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Even though Leia had a plentiful supply of recent horrors at her disposal, the nightmares were always the same. She didn’t dream of her ship being captured, of the cell where she had been interrogated, or even of the battle to save the Rebellion.
Instead, every night when she fell asleep, she dreamed of Alderaan. Of that horrible, shattering moment when her world, quite literally, blew apart.
She stood and stared at her bed. It would be better to be with the rest of the Rebellion leadership, planning the complicated evacuation instead of lying in bed, reliving that day no matter how hard she tried not to think of it.
But she could hardly stand to be near anyone else. Around all the pitying looks, as they waited for her to fall apart at last. Nearly everyone on this moon seemed to feel sorry for her and her loss, to think that it meant she needed to be handled with care.
Which was why, for the third time this week, she found herself drawn to the one person who never showed her anything approaching pity.
She stepped into the hanger bay, which was mostly quiet this late at night, and took the now familiar path to the decrepit spacecraft that had helped them achieve victory. The Millennium Falcon really didn’t look as if it ought to be capable of flight, particularly not with how often its pilot seemed to be out in the middle of the night making repairs.
It came as no surprise to see him sitting on crates near the ramp, some mechanical component in his strong hands. She tried not to think of the touch of those hands, and sighed at herself. A few desperate moments of contact in a garbage compactor was hardly something to look back on with fondness.
Han Solo, on whom she had bestowed a medal not so long ago, looked up at her and winked. “You know, Your Highness, if you keep showing up down here every night, I’m gonna start to think you’re coming to see me.”
He said it in an antagonistic enough tone to take the edge off any genuine emotion, and Leia scoffed as she paused near him. “Hardly. I’m taking a walk, that’s all. I should have known you’d be sitting here to enjoy the view.”
“Hey, sweetheart, I’m just making sure my ship’s ready to go in case you need another rescue.”
“Yes, because the first one was so well planned.” She jerked her chin towards the component currently under his wrench. “I hope your repairs are a sign that you’re capable of learning from your mistakes.”
Han held up the complicated tangle of wires, inspecting it in the overhead lights. After a moment, he tossed it down into a toolbox. “Yeah. I learned not to buy spare parts at prices that seem good to be true. Hey, Princess, you got a parts depot around here, or am I gonna have to salvage what I need?”
“I’m afraid I have no idea.” She also had no idea what to do now that she was here. On previous nights, she had briefly exchanged sharp words with Han before continuing on her walk, and it had been enough to distract her.
Tonight, the idea of leaving at all seemed abhorrent. If she was alone tonight, she would have to think. And she couldn’t bear to think, to confront the sheer magnitude of loss. She didn’t have time for such self-indulgence.
Instead, she simply stood there as Han picked up another damaged component and began to work with it. He handled it with practiced motions, fingers deftly working loose damaged, burnt out wires. In a way, watching him work was soothing.
When she didn’t stalk away, he glanced up at her. “Come on. If you’re gonna hang out, you might as well sit. Plenty of room on this crate.”
There wasn’t room. She would be practically pressed against his side if she sat. It was a terrible idea. But the thought of being near someone, someone so alive…
Leia sat. She tried to think of something barbed and hostile to say, something to keep herself from crumpling at the comfort of a warm side against hers, the steady rise and fall of his breaths. Ordinarily, she was excellent with words. Right now, she was too tired to think of a single thing to say.
After a minute or two, Han cleared his throat. “Look, uh… I’m not very good at this stuff. But I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about your loss—”
“Don’t.” The pressure of that loss threatened to crush her if she acknowledged it. She couldn’t catch her breath, and her hands trembled as she clenched her fists. “I have no interest in pity, from you of all people.”
“I ain’t pitying you, or anyone else,” Han snapped. He put down the component he’d been repairing and shook his head. “But fine, whatever. I guess that’s what a guy gets for trying to show a little sympathy, huh?”
He turned towards her, but despite the glare, there was a genuine concern in his eyes. She stared at him for a moment, his face so close, his lips so close…
Reason deserted her. She twisted her fingers on his vest, leaned in, and kissed Han hard.
His hands landed on her sides, and for a heartbeat, she thought he would push her away. But then his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight as he kissed her back.
Ordinarily, Leia had no particular appreciation for sweaty men, especially sweaty men with considerable egos, but she pressed closer to him eagerly. He had been working hard on his ship, and smelled not only of sweat but of grease and oil. And he was warm, so warm, so alive.
Unlike everyone else who had ever been important to her.
She broke off the kiss and stood, shaking her head. Her hands still trembled, but she held one out to stop him from catching her arm. Her heart raced, and she still couldn’t catch her breaths.
“Hey. Hey.” Han caught her arm anyway, grip almost gentle. He stood too, bending so he didn’t tower over her quite as much, and touched her cheek. “You all right?”
“I’m fine,” she managed, tears choking her. “I simply need some rest.”
“Look, if you wanna stick around here, I don’t mind the company.”
“I said, I’m fine.” Before the tears could fall, Leia jerked free and twisted away. Han called after her, but she didn’t answer him. She couldn’t.
This was absurd. What was she thinking, taking comfort in the arms of a smuggler? A smuggler who, admittedly, had come through to help them in the end, but who would no doubt leave the instant he thought his prospects would be better elsewhere.
Instead of accepting his offer—instead of even entertaining his offer—Leia returned to her quarters, curled up, and tried to sleep. And when she slept, she dreamed of Alderaan.
---
All was perfectly fine during the day. She awoke, washed away the few crusted tears that had fallen in sleep, and hurled herself into her work. During the day, she could lose herself in all that needed to be done, from logistics to meetings with commanders to comforting those who had lost loved ones.
As she busied herself with her work, she hardened her heart against her own sorrows. She still had no time for them. The Empire was not defeated, and she couldn’t grieve until it was.
She also couldn’t allow herself to yield to the temptation of late night cargo bay visits. When she glimpsed Han during the day, she tried her best not to acknowledge his existence. He very much seemed to be doing the same thing, only glancing at her once before turning away in the opposite direction.
But then, night fell, and weariness sank its claws into her. She couldn’t hold it off, not forever, nor could she continue to work. In her current state, she might make a mistake, and her mistakes cost lives.
An entire planet full of lives. If she had been able to evade the Empire, or provided false information sooner, perhaps she could have delayed any attack on Alderaan. If she hadn’t made a mistake…
“Well, well. Decided to come see me after all?”
She looked up in horror. She had meant to return to her quarters, to sit in quiet if not to sleep. But instead, while she was distracted by her grief, her feet had led her back to that damned cargo bay.
Back to Han, who wasn’t working on any components tonight. He merely sat outside the ship, as if waiting for her.
“I don’t want any pity,” she said, the words coming out sharp and defensive rather than commanding. “If you dare to…”
“Right, got it. I ain’t gonna be stupid enough to show you any sympathy now that I know exactly how much you appreciate it.” Slowly, Han stood, and came to her. He took her by the shoulders, and she gazed up into his irritatingly clever eyes. He saw far more than she might have given him credit for once. “Last night’s offer still stands. You can stick around here, if you want… company.”
Leia’s cheeks flushed hot. “You certainly are brave, to say something like that to me in that tone.”
“Look, I know you could probably have your guards or whatever blast me if I piss you off.” He cupped her cheek again, his big hand warm against her skin. Almost unconsciously, she leaned into the touch. “But come on. You want this, right? It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
Oh, she wanted this. She wanted it so badly that her whole body trembled with it. “Well, as long as you understand it doesn’t mean anything.”
Leia wasn’t sure whether she or Han kissed the other first this time. All she knew was that in an instant, she was in his arms, pressing as close against him as she could get. His chest heaved against hers, his hands sliding across her back, and she flung herself desperately into the moment. So long as she was here, present with Han, she had no time for the sorrows that loomed all around like the shadows in the hanger bay.
Han broke off the kiss in favor of tugging gently at her hair, freeing it from the buns that she had restrained it in, and she didn’t protest. He smiled at her as the locks tumbled across her shoulders, his thumb brushing against her lower lip. “Nice to see you undone for me, Princess.”
“Shut up,” she snapped. “Is anyone else on your disaster of a ship?”
Han was breathing hard, his gaze traveling down her body. “Chewie’s out kicking your pilots’ asses at strategy games. So, no. No one is on my incredibly great ship.”
“Good. We could use a little privacy.” She seized his hand and dragged him towards the ramp, her whole body burning with need to get closer to him. “And I’m serious.”
“About what, needing privacy?”
“About you shutting up.” Inside the ship, Leia immediately realized she had no idea where to go. Thankfully, Han pulled her to a thoroughly inadequate bunk. “I don’t want to hear another word out of you.”
With a snort, Han flopped into the bunk and tugged her down on top of him. “Understood, Your Worshipfulness.”
Leia shut him up with another kiss then, straddling him and fumbling with his belts. They stripped each other quickly, and hands slid across bare skin. Each touch tore away Leia’s breaths and banished the dark memories, chasing them off to a back corner of her mind where she could ignore them thoroughly.
For a time, there was nothing but her and Han. Nothing but the sizzling pleasure of his touch, the rhythm of their bodies moving together, the force of his kisses. She lost herself in him, and in the rising waves of pleasure.
When the waves broke, and the bliss drained away, she found herself suddenly freezing, chilled. She began to shake as the recirculated air blew a breeze across her sweaty body, and her teeth chattered.
“Hey. Hey, you all right?” Gently, Han stroked damp hair out of her face. He kissed her again, this time on the brow, the gesture so tender that it immediately flooded her eyes with tears. “Easy, Princess. Let’s grab a blanket.”
“I’m sorry,” she choked, a few tears escaping. The shivering worsened, turning into convulsive shudders that made her teeth chatter even more. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me…”
“Come on. You know what’s wrong. We both do. You’re grieving.”
“No, I…” Leia closed her eyes, and Alderaan flashed behind her eyelids. She hastily looked up again, into Han’s worried face. “I’m fine. Grieving will have to wait until we have time.”
Very carefully, he laid a blanket across her and looped both arms around her. “We have time now,” Han said softly. “Look, I ain’t gonna judge. Or say anything, if that makes it worse. I don’t mind shutting up again, if that’s what you want.”
That wasn’t what she wanted. More than anything, she wanted to be held and soothed, to be hugged close and told that everything was all right.
But it wasn’t all right. It would never be all right again.
The sobs came in a sudden rush, overwhelming any attempt at replying to Han, or even apologizing to him for turning what ought to have been a simple exchange of pleasure into her weeping in his bed. This was not what he had invited her here for.
But he didn’t complain. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all. He just drew her close again and held her, stroking her hair as she sobbed into his neck. From time to time, when her weeping grew so intense that she could hardly breathe, he made quiet shushing noises until she calmed.
It seemed like some time before her crying finally subsided, and when it did, she was so tired she could hardly move. Han still held her, his hand drifting up and down the middle of her back in a light, soothing rhythm. “Leia,” he murmured into a kiss against her head. “Welcome back. Am I allowed to talk now?”
Even with her current, shaken state, she smiled a little at the gently offered barb. “Yes, you may talk. I apologize, Han. I lost control of myself.”
“Look, you had a pretty good reason to.” He drew back enough to see her. “Holding that in for a long time, huh?”
“Well, I certainly wasn’t about to have a breakdown in an Imperial interrogation cell.” It was difficult to talk, her head still spinning from both fatigue and emotion. “And since then…”
“Been kind of busy.”
“Precisely.” Leia hesitated, searching Han’s face. There was no judgment there, and although there was concern, she saw none of the pity that everyone else exhibited. “I suppose now was as good a time as any, if a little embarrassing.”
“Hey, I offered company. I didn’t specify what kind.” He winked at her again, and her heart melted. “Look, it’s a standing offer. Whenever you, uh… Whenever you want, you can hang out with me. And, uh… it doesn’t have to mean—”
Leia touched a finger to his lips, stopping him from saying it again. His eyes widened, and then he smiled.
Her cheeks still damp, Leia leaned in and kissed Han again. Whether or not they had intended it, this had meant something. It meant that from now on, she wouldn’t be alone, whether in sorrow or joy.