A/N: Big thanks to DiplomaticPrincess, who read an early, unfinished draft of this and offered some feedback.
Also thanks to my friend Abby, who doesn't actually read or write fanfiction at all, but when I mentioned the general concept driving this fic, deemed it "fantastic" and gave me the will to finish it. She will never see this, but that's okay.
It started with an odd entry on the shared calendar datapad they kept displayed in the kitchen the first year after the end of the war. Han was swiping through the months to add Chewie's birthday because the Wookiee had noticed its absence the last time he was over and would not stop bringing it up no matter how many times Han reminded him that neither he nor Leia had ever forgotten his birthday.
The entry that caught his eye said SHD - S-Y. It was highlighted in yellow, an indication that it had been migrated over from Leia's personal calendar, and appeared to repeat for a week.
Han puzzled over what the event could possibly be. The only week-long events he knew of that Leia cared about were a few fetes throughout the year, some celebrated galaxy-wide, some specifically Alderaanian. But he knew this wasn't a fete week. For one thing, the week included several individual anniversaries: the day Alderaan was destroyed, the day Han, Leia, Chewie, and Luke met, and the week ended with the anniversary of the Battle of Yavin. Those dates were burned into Han's brain; he would remember if a fete week overlapped them. Besides, Leia wrote out the full names of holidays proper-like, and SHD - S-Y definitely looked like initials of some sort.
He had every intention of filing the topic away for later consideration when he saw another entry a month after the first labeled SHD - Ttn. One of the dates seemed awfully familiar, like it was something he had earmarked before, but he couldn't recall its exact significance.
Curiosity piqued, Han swiped further into the calendar. Every few weeks, there was another entry. SHD - EB. SHD - Bsp. SHD - En. By the time he arrived at the next year's SHD - S-Y week, Han had counted more than thirty entries, several of which lasted multiple days.
They didn't occur at regular intervals — sometimes there were weeks in between entries, sometimes days. One even seemed to occur inside the three-day duration of another. Han wasn't sure what to make of it. Had there been appointments with Mon or lunches with dignitaries visible, he might have thought Leia accidentally loaded her work calendar, but nothing appeared obviously New Republic-related.
He heard the door open, but remained in place, still attempting to find a pattern that would explain the strange calendar entries. Leia moved through their apartment in a particular order every day when she got home, and he could hear the telltale sounds of each step she took — the soft thump of her bag landing on a chair in the living room, the sudden transition from shoes to bare feet when she took her flats off mid-step as she walked down the hall to their bedroom, water running in the 'fresher as she scrubbed make-up from her face.
Leia wandered into the kitchen, already in pajamas and a thin robe, obviously intending to stay in. She slid her arms around Han's waist, cheek pressed to his back. "Was wondering where you were," she said. "You're usually following me around by now if you're home."
Han rolled his eyes, though he didn't bother denying it. His reputation as a bit of a loner had suffered greatly over the years, in part because it became obvious fairly quickly that he didn't mind certain people so much, and that he was prone to seeking out Leia in particular — and that was before she had married him.
"Was just tryin' to add Chewie's birthday to the calendar," he said.
Leia laughed but kept her arms around him. "He's still upset about that?"
Han waved flippantly. "Ah, you know the guy. Probably not actually upset, but he won't stop actin' wounded, and that's just as bad. Maybe even worse." Han set the datapad on the counter and turned to face Leia. "Hi," he said quietly, dropping a kiss first on her forehead, then her lips.
"Hi," she said as they parted. She looked exhausted but not frustrated, and just as beautiful as ever. Han was hit again with the improbability of their situation. She had chosen him to spend her life with. The idea was confounding even years after their first declarations of love for one another.
Leia rested her head on his chest. "What're you thinking about?" she asked, scratching her nails lightly over his shoulder blade.
"You."
"Mmm. Tired topic."
"Never." He kissed her hair. It was still pinned up, but she clearly wasn't planning on going anywhere. He pulled a pin partially out of one of her braids, a sort of wordless question.
She nodded. "Yes, please. I'm getting a headache."
Han extracted the pin fully and set it on the counter. "Everything all right?"
Another nod. "Exhausting day is all. Everything's fine. Just…bureaucracy. "
Leia didn't seem inclined to move, but Han could manage freeing her hair even while she stayed close. He peered at her face briefly. She had her eyes closed and was obviously tired, but she had said nothing was wrong and she didn't seem upset, so he felt safe venturing forward on the subject of the calendar. "Hey, Leia?"
"Yeah?"
"What's SHD?"
"ISHD? Interspecies Health Department. Who spent the day driving me insane, by the way." Leia touched her fingers to her temple as Han removed the last of her hair pins.
Han shook his head and ran his fingers through the ends of one of her braids, loosening the strands. "No, pretty sure it's just SHD." He twisted slightly to activate the datapad and tapped on the screen to check.
Leia peered at the calendar in interest. Han noticed her eyes widen briefly, a momentary expression of alarm, before she whispered, "Oh." She glanced away, chewing her bottom lip. "Didn't think those were a part of the import," she said.
Han looked at her skeptically. She seemed embarrassed, but not upset. He couldn't remember the last time she had been embarrassed to tell him something. "Leia?" he prodded, nudging her arm.
Leia closed her eyes and groaned, hiding her face in her hands. "It's incredibly stupid," she said, her voice muffled.
"Well, now you gotta tell me." She sighed and mumbled something incomprehensible into her palms. "Can't understand ya, sweetheart," Han said.
Leia dropped her hands and looked him in the eye. "It's just a thing I've done since—" She sighed again. "After Bespin, I'd get stuck in…Luke called them 'probability spirals', where I couldn't stop thinking about how unlikely everything was to work out. It was unlikely you were alive, it was unlikely we would find you, it was unlikely even if you were alive that you'd survive the thawing process…I sounded like Threepio on his worst days. I'd had a really, really bad day — I was stuck in my head, and I don't think I even made it to half my meetings that day, so Luke came to check on me, and when I started spiraling again, he said, 'Think of all the times we should have died and didn't. This isn't any different.' So I did."
"You…did?"
"Thought of all the times we should have died." Leia laughed softly and glanced away. "In retrospect, I don't think he intended for me to take it quite so literally, but I was grasping at anything that might keep me from unraveling and I—It felt like a project I could focus on for a few minutes, so I went through my calendar and marked every time we should have died. And after that, it just seemed like an interesting data point, so I kept tracking. SHD stands for should have died. Not very creative, I know, but I've never claimed to be."
Han squinted at her. "You've been trackin' every time we should have died?"
"Well, really just every time I should have died. You were there most of the time, but there have been some standalone incidences. Scarif, a few days on the Death Star, that mission to Bid'jerma. Do you remember that one? It was maybe eight months after Yavin."
"The jailbreak where you almost bled out in my cockpit because you didn't tell anyone you'd been stabbed?" Han asked. Leia nodded. "Barely remember it. Certainly didn't scar me for life or anythin'."
She ran her fingers through his hair gently and tilted her chin up to kiss his cheek. "Oh, stop. I was fine." Han gave her a disbelieving look and Leia self-corrected. "After a few units of blood, I was fine."
Han glanced at the datapad again. "So, you celebrate the anniversaries of almost dyin'?"
She shook her head. "I don't celebrate any of it, but I don't mind the reminders of all we've survived." Leia slipped her arms around his ribs and pressed her cheek to his sternum. "It makes nearly anything feel possible."
They fell into an easy silence. Han held her, fingers working methodically to unravel her braids from the bottom up. Leia sighed in relief every time a section near her scalp loosened. He spent a few seconds massaging each spot with his thumb, hoping to ease her headache. His eyes were drawn to the calendar again and Han found himself swiping back through with his free hand until he landed on the current month.
"What happened next week?" he asked tapping the screen lightly for emphasis. The entry — SHD - Ttn. — lasted two days.
Leia peered at the datapad. "Jabba's." She shuddered. Han wrapped his arms around her, kissing her hair. Leia didn't often speak of his rescue from Jabba's, at least not in specifics, and he rarely pressed her for details. For a while, she had put up a strong front. It hadn't been difficult; between focusing on Han's physical recovery, the mission on Endor, getting married, and helping head up a new government, there had been plenty of distractions. But she had divulged a few times that her nightmares, which had previously taken place almost exclusively on the Death Star, Alderaan, or Bespin, now occasionally featured the grubby palace on Tatooine.
"Means I've had you back almost two years," Leia said, a touch too cheerily, and Han knew from her tone that she didn't want to discuss it further right then.
It was the merchant's doing, really. Han should have known better, but she had lied to his face. They all kept an eye out for him, honing their stories to offload surplus items that hadn't sold as well as they had anticipated. If the princess was with him, they were unlikely to make a sale — she knew her own planet and culture better than anyone after all. But if he was alone, well…Han Solo seemed to think it far better to waste a handful of credits on something erroneously labeled Alderaanian than to find out later that he had passed up something from Leia's childhood due to ignorance and suspicion.
"It's an old Alderaanian candy," the sweets vendor assured him. "Got a shipment of them just this morning from a traditional candy maker. Expect be sold out as soon as word spreads."
"Jellyfruit slugs?" Han said suspiciously.
The vendor nodded, shoving strands of dark hair behind her ear. "Alderaanian children go wild for them."
"Thought jellyfruit was native to Tenoo," he said, looking over the containers of unappetizing candy.
"Jellyfruit is, yes, but the candy is Alderaanian. Uses a traditional process and slug molds that are exact replicas of the originals."
Han frowned. What she said sounded right, though he couldn't imagine Leia willingly eating anything shaped like a slug. "People really eat these? Slugs?"
The vendor shrugged. "Kids do. Children…they revel in being disgusting sometimes."
He couldn't speak to what children reveled in, though he had a memory of Leia laughing about the ways she used to purposefully horrify her aunts, and eating slug-shaped candy suddenly didn't seem to be much of a reach. And, well, if they were an Alderaanian thing, he would hate to find out because Leia had missed out on them.
She found them before he had a chance to explain as they unloaded the few items he bought to make dinner. Leia grimaced as she picked up the package of candy slugs. "What are these?"
Han pursed his lips. He had been more suspicious than usual of the vendor's claims about the candy's origins, but they had cost a mere three credits. The risk seemed worth it. Seeing Leia's disgusted expression, he was now certain he had been lied to.
"Jellyfruit slugs," he said matter-of-factly as he pulled eggs and ruica from a bag. "The vendor said they were a favorite of Alderaanian children, so I thought…"
Her expression softened as it usually did when he bought something from home for her, and Leia kissed his cheek. "The vendors are going to continue to lie to you if you keep buying everything they say is of Alderaanian origin," she said as she pushed herself up to sit on the counter. "But thank you for thinking of me."
"So, those aren't?" he asked, locating a cutting board and slicing the ruica into ribbons.
Leia picked up the package again and examined the candies closely. "I've never seen these before in my life. They look dreadful. Though…" She snorted with laughter and Han looked up to see what was so funny. Leia was holding one of the slugs between her thumb and forefinger. "Kinda looks like Jabba."
Han took a closer look at the candy. It was a similar color to Jabba and the body shape was virtually identical, though it lacked any distinguishing facial features. He laughed. "Yeah, I'd say that's pretty close."
Leia bit into the candy gingerly and grimaced. "These are really stale." She continued to chew with some effort, wrinkling her nose.
"Not good?" Han asked.
"It's vile," Leia said, crossing her legs primly. "You should try it." She shoved the half-eaten gummy close to his lips.
Han recoiled. "Why would I want to try somethin' that tastes terrible?"
"Shared experience."
"We have a whole calendar filled with shared experiences and none of them required me to eat something vi—" Han was interrupted by the remainder of the gummy slug being crammed in his mouth. He nearly gagged, in part from the texture of the candy, which was somehow both hard as a rock and unpleasantly sticky, and in part from its repulsive flavor. He spit what remained of the gummy into the garbage and dispensed a glass of water to rinse his mouth. "Think it might taste like Jabba, too."
"Oh, you have a lot of experience in that department, do you?" Leia said with a teasing grin.
Han scoffed softly and shook his head as he dumped the sliced ruica onto a roasting pan and slid it into the oven. "Thankfully, no."
He turned back toward Leia, noting a familiar, faraway look in her eyes, one that usually meant a flashback to some heinous event during the war was forthcoming. He walked back to where she sat on the counter and rubbed her arms, trying to keep her mind in the present.
"Hey," he said softly. "You still with me?"
Leia slid her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. After a moment of quiet that about killed Han, she turned her head so she could speak clearly. "I used to imagine us like this when you were—while you were gone. For a second, it felt like it did back then. When I was imagining."
"Like it isn't real?" he prodded.
Leia nodded and he wrapped his arms tight around her. He'd had similar moments, usually if he woke very suddenly from an unnerving or frightening dream with Leia cuddled up against him. The improbability of it all — that they'd both lived after all this time and had managed to not kill each other during some of their rougher moments early on — made it seem entirely unreal. He'd often feel a spike of panic, wondering if he was actually still in the hellhole that was Echo Base, if he'd wake up again, this time to a lonely bunk and cloudy breath.
He gave her a reassuring squeeze. "Glad to know we're livin' up to your fantasies," he said, keeping his tone light.
Leia chuckled weakly before taking a few slow, deep breaths. "I'm here," she assured him. "Didn't wander too far this time." Han felt her press her nose into his neck.
Han pressed his palm lightly against her back. "What happened?"
He knew — really anyone that had been involved in a kriffing war knew — that triggers weren't always consistent or predictable, but he thought they'd pinned hers down. His had always been the complicated ones, often existing between layers of memories and feelings and vague senses of unease stemming from childhood and adulthood alike; Leia's were more straightforward, and generally seemed to be directly related to specific experiences.
She exhaled slowly and Han felt her warm breath against his neck. "Two years," she said softly. "I walked into Jabba's two years ago today. I saw it on the calendar earlier. It's been on my mind all evening."
Han held her tight, and kissed her hair. "Wish that'd gone differently," he murmured.
There were still times when he wanted to shake Luke, Lando, and even Chewie for involving Leia in that rescue mission when they knew what happened to women at Jabba's. He had been told time and again that their options were either to officially involve her or proceed with the knowledge that she would go rogue and involve herself. The first option had fewer variables, so they had all agreed it was the least risky.
Still, when he thought of her chained to Jabba's throne — even for the single day that she had been held captive — his stomach churned.
"I don't," Leia said firmly. When Han pulled back to shoot her a questioning look, she continued, running her fingers up and down the back of his neck. "The rescue was successful, and none of us died or were even seriously injured. I suffered some humiliation, but I was also put in a place where I could take out Jabba. I don't regret a minute of any of it."
"Think it was sorta traumatizing for all of us, Leia," Han countered warily. She had a tendency to try to gloss over some of the lingering effects of living through a war, and he didn't think failing to acknowledge the obvious was helpful. "It's okay to not like what happened, even if it all turned out okay eventually."
She met his gaze with soft, brown eyes. "I got you back. And because I was able to take care of Jabba, we haven't had to worry about bounty hunters. It was worth it, even if we probably should have died several times over those couple of days."
Sealing her proclamation with a brief kiss, Leia slid off the counter. She turned the stove on and busied herself with freeing nerf sausages from their packaging. Once the sausages were all sizzling in a pan, she turned to look at Han again.
"We should celebrate."
He raised his eyebrows. "What?"
She stepped toward him and placed her hands on his biceps. "Two years ago, we should have died, and we didn't. It seems worth celebrating: our unlikely triumph over certain death."
Han smiled down at her. "Can't argue with that," he said. "Got somethin' in mind to mark the occasion?"
Leia shook her head slightly, then paused, her eyes narrowing at something behind Han. She grinned up at him and grabbed the jellyfruit slugs from where they sat on the counter. "Let's melt Jabba."
Han barked out a surprised laugh. The suggestion was silly, almost childish, but Leia seemed so delighted by her own idea that he wouldn't have considered shooting it down.
She pulled another pan from the cabinets and set it on the stove. For the briefest of seconds, Han thought he caught a glimpse of the mischievous, young princess who had reportedly taken a certain amount of joy in scandalizing her aunts and giving her parents more gray hairs than they'd earned on their own. She turned the burner on and dropped a single jellyfruit slug into the pan.
The grotesque candy liquified slowly, oozing out from the bottom into a molten pool until only the very top of its head remained. Leia dropped a second slug into the melted puddle and stared as it slowly dissolved into the remains of its brother. Han flipped the sausages before they had a chance to burn, and, by the time he had finished Leia was offering him a slug to add to the pan. He dropped it on top of the glistening layer of liquified jellyfruit.
"Was really scared when we got separated at Jabba's," Han said as his slug finished melting. He wasn't sure why he said it, except that they never really talked about any part of that mission aside from the eventual victory. It had been a necessity during the war, to not dwell on missions that went bad for longer than it took to ensure the next one wouldn't go bad for the same reasons. But they weren't in the war any more.
Leia jerked her head up when he spoke, eyes trained on his face. "You were?"
He shrugged, then nodded. It had taken a long, long time for him to even recognize what his own reactions had been during that period. He had been so disoriented and sick that it had been difficult to suss out whether he'd felt much of anything sensical. But he also recalled the distinct sense of terror caused by knowing Leia was being held somewhere in Jabba's palace, and that neither he nor Chewie was with her.
"Yeah," he finally affirmed. "I mean, I was mostly sick. Kept passing out, then I'd wake up puking, then I'd remember you were somewhere, but not with me and sorta panic. Chewie kept tryin' to tell me there was a plan, but I didn't think you gettin' caught was a part of the plan. Luke and Chewie and Lando knew better than to put you in that sort of position on purpose."
Leia jammed a fingernail into a slug, severing its head from its body before dropping both pieces into the pan to be melted. "It wasn't part of the plan," she said. She bit her lip, seeming nervous. "I, ah, wasn't supposed to release you originally. At least not that night. But I was pretty sure Boba Fett had caught on to the fact that I wasn't Boushh, so I made some on-the-fly adjustments to the plan—"
Han nearly rolled his eyes. On-the-fly adjustments. He'd heard that one before. "You went rogue."
She huffed out a laugh and nodded. "I went rogue. Everyone I saw when I brought Chewie in had been drinking and doing spice from what I could tell. Figured they'd be sleeping pretty hard. Didn't anticipate the welcoming committee we ended up encountering." Leia rolled another slug between her thumb and forefinger, warping its shape before setting it gingerly into the pan. "I was scared, too, for what it's worth." She looked up at Han.
He stepped closer to her, placing a lid over the sausages and turning the heat down so they wouldn't burn. He touched Leia's elbow, running his fingers down the length of her arm until he could wind them through hers. "Yeah?" asked. She hadn't seemed scared at Jabba's, but he hadn't been able to see her at all, and had barely heard her string together a handful of sentences before they'd been forcefully separated.
Leia nodded and rested her temple against his shoulder. "Not for myself so much." She paused, squeezing his hand. "Well, maybe a little for myself. Someone told me Jabba liked to use…time…with his slave girls as incentives for his favorite contractors, and I knew the longer I was in his control, the more likely it was that I'd be forced into that situation. But I was primarily afraid for you. I had done extensive research on hibernation sickness and knew you were supposed to be hydrating and resting, and that, after an hour or two after waking, you were at higher risk for a seizure or cardiac arrest. There was no way for me to know what was going on. I couldn't hear you from where I was, couldn't talk to you, couldn't see you. I spent several hours thinking you were probably dead, and just hoping that you'd at least had Chewie with you at the end if that was the case."
Han's heart ached at her admission. Sitting around, unable to do something while someone he loved was in mortal peril was an experience he had rarely had to endure, but he knew from the few times he had that it was excruciating. He slid his arm around Leia's waist and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
She glanced at him and offered a small smile along with the one of the last two slugs. Han took it and dropped it in the pot without ceremony, far more focused on his wife.
"I decided if it turned out you were dead, I was really going to need to figure out a way out of that place, because I needed to be able to find and execute Vader myself."
Han squeezed her hip again. "You sure you weren't already plannin' that last part?"
Leia shook her head. "I wanted him dead, but I had been mostly happy to let that happen by whatever means possible. Half the time, I didn't ever want to see him again unless it was to confirm he was no longer alive. This was different. I spent the hours that we were waiting for Luke locating every weapon within reach and playing out every scenario I could think of, so I was ready when the opportunity presented itself."
"Still don't know how you managed to kill Jabba," Han said. Luke had some theory about her tapping into the Force, but even he had seemed surprised to learn that she had managed to take out a Hutt.
Leia dropped her last jellyfruit slug into the pot and watched it melt for a moment before looking up at him. "You've never seen me as angry as I was that day."
"I dunno," he teased. "I've managed to inspire a fair amount of your rage myself."
She shook her head and wrapped her arms around him. "Not like that."
Han kissed her head and pulled her close as they watched the final jellyfruit effigy dissolve in the molten candy.
After they ate dinner, Leia threw the solidified disc of jellyfruit candy in the garbage, remarking on how easily it slid from the pan once it had had time to cool.
A few weeks later, Han was in the Falcon's circuitry bay performing some routine maintenance when he sensed someone directly behind him. He swung around, confident that it was Leia — few others were able to remain undetected long enough to sneak up on him — and couldn't help but grin at the sight of her.
She had apparently stopped at home to change from her office attire into more comfortable clothing, which wouldn't have been odd if it wasn't an hour before lunch. Han raised his eyebrows at her.
"What're you doin' all the way out here?" he asked.
"That's certainly one way to greet your beloved wife," Leia said wryly. She took his hand, looking over his knuckles.
"Hands are filthy," Han said, eliciting a grin from her. He gave her look, though another smile pricked at the corners of his mouth. "That ain't a line, Princess. My hands really are greasy."
Leia shrugged, stepped closer to him, and kissed him gently, her fingers lingering on his jaw as they separated. "Have anything pressing this afternoon?"
He shook his head, pulling a rag from his back pocket to wipe what he could off his hands. "Not really. Why?"
She smiled mischievously. "I was supposed to spend half the day in a working session that'd been postponed until next week, and I thought I might just…not unblock my calendar."
Han gasped dramatically and pressed the back of his cleanest hand to her forehead. "Hmm. No fever. Thought for sure you'd be delirious if you're talkin' about playin' hooky."
Leia rolled her eyes. "Is it playing hooky if the leader of the galaxy gave me the go-ahead?"
"Depends," Han said, dropping his hand and briefly replacing it with his lips. "Does Mon know you cut work to hang out with scoundrels, or did you give her an excuse that sounded nicer?"
"I told her I wanted to celebrate an anniversary with the very nice man I married."
Han shot her a look. Their anniversary wasn't for a month. "Surprised she believed that one considering she was at the wedding."
Leia laughed softly. "I think at this point, Mon will let me take time off to celebrate as many anniversaries as I am willing to claim."
That was probably true. Leia had gotten better about taking time away from work to recuperate, at least when Han was planetside, but he knew if he had business off-planet, she had a tendency to work enough long days that Mon Mothma of all people had taken notice on more than one occasion.
"Besides," she continued, taking his hand in hers again and pulling him out of the circuitry bay, "I said an anniversary, not our wedding anniversary."
Han studied her curiously. "What are we celebratin' then?" He wasn't going to argue with whatever excuse she'd come up with. If Leia wanted to take time off work, he was all for it. Though her habits had improved overall, she had been stretched thin for a couple of weeks. She was beginning to resemble the overworked, insomniac princess he'd known back on Hoth in more ways than one, and, with war tribunals on the horizon, he couldn't imagine she would be less stressed in the months to come. He'd be lying if he said it didn't worry him a little.
"I thought we could decide together." She pulled her datapad seemingly out of nowhere and tapped the screen a few time. "We have options."
He peered over her shoulder at the screen, her back barely brushing against his chest. Han slid his arm around her waist and pulled her closer as she navigated quickly to her calendar.
The date was marked SHD - EB. Leia tapped it with a fingernail. "Three years since Echo Base was destroyed, so somewhere around three years of us."
The vagueness of the second half of her statement was fitting for their situation at the time. There was no one date that they could say they got together; it seemed like they had parted and returned to one another a thousand times during the month-long trek from Hoth to Bespin. They'd kissed, they'd fought, they'd laughed at and with each other. Han recalled multiple instances in which frustration alone had cause tears to pool in Leia's eyes, leaving him feeling helpless, and he recalled multiple instances of quiet and meaningful conversations held while resting in one another's arms. He had told her he loved her somewhere around the halfway mark, and when she seemed to loathe herself for being unable to return the sentiment, had assured her that he wasn't surprised that they were moving at different speeds. By the time they had disembarked in Cloud City, they were unquestionably together, though neither had been keen to discuss what, exactly, that looked like in light of Han's looming departure.
"Falcon logs had us moving on a steady course at sublight starting here," she touched one date, the second day of SHD - EB. "Hyperdrive came back on…" She started to point to a date a little over four weeks later, but dropped her hand. The day the hyperdrive had been reinstated was the day Han had been frozen, the day Luke had lost his hand and learned of his heritage. That date was burned into their minds for all eternity.
Han slid his free hand into Leia's and gave it a squeeze, pressing his cheek against her temple. "You went through the Falcon's logs to get your escapin' death dates right?"
Leia snorted and tilted her head into his cheek. "No, I went through the Falcon's logs so I could file an accurate report with High Command about our time away." She paused. "And because I wanted a reason to be on the ship for as long as I could before Chewie and Lando took off. I thought I might have issues accessing the logs without help, which would give me more time." She tapped the current date — the first day of SHD - EB — with her thumb. "The way I see it, we're either celebrating another escape from death or the anniversary of a particularly good kiss."
Han touched his lips to the tender skin in front of her ear. "One of those was a lot more fun than the other," he said, punctuating every couple of syllables with little kisses along her jaw.
Leia laughed softly before turning to better capture his lips with her own. When they parted, she leaned against his chest. "What, you didn't find running for our lives on kriffing ice exhilarating?" she asked wryly.
Han wanted to chuckle, to banter in their usual way, but just recalling the mixture of abject terror and relief he had felt when he heard Leia's voice in the background of a transmission saying the command center had been hit kept any humor he might have had about the subject at bay. The later alert that Imps had made it inside the base had caused him to panic internally, the need to pull Leia as far away from the Empire as possible entirely overwhelming.
Leia squeezed his biceps and ran her hands up and down his arms, drawing him back to the present.
"Hey," she said, her voice low and quiet. "You here?"
Han focused on her big, brown eyes, the sensation of her fingers brushing over his forearms. He nodded, forcing a small smile. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm here."
They decided that bringing takeout back to the Falcon sufficed as a celebratory act. The ship had served as both their getaway vehicle when Echo Base had been destroyed and the location for the "particularly good kiss", so it made some level of sense, though Han was also fully aware that Leia liked to hide aboard the Falcon when she was feeling overwhelmed and unmoored. She might not call it hiding, might not admit to it at all, but he knew her habits, and, considering how stretched and stressed she'd seemed lately, her suggesting spending time on the familiar ship was hardly a surprise.
They made light conversation over lunch, and though there was a lot of laughter between the two of them as they recalled the ridiculous arguments they'd gotten into the first week or so at sublight, Han couldn't help but notice the dark circles under Leia's eyes. When she slumped against his arm after shoving her empty bowl toward the center of the dejarik table, he looked down at her. She had closed her eyes.
"Sweetheart?" he asked, sliding his arm around her shoulders.
"Not asleep," she mumbled, eyes still shut.
"Convincing," Han said wryly. He gave her a light squeeze. "Why dontcha go take a nap?"
She opened her eyes halfway, a toothless glare that made him laugh. "We're celebrating together. Napping is a solitary activity."
"Doesn't have to be," he pointed out.
That was apparently all it took for Leia to agree, though once they were curled up in their bunk back in the captain's cabin, she seemed more awake and eager to chat.
Leia ran her fingers down Han's neck at a lazy pace and pressed into his side. He slid hand up and down her back, attempting to focus on the rare quiet afternoon spent alone with his wife, but all their talk of Echo Base earlier combined with her current wan appearance and general air of exhaustion ricocheted around in his mind. He felt like he was on the cusp of being thrown three years into the past, and he didn't love the emotions that seemed to be shoving themselves to the surface as a result.
Han still felt his stomach drop every time he remembered hearing her voice over the command center comm. She was supposed to have evacuated with an earlier group, and though Leia could be a little impulsive in the field, she was also a stickler for evacuation protocols. He had been sure as soon as he heard her that her plan was to stay until everyone was out, which meant she would likely die in a firefight.
"D'you know how much I panicked when I heard your voice over the comm that day?" he asked during a moment of quiet, running his knuckles between her shoulders. "Thought you had evacuated."
Leia tilted her head slightly and studied him for a moment before responding. "On Echo?" she asked. He nodded and she added, "Probably about as much as I panicked when I saw you in the command center. I thought you had made it off the planet."
"I just…I was real worried I'd lose ya, and we'd left things so bad between us." Though she had obviously been relieved that Han had made it back to base with Luke after spending the night in deadly weather — she'd thrown her arms around him in a viselike embrace the moment he had stepped off the speeder he had ridden back in on — they still hadn't made up exactly. Their final interaction before the attack had been disastrous, and Han had about convinced himself he didn't actually care what happened to her when hearing her voice over the comm proved his own assertions wrong.
Leia slid her arm across his waist, stroking his back slowly. She didn't say anything, seemingly waiting for him to continue.
Han hesitated, before speaking again, ready to admit something he would have never brought up three years prior. "You sounded so scared on the comms after Command got hit. That's what sent me running across the base." He had heard that tone in her voice only a handful of times, and only in situations in which they'd been certain they were about to die. "I doubt anyone else woulda noticed, but I…"
"You knew me well, even then," Leia said affectionately. She reached up and stroked his hair off his forehead. "I was scared. I spent so much of my time during the war assuming I'd die before the end, I'd just sort of accepted that it was my time. And then you came blustering in and I…well, there was a part of me that felt like it was maybe a sign that we'd be okay because you and I always made it through things together. But then I was mad that you weren't safe."
He buried his nose in her hair, fingers tracing along the edge of her shoulder blade. "Been kinda worried about you the last coupla weeks," he murmured. "You've been seemin' a little like you were back then."
"Numbly resigned to my eventual demise at the hands of the Empire?" Leia asked, clearly confused about what he was referring to.
Han pressed a kiss to her head. "Overworked. Not sleeping enough. Seemin' worried all the time. Not saying when something's botherin' you."
Leia scowled for a brief moment before softening her expression. She looked Han in the eye, concern clear on her face. "It's work, not you. You know that, right?"
He nodded. He hadn't thought that he was a factor this time; he was pretty sure she'd have told him if he had been. "Figured," he said. "Still don't like that you're not talkin' about it."
"I can't tell you anything classified—"
"The way you're feelin' ain't classified, Leia." She pulled away from him slightly, her body tense. Han softened his tone, feeling bad for cutting her off mid-sentence. "The way you shut down before…it kinda scared me. I know we weren't together then, but we were friends at least half the time, and you and Luke were close, and it didn't seem like you were talkin' to anyone."
Leia pressed her lips together and moved closer to him, tucking her head under his chin. "I wasn't, I suppose. I felt like the success of the rebellion rested…not entirely on my shoulders, but certainly mostly, and there was no winning that inner battle…" She paused. "I don't quite feel that way with the New Republic, but I have a lot of responsibility — more than most people — and recently I…"
Han held his tongue, still regretting interrupting her before. Instead of saying anything else, he rubbed her back gently, hoping she'd want to finish her thought.
Leia sighed and he felt her eyelashes brush against his neck. "Tribunals are starting soon. I know I mentioned that a few times. I'm just afraid…What if I'm vindictive? What if I act out of hate and anger?"
His first inclination was to say, So what? Fuck 'em! but Han knew that wouldn't be particularly helpful. Anyway, he was pretty sure he knew where a lot of her worry was coming from, and responding so callously wouldn't improve a thing, even if his vitriol was directed toward war criminals.
He planted a hand solidly between her shoulders, hoping his touch was reassuring enough to counteract the discomfort that what he had to say was likely to cause. "You're worried you're like him," he said softly. "Aren't you?"
Shortly after the Battle of Endor, Leia had expressed concern regarding some vague darkness she thought she might have inherited from Vader. Han remembered not understanding where the worry was coming from. His Leia sharing a single similarity with that monster of a man? Sweet, compassionate, witty, sharp Leia? She had nothing in common with him.
He had, he thought at the time, handled her concerns well, telling her there was no way in all hells that she had inherited even one thing from Vader. But, that wasn't exactly true, and they both knew it. If nothing else, she was Force-sensitive. Even if she never trained, never did anything with it, the ability was present and apparently always had been. She was probably thinking that, if she had inherited that, then why not all his twisted darkness to go along with it?
Leia inhaled sharply and Han felt her nod, the crown of her head bumping into his chin. "I try to keep my feelings under control, but I'm just so angry about everything that happened, Han. It scares me."
"You ain't the only one, Sweetheart."
She pulled her head back to look at him, pressing her hand to his chest. "Really?" she whispered.
He nodded. "You wanna know what my first thought was a second ago when you were worryin' about being vindictive during tribunals?"
She bit her lip and nodded.
"So what? Fuck 'em!"
Leia snorted and let out an incredulous laugh. "Han!" she chided, pushing him slightly.
He shrugged and cupped her cheek in his palm. "I'm just sayin' it's not abnormal what you're feelin', Leia, especially not after everything you've been through. We're gonna feel angry, probably for awhile. Doesn't mean we have to go on murderous rampages. We can choose different."
A small look of relief crossed Leia's face. She pulled herself closer so she could kiss him. "I love you," she whispered.
Han nudged her cheek affectionately with his nose. "I know. I love you, too."
Leia rested her head against his chest and sighed. "I'm glad we were able to celebrate today."
He wrapped her in a firm hug and kissed her head. "Me too."
"Every time you should have died?" Luke said in disbelief after Leia explained the still-new tradition. "Doesn't that fill up half the calendar?"
Leia rolled her eyes at her brother and shot a surreptitious smile in Han's direction as he poured drinks. "It's thirty-seven instances, but a lot of them overlap. And we don't celebrate all of them; just…when we feel like it."
"Seems kinda macabre," Luke said wryly, though Han could tell his brother-in-law didn't actually feel all that strongly about it. He glanced between Leia and Han and let out a laugh. "Though, I guess if it were to make sense for anyone to do, it'd be you two."
"I spent years convinced I would die before the war came to an end," Leia said soberly. "That's far bleaker than celebrating that it didn't happen."
Han handed Luke a bottle of the ale he'd always favored before sitting next to Leia, a double pour of whiskey in the glass he'd brought to share with her. He handed her the drink and she took a sip, smiling just at him for a second before handing it back.
"I like 'em," Han said, sliding his arm around Leia's shoulders. He meant it. They weren't strict about which instances of unlikely survival they recognized — Luke had a point about the sheer number of days they'd be expected to celebrate if they were — but Han liked the ones they'd focused on so far. They always seemed to have important conversations about whichever near-death event they were celebrating — conversations that they hadn't been avoiding, exactly, but that they also hadn't been able to have while trying to survive in the middle of a war.
He wasn't sure he was prepared to be quite so earnest with Luke about the topic, though, so when the younger man asked why he liked the little celebrations, he had to come up with a less-than-serious answer that would work.
"Well, like Leia said: she spent the whole damn war thinkin' she'd end up dead. Means every time we celebrate, she's admittin' to being wrong."
Luke laughed. "That is something to celebrate."
Han winked at Leia playfully and she glared at him briefly before laughing softly and leaning into him, her head resting on his shoulder. He kissed her temple and sipped on the whiskey before handing the glass to her.
"Nah, I like havin' reasons to spend time together, too," Han added.
"We've had so much of it taken from us," Leia said, gaze lingering on Han before focusing back on her brother. "Time, I mean. Celebrating the fact that we got more than we anticipated seems appropriate."
Luke nodded soberly and tilted the neck of the ale bottle toward them. "Well, when you put it that way…" He nodded again, a sort of seal of approval for the entire topic.
Han was glad for the end of the conversation. The celebrations were too personal to make light of for more than a quip or two, and he certainly didn't want Leia thinking he thought they were a big joke. It was admittedly an odd tradition that they had started, but he liked having a reason to discuss the past and the future — both topics he had previously shied away from vehemently — with the person he loved the most.
A/N: This was supposed to have been posted for Han and Leia Appreciation Week 2023 (prompt "Anniversary"). And then I wasn't able to write an ending I liked. And then it was supposed to be written for Han and Leia Appreciation Week 2024 (prompt "Tradition"), but it's a little late for that prompt day (though it is still technically Han and Leia Appreciation Week as I'm typing this).
Anyway, this story is something where I loved the concept but struggled with the execution off and on for nearly a year. I think I like it now, though.