and the generals had all agreed that, as long as no one's duties were affected, they didn't need to investigate the source of the standard, boring juice. They'd never officially say such a thing, though, which meant Leia got to watch everyone make amusingly clumsy attempts to hide their alcohol as she walked by.
Whoever was playing music must have set up speakers near the cake, because it only seemed to get louder the farther Leia followed Shara into the mess hall. She found that she had to practically yell to be heard.
Shara shoved a plate into Leia's hands. "I have procured cake," she shouted over the music. She made no attempt, clumsy or otherwise, to hide her cup from Leia. It was nearly full.
"Your liver is going to go on strike if you drink all of that," Leia said drily before taking a bite of cake.
"It's mostly water," Shara said, wrinkling her nose. "I figured out a three-to-one ratio of water to juice means I don't feel like dying in the morning."
"Smart," Leia said. "Can't taste great, though."
"Oh, it tastes terrible no matter what." Shara continued to lead Leia to a corner where a group of pilots were laughing uproariously. "I have procured a princess," Shara announced as they broke into the crowd.
'Procured' is the word of the night, apparently, Leia thought. Shara became surprisingly verbose when she had jetjuice in her system, but tended to pick a word or two that she would use repeatedly all evening.
The pilots whose circle they invaded all smiled and nodded at Leia, but she noticed the change in atmosphere immediately. Whatever story was being told suddenly sounded stilted, wary glances were thrown her way by everyone aside from Shara and Wedge, the laughter was quieter, less carefree. And everyone kept trying to hide the contents of their kriffing cups.
Leia didn't want to be rude, didn't want to give the impression that she was itching to get away from everyone, but she was, in reality, itching to get away from everyone. She finished her cake, waited for Shara to finish hers, and used the excuse of returning their plates as an out. If her absence was questioned later, she could just say she got caught up in something and never found her way back to the group that clearly didn't want her around.
Usually during social gatherings, Leia stuck with the few Alliance members who knew her — Luke, Shara, Wedge, sometimes Tycho — but they all eventually wanted to join larger groups, groups that viewed her with suspicion when it came to socializing. That was when Han rescued everyone. By the time the others wanted to socialize with the rest of the rank, Han had made his rounds, reestablishing himself as the charming, well-liked contractor, and was free to talk with Leia without dragging her into a situation that made everyone involved uncomfortable. He said it was important for him to stay out of the fray since he wasn't really one of them, that the kids needed to bond amongst themselves without an outsider hovering around. It was the same reasoning Leia used when leaving social functions early; the only difference was that the rank wanted Han to stay.
She didn't see him or Chewie around at all this time. Probably getting ready to leave, she thought bitterly. Still, they should have cake. She could be mad and still make sure they got cake. Everyone was supposed to get cake.
Leia collected two more slices of cake and headed in the direction of the Falcon. The mist caused a chill to run down her spine and made short wisps of hair cling to the back of her neck. She heard a low rumble of thunder and looked at the sky. Clouds were gathering. Rain would start up again soon. Maybe there'll be too much lightning to take off tomorrow and the next day, she dared to hope.
It occurred to her as the Falcon came into view that the ramp might be up, that Han and Chewie might've turned in already if they were planning an early day, and she wasn't sure what she'd do if that were the case. I guess I can eat their cake and call it dinner, she thought wryly.
Thankfully, the ramp was still down and she could see light pooling on the ground from the ship's entrance. She bit her lip, hesitating. It felt like she was apologizing, but she wasn't. She had nothing to apologize for. She just wanted to make sure everyone who was owed cake got cake. That was all.
She debated calling their names as thunder rumbled again, reminding her that she only had so much time before she'd be caught in a downpour. She couldn't stand at the edge of the ramp all night. But picking a name to call felt strange. She didn't want to call for Han, to imply in any way that she wasn't still furious with him, but calling only for Chewie seemed passive-aggressive. She settled on a simple, "Hello?" as she walked up the ramp.
Leia hesitated at the top of the ramp, having heard no answer to her call. She had just opened her mouth to call out another greeting when Han walked into the main corridor, wiping grease from his hands with a rag. His expression remained virtually unchanged when he saw her, though Leia noticed his eyes narrow slightly.
"I didn't see you at the birthday thing and wanted to make sure you got cake," Leia said, discovering immediately how difficult it was to maintain sounding furious while offering someone slices of cake.
"Figured since we're on our way out…" Han shrugged.
"We budgeted for the contractors to have cake." It was a lame excuse, but Leia was determined to hold onto both her dignity and her fury. Though, hiding behind the we was unnecessary; Han knew she was the one who handled resources when it came to personnel. She forged ahead and reiterated, "You should both have cake."
Han sighed and waved her in, heading toward the lounge with the obvious implication that she should follow. "Chewie's out huntin', but I'm sure he'll be glad to see you if you want to hang around 'til he gets back."
"Oh." This was not going the way Leia had imagined. She had planned to drop the cake and leave. But she'd wanted to see Chewie before they left for good… "Okay. Maybe."
He glanced back at her as they entered the lounge. "You don't hafta. I can tell him to go find you when he's done. He wants to see you."
Leia's heart ached for what felt like the millionth time that day. "No, I can stay," she said, setting the slices of cake on the holochess table. "I want to see him too."
Han gestured for her to sit, so she did, settling in as far away from where she'd placed the cake as possible. She was about to question why he was taking such a long time to join her when he slid a bowl of stew in front of her and took his place at the other side of the table.
Leia raised an eyebrow and looked at him, seconds away from protesting when her stomach betrayed her entirely by growling loudly enough that Chewie probably heard it hunting deep in the woods.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," Han muttered. "Didn't see you at dinner."
Leia took a bite of the stew without acknowledging the comment. "This about to expire?" she teased, forgetting if only for a moment that she was supposed to be furious with him.
He smirked and shook his head, swallowing a bit of cake. "Oh, no, this time you're taking that straight out of a Wookiee's mouth."
Leia let her spoon drop into the bowl. She didn't want to take something meant for Chewie. She'd already eaten cake and had ration bars in a crate under her bunk. That had been her plan for dinner; she could stick with her original plan.
Han seemed to read her conflicted expression well enough. He shook his head. "Leia, I'm teasin'. I keep some of the pouch stuff heating when Chewie's hunting in case he doesn't find anything. There's plenty of it. It's not exactly gourmet cooking."
Leia still hesitated. She really was hungry, and if there was plenty...But should she be taking so much from a contractor? It had felt different when she'd thought them friends, when she'd assumed Han had considered her a friend, but she wasn't sure where they stood. Not telling her he was leaving…that wasn't friend behavior.
She took another bite of stew, but followed it with, "I can pay you back. For the stew, and the juice earlier."
Han's expression changed from pleased to wounded so quickly, Leia barely caught the transition. "Don't need you to pay me back for anything."
"I don't want it to seem like I'm getting kickbacks."
"Kickbacks?" Han sputtered. He sounded genuinely offended. "They were gifts for a friend, not kickbacks, Princess."
"A friend," Leia said flatly, "who you weren't even going to say goodbye to. That sort of friend."
"Never said I was a good friend."
Leia rolled her eyes and shook her head. Unbelievable.
Silence hung between them; not the comfortable, friendly silence of comrades who didn't feel the need to fill the quiet with empty words, but the tense, angry silence of those who had a lot to say and not many kind words with which to say it. Leia didn't want to leave, didn't want to chance missing Chewie, but she wasn't sure how much of this sort of silence she could take.
Han broke it in the worst way possible. "Why aren't you eatin' cake with your rebels?"
She glowered at him. He knew why. "I think they prefer that I keep my distance," she said tersely when it became clear he would continue to wait for an answer indefinitely.
"Shara kept yelling that she was going to 'procure the princess' loud enough that I could hear her over here. Someone wanted you around."
"Shara's been drinking jetjuice. She's not in the right headspace to notice I'm not exactly liked among the rank."
"Don't think anyone dislikes you."
Leia gave him a withering look. "Varner Coy actively despises me."
"Varner Coy doesn't like anyone who doesn't immediately agree with him on everything. His standards are unreasonable. The rest of 'em…" Han shrugged. "It's just an authority thing, sweetheart. They don't want Mom looking over their shoulder when they're trying to have a good time."
"I think some of them are scared of me."
Han laughed. "You think?"
She rolled her eyes and chuckled. "All right, I know some of them are scared of me."
Silence returned, this time not quite as tense, but still not quite comfortable. Leia ran her thumbnail lightly over her knuckle as she ate more of the stew in front of her, only daring to glance at Han every minute or so. He was looking at her, but she felt as if he didn't fully see her, as if he were deep in thought.
Finally, he cleared his throat. "I don't think Luke'll be able to land in a blizzard safely. Kid's never even seen snow."
Leia raised her eyes to meet his, hating that his concerns matched her own so well. "My options are somewhat limited, but Wedge is on the team I'm taking, so he's a possibility. Did you have someone in mind?"
"I'll take the job. I've landed on Jekara during a snow squall before. Can't be worse'n that."
Leia stared at him, speechless, trying to work out if she could trust him to see the job through. He's never not finished a job he started, she thought, which was true. He hadn't backed out of anything he'd agreed to so far.
She was apparently stunned for long enough to give Han doubts. "If it's still on the table," he added. "Don't wanna take something that's been promised to somebody else."
Leia snorted. As if anyone is fighting to fly on this mission, anyway. "It's still on the table," she said. "I'm just surprised. Since you said you're leaving tomorrow and all."
Han shrugged. "What's one more job?" he said. Leia couldn't stop herself from smiling as she finished off her stew.
They were the second group headed to Hoth, only a month behind the first band of scouts and naturalists from Home One. The planet had been given initial approval for further exploration and planning for the new permanent base. There were, from what the scouts could tell, limited flora and fauna, no sentients, and —perhaps most importantly — no assassin bugs. Hoth had been plunged into an ice age for centuries according to the naturalists, and there was no end to it in sight, which meant carving a base out of a massive glacier wasn't out of the question. It had also been successfully scrubbed from Imperial records by Alliance slicers. No one, Leia had been assured, would look for them there.
Her chosen team consisted of Han and Chewie, of course, plus Luke, Wedge, Kell Tolkani — a naturalist, Shara's husband, Kes Dameron — a pathfinder, and, because the Force or fate or possibly Carlist Rieekan had the worst sense of humor imaginable, Varner Coy was added last-minute for extra field medicine support allegedly because he had experience with treating frostbite.
Kes had been on Renatasia only two days before they had to set off for Hoth, and during those two days, Leia had seen Shara exactly twice during off-duty hours. Understandable. The idea of being married to someone stationed elsewhere in such dangerous and uncertain situations sounded unbearable to Leia. If she were in Shara's shoes, she'd also make herself scarce if she had the chance to be with her husband.
She liked seeing them together at meals or on-duty, though she had to admit to herself that their easy way with one another made her heart ache. They reminded her of her parents a little, the way they teased each other good-naturedly and looked at each other with obvious adoration. Leia had once sworn to eschew any thoughts of future romance until her work in defeating the Empire was done, but there were times when the work seemed never-ending and the idea of never having what others had seemed like her lot in life. She knew she'd likely die before the war was over, and she'd do so alone. Seeing the sweet companionship her friend had sparked a bit of envy deep inside.
Leia had to shut that line of thinking down quickly. She had a mission to lead to a planet everyone was going to complain about while commanding at least one lieutenant who openly disliked her and relying on a pilot who, if she was completely honest, she still felt betrayed by; there were much bigger issues at hand than romantic envy.
Extra bunks had to be added to one of the Falcon's cargo holds. Han had them stored away — he said they originally belonged in his cabin back before he'd rearranged half the interior of the ship to accommodate more cargo. Leia offered to sleep in the crew cabin or the now-converted cargo hold. Han just shrugged, said she could do whatever she wanted, but he'd be up in the cockpit either way, so his cabin was up for grabs.
She took his cabin before anyone else knew it was an option. She felt selfish, but she was the only woman in a group of men and she was the only member of Command. She might need the privacy to feel at ease enough to sleep. She might need to work on something confidential. She might need the notes written mostly in scrawly Corellian on the bulkhead next to the bunk to remind her that she was on the Falcon and not in a locked cell when she inevitably woke in the middle of the night, breathless and disoriented from fighting mind probes in her dreams.
Leia didn't always have nightmares — their frequency varied wildly, though she was pretty sure it had gone down overall — but she almost always had nightmares in space. The first one woke her within three hours of falling asleep the first night, the series of detonations rocking Kier's starcutter paralyzing her, the blood raining down on her face coupled with the agonized cries of her parents, aunts, and cousins jolting her awake. Leia lay frozen and gasping, eyes flitting around the cabin for something, anything to help her ground herself. She settled on reading a line of coordinates over and over until her muscles relaxed enough for her to move.
Six-four-four-point-three-eight-six, negative six-seven-three-point-two-seven-four.
Six-four-four-point-three-eight-six, negative six-seven-three-point-two-seven-four.
Six-four-four-point-three-eight-six, negative six-seven-three-point-two-seven-four.
She took a deep, shuddery breath, wiped the tears that had accumulated in her eyes with her palms, and sat up. There would be no more sleep that night.
Leia dressed and took the time to pin the two long braids she'd worn to bed around her head. She could at least look put-together, even if she felt anything but. She took a look at herself in the small mirror in Han's cabin. She was pale, and the dark circles under her eyes had somehow worsened despite the fact that she had slept a few hours, but she was passably neat.
When she palmed open the cabin door, she stood face-to-face with Luke. Leia stifled a surprised yelp and Luke startled, a pink flush traveling up his neck to his face. "Sorry. Sorry. I swear I wasn't just standing—" He cut himself off and started over. "I thought I heard—Something seemed wrong. I was about to knock. Sorry."
Leia waited for Luke to finish interrupting himself before responding. She leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest, heart pounding. She forced a calm tone to try to counteract the adrenaline coursing through her body. "How did something seem wrong?"
Luke hesitated. "Sometimes—Most of the—Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night for no reason and…You're not gonna believe me."
"Try me."
"I wake up in the middle of the night for no reason sometimes, and it's always when you've had a nightmare. I'll hear you scream a minute later, or sometimes you'll mention it the next morning, or I can just tell…I don't know why. It doesn't make sense. I think it's the Force maybe."
"You wake up whenever I have a nightmare?" Leia asked, feeling more guilt than disbelief.
Luke shook his head. "I don't think I wake up every time. But every time I do wake up, it's when you've had one, yeah." He looked her in the eye, hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"
She nodded. "I'm—I'll be fine. Just have a lot on my mind. Space makes them worse." When Luke offered a hug, she embraced him tightly.
He suggested a game of dejarik and Leia obliged, glad to have something to focus on other than her dreams and the mission. She couldn't risk getting caught in a thought spiral, not when she was responsible for the team's wellbeing, but she didn't want to be taken be surprise, either. She was fairly certain she'd already examined every possible outcome of the mission, every known variable, but the need to think through every possibility from start to finish again was strong.
"How'd you get so good at this?" Luke muttered after Leia won twice in a row. "You were terrible a few months ago."
Leia chuckled. "Chewie and I play sometimes. I've gotten some practice in."
Luke raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You play with Chewie?"
She shrugged. "No one else will."
"Can't imagine why," he responded sarcastically. "I know when I threaten to pull someone's arms off every time I lose, it makes people want to play with me more."
Leia laughed. "He's never threatened me. And he wouldn't actually."
"Han said—"
"Han says a lot of things," she interrupted, failing to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
Luke pursed his lips. "Okay, what is going on with you two?"
Leia moved one of her pieces, blocking Luke's play. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You're mad; that much is obvious."
She blinked a few times before saying, "Your move."
"He's been—I don't know, vacillating between seeming normal and acting contrite, and you're somehow the catalyst. He hasn't been like that when you're not around."
Leia set her jaw and stared at the holochess table. Luke still hadn't moved. The pieces flickered before disappearing entirely. Leia lifted her head and glared. "You can't just end a game because you're losing," she said.
"I'm ending the game because you're using it to ignore me."
Leia stared at Luke, working to maintain a neutral expression. He seemed unwilling to break. "He was going to leave without telling us," she said. "Doesn't that bother you?"
Luke shrugged. "'Course. I yelled at him about it. I kind of get it, though."
She narrowed her eyes. "You 'get it'?"
"He's not used to this sort of…" Luke waved his hands around vaguely. "Being with the same people all the time. He usually just picks up and leaves because no one would miss him." He paused. "He said you were being really confusing, getting mad and then bringing him cake. I thought maybe you were trying to apologize for something when he mentioned the cake but he said—"
Leia held up a finger in protest. "That wasn't apology cake; that was anger cake." Luke scoffed. Leia scowled. "What?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. Just, when Han said 'it seemed like angry cake', I said that wasn't a thing. I stand corrected."
Leia had nothing more to say and Luke asked no more questions, so she switched the dejarik table back on and waited for him to make his move. After three games, he was practically falling asleep sitting up. Leia urged him to go to bed and he obliged, suggesting she do the same. She made a mug of caf instead.
She read the mission plans from start to finish again, attempting to find any holes, any potential problems with controllable variables, anything that might lead to someone's death. She saw nothing glaring, but she didn't trust herself. She'd written it; she'd read it a thousand times; it would be easy for her to miss something.
When Han walked into the lounge, Leia barely glanced at him. She wondered briefly if he'd had any sleep yet. Not really my business, she reminded herself. Han could handle himself. He always did.
He set something on the table in front of her in much the same way that he'd slid the stew beneath her nose a week prior. Leia looked from her datapad to the object. Her—his—the knife she'd had for the past five months sat in its sheath, the handle appearing newly polished.
"You left it up on the roof," Han said as he pulled a mug out of a cabinet and headed to the caf machine.
Leia wanted to ignore him, ignore the knife, ignore everything that wasn't perfecting the mission, but she found herself handling the familiar weapon, removing it from its sheath briefly. The blade had been cleaned and sharpened as well; some nicks she'd noticed along the edge were gone.
"It's your knife, not mine," she said, shoving the blade back in the sheath. She pushed the knife across the table in Han's direction and picked up her datapad again.
"That's right," he said casually. "You'll have to give it back before I go." He walked closer to the table, mug of caf in hand.
"You'd better keep it, then," Leia said coolly, refusing to look up. "I'm not kept in the loop when it comes to such issues."
Han slid the knife back toward her. "Leia," he said quietly. He sounded so genuine, she felt the need to meet his gaze. "Why don't you hold onto it and I'll let you know when I need it back?"
She swallowed and nodded, running her fingers over the veda pearl handle. "Don't make me a thief, Han Solo."
He smiled and patted her shoulder awkwardly before heading back toward the cockpit.
The remainder of the flight was more or less uneventful, though Leia seemed to get less sleep each night. She took the time to review general blizzard safety and first aid with the group. She'd tried enlisting Varner to help with the frostbite prevention instructions, but his reticence was palpable. Han ended everyone's discomfort by stepping in instead. He'd actually seen and successfully treated frostbite and hypothermia at some point, which was more than the majority of the group could claim.
While the trip itself went smoothly, landing on Hoth was an exercise in not panicking from start to finish. Leia sat in the seat behind Han as they descended straight into a blizzard, alternating between screwing her eyes shut while biting the knuckle of her forefinger and watching Han and Chewie carefully for any signs that they were worried. They never seemed to panic, at least not in the way Leia occasionally experienced when all thoughts were taken over by feelings and logical thought slipped from her mind entirely. She wondered what it would take for them to both lose control.
Then again, Han operates almost entirely on instinct. Maybe he's always taken over by feelings.
When the Falcon was finally on solid ground, Han exhaled loudly. I wonder if he was panicking more than I thought, Leia looked back at Leia and Luke and shot them an easy grin.
"See? Simple. Don't know why you doubted me, Princess."
Leia sputtered. "I specifically requested that you fly for this mission." Han laughed at her indignation and she rolled her eyes. "Insufferable," she muttered. She turned to Luke, who was about as pale as the snow outside, and tapped his shoulder gently. "You all right?" she asked when he met her gaze.
He nodded slightly and looked out the windshield again. "That's all water?" he asked in amazement.
Leia smiled and nodded. "Frozen water, but, yes."
"You're gonna get tired of seeing this water, too, kid," Han said. "Maybe even quicker than the last two planets."
"I'm not tired of the rain," Luke said absently, still staring at the rapidly accumulating snow. Leia wondered how that could possibly be true, but Luke had also been able to leave Renatasia more often than she had over the past few months. He'd had entire weeks without rain.
The team dressed in their Alliance-issued snow gear, though Leia noticed Han topped everything off with a massive coat with a fur-lined hood that must have come from his own personal wardrobe.
"Warm enough?" she asked sarcastically.
"I really hate cold, sweetheart."
They'd landed between two potential base locations and managed to make it to the first location before nightfall. The shelters the Alliance had procured could be connected to create one large room. Knowing that they'd be warmer with their combined body heat trapped in the single structure, Leia suggested they take advantage of the feature and everyone else agreed. As they sat inside, eating a meal of rapidly cooling self-heating rations and swapping jokes and stories, she almost felt like a part of the group. It was easier on missions to fit in, she realized. Less of a chance of herd mentality taking over and pushing a large number of people toward ignoring her or acting uncomfortably around her.
Varner still regarded her coolly, but he wasn't saying or doing anything malicious, so Leia counted it as a win. Kell was pretty quiet, barely speaking up unless someone asked him a question directly, but he was pleasant when he did speak. Kes interacted with everyone as if they were all old friends, citing Shara as his source any time he revealed that a piece of information about Leia, Luke, Han, and Wedge wasn't new to him.
Leia sat next to Kes during dinner and was somewhat surprised when Han sat next to her. The knife discussion early in the trip had mostly smoothed things over, but there was still an awkward chill between them. Leia knew she was the cause, but she couldn't help it. She was grateful that Han had agreed to fly for the mission, was grateful that he seemed to understand how hurtful she'd found the idea of him leaving without notice, but she needed to steel herself for his departure once they returned to Renatasia. She couldn't laugh and joke and talk with him like she normally would when she knew he would be taking off as soon as they got back to the outpost.
"So," she said to the group at large once their rations were finished, "what are we thinking? About Hoth?"
"Kriffing cold," Han muttered.
Leia forced a smile an outsider would deem pleasant and anyone who knew her even a little would know was near-deadly. "Yes, well, you won't have to worry about it much longer anyway, so your opinion hardly counts."
Han's expression hardened. "Can hardly wait."
Leia felt the barb like a punch in the gut, but turned to the rest of the group. "Any other thoughts?"
"Too cold for kouhon," Kell offered. "At least as far as we know."
"Those the swamp bugs?" Kes asked. "Shara told me about what happened. Poor kid."
The group fell quiet, presumably all thinking about the night Col died. Luke's brow furrowed and Leia felt the urge to reach for his hand. She refrained, concerned of what the others might think.
"Tycho said Col was the first person he ever saw die," Luke finally said quietly. "You think that sticks with you forever?"
Yes, Leia thought. If it had just been Luke or maybe Luke and Wedge, she might have said it out loud. But she didn't want to talk about that. Not with them; not with anyone.
Wedge nodded. "Still remember the first guy I watched…" He shuddered and shrugged.
Kes cleared his throat. "I don't think it's something you forget easy."
Luke looked directly at Han. "What about you?"
Leia's stomach churned. The quiet that followed Luke's inquiry was near-deafening. She studied Han's face, wondering how he would answer such a direct, somewhat invasive question. She was thankful that Luke hadn't asked her, but the reminder of what she'd seen and experienced brought to mind images that she couldn't shake even while listening for Han's response.
Han ran his tongue over his teeth. "Maybe I've never seen anyone die."
Kier's labored breathing.
Luke squinted at Han. "You've shot people."
Blood droplets suspended in the gravity-less cockpit.
"Usually not waitin' around to see what happens if I'm in a situation to shoot someone, kid."
Warm blood hitting her face.
"But—"
Life leaving Kier's eyes, his body limp and heavy in her arms as she wept.
"Maybe he doesn't want to talk about it," Leia interjected, feeling numb, feeling too much, feeling, feeling… "Maybe not every tragic thing needs to be talked about." She couldn't feel her face, and she wasn't sure it if was the cold or the panic rising in her chest. The stares of her team bored into her, but she didn't care. Han met her gaze briefly before looking away. His expression was inscrutable.
"Right," Luke said, sounding thoroughly chastised. "Sorry."
"As if you'd know the first thing about seeing someone die," Varner muttered.
Leia focused on Varner, eyes flashing and jaw set. An unbearable silence filled the space until she finally spoke. "Which time do you want to hear about?" she said sharply.
He squinted at her, his mouth twisted into a frown. "What?"
Anger dripped from every syllable as Leia spoke, and she hoped it made up for the fact that she shook uncontrollably. "Which time do you want to hear about? The first time I saw someone drop dead, I was in the middle of being kidnapped at the age of ten. When the man who took me first approached me in the woods behind the palace, I ran and asked a guard for help. They shot him in front of me. Or maybe you want to hear about the first time I watched the life leave someone's eyes? I was sixteen, he was my boyfriend, and he showed up uninvited and unannounced on my first Alliance mission. I held his body as he died. Or were you wanting the first time I watched someone die by my own hand? That was on the Death Star. I took down…I'm not sure how many stormtroopers…Ten at least, I think."
"Leia—" Luke began. He sounded too sympathetic, too saddened.
Leia ignored him and met Varner's eyes with an unrelenting stare, nostrils flaring and fingernails digging into her palm. "I know you think you know all about me because I had a public life, but you don't know a fraction of a percentage of what I've experienced."
Varner looked away.
Silence descended on the shelter and Leia knew she should do something, anything, to kill it. This was her mission; she shouldn't have contributed to awkwardness on the team. She couldn't think of a way to break through the discomfort, though. She had nothing more to say.
After the longest stretch of tense quiet she had ever had to endure, Han cleared his throat. "I ever tell all of you the story of how Chewie an' I met?"
"Open mic night in a cantina," Luke said after a beat of quiet. "On a planet that sounded exactly like Tatooine but wasn't Tatooine. Allegedly."
"That's a different story," Han said. "I'm tellin' this one now. So, I'm in a real nice casino, right? I do not belong there at all, but I'm doin' all right for myself. I see this Wookiee who's down on his luck, just losing everything and I know some Shyriiwook so I…"
Leia wanted to listen to Han, wanted to know if this was the real story of how he'd met Chewie — she'd heard three different versions so far — but it was as if she couldn't absorb the words being said. She kept thinking of her own tone of voice when speaking to Varner, of the images the stories she'd told brought up. Kier kept popping up — in her worries about the mission, in her nightmares, in…whatever this conversation had been. And now, she couldn't shake the pictures. Every time she blinked, she saw his body, blood suspended in the air. His ship had lost power, the artificial gravity had been disabled, and the effect on everything in the cockpit had been eerie.
The air in the shelter felt stale, as if she couldn't inhale deeply enough to satisfy the ache in her chest. Leia stood, interrupting Wedge, who was saying…something. "I need some air," she said abruptly. Luke moved to stand with her but Leia held out her hand to stop him. "I just need a minute. I won't go far. It's getting stuffy in here."
It surprised her just how much colder it was outside the shelter. The structure had seemed inadequate when they'd constructed it, but between the insulating technology and the combined body heat of the group, she felt as if she'd left a balmy paradise as soon as she slipped through the flap. Hoth was endless ice and snow. The landscape in the daylight had been dazzling — too bright in the sun to see any distance clearly without scopes, but treacherously beautiful in its own right. Now, walking away from camp, enveloped in darkness with only the light of a waning crescent moon to illuminate her surroundings, it just felt treacherous.
Leia knew she had a limited time outside after nightfall before hypothermia set in and she didn't plan on ignoring her own safety lectures just because Varner Coy had shaken her. She was frustrated with him, but also with herself for reacting. She was a leader, a member of High Command, the leader of this mission. Reacting that strongly to someone who didn't even know what he was talking about was unacceptable. Leia wasn't looking forward to the debriefing once they returned to Renatasia. She was sure Jan and possibly Carlist would have some choice words for the way she reacted if — no, most likely when — the others reported it.
Kier's blood wouldn't leave her minds' eye. Her very first mission, and he'd ended up dead because of her negligence. Or because of your trust, some rational part of her mind countered. You trusted him with the information. You didn't know that he'd head your way.
Still. She should've been more careful.
Just like Scarif.
Just like Alderaan.
Leia couldn't feel her face, and she wasn't sure if it was from the cold or if she was panicking. She tried to think of something to help ground her mind, to keep the floating sensation that tended to accompany the face numbness at bay. My name is Leia Organa. I'm twenty years old. I'm on the Outer Rim planet called Hoth to look for a location for the new base. I'm a member of High Command with the Alliance to Restore the Republic. I'm leading a team on this scouting mission. This is my mission.
The whiteout hit without warning. Leia knew she wasn't far from the shelter, but she could barely see her hand in front of her. She listened and heard nothing but whistling wind, turned in the direction she'd come from and saw nothing but white flakes falling so densely they appeared almost solid. Leia reached for her comm to call one of the others and let them know she couldn't find her way back.
It was gone.
Her heart pounded. She tried to take a deep breath but the icy air left her gasping.
The temperature on Hoth can drop up to five standard degrees every ten minutes after nightfall. Leia heard her own voice in her head warning the others about the dangers of this mission as they'd made their way toward the Outer Rim two days prior.
She swore she heard ice crunching, but when she looked in the direction of the sound, she saw a wall of white. We aren't clear on what sort of wildlife make their home on Hoth or if they'll be interested in us as prey, so it'll be best if we stick together when outside of the shelter or the ship.
The snow was hypnotizing. Leia stared in the direction she'd come from. She thought. Your trajectory being off by a fraction of a degree in whiteout conditions could result in you becoming completely lost. It's better to stay in one place and wait for help than end up klicks away from the group. Had she turned her body to look when she heard the crunching ice? Had she just turned her head?
It's better to stay in one place until the whiteout's over, Leia thought. Unless temperatures drop so rapidly that I freeze before it ends. How long had she been walking? Five minutes? Ten? Where is my comm? How stupid could I possibly be?
She'd been upset. Her guard had been down because they were on a planet without Imperial presence, without the presence of anyone or anything. It had felt safe. Of course her guard had been down. And she'd been upset. And she hadn't paid attention when she'd stepped out for air.
Stupid, Organa. Never let your guard down. We're at war. We're at war and you're going to die of hypothermia a ten-minute walk from camp because you let your guard down.
She was pointed in the right direction. She was sure. She hadn't turned when she'd heard the ice crunch — if that was even what she'd heard. She hadn't turned, she was certain. If she kept walking straight ahead, she'd run into camp hopefully before her body temperature dropped or frostbite set in.
A/N: In keeping with my every-other-week schedule, the next chapter will be posted Friday, May 12, 2023.
Update: this is why I shouldn't post while exhausted. The next update will be Friday, May 19, 2023. Sorry if that's disappointing! But I promise everyone will be happier with two weeks in between!
Thank you so much for reading!