A/N: CW for PTSD, references to past torture and sexual assault.
Home One was an impressively large ship. Leia had stayed on board several times, but it always seemed bigger than she remembered. It was strange to be escorted directly past the Command Center without the briefest pause to see who might be on board. Leia was fairly sure she saw Admiral Ackbar as she followed Colonel Seertay's quick strides past the room, and she thought she caught a flash of gold that might have been Threepio, but Anna Seertay stopped for no one.
Leia had only met Colonel Seertay in person twice, and both interactions had been quite brief. The woman was taller than Leia by only a handful of centimeters, but seemed to fill any room she entered with her presence. Her dark complexion was mottled in spots that she made no attempt to hide — over her left eye, on half of her right hand, on a third of her neck. Leia heard rumors over the years that the pigment-free patches Seertay sported had been caused by everything from Imperial experimentation to exposure to some hazardous substance to a fairly well-known medical condition. Leia didn't think it her business to ask or care, and Seertay had never, to her knowledge, confirmed any particular cause.
Han and Chewie remained with the Falcon when they landed, insisting they not be forced into quarters. There had been an unspoken but clear understanding that Leia was welcome to do the same, but she wanted to be treated as any other pathfinder, which meant bunking with the team. The relatively small Special Forces group had a few apartments on Home One that they split between them.
"The bedrooms are tiny, but private," Seertay said. "And you'll share a common area with up to three others, though you just have two right now."
"Didn't know private bedrooms were even an option for the rank," Leia murmured, feeling somewhat guilty as she said it. Her quarters on Renatasia had been private once permanent structures had been built, but her role had also been very different.
"I fought for the accommodation a few years back," Seertay said somewhat proudly. "SpecForce is a rough gig and we were having retention issues. The officers spend more time in the field than here, and the field can be sort of miserable. It's necessary to have space to decompress between missions." She paused. "It was Bail's suggestion, actually."
Leia smiled at the mention of her father. "That...sounds about right," she said.
Seertay showed Leia to her assigned apartment. The common area was small but cozy, with a couch, a couple of chairs, and a holoprojector. What luxury. Leia nearly laughed at the earnestness of her own thought. She had grown up in a palace, but a year spent on Outer Rim outposts had redefined luxury entirely.
"This room's yours," Seertay said, pointing to a cabin with an open door.
Leia stepped into the small space and looked around as she dropped her pack. The room was tiny, half the size of her minuscule space at the outpost. A single bunk was attached to the wall. Opposite the bunk, a small mirror hung over a short dresser and a bar meant for hanging clothing had been installed next to it. Leia knew the space wouldn't look much different once her things were unpacked — she still owned very little — but she at least had a couple of holos and a few sentimental items to make it feel less bare.
She nodded at Seertay. "This'll do nicely," she said.
"Good." Colonel Seertay jerked her head toward the door. "Want to show you where we train."
Leia followed her to the training center, a large room divided into sections that appeared to be demarcated only by changes in the color of the deckplates beneath their feet, which alternated between dark gray and light gray. There were treadmills, weights, and other standard gym equipment in one area, another area was clearly meant for sparring of some kind, and another boasted a complicated-looking ropes course and climbing wall.
"Target practice is in a different part of the ship," Seertay said. "We run drills every morning and afternoon, talk mission plans in between. I issue orders and have final say, but we plan as a team. Everyone has equal input. Doesn't matter where they come from."
Leia nodded. That sort of egalitarianism in the greater ranks would lead to utter chaos, but for a small, specialized team, it made sense. She sensed a secondary message underlay Seertay's statement, though. "I don't desire special treatment or consideration," Leia assured her. "In fact, I've been actively avoiding it all year."
The colonel nodded. "I wouldn't have brought you on board if I thought differently. Don't get me wrong, I've had concerns, but I have been assured you will not disappoint."
Leia felt her cheeks flush and focused her attention on the climbing wall just to have something to look at. "I'm here to work same as the others," she assured Seertay. "And I'm here to help speed along the process of finding a good landing place for my people."
"Your Highness," Colonel Seertay said solemnly after a beat of silence. Leia met the other woman's gaze. "I do not allow hazing on my squad."
Leia squinted at her. "Of course not." The Alliance had rules about hazing. Leia had heard of the rules being broken a few times, but in general, hazing had not been much of an issue as far as she knew. She wasn't sure what Seertay was trying to say.
"I do not allow hazing on my squad," Seertay repeated, "but someone usually gets smoked within the first two weeks of joining. It's generally a consequence, but my plan is to throw you into a smoke session first thing tomorrow morning."
"Okay," Leia said carefully. She was familiar with smoke sessions — soldiers being made to perform exercises until their bodies failed them — and she knew they were usually reserved for punishments. What she wasn't clear on was what reason Seertay already had to punish her. "May I ask why?"
"We'll get to see what you can do," Seertay said, though that hardly seemed like the real reason. The colonel had been sent Leia's run times, her last ten target practice records, the results of three physical fitness tests. She knew what Leia could do, and Leia knew she wouldn't be there if Seertay had any doubts about her physical abilities. "Your fellow pathfinders will likely call me a variety of names after. Don't argue with them. I wouldn't agree with them, either, but do not defend me."
Understanding dawned on Leia, though she did not ask Seertay to verify. She imagined the pathfinders — or at least some of them — were as apprehensive about a member of Command joining their ranks as the officers on Renatasia had been. They might think that she was being given roles based on nepotism or some other sort of favoritism rather than merit. A smoke session would, at the very least, show that she was physically capable of keeping up. Keeping quiet if the others criticized Seertay would keep her from seeming too friendly with the colonel while also not stirring up anyone who thought she hadn't yet earned the right to complain. Smart.
Seertay went over their daily schedule quickly on the way to see the target practice area. She gave very few extra details, but ended the tour by cautioning, "I wouldn't step foot in the Command Center unless summoned for the first few weeks. Establish yourself in the group before reminding them of where you come from."
Leia nodded in agreement, though the idea of not even checking in with Admiral Ackbar or Threepio was strange for her to consider. She hoped they wouldn't take her lack of contact personally. Gial will understand. Threepio…not so much, she thought wryly.
She still had a bag on the Falcon, but returned to her assigned apartment first to make sure she remembered the way through the maze of corridors on the star cruiser. When Leia entered the apartment using the code Seertay had provided, she saw quickly that the common area was no longer empty. A blue-skinned Twi'lek lounged in one of the chairs while a tan, statuesque woman paced the short length of the common area, her pale blond ponytail swinging slightly with every step.
"Do not comm him—" The Twi'lek broke off as Leia closed the door, made eye contact with her, and smiled. "Princess is here," she announced. Leia studied her briefly. She looked vaguely familiar.
The blond woman stopped her pacing and stared at Leia. "Oh. You're actually here," she said. She sounded as if she didn't believe her own eyes. "I thought Seertay was joking."
The Twi'lek stood and stepped toward Leia, shooting a quick glare to the other woman. "Don't mind Naj. She was born without the part of the brain that differentiates between outside thoughts and inside thoughts." She offered her hand in greeting. "Einara Voln."
"Leia." Leia tilted her head slightly as she shook the Twi'lek's hand. "Einara Voln… You helped with the Dantooine evac, didn't you? You were stationed on Yavin."
Einara smiled and nodded, the tip of her right lek lifting slightly. "That's quite the memory you have, Your Highness."
"Leia," Leia corrected gently. She turned to the other woman. "I'm afraid Colonel Seertay wasn't joking. You're stuck with me for a bit. Naj, was it?"
Naj nodded stiffly. "Naj Phibs. Pleased to meet you, Princess."
She sounded more suspicious than pleased, but Leia didn't feel the need to mention that. Her title, however… "Leia. Please. I'm just Leia here."
"Right. Leia."
"Are you unpacked?" Einara asked.
Leia shook her head. "Not quite. I have a bag I need to retrieve from the ship that brought me."
"You should do that, and when you get back, we can all go to the mess for dinner together for bonding time," Einara suggested. "In the meantime, I will try to save Naj from the mortifying heartbreak that comes with the territory of keeping the company of kriffing pilots."
I only keep the company of pilots, Leia mused, wondering if she had missed learning about some stereotype.
"'Nara!" Naj reprimanded, clearly not wanting to discuss whatever the pilot situation was in front of Leia.
For Naj's sake, Leia ignored Einara's last comment and focused instead on her initial suggestion. "Dinner sounds like a wonderful idea. I'll be quick."
She hurried to the Falcon, equal parts eager and nervous to eat dinner with Einara and Naj. They seemed pleasant enough, though Leia was just as wary of Einara's effusive acceptance of her presence as she was of Naj's suspicious hesitance. Nothing seemed off in an insidious way, though, so Leia assumed it was just a matter of adjusting to different personalities.
Han appeared in the doorway of the crew cabin as Leia shoved a wayward pair of leggings and her datapad into her bag. "Abandonin' us already, Princess?" He tsk'd and shook his head. "You think you know someone—"
Leia rolled her eyes and closed her pack. "I'm sure we'll have plenty of opportunities to get tired of each other over the next few months without me sleeping here, Han," she said with a smirk. "No need for histrionics."
He shot her a playful glare before falling into a more serious tone. "You meet your team?"
Leia gave a small nod. "A couple of them. The women I'm sharing living space with, anyway."
"Seem all right?"
She shrugged. "No complaints so far."
"Good. Good." Han hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "Chewie and me were about to throw dinner together if you wanna stick around."
Leia smiled at him, feeling almost guilty at the idea of turning him down. She couldn't recall the last time she had refused dinner on the Falcon. "Ah, I would, but the new teammates wanted to go to the mess together. Bonding time, you know?"
He nodded a bit too quickly. "Right. Yeah. You should do that."
"You can come with us if you want," she offered. "They're sort of your team too."
Han wrinkled his nose slightly and waved her on. "Nah. 'nother time, maybe. You go bond."
Leia nodded, heart sinking slightly. He seemed…disappointed? "Okay. Yeah."
She said goodnight to Han and caught Chewie as she walked down the ramp of the Falcon. With the last of her belongings strapped to her back, Leia headed back to her new quarters.
Leia barely slept her first night on Home One, though for the first time in what had to have been months, her insomnia could not be blamed on nightmares; she was simply anxious for the next day. It reminded her very much of the night before her first session as Senator. She hadn't been nervous before her swearing in — that was basically a ceremony, and Leia knew how to navigate ceremonies. The night before actually meeting with the other Senators in that massive auditorium, though…She sat up the entire night, her stomach flipping every few minutes, drinking mocoa with her father, who had patiently listened while she poured out every worry and insecurity she had stored in her mind for months.
Darling girl, Bail had said once she ran out of coherent thoughts and began to spin herself in verbal circles, you were cut out for this.
Carlist had said something similar about this step she was taking: For what it's worth, I think you're cut out for this. The nearly identical phrasing comforted Leia. Carlist wasn't her father, nor did he want to be thought of as such, but Leia trusted his judgment. So, when doubts and anxieties attacked from every angle the night before her first day as a pathfinder, Leia clung to his words and the words of her father and tried to fully embrace and believe them.
Her squad seemed promising, though she hadn't met all of them yet. Einara and Naj had eaten dinner with her as planned, and they had been joined by Jarys Cleave, a tall, lean man with dark hair and kind eyes who seemed around Han's age, maybe a year or two younger. He spoke very little the majority of the meal, but he smiled a lot and Leia hadn't sensed any malice or discomfort in his silence. He just seemed like a quiet person.
There were two other men in the group who Leia knew she would meet in training that morning. She hadn't been told much about them, but had been given the names Nihal Corde and Rory Londdel. Everything in Leia wanted to pull their records and read something about them, but she knew that would be a questionable use of her Command access at best, so she attempted to push them from her mind instead.
She got three hours of sleep. She had helped run an outpost on less, but barely, and Leia wasn't sure how she was going to fair in exercises that morning, especially since she was apparently being thrown directly into a smoke session. She forced herself to eat early so she wouldn't feel sick during any physical activity, downed more caf than she had in days, and made her way to the training center alone, hoping for a few minutes of quiet before the day started.
The training center was empty of beings. Lights came on one at a time once Leia entered, obviously triggered by motion. She walked the perimeter of the large room, looking more closely at the equipment and space. It seemed more than adequate to train for a variety of terrains and situations. Leia knew they were going to be given missions that varied wildly in scope — pathfinders did everything from scouting out locations for next attacks to meeting with small factions of resistance in order to talk them into joining the Alliance. She needed to be prepared for just about anything, and it seemed like the training center was outfitted perfectly for that purpose.
Colonel Seertay entered the training center, immediately followed by the rest of the pathfinders walking together in a group and in the midst of lively conversation. Leia realized they must have eaten breakfast together. She felt a bit awkward — she didn't want to start off by othering herself right away — but her early breakfast couldn't be helped. If she was expected to work herself to exhaustion, her meal needed time to settle.
"Organa!" Seertay shouted. Leia ran to meet the colonel and Seertay wasted no words, pointing at each pathfinder and telling Leia their name. "You know Einara and Naj. Jarys Cleave, Rory Londdel," she pointed at a grinning young man with red hair who was about Luke's height, and appeared to be paler than Leia, "and Nihal Corde." Seertay gestured to an intimidating, grizzled-looking Zabrak who had apparently forgone the face tattoos Leia knew were common amongst members of the species before pointing to Leia and addressing the rest of the group. "Leia Organa." She clapped twice. "Now that we're all best friends, it's time to get to work."
Leia kept during drills, and she found herself wondering exactly how Seertay planned to go about smoking her if she didn't do anything deserving of punishment. She didn't have more than half an hour to puzzle over what seemed like a conundrum before Seertay made it very clear that the reason didn't actually matter.
"Organa, push-ups!" she ordered.
Leia paused before dropping to the ground. They had been given a number for exercises previously, and no one had been called out individually. She pursed her lips. Seertay was starting.
She wasn't sure how in-the-know she was supposed to be, if Seertay wanted her to act as if she didn't know what was going on. Leia erred on the side of perceived ignorance and asked, "How many?" after ten push-ups.
"'Til you're done!" Seertay barked.
Naj said something so softly, Leia had to believe she intended for only Einara to hear, but Leia made out her words loud and clear, "But, she didn't do anything."
Leia didn't know how long she was able to keep her form while doing push-ups; it felt like a long time, but she wasn't sure what Seertay considered sufficient. Arms shaking, she took a moment with her elbows straightened to adjust her feet, and Seertay swooped in immediately.
"You're not done."
Leia nodded and kept going, arms and chest burning. Time seemed to stand still. She could feel the stares of some of the pathfinders and tried to block them out, focusing only on the task she had been given.
She lowered her chest to the ground again and again until one final time when she found her arms simply wouldn't cooperate. Leia furrowed her brow and paused her movement, unsure of what she was supposed to do.
"You're not done!"
Leia frowned, attempting to work out the puzzle she had been handed. The muscles in her arms were dead. She couldn't—
Seertay's voice rang out loud and harsh. "Organa, perhaps running sprints will convince your arms to actually work!"
Leia was on her feet and running in an instant. As she passed the huddle of pathfinders, she heard Naj again say, "She didn't do anything." Seertay either didn't hear her or ignored her.
Sprints were a blessed relief from endless push-ups, though Leia was certain that in no galaxy would she be able to sprint long enough for her arms to recover the strength required to hold her own weight again. She pushed the thought from her mind, focusing only on running, running, running, until she was gasping and winded and her legs shook.
"Let's make sure we finish those push-ups!"
Leia nodded, though she wasn't sure how she would manage. Her arms ached, muscles twitched, and when she was again in push-up position, her body wouldn't cooperate.
Naj was restless. Leia could see out of the corner of her eye as the woman shifted her weight from foot to foot, fingers drumming against her thigh. When Leia went crashing to the ground, arms collapsing beneath her, she heard Naj yell, "Sub!"
Leia scrambled back into push-up position again, entire body shaking. Naj was on the mat with her. She made eye contact with Leia. "You can go stand with the others," she said in a low voice. "I'm subbing in."
Frowning, Leia hazarded a glance at Seertay, whose countenance was like stone. Subbing in? Leia had never heard of such a thing during drills of any kind, and certainly not during a smoke session. She shook her head and set her jaw. I can do this.
She couldn't, though. Her muscles were spent. Another attempt left her again on the floor. Leia frowned and looked at Naj.
"You lasted longer than half of us do," Naj said encouragingly. "Let me take over."
It was a test, a trap, a temptation to keep her from proving herself. Leia shook her head again, rasped, "No," and tried again.
"Leia," Naj said very quietly, "we do this all the time. No one gets through a smoke session on their own." She paused to roll her eyes and scoff good-naturedly. "It's supposed to be a metaphor or something. Seertay's pretentious as hell."
Seertay, Leia noted, had not said a word since Naj dropped to the mat. She looked at the colonel again and was again met with one of the most neutral expressions Leia had ever seen.
"Let me take over," Naj repeated.
After another moment of hesitation, Leia had to admit that she was physically unable to continue. She looked at Naj, nodded, and awkwardly propelled herself up off the mat as the other woman took her place. Leia lifted her chin slightly as she walked back to the group, unwilling to indicate how unsure she was of her choice by way of posture.
"You did really well."
Leia started, heart pounding in her ears. She jerked her head to look behind her. Rory looked back at her, admiration clear in his expression. Leia cleared her throat awkwardly and nodded once, a tight smile on her lips, before stepping closer to Einara. She didn't think she had done well; she was waiting to hear that she had failed.
"Seertay's in a mood," Einara murmured, casting a sympathetic glance toward Leia. "She doesn't usually smoke newbies for no reason."
Jarys said something in Chandrilan that certainly qualified as name-calling and Einara responded in kind. Leia raised a brows at them briefly to indicate that she had understood, but, remembering Seertay's instructions, said nothing.
She watched as Naj performed a seemingly endless number of push-ups on her behalf, feeling a pang of shame at having not finished herself the entire time. She had tried — she had tried — but her muscles had been worked to exhaustion. She wasn't sure how she would fare in the afternoon's exercises unless they differed considerably from push-ups and sprints.
"Naj always subs in for push-ups because she likes them better than anything else," Einara told Leia quietly.
"I've never seen a subbing protocol with drills," Leia said. She knew what Naj had said, but she was still highly suspicious that she had somehow been proven unworthy of the position she was in.
"Seertay's…different," Rory offered. "No one makes it through a smoke session without a sub. She just doesn't stop. She's never said why."
"It's to keep that big ego of yours in check," Einara said, giving Rory a friendly thump on the shoulder. "Reminds you that you can't do a damn thing without the rest of us." Rory rolled his eyes.
Nihal spoke for the first time since Leia had been introduced to him, tapping the point of one of his horns absently. "It's also preparation for the field," he said simply.
Rory raised an eyebrow skeptically, and Leia wondered if he was nearly as new as she was to SpecForce. He seemed fresh, a bit wide-eyed, while Jarys and Einara seemed to agree with Nihal without question. "How's it field prep?" Rory asked. "We need to be able to last as long as possible out there, not swap out all the time."
"It's not preparation for the person being smoked," Leia said, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. "It's so you know what your teammates look like when they need help. Because you won't always be able to call for it." She looked at Nihal. "Right?"
He smiled slightly and nodded once. "Very good, Princess."
"Leia," she corrected.
Nihal nodded again with a smile. "Leia."
Seertay finally let up on Naj and announced a water break for all. Leia walked quickly to Naj before she reached the rest of the group and placed her hand on the other woman's forearm. She look Naj in the eye and smiled, grateful. "Thank you."
Naj seemed unaffected. "You needed help. Don't worry about it."
Leia bristled at the declaration that she needed something, but she expressed her thanks again all the same.
They wrapped up morning drills, and moved to a small war room to discuss their upcoming mission. Leia was surprised when Han and Chewie entered the room before she found a spot at the table, but she felt relief wash over her at the sight of them. She smiled at her friends, genuinely glad that they were being included in planning.
"Princess," Han said, nodding toward her.
"She prefers 'Leia'," Rory corrected far too eagerly.
Han looked at Leia with raised eyebrows, annoyance clear on his face. She shrugged and pressed her lips together to avoid appearing amused. Han turned slowly to face Rory. "Fascinating," he said mildly. "You go around puttin' words in everyone's mouths, or just women you don't know?"
Rory glanced at Leia helplessly, clearly unsure of how to respond. Leia wasn't sure how to respond herself. She didn't know how to explain that Han's use of Princess was more nickname than honorific, that he wasn't othering her in any way when he said it. But she also didn't love Han responding in such a prickly manner.
"Han," she said evenly as she sat at the conference table. "I did ask them to call me Leia." Han frowned slightly, but didn't say anything. Leia glanced pointedly at the seat to her right and back up at him, offering a clear invitation to sit with her in an attempt to communicate she wasn't chastising him.
Han apparently understood and sat next to Leia, Chewie on his other side. The others settled around the table, and Seertay called everyone's attention to the projection at the center of the table.
"Our next mission is on Tibrin. I asked Captain Solo and his copilot Chewbacca to join us for these meetings since they need to be aware of any hazards we might run into."
Leia furrowed her brow. "Tibrin's an aquatic planet. I can't imagine it's appropriate for an outpost."
Seertay nodded. "We're not looking to settle there, but there are some existing militia cells we need to bring into the Alliance. The Mid-Rim is important territory for us, and there has been growing unrest on Tibrin over the past year. We believe it's time to make a move there."
"Inconvenient water," Han murmured, rubbing his jaw with his hand so no one would catch the movement of his lips. Leia gave him a look, but had to resist laughing. Han had continued to point out evidence of the Alliance's predilection for locations with inconvenient water since their trip to Hoth, and Leia was amused every time he added to the ever-growing list.
The meeting was more informative than strategic. Seertay went over Tibrin's basic terrain and climate, what little intel the Alliance had about their local contacts, and the known hazards of both landing and traveling on the planet. Leia observed how the group handled the information dump. Naj, Nihal, Han, and Chewie all asked questions; Einara and Jarys listened more than they talked, and Rory eagerly made a few tactical suggestions that Seertay said they would discuss later.
"Organa, you've been quiet," Seertay observed toward the end of the meeting.
Leia bit her bottom lip lightly. "I went to Tibrin a few times during my time with the Senate. Based on my experiences, I think it will be exceedingly difficult to land both safely and without notice, if that's what you're hoping for." She glanced at Han. His expression was slightly stony, but he seemed to be listening to her intently. "Safely and on a landing pad, sure, but most of the uninhabited areas are covered completely by ocean."
Han rubbed his jaw and leaned forward slightly, catching Leia's eye. "Sandbars, Wor—Leia," he said. "'ve landed on sandbars there more'n once."
"Tides aren't a problem?" she probed, tapping her lips with her thumb and feeling more at ease than she had all morning. Strategizing with Han was familiar, comfortable, and Leia was glad he seemed to be taking the mission planning seriously.
[We did not have problems when we landed previously, Princess, but we may have been exceedingly lucky,] Chewie said.
Han shot a glare to Chewie and looked at Leia again. "It wasn't luck," he insisted. "Even at high tide, water over a lot of the sandbars is maybe half a meter. Might make for a soggy disembark, but that ain't nothin' your lot aren't used to, right?"
Inconvenient water, Leia mused, nodding slightly.
They agreed the conversation could continue later and broke for lunch. Han touched Leia's elbow as she stood. He raised his eyebrows slightly and glanced over her shoulder, clearly waiting for the others to clear out of the room.
"No more 'Princess'?" he asked carefully.
Leia pursed her lips. "If I remember correctly, I spent the first two months after Yavin trying to get everyone to stop calling me 'Princess' to no avail," she said wryly, one corner of her mouth lifting in a half smile.
Han frowned. "I stopped 'til I realized you didn't seem to actually care."
She sighed softly and glanced behind him where Chewie hovered. "I've always cared. I just started picking my battles." She paused, one arm crossed over her chest, semi-protectively. "I—I don't mind when you say it. I know there's no reverence there. I just don't want…" Leia gestured toward the open door of the conference room that the rest of the group has disappeared through. "None of them knew me as royalty except maybe Seertay. I don't want to be treated like some…precious thing while I'm on this team. I've never wanted that. I want to be judged on my own merit, not on what place I once held in the Elder Houses."
Han's brow had furrowed in the middle of her explanation, and he apparently felt the point important enough to bring it up even after everything she had said. "Don't know about reverence, but I respect you, Leia," he said, his tone serious.
"I know," she affirmed dryly. "That's why I've been letting you call me Worship for a year straight without even attempting to stab you with your own knife."
Chewie laughed. [Told you she hated that one.]
Leia smiled affectionately. "You've always got my back, don't you, Chewie?"
The Wookiee whuffed in affirmation.
Han appeared to experience the closest thing to an existential crisis that Leia thought the man was capable of. His eyes darted around the room a few times before finally settling on her face. "Just Leia," he said, somewhat chastised.
She shrugged. "At least in front of them. For a little while." Han nodded but didn't say anything else. Leia reached out and tugged on his wrist. "Come eat lunch with us, both of you."
To her delight, Han and Chewie both agreed, following her to the mess hall, and to the rest of the pathfinders.
Sparring felt good. Leia had attempted to keep her hand-to-hand skills up on the outposts, but ran into a complication when it became painfully apparent that no one was eager to potentially injure the Last Princess of Alderaan. Luke and Wedge would spar with her on occasion, but they both stuck to well-choreographed exercises that were unlikely to end with Leia pinned or otherwise incapacitated. Shara would actually take Leia to the mat, but Shara had also been fairly easy to outmaneuver. Leia won most of their matches once she figured out the other woman's patterns. Everyone else viewed training partner requests as some kind of trap.
Now, a week in to her time with SpecForce, she was being shown little mercy, and Leia was glad. She wanted to be prepared, both mentally and physically, for potential skirmishes. She needed combat to become second-nature in case she encountered in in the field, in case she had to fight at close range or was captured. Never again, she found herself thinking as she took Rory out at the knees and held him to the ground, though she wasn't quite sure what her mind meant by that.
Jarys was her next opponent. He was taller than Rory, but leaner, and Leia knew if she could disrupt his center of gravity, she could at least rip the training knife from his hand even if she didn't manage to knock him down.
Leia did just that and managed to get Jarys on the ground. He overpowered her quickly, though she still held the training knife. He slammed both of her wrists into the mat above her head and held her there, rendering the weapon useless.
Leia froze.
The air left the room and she couldn't…she couldn't…she couldn't breathe, at least not deeply enough.
Her hearing was…
Everything sounded underwater somehow and her muscles locked in place. His weight on her body crushed and crushed and crushed—
She blinked and Jarys had rocked back on his heels, both hands in front of his chest, palms out.
"Organa, you okay?" he asked warily.
My name is Leia Organa. I am twenty-one years old. I'm on Home One, training with the pathfinders. Jarys Cleave pinned me the way the troopers did. He didn't know — couldn't have known—I—No one is touching me. No one is touching me. I need to get up.
Leia pushed herself into a sitting position and glanced with barely-there interest at the rest of the pathfinders. Colonel Seertay's brow furrowed and Leia forced an expression of good-natured disappointment to cover up the fact that she was trembling all over and still hadn't stood. Einara offered her hand and Leia took it, using the Twi'lek's strength to pull herself up.
Leia brushed imaginary dust off her thighs and tried to ignore the twisting in her stomach and the shaking of her…everything. Seertay called for everyone to take a break and passed out ration bars and water to the group before pulling Leia aside.
"You all right? You look a little pale."
I'm sure I do. She felt nauseous in a way reminiscent of dehydration, but she knew it had nothing to do with her physical state. Leia shrugged, forcing a small grimace, an amused smile, any expression other than the blank one she was sure she had worn while pinned. "Just need water, I think," she said.
Seertay handed her a bottle and bar and nodded. Leia couldn't quite interpret her expressions yet, but the colonel didn't appear horrified or overly concerned, so she assumed she was in the clear. After receiving some suggestions for how to improve, she returned to the pathfinders, who were sitting to the side of the sparring mat.
"Organa," Jarys called, standing to step close to her. "Hey, I didn't mean to scare you," he said quietly.
Leia forced a smile and shook her head. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, Cleave," she lied. "You didn't scare me."
He wrinkled his brow. "You froze when I had you pinned. I was worried—"
She shrugged casually. "I think I'm dehydrated. Just felt a little out of it." He made a face as if he didn't believe her, so Leia reiterated, "I'm find, Jarys. Don't worry about it."
Leia replayed the moments before she found herself clinging to grounding statements, trying to make sense of freezing. She had sparred before, had been pinned before, albeit rarely and primarily by Shara, had felt that surge of freezing fear outside of sparring — usually in those early months after Yavin when someone moved too close, too quickly. Leia didn't want to admit that she knew the cause, but she did. It was clear as much as she liked to pretend otherwise that there were aspects of her stay on the Death Star that still haunted her waking hours in addition to her sleep. She had things to work through, to desensitize herself to before she was in the field. She only had four days before they left for Tibrin.
After dinner, Leia lay stretched out on the bench in the Millennium Falcon's lounge, one leg dangling off the edge entirely, resting the glass of whiskey in her hand on her sternum. Every so often, she would sit up halfway to sip on the liquor, and each time, she imagined every last one of her aunts were having conniptions if they could see her general lack of decorum from wherever they were. Her parents very well might be, too.
Han was doing…something at the holochess table. Leia hadn't inquired as to what, but there was a fair amount of scraping followed by minutes of quiet, then more scraping. Chewie was sitting near Han, datapad in hand, reading.
Leia was exhausted, and not the sort of frenzied exhaustion her nightmares caused; this was the bone-deep variety that only intense physical activity brought about. She had to admit, it felt good to be tired because of something she did rather than because of something she couldn't do.
When she had stumbled up the Falcon's ramp after dinner, she had apparently appeared as tired as she felt because Han had taken one look at her and poured her a drink without question. After basic inquiries about one another's days had revealed nothing significant, he returned to his project on the table, seemingly content to let her rest without an onslaught of conversation.
She was glad for the quiet. The sparring match with Jarys still weighed on her mind. I froze. It wasn't like her to freeze when threatened. Her tendency was to run: run toward a threat if it made sense to, run away if it didn't. She had never been good at sitting still, had never been good at waiting. Freezing…freezing in that way, where the room was devoid of breathable air and Leia's mind was assaulted by useless perceptions of non-specific danger over and over again…she couldn't say it was new, but she also couldn't call it common.
She knew it had to do with her treatment on the Death Star. She knew because, despite the fact that she had been pinned to the ground without reacting while sparring in recent months, despite the fact that she had taken on Shara and Luke and Wedge and even Han on rare occasions without incident or issue, Jarys neutralizing her weapon-wielding hands had caused images and sensations from that cell to rise like ghosts from a grave. It had been Jarys's height and the position of her arms — not the act of sparring or having her movement restricted or even being pressed to the mat — that had caused her to freeze, that still caused panic to rise in her chest when she thought about it safe aboard the Falcon. She was confident that had been the cause; she just wasn't sure what to do about it.
"Shouldn't you be with your pathfinders?" Han finally asked, breaking the quiet Leia had assumed would reign the rest of the evening. "Bonding?"
She scoffed and sat up just enough to swallow some whiskey without aspirating it before collapsing again on the bench. For the first several days of her stay on Home One, Einara had insisted that Leia at least eat dinner with the other pathfinders, which sometimes led to socializing after they left the mess as well. Einara always called it bonding time, a term that Leia noticed made Han roll his eyes.
"We did plenty of bonding today," Leia said. "I'll be feeling our bonding for a week."
[Are you injured, Princess?] Chewie asked, his tone betraying concern.
Leia waved vaguely in his direction. "Nothing major. Just bruises and aches from sparring."
"Where's your vibroblade?" Han asked, seemingly apropos of nothing.
Leia's heart jumped to her throat and she shoved herself into a half-sitting position hurriedly, nearly sloshing whiskey on her fatigues. She looked at Han warily, his promise to ask for the blade back before taking off ringing in her mind. Is he planning on leaving? Already? He's supposed to be piloting for us—
"Figure since I'm already cleanin' these up." He gestured to what Leia quickly realized was a pile of blades on the table. She relaxed and lifted her left foot, pointing at her boot. Han scowled. "Pretty sure you can walk it over here just fine, Highness. You aren't an invalid."
Leia took another swallow of whiskey and rested her head on the bench again. "I'm not, but I am royalty," she said flippantly, though as soon as the words left her mouth, she wondered if she should pour out the rest of her drink.
Han snorted and Leia turned her head to meet his gaze. His eyebrows were raised and he appeared thoroughly amused. "Never looked the part more," he quipped.
"Whatever I look like is looking the part," Leia retorted. She sat up again and, setting her whiskey on the bench, retrieved the knife and sheath from her boot. She took a few steps and set the small weapon on the weathered surface of the dejarik table.
"Kriff, d'you ever sharpen this thing?" Han grumbled, more to himself than to her as he examined the blade.
A memory of Han's original offer surrounding the knife surfaced and, instead of retreating immediately, Leia studied him for a moment, absently shoving tendrils of hair that had come loose from her braids behind her ear. "Are lessons still on the table?" she asked. Han looked up from wiping the vibroblade clean, puzzled. "When you let me borrow the knife back on…Last year, you said you could teach me to fight with one. Is that still on offer?"
He raised an eyebrow and returned to cleaning months'-old bits of who-knows-what off of Leia's blade. "I distinctly recall you sayin' you already knew all you needed to know, and I've seen you handle blades since then. Y'don't need me."
"I know how to fight," she said quickly, running her thumbnail along the edge of her knuckle. "I already know technique, but…I had something happen while sparring earlier and I froze and I'm pretty sure it's going to keep on happening unless I can work through it. Desensitize myself."
A wary expression fell over Han's face. He eyed Leia. "What's that mean?"
The air felt heavy and Leia glanced away. This was one of the topics, one of the things Han knew enough to guess about without asking for details. She needed him to understand through subtext so she wouldn't have to fully explain. Leia chewed her lip. "There—When I was pinned in a particular way, it reminded—It brought back—" She took a breath, glanced in Chewie's direction, and started over. "It reminded me of some things from my captivity. I froze. I just need to get used to it. Do it until it's not a big deal."
Han stared at her and shook his head, nostrils flaring slightly. "Hell no."
Leia looked away shook her head jerkily. "Never mind." She sat back down on the bench and lifted her remaining whiskey to her lips, focusing on the slight burn as she swallowed a sip to anchor herself.
Chewie looked up from his datapad and focused on Leia. [We can help, Princess, if you tell us what you need.]
Han shook his head, eyes still boring into Leia. "You can help, pal. I'm out." He raised his eyebrows and returned to working on her knife without further comment.
Leia cradled the whiskey glass in her hands, finger tapping on the rim. She watched Han run the vibroblade over a sharpening stone, watched Chewie bounce his eyes between her and Han, obviously confused, watched a tremor move across the surface of the drink in her glass, a direct result of her trembling hands. Her hesitance to push Han seemed to lose its sharpness as the minutes passed. She was sure it was the liquor, but she suddenly thought of something to counter his resistance to helping her.
"We've sparred a few times before," she stated firmly after a few minutes of quiet. "You and me."
Han lifted his eyes to look at her for a brief second before turning back to the vibroblade. "You know that isn't the same as what you're askin' for."
"Maybe it was and I just never mentioned why I needed someone to spar with," she countered.
He dropped the blade on the table and looked at her again. "That's pretty messed up, Leia."
Leia scrunched her brows together. Han was…Han was more upset than she ever remembered seeing him. His eyes had a wild, cornered look about them, his breathing was quick. Leia wasn't sure if she should tell him that she was being ornery, that she hadn't actually involved him in any efforts to desensitize herself to triggers without his knowledge. His vehement refusal to help pained her a bit, but it was clear the idea disturbed him.
She lowered her gaze and spoke softly. "It wasn't…We were just sparring before, I swear," she assured him. "But it wouldn't be any different this time—"
"Leia," Han said firmly, rubbing his hand over his mouth. He shook his head, muttering, "Kriff. No. Find someone else to help or go back to therapy or somethin'. I ain't helping you with that."
[You're upset, Cub,] Chewie said, stating the obvious. Han waved him off, grumbling something incoherent.
"It's not that big of a deal," Leia muttered, finishing off her whiskey. She ran her finger around the edge of the glass absently.
"Role-playing as someone who hurt you isn't a big deal?" Han demanded.
Leia shrugged numbly. The situation was obviously not ideal, but she needed to be able to work through it regardless of how she or anyone else felt about it. She needed to desensitize herself. "That's all sparring is — roleplaying as someone who could hurt the other person."
He shook his head again. "That's different. That's all hypotheticals. Not scarin' someone into a flashback, not playin' the part of a real—" Han broke off, casting a quick glance toward Chewie. He was clearly watching what he said around the Wookiee. Leia was appreciative of the consideration, but some part of her wished they could all stop dancing around the topic, wished she could start speaking openly and boldly about it.
She absolutely could not, though.
Leia stood and walked to the sink, glass in hand. She cleaned the dish thoroughly, probably using too much soap and definitely using too much water. Scrubbing the glass once, twice, three times, she considered Han's stubborn resistance, how upset he seemed by the idea of helping her overcome this issue. She tried to imagine herself in his place, being asked to act out the part of an aggressor, an abuser, to trigger a panic response in someone she cared about — because as much as Han liked to play it cool, she knew he did care about his friends.
Her stomach churned at the idea.
Leia dried her glass hastily and put it away before approaching the dejarik table. Han was wiping her vibroblade down again, apparently done sharpening it. She swallowed and sat across from him, picking up one of his blades for want of something to occupy her hands.
"I shouldn't have asked you to do that," she said simply, quietly. She glanced at Chewie, who was doing a fairly good job of pretending like he wasn't listening to every word she said.
Han nodded once and slid her blade back into its sheath before handing it to her. "I can teach you whatever you want, Leia," he said, looking her in they eye. "But don't ever ask me that again."
She nodded. "I won't. I—I'm sorry. I've just been trying to figure this out all day. I don't want to have something happen when we're in the field next week." Leia exhaled heavily, thinking, puzzling over her options. "It's best if I can just avoid being pinned like that altogether," she said finally, though that didn't answer the question of what she was to do if she was in that position again. If I could have avoided it last time, I would have, she thought glumly.
Han looked at her for a moment, before shaking his head. "What I'd suggest wouldn't work for sparring anyway. Seertay would not be on board."
"Oh?" Leia asked, brow raised. "Why's that?"
He leaned toward her slightly, expression serious. "Because I'd encourage you to kill anyone who tries to hurt you like the Empire did, and I get the feeling practicin' to off someone by using your own teammates is frowned upon."
Stunned by his bluntness, Leia wasn't sure what to say. She agreed with Han in theory — separated from the events of her time on the Death Star, she felt nearly murderous when she thought of anyone being tortured and assaulted the way she had been. But when experiences caused memories to surface that triggered the sort of feelings she had while in captivity…she didn't always freeze, but her body and most of her mind became virtually useless until she could get her bearings.
After a long, long silence, Han returned to the pile of blades on the table, picking debris out of the hinge mechanism of an old-fashioned switchblade. Leia watched him work, mulling over what she wanted to ask him. She ran her thumb over the handle of her own vibroblade and finally asked, "How hard is it to kill someone in hand-to-hand combat?"
Chewie whined softly but didn't say anything. When Leia looked at him, she got the feeling that he was lamenting her even having the thought. She reached over and patted his furry arm reassuringly.
Han looked up at her briefly before returning to the blade. "Easier than you want it to be."
Leia bit her lip, considering the statement. "All killing is easier than I want it to be," she said. It didn't seem fair that taking lives as she had with a blaster on the Death Star had cost virtually no time or effort, that her entire planet and billions of beings had been obliterated with the push of a button, that even the deaths of everyone on the Death Star itself had all occurred because of a single shot from an X-wing.
"Yeah," Han agreed, focusing on the knife in his hand. "Me too."
Leia squinted at him, somewhat surprised by the admission. Han wasn't bloodthirsty — he had never struck her as someone who was eager to hurt others — but he was a survivor, someone who she knew had taken lives to preserve his own. She knew smuggling was shady business, that those he might have referred to as friends or associates a year or two prior were just as likely to stab him in the back as they were to lend a helping hand. She had assumed that he was okay with it. The few times he had spoken of his past, there had always been the heavy implication that anything that led to his survival was justifiable, that he didn't have complex emotions about any of it as long as he and Chewie made it out alive. Leia wondered if some distance from the type of chaos that ruled his former life had led to a reevaluation of his feelings on the topic.
Not that she would be asking Han Solo of all people about his feelings.
Another long silence encompassed the lounge, and Leia searched for another topic of conversation. It was getting late, and she knew if she went to bed with everything they had discussed on her mind, she was guaranteed a rough night. She looked between Han and Chewie, thinking, and caught a glance of Chewie's datapad.
"Chewie, what have you been reading?"
Han rolled his eyes and muttered, "Here we go." Leia glared at him.
[It is a collection of poems in Shyriiwook. Cub wrote them for me.]
Leia's eyebrows shot up in surprise and she couldn't suppress a wide smile from erupting across her face. She looked at Han, who seemed oddly unaffected by the revelation. He saw her staring and shifted in his seat. "What're you grinnin' at?"
"You wrote Chewie poetry in Shyriiwook," Leia prompted, smiled still plastered on her face. "I think that's nice, that's all."
Han's eyes widened in panic and he shook his head. "I did not—" He looked at Chewie for a moment, and Leia imagined he was playing back what the Wookiee had said in his mind. Chewie whuffed something Leia didn't catch and Han nodded in agreement, rolling his eyes again. "I transcribed 'em."
Chewie said two words slowly, both of which sounded like Shyriiwook for wrote to Leia, though she detected a slight tonal difference the second time he repeated them.
"Transcribed and wrote sound almost just alike," Han explained further.
[Our stories and poems are memorized and recited,] Chewie said. [We don't usually write them down. But when we went to Kashyyyk for a visit a few years ago, Cub listened and wrote some of them out so I can read the ones I have not memorized when I am away from home.] He paused. [You thought Cub wrote poetry for me?] He erupted into loud laughter, leaving Han somewhat affronted.
"Hey, I could write poetry just fine if I wanted to," Han argued.
Leia laughed softly, gaze flickering between pilot and copilot. "Well," she said, "I still think that's nice. Chewie, will you read one for us?"
Chewie appeared delighted by the request. Han grimaced and smiled slightly at Leia. "Get ready to hear lotsa ways to describe moss," he said dryly.
Han was not exaggerating — the first three poems Chewie read were almost exclusively about trees, leaves, moss, and other green things that grew in the forest. Leia didn't mind, though. As she listened to her friend read the poetry of his people, the blood-soaked topics of earlier all but forgotten, she experienced growing hope that, once she slept, her dreams would be centered on nature rather than violence. That was all she wanted for the night.
A/N: Apologies for posting a day later than planned! Just a note: Anna Seertay is a part of Star Wars canon, though there's limited information about her, so I took liberties with her character. The other pathfinders are OCs.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! The next installment will be posted on Friday, September 8, 2023.
Also, I know there have been some sort of odd connectivity issues with FFN lately, so I did just want to let y'all know that I am on AO3 under the same username and post all the same stories on both platforms.