A/N: This has been sitting 95% finished in my drafts for months. It was intended for the November 2023 fic for The Year of the OTP event - I was going to use the prompt "Be careful what you wish for" - but I think I was a little angsted-out, and ended up writing Just Tauntauns for that month instead, using a different prompt. Plus, this honestly felt too close as far as theme went to the flashback scenes in Opportunistic, so I debated posting it at all. But, you know, it exists, and it's kind of all right, and incredibly angsty if you're wanting something like that, so. Here ya go!
Leia wasn't particularly superstitious, but even she had thought her own words a bold choice considering the predicament they had been in.
Someday you're gonna be wrong, I just hope I'm there to see it.
As soon as the sentence left her mouth, she had wanted to take it back. Be careful what you wish for, she had admonished herself as the Falcon's hyperdrive failed again and again and the chase they led grew increasingly treacherous. They managed to make their escape, though, and had spent six weeks of sublight flight only worrying about the Empire occasionally.
Her words had transformed from the self-righteous declaration of someone scared and frustrated beyond reason to private joke on the long trip they'd endured. Well, endured at first, then savored, the break from the war and bounties and real life as welcome as the reprieve they found in one another. Every few days, he'd find a way to bring it up — Is it someday yet? — as if she weren't entirely aware that he had been right: about their escape, about her, about them, about damn near everything on the entire trip to the point that he was almost insufferable.
Or he would have been almost insufferable if she wasn't about ready to admit she was completely in love with him.
No, he was truly becoming insufferable, she decided their last morning before landing. She had pulled him into a long kiss while they waited for caf to brew. She could feel him smile the moment their lips touched, felt the warmth of his hand as soon as he touched her hip in such a familiar manner that she found it difficult to remember that there was a time mere weeks prior when she would have shied away from him entirely in hurt and frustration. After several long moments, he interrupted the show of affection to place a gentle kiss near her ear before murmuring, "Is it someday yet?" and pressing his lips to the spot again. Leia pulled away, rolling her eyes as she dispensed caf into two mugs.
"Remains to be seen," she quipped, lifting her mug to her mouth. "Who knows what the day holds?"
She knew it hadn't been her words that landed them in Imperial custody, but the knowledge didn't stop an echo of her voice, angry and exhausted and more frightened than she wanted to admit at the time, from flooding back to her over and over again.
Someday you're gonna be wrong, I just hope I'm there to see it.
We're together at least, she thought the night after Han had been placed on the scan grid. She had been alone on the Death Star, unable to draw comfort from another being between sessions of torture and interrogation. She wouldn't wish that depth of loneliness and pain and despair on her worst enemy.
Well. Maybe on her worst enemy. But only him.
Sleep had evaded her for hours stretched out on the chilly floor of the cell in Cloud City, a position they had opted to take to be near one another, something the narrow shelf-like bunks didn't allow. She could hear Chewie's soft snores behind her and wished briefly for some of his hair to keep herself warm. Her jumpsuit was insulated, but she had ditched the under layers necessary to keep real chill out before landing and she didn't know where her vest had gone. She had asked about it once but didn't press when she received no answer, afraid to rock the boat with their captors. It had been strange enough that they'd brought the jumpsuit for her to change into in the first place — she had expected to be told that getting sick while she was made to watch Han's torture wasn't anyone's problem but her own, and the fact that she had managed to get vomit on the borrowed clothing she wore was definitely her problem. But someone had thought bringing her her jumpsuit was the right thing to do, and she hadn't wanted whoever made that decision to change their mind. They probably just didn't want to deal with the smell.
Still, the vest had disappeared and Leia longed for its extra warmth.
Han was warm. He was running fever, she was pretty sure, and normally, he would have wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her body in his warmth, but the amount of pain just her cheek pressed to his chest seemed to cause when he had tried to hold her was more than she was willing to watch him endure. The cuts, burns, and bruises he had received at the hands of Vader's soldiers seemed to be concentrated on his chest and stomach, so Leia had quickly moved to embrace him from behind as they attempted to fall asleep.
Attempted was the key word. Han had been still for quite awhile and she was glad he was getting some rest. She had known before they stretched out next to each other that she wouldn't be able to sleep, but she could at least hold the man she loved as he did.
Loved. That was a new word to associate with Han, though it didn't feel entirely foreign. It felt comfortable to think, worn-in, like a favorite cloak wrapped around her shoulders. She wasn't sure why she couldn't say the words out loud. Maybe if they weren't in a life-threatening situation (and when, exactly, are we not?) she'd feel more inclined, but it felt too much like last words, too much like admitting they were never going to see the light of day again. She could think the words, though, and found herself thinking them toward Han, as if he would pick up on them with some spontaneously developed gift of telepathy.
She pressed her lips to his shoulder blade, unsure if he'd feel the touch of affection through his shirt. A shiver ran through his body and Leia moved closer to bury her face in the back of his neck.
"Your nose is freezing," Han said, causing Leia to jump. She had sworn he was asleep, but his voice wasn't even tinged with drowsiness. He was as awake as she was.
"Sorry," she said pulling her head back slightly.
"Just an observation, sweetheart," he said covering her hand that rested lightly on his chest with his own. "'t's nice havin' you close."
Just an observation, Leia repeated to herself ruefully. We're starting to talk like each other. She had never heard Han say the phrase, but she'd heard it come out of her own mouth on many occasions, often to diffuse situations where someone — usually Han — misinterpreted what she really had intended to be an observation as criticism. She had probably said the phrase thirty times the first week they were stuck on the Falcon. Han had eventually caught on to when she was actually criticizing and could differentiate, but it had been a process involving a lot of communication and many, many repetitions of, Just an observation.
Han tensed, seemed to be holding his breath, bracing himself for something. When he shoved his body into a half-sitting position so he could turn to face Leia, she almost protested, but…well, it was nice to look him in the eye.
He settled back down on his side, wincing with the movement. He cupped Leia's face with his hand, thumb stroking along her cheekbone gently. The room—cell—whatever this unheated space was that they were in — wasn't completely dark and she could see the pain, regret, and sorrow in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," Han whispered, his voice barely forming the words in their entirety.
Leia picked up his free hand and pressed her lips to his knuckles. He had to know she didn't blame him, had to know that this wasn't his fault. He had trusted a friend — something the Han she had first met on the Death Star years prior would have resisted entirely, which made the situation all the more painful in Leia's eyes. Here was this man, this beautiful man who had been so jaded as to not trust a soul aside from Chewie for the majority of his life, who had slowly but surely let down his walls and begun to trust those around him, those who genuinely cared for him, and the first time he applied that same trust to an old friend, he had been betrayed. Leia's heart ached at the thought.
"There's nothing to be sorry for," she said gently.
"Shoulda listened to you. You said somethin' was wrong and I didn't—"
Leia brushed her thumb over his lips, silencing him. "We were already here, Han. We didn't have a working hyperdrive and this was the only port nearby that made sense."
He seemed unconvinced. "If I'd found somewhere else—"
"There was nowhere else," she reminded him. They had scoured possibilities together, neither entirely familiar with the system they had landed themselves in. Stuck on a ship with finite resources and a broken hyperdrive, they could have only flown so far before it became irresponsible to continue. The only port that made sense given the circumstances was Bespin. He knew that.
Han closed his eyes, his expression pained. "If anything happens to you or Chewie, I'll never—I won't be able to—"
"Nothing's happening to anyone right now," Leia said, sounding far more confident than she felt. "I doubt anything will happen to any of us until Luke gets here." Her heart hurt just thinking about it. Luke, on his way to help them, Luke who likely didn't know it was a trap. How Lando had known that Luke was headed toward them, she didn't know, but as soon as he had said it, she could feel that he was right. Luke was on his way. She imagined they were safe until he arrived.
Han still seemed intent on blaming himself, on taking responsibility for transgressions that were not his. Leia traced a line from his brow, down the edge of his jaw, to his chin and back again, fingertips light against his skin in an attempt to soothe. She tilted her chin up slightly and brushed his lips with hers, hoping the contact would remove the idea that he was at fault in any way.
He broke away earlier than she expected him to, burying his face in the curve of her neck. "Leia," Han murmured into her skin. "I love you so much. I—I'm so—" He broke off and let out a shuddery breath. "This is my fault."
Leia pushed on his shoulder gently until she could see his face and sat up. Han's eyes were glossy with unspent tears. Her heart felt as if it were being squeezed in a vise. She couldn't recall ever seeing him tear up; crying wasn't something he did as far as she knew.
She stroked his hair, smiling sadly, and said, "I think it might finally be someday."
Han looked as if she had punched him in the gut, and Leia frantically ran through alternative interpretations of what she'd said. She cringed as she realized what he thought she meant, but before she was able to backtrack and explain, he pushed himself into a sitting position.
"I know," he said, his voice breaking with emotion. "It's all I've been thinkin' since we got here."
Leia shook her head vigorously. "That's not what I meant." She placed her hands on his cheeks, forcing eye contact. "I meant you're wrong about it being your fault." Han pulled away from her and opened his mouth to protest, but Leia kept speaking. "You got us off Hoth alive. You looked at our available options and picked the one most likely to work out. We couldn't fly at sublight forever, Han. We were running low on rations when we landed. I don't think we'd have made it to another planet, at least not one with enough resources to be helpful." She touched his cheek again. "This is Vader's fault and Lando's. You trusted a friend to help and he decided to do something else."
Han didn't seem fully convinced, but he didn't argue, either. Leia kissed his cheek and he wrapped her in a tight embrace. She heard a sharp intake of breath and wanted to pull away, afraid that holding her so close was causing him pain, but Han's arms were firm around her.
"I love you," he said, his lips brushing against her hair. "I'm so sorry. I love y—" He broke off, seeming to choke on his own words. Han again bowed his head, face buried in the curve of Leia's neck.
She slid her arms around him, running gentle fingers across the back of his neck, the tense muscles of his shoulders, and wishing she could make him understand how few things about their situation were his fault. I love you, she thought, hesitant to say the words for fear that he would think she felt pressured by his own confessions. I love you.
She felt him relax slightly in her arms, though not much. Sleep did not seem like a luxury either of them would be able to indulge in, so Leia continued her gentle touches, finding comfort in purpose for the moment.
A/N: Yeah, so I've reflected some on how much of a bummer it was for Han, who has gone on this whole journey of learning to trust the people around him, and not just look out for himself, to then take a chance trusting an old friend only to have it immediately backfire. It's probably way more thought than the film warrants, but...it's kind of heartbreaking, right?