| FIC: "Estimated Time of Departure" (SW, PG) -- also, charity-website question |
[Dec. 2nd, 2004|10:07 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  morose | ] |
Have been at office ten minutes. Already it is evident that today will suck. Gahhh.
Oh, well. Onto the fic. WARNING: This fic contains spoilers for the end of "Star Wars, Episode IV: A New Hope," which is precisely when it's set. If you haven't seen the end of the movie, OMG there are spoilers!! Only people who have seen the end of "Star Wars" should read this fic. You are warned!
Thanks greatly due to my betas, ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) dianora2 and rheanna27.
Estimated Time of Departure
Han was sure of three things when he woke up:
He was seriously hung over, his head heavy and aching. This was not unusual.
He was lying on one of the low padded benches in the Falcon's bay, instead of his own bunk. This was unusual, but not unheard-of. Slowly, he risked opening his eyes; the light was unwelcome, but he could see the chess board nearby, gold squares gleaming too brightly for his taste.
But the third thing he was sure of –
Wait. Maybe he wasn't so sure of that at all.
Han sat up, wincing at the rush of unwelcome sensation pulsing at his temples and assaulting his belly. Across the room, Chewbacca whined; apparently his head hadn't fared any better than Han's.
"Hey," Han said, his voice rough. "Am I crazy, or did we save the galaxy yesterday?"
Chewbacca replied that Han was crazy AND they had saved the galaxy yesterday.
The memories came back to him in a bewildering tide. A day ago, he'd been on Tatooine, running from Greedo and looking for his next customer. Sometime last night, he'd flown back to the Death Star – of all the damned insane things to do, to fly BACK to that monstrosity – and helped Luke blow that thing to atoms.
After that, everything was a blur of celebration and wine. Han had been hugged, kissed, congratulated and thanked profusely by about 18 different species and at least three genders. The music and drinking and shouting hadn't stopped until dawn – if it had even stopped then. Han wasn't exactly sure when or how he'd staggered back into the Falcon to pass out.
Dressing up like a Stormtrooper. The detention block. Shooting TIE fighters. Getting a reward so immense it would pay off Jabba three times over, and coming back anyhow –
That was yesterday.
Han's eyes met Chewie's, where he could see the exact reflection of his own astonishment. He said the only thing that came to mind: "Well, damn."
Then Chewbacca started laughing, roaring guffaws that filled the bay, and though Han's head hurt he couldn't stop himself from laughing too. They'd saved the galaxy, and if that wasn't hilarious, Han didn't know what was.
A few shuffling footsteps from the living area reminded Han why he wasn't sleeping in his cabin; he'd loaned it to someone else. "Luke!" he gasped between laughs. "How the hell are you?"
"Not good." Luke's sand-blond hair stuck out in every direction, and his eyes were bloodshot. "I haven't had a hangover before, but I think this has to be one. That, or I'm fatally ill."
"Baby's first hangover. We oughta take a holo." Han cocked his head, mock-sentimental. "Chewie, I think we corrupted this kid but good."
Luke smiled unevenly. "I think I corrupted you."
And considering that Han had blown back to the Death Star – flown BACK to that damn thing just because it was the right thing to do, like that was an actual reason -- Luke probably had a point. "Maybe corrupted ain't the word," Han said. "What you need is food."
"Food – oh, no." Luke's face turned almost as green as Greedo's. "That's got to be a bad idea."
"Yeah, I know what it sounds like, but wait and see. Get something down and you'll feel better. What have we got in stores?"
Chewbacca replied that they had some smoked meat and bread, maybe some cheese and juice too, then offered to get breakfast ready for them all.
"Thanks, pal," Han said, nodding his assent.
Luke watched Chewbacca go, then whispered, "Should he really be the one doing the cooking?"
Han shrugged, wincing as he tried to stretch the crick from his neck. "Chewie usually cooks. He likes it; I don't."
"But isn't there, you know – hair in the food?"
"You get used to it."
Wearily, Luke sat down on the chair nearest Han. His face looked about five years older than it had the day before in the Mos Eisley cantina, when Kenobi had been bargaining for the Falcon –
And only then did Han realize the reason the kid looked so bad didn't have anything to do with the hangover. "You okay?" he said, more quietly. "I know you miss the old man."
"Ben's not gone. He's part of the Force now."
Oh, great. Even a hangover was better than religion before breakfast.
But Luke dropped the Force junk right away, saying instead, "It's more than Ben. Two days ago – right after we found the droids -- my Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru were killed by Stormtroopers. They were looking for Princess Leia's message." The boy's face was harder now, and Han felt a fleeting sense of loss; the young, impressionable Luke he'd grown so fond of yesterday would never be that impressionable again. "They raised me, my whole life. Before, I didn't have time to think about it – about anything – but when I woke up and I wasn't in their house, I guess it hit me."
Han had been on his own as long as he could remember; his parents lived in his memory only as impressions, no more. But he thought he could guess how it would feel to have a home and then lose it. "I'm sorry."
Luke just nodded, and there didn't seem to be much else to say. Apparently he didn't need Han to do anything but be there.
Even being there for somebody was unusual for Han, but he figured he could swing it just this once.
**
When they finally emerged from the Falcon, it seemed as though every person in the hangar turned toward them; a few people applauded, and some cheers echoed from the back. Han, unsure how to acknowledge this, just nodded. Luke said, "This hero thing is going to take some time to get used to."
"You do that," Han said. "I'm not planning on making a habit of it."
"I don't believe you."
Han stared at Luke. "Listen, kid, I hate the Empire as much as you do, but yesterday was enough do-gooding for a lifetime. Several lifetimes. At least it's enough for me."
"We'll see," Luke said, maddeningly sure. Han hated to disappoint him, but, well, he'd get to that when it was time to leave.
"Wedge, right?" Han called to one of the Rebel pilots, who nodded as he walked closer. "What's up with the evac plans?"
"Looks like we can't get started until sometime tonight," said Wedge. "The debris and radiation from the Death Star is still pretty thick, but they think another ten hours or so ought to let it disperse enough for us to get through. It's going to be a choppy ride, though."
"And we can't wait much longer." Luke glanced toward the hangar's roof, as though he could see through it to the stars. "Every ship in the Imperial Navy has to be headed this way."
"We've got some time," Han said, hoping he was telling the truth. "If we can't fly out, they can't fly in. And you can bet there's some power play going on with the various admirals and Grand Moffs; they'll still be trying to lay the blame on each other until long after we're gone."
Han knew he would ship out with the Rebels; he'd be crazy not to flee the scene of the crime with an entire army at his side. He could fly clear of this mess, make absolutely sure the Falcon was 100 percent again, and take off. Within another day, he'd have paid off Jabba the Hutt, and with the gold left over, what couldn't he do?
Yeah, just one more day. If that.
"Where's the princess?" Luke asked. "Has anybody seen her today?"
Wedge laughed. "Come on, Red Five. Do you really think a princess is going to hang around with combat troops?"
Luke looked crestfallen. "Oh, right."
"Cheer up," Wedge said. "There's talk of awarding you guys medals. The highest honors of the Old Republic! Apparently there's going to be a ceremony and everything, once we set up the new base. Princess Leia would have to be a part of the ceremony, I'd guess."
Han resolved to be gone a long time before any cockamamie awards ceremony. "See, kid?" He nudged Luke's arm. "You'll get another chance to flirt."
"It's not that." Luke waved over one shoulder as the two of them walked away from Wedge. "Han, think about what happened to her. Her entire world is gone. That has to be – I can't imagine what that's like."
An entire world, lost. Han tried to wrap his mind around it, but couldn't. Though he knew he was from Corellia, he hadn't been raised there and had never thought of it as home. But he figured it was like what Luke had gone through – having a home and then losing it – but times a hundred, or a thousand, or whatever huge number could call up the death of a planet. "Yesterday she acted like none of it ever happened."
"Everything just went so fast," Luke said, explaining his behavior along with Leia's. "But once you start thinking about it –"
"So don't think about it. That's what I do."
"It's good to remember, Han." Luke said the old platitude like he really meant it, but the memories didn't seem to give him any comfort. In Han's experience, memories usually didn't.
Watching his friend's eyes darken, Han quickly said, "Went fast is right. Hell, I don't even think I got a good look at Her Royalness before you got dunked in that garbage compactor."
"The garbage compactor." As Han had hoped, Luke forgot about his sorrow; his mouth gaped slightly as he remembered the many, many different degrees of danger they'd dealt with yesterday. "I almost forgot about that!"
"How could you forget that smell?"
Luke started laughing. Mission accomplished.
**
Han spent most of the day working on the Millennium Falcon; between rushing into an asteroid field, getting gripped by a tractor beam and being strafed by various TIE-fighter blasts, his girl had taken a pounding. Chewbacca did the heavy welding while Han did the trickier rewiring. Pretty much everything on the Falcon was jury-rigged, so the work took concentration and finesse – not Han's strong points, but more his than Chewie's. He didn't have time for a thorough repair job, but he could at least patch her up to move.
Of course, he still had time and energy to call down jokes to Luke, who was laboring to patch up his X-Wing nearby. A few other rebel pilots got into the act, too, each of them insulting each other's skills, ships and likely sexual inadequacy; it was a pretty good way to get acquainted.
For a bunch of high-minded idealists, Han thought, they weren't half-bad. Not guys he'd mind hanging around with – if they weren't all hell-bent on suicide.
He said as much to Chewbacca later in the evening, as the sun began to set and the hour of departure grew closer. Chewbacca pointed out that they'd fought the Empire yesterday, and it hadn't been suicide at all.
"It was suicide," Han retorted. "We just didn't die."
Chewbacca wondered which one of them had the definition of suicide wrong.
"Oh, shut up. And get to the bridge, will ya? They're gonna give the ships-away call any second."
Both the Millennium Falcon and Luke's X-Wing were among the third wave of departures. As they hovered up through the atmosphere, Han looked at the sky for the first time. The remnants of the Death Star surrounded them; the station was even more vast in its destruction, spread out like the last radioactive wisps of a long-dead supernova. Tiny shards of metal, billions of them no bigger than a fingertip, still pinwheeled around, drifting in great glittering clouds, most of them still red-gold with heat. Stretching as far as the human eye could see, the flickering detritus was studded here and there with a larger, jagged bit of the Death Star's infrastructure; in the distance was a crooked bar that was at least three times longer than the Falcon itself.
It wasn't as though the enormity of the thing had escaped Han the day before – it sure as hell hadn't – but seeing the vastness of its destruction shook him all over again.
I was walking around on that thing yesterday, Han thought. I was in the heart of that monster. How did I get back out?
No, he wasn't going to think about that.
As they approached hyperspace position, they came near one of the massive troop transport vessels that were acting as guides and guards until all the smaller ships were away. Han was close enough to see small forms moving within some of the windows.
Guess Princess Leia's on that transport, Han thought. I wonder if she can see the Falcon? Ain't no other ship like mine in the whole fleet, so she'd have to know it's me.
Quickly, he tapped the controls, sending the Falcon into a neat flip, rolling over and over and over again. Han straightened her out after just a few rolls, though not fast enough to keep Chewbacca from complaining with a loud growl. "All right, already," Han said. "Next time I'll warn you."
Luke's voice crackled through the comm. "Show-off."
Han could have said plenty to that, but then General Dodonna's voice cut between them: "All ships in third wave, prepare for the jump to hyperspace."
Please hold together, Han prayed to his ship. He'd never prayed to anything else.
The Falcon held together, stretching into starlight, and Han wondered if the Princess could see that, too.
**
Damaar II was an inviting world, lush and green, not unlike the planet they'd just left. To Han's surprise, hangars and barracks were already waiting; the Rebels had prepared this long ago. He hadn't ever realized the Rebellion was as large or well-funded as it apparently was, though that wasn't what astonished him most.
They expected to come here, Han thought. They expected to fight that thing and win.
Which, of course, was insane, because in the end the only thing that had kept every single one of the Rebels from ending up as so much dust was Han's own inexplicable decision to come back and save Luke's butt.
"We gotta get out of here," Han said to Chewbacca as they settled into the Falcon's new berth. "Give it three or four days, make sure the Imperials aren't headed this way. Then we take our reward money, hightail it to Tatooine and pay Jabba off."
Chewbacca looked at Han as though he wanted to say something; when finally he spoke, he simply mentioned that it would be unwise to go to Tatooine, one of the few places they might be connected to the Rebellion. Payment could be arranged from any neutral world.
"Good thinking," Han replied. He was pretty sure that wasn't what Chewie had wanted to say, but that was okay, because Han was pretty sure he didn't want to hear it.
But on day two, Luke showed up and sheepishly admitted that the troop quarters were freezing cold – or at least felt that way to a kid who'd grown up on Tatooine. What else could Han do but invite the kid to stay on the Falcon and crank up the heat? Besides, the lonely shadows in Luke's eyes hadn't faded much; though he spoke of it seldom, Han could tell he was still missing that uncle and aunt of his.
"A week or so," he said to Chewbacca. "Let Luke get his feet under him. Then we'll go."
Chewbacca agreed mildly. Later on he returned from the mess hall with provisions that included Luke's favorite foods, and Han thought he had more than a week's worth. Well, whatever. He kept the kid busy running sims, teaching him a few piloting tricks you couldn't learn in planetary orbit. The point was to keep Luke from dwelling too much on the past, and Han thought he was doing a pretty good job, if he said so himself. He usually did say so himself. But wasn't it high time somebody else said it?
"So when am I getting my medal?" he joked with Wedge the next day. Of course, he could just hightail it without the medal – but Han intended for the heroics to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, so he might as well stick around for the once-in-a-lifetime party. "Me and Luke are starting to feel like that whole Death Star business was no big deal for you guys. Am I right, Luke?"
"I don't need a medal," Luke said hurriedly.
"Not sure." Wedge glanced around, then leaned closer to them and said, "Word has it they're waiting for the Princess."
"What, Her Worshiposity can't make time in her schedule?"
Wedge looked annoyed. "It's not that. Apparently she's had some sort of a – she isn't –"
"She's grieving," Luke supplied. "For Alderaan."
All of them were silent for a few moments before Wedge finally said, "Rumor has it she barely eats or sleeps. Her doctors are worried."
"Doesn't sound like the Princess." Han couldn't imagine her giving in to her emotions – grief or any other.
"I thought you two just met her on the Death Star."
"We did," Han replied. "But there's nothing quite like a garbage compactor to bring out a person's true nature."
"They're giving her time." How did Luke do that, where he suddenly came across like he was ten years older and ten times wiser than anybody else around? "It's just going to take time."
So I'm here until she's done mourning a whole planet, Han thought. That sounded like it might be a while.
**
"Are you certain those are the correct components?" fretted C3PO. He folded his golden hands into a steeple as he watched the techs working on the still-silent R2D2. "If there's any incompatibility, why, his circuits and wires could be ruined!"
"He's going to be fine," Luke said, as gently as if C3PO were a human. "They almost had him on line yesterday, didn't they? Just a little more work."
Han crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the repair center. "You know, there are other R2 units."
"Not like this one," Luke insisted.
C3P0 turned toward Han as if to object, but he drew his body up into an approximation of dignity. "You see, after so much time assigned together, R2 and I have developed efficient methods of cooperation. We could serve Master Luke far better together than I ever could alone."
"Serving Master Luke." Han raised his eyebrows, trying to get some mileage out of the idea of this farmboy ordering anybody around. "Sounds mighty official."
"It's in their programming, but that can be altered." Before Han could ask what that meant, Luke held a hand out toward C3PO, clearly giving an order. "Right now, you're programmed to obey me or Princess Leia, correct?"
"Our current and most recent masters, yes sir. Of course, where your wishes conflict, my loyalty is entirely yours, Master Luke."
Luke smiled. "From now on, I want you to listen to Han and Chewie the same way you would me or Leia."
"Hey. Wait." Han didn't know quite why he didn't like that – but he didn't.
Paying Han no attention, Luke said, "I remain your primary master, but you guys work with all of us, okay? I'll program the same into R2 once he's up and running again."
"I said, wait."
C3PO tilted his head toward Han, already trying to do his bidding. "Wait for what, Captain Solo? I shall be quite happy to wait for whatever it is, as soon as you –"
"I don't need your droids," Han said to Luke, voice hard. "Take it back."
"I just thought we should share." Luke tried to sound diffident, but he did a bad job of it; Han's refusal of the gift had obviously hurt his feelings. "You've let me stay on the Falcon, and I eat on board –"
"Those are favors, kid. I've helped you out because you've needed some serious help. But if you're running a tab, don't. I don't owe you, you don't owe me. End of story."
Luke stepped back, stung. Han wondered why he'd just said what he did, wondered when the hell he started worrying about Luke in the first place, and finally walked out of the droid repair station so he wouldn't have to wonder about any of it anymore.
That night, Luke stayed in the soldiers' quarters, and Han told himself that he was pretty well out of there now. He didn't really have to hang around for any medal ceremony, especially considering that rumor had it Princess Leia was getting worse, not better –
--and hell, now he was worrying about her AND Luke, which was a sure sign it was time to get this show on the road.
After a long, wordless evening of Dantooine brandy and holo chess, Han said just one word to Chewbacca: "Tomorrow?"
Chewbacca paused, pretending to mull over his next move in the game. Han knew his friend better than that, but he also knew that eventually he'd get a straight answer. Finally, Chewbacca said that he wanted to double-check the work they'd done on the alluvial dampers, but that could be finished tomorrow night, maybe the day after.
"Well, get to work on it. I can't see the last of this place soon enough."
That seemed curious to Chewbacca, considering that they'd had a pleasant time here.
"Speak for yourself, pal. Playing hero with the Rebel Alliance is fun while it lasts, but if you hang around, you wind up dead." Han moved a piece forward to defend his king, watching its flickering shuffle instead of his friend's face.
Chewbacca asked if this meant the medal ceremony was off.
Han shook his head. "I don't need any medals. Just to get out with my hide intact."
He wondered if the dreams would stop as soon as they'd flown away. He suspected they wouldn't, but it didn't matter. They'd stop eventually.
**
The next morning, breakfast wasn't even ready before Han heard footsteps on the ramp. When Luke poked his head into the galley, Han smiled. Then he wondered, Why am I smiling? We have a fight going on.
Then he realized it had just become habit, with Luke.
For his part, Luke smiled back. "For the record, the food in the soldiers' mess is terrible. I barely got dinner down."
"You're in luck. We've got a special today for people I yelled at for no reason."
Luke glanced around the room. "Then shouldn't there be more people here?"
"Shut up." Han threw a dishtowel at him with a grin, glad no more elaborate apologies would be necessary. It occurred to him that he'd have to inform the kid he was leaving at some point today, but he'd get to that later. "Let me guess. You're here to tell me we're finally getting our medal ceremony."
"I'm here to steal breakfast." Luke sat at the table as Chewbacca roared a greeting. "The medal ceremony's never going to happen."
"They got wise to us, huh?"
Not even rising to the bait, Luke glumly said, "They say Princess Leia isn't – they don't know when she'll be well enough. General Rieekan asked me if we just wanted to have it without her, but I told him we didn't. That's okay, isn't it?"
"What?" Han tried to ignore the weird twist in his belly that followed Leia's name. "Yeah, sure. No point having the party without Her Ladyship."
Luke's gaze was faraway as he continued. "They've tried all these different treatments – grief rituals and therapies, mourning traditions from a dozen worlds. But they say she can't be consoled. She's just – wasting away up there."
"No wonder she's depressed," Han muttered. "All those people talking about death all the damn time."
"I don't think that's why she's depressed."
"No," Han said, an idea dawning. "That's not why. But it ain't helping."
Luke cocked his head. "Obviously. But why are you –"
"Chewie!" Han shouted into the back, where Chewbacca had gone to collect the pans he needed. "Break out the coffine – the good stuff, from Ilhobi, okay? And make up some of those cake things you put together that time. You know, the ones with that sticky stuff on the inside." When Luke stared at him, Han said, "We're asking the Princess to eat breakfast with us. Here and now."
"Do you think she'll come?" Luke's uncertainty was a mirror of Han's own, but Han didn't intend to let him see that.
"She better. I know you're on this big 'it's good to remember' kick, but you know what? A little old-fashioned distraction is sometimes just the ticket."
Han was halfway expecting an argument; instead, he got an uneven smile from Luke. "I notice that I never rated the good coffine."
"We don't entertain royalty on the Millennium Falcon that much," Han said as they went to the door. "Two or three times a year, tops."
Headquarters wasn't made of grander stuff than the rest of the base, but there was something foreboding about the place nevertheless. Maybe it was all the uniforms, and all the brass and medals and braid on those uniforms. Maybe it was the way everyone looked at them – a mixture of admiration and confusion, which managed to say that all the top soldiers thought the world of Han and Luke, but would think more of them if they were somewhere else.
"You ask for Leia's quarters," Han whispered to Luke.
"Me? Why me?"
"You look more wholesome. They'd suspect I had ulterior motives."
Luke looked slightly hurt. "I could have ulterior motives."
Han tried not to laugh.
They got directions to Leia's door quickly enough. However, when it slid open, they saw not the princess but about nine people, each one a geriatric case, staring at them as though they still had on Stormtrooper outfits. Courtiers, Han figured; her whole world was destroyed, but it's like they built the palace again all around her.
As the silence became awkward, Han said, "We're here to see Princess Leia."
"She is not seeing guests," replied an old woman with an enormous amount of gray hair piled atop her head.
"I'd prefer to hear that from her." The old woman glared at Han, but he just stared back; no way did he blast his way out of the Death Star to get intimidated by some crone.
"Captain Solo –" The bearded guy walking toward them now was General Dodonna; Han remembered his name, but not much else about him. Apparently he had something to do with the princess. "Her Highness is in the deepest mourning right now. She could not possibly entertain in her quarters, even if she were so inclined, which she is not."
"Well, that's handy, because she doesn't have to entertain us here. In fact, we were going to ask her to breakfast on my ship."
That nearly finished a couple of the older ones off, Han thought, as wrinkled jaws dropped. The old woman swelled up like a river toad. "The Crown Princess does not consort with strangers in private, much less in their own vessels, as you should –"
"They aren't strangers."
Han turned with all the others to see Leia standing in the doorway that must have led to her bedroom. She looked so different that it took him a moment to recognize her. Instead of those two buns on either side of her head, she had her dark hair tied back in a simple braid. Instead of a fine gown, she was wearing a pale blue tunic and pants, fitted closely enough that Han became aware of her figure for the first time.
But she was thin – just her face showed that she had lost a lot of weight in the past few weeks. Something in her eyes had changed too, and Han felt a pang of something it took him a while to realize was protectiveness.
"Leia," Luke said with a grin, Boy's First Love written all over him. "I mean, Princess Leia. Hi."
"These are the men who rescued me," Leia said, still speaking to the elders in the room. "They're always welcome here." Then she refocused on them – too slowly, not at all the laser-sharp brilliance of the girl he remembered on the Death Star. "You're always welcome."
Han clapped his hands together, knowing he was being too cheerful, but hell – anything short of throwing yourself on the ground in agony was probably "too cheerful" for the death of a planet. "So. Breakfast. Chewbacca's cooking up a feast, and he'll be disappointed if you turn us down. Wookies are no fun when they're disappointed. Trust me on this one."
"Chewbacca's cooking," she repeated, as if by rote. Then she frowned at him, almost herself once more. "Isn't there – well – hair in the food?"
"You get used to it," Luke promised.
Something that wasn't quite a smile flickered upon her face, only for a moment. But it was enough for Han to know he'd done the right thing by coming here. "All right," Leia said. "I'll come to breakfast."
The graybeards looked scandalized, but even as Dodonna opened his mouth to object, the old woman laid a warning hand on his shoulder. Han realized they were willing to put up with anything – even a pirate – if it meant Leia would eat again.
She did eat, slowly at first but then with more gusto. Chewbacca had outdone himself, making food that a sane person might actually want to eat for a change. Han and Luke sat across from her in the Falcon's tiny galley and talked about simple things for a while – repairs to the ship, Luke's dismay at the chill – while Leia listened in silence. Both men pretended that it wasn't weird, having a totally speechless woman sitting across the table from them; Han figured that was good enough for the first day.
But after a second cup of coffine, Leia cleared her throat, then said, "You rolled your ship."
The escape from Yavin – right. Han grinned. "You saw that, huh?"
"I saw. I wondered if that was for my benefit." That shadow-smile reappeared as she continued, "Then again, perhaps you simply like to show off."
"Me?" He put one hand on his chest, as if shocked. "Never."
Leia took another cake from the plate. "It was odd. I wasn't even looking out – but then I knew you'd both be there. I turned around, and both the Millennium Falcon and the X-Wing were right in front of the window. Close enough to touch."
"I think Luke's using the Force on you," Han said. "Does this work on women all the time?"
He expected to embarrass the kid, but instead Luke grinned. "I hope so."
Leia didn't laugh, but she smiled without any shadows. Han casually helped himself to some eggs, then scooped a few onto the princess' plate as if it were an afterthought. "If I'd known Jedi Knights were such ladykillers, kid, I might have taken this Force stuff more seriously."
"I don't know," Luke said seriously. "Ben said I was born with the ability to use the Force, and it hasn't helped with girls so far."
Ben Kenobi's name seemed to send a chill through the room – one more reminder of that terrible day on the Death Star, and when they least needed it. But to Han's surprise, Leia didn't retreat back into herself. Instead, she straightened in her seat. "You should have been awarded your medals long ago. I'll schedule the ceremony as soon as possible." Her eyes flickered over to Han's, only for an instant. "Will you leave, after that?"
"Course not." What the hell else was he supposed to say? "Not right away, at least."
"Good." Han didn't know how to react to Leia's approval, but she didn't give him time to figure something out. "I apologize for the delay. I've been – indulgent."
Luke, more daring than Han had ever thought he would be, reached across the table to touch her hand for a moment. "Don't apologize. You've needed some time. Anybody would."
"How much time is enough?" She shrugged, acknowledging that her question had no answer.
How the hell did this scene get serious all of a sudden? In the heart of the Falcon, Han now felt like the stranger in the room.
Leia continued, "I've been letting the walls close in around me. It's – not productive. And I needed you two to show me that."
"We haven't been in such great shape either," Luke confided.
"What's with this 'we,' kid?" Han demanded.
Luke shrugged. "Chewbacca said you hadn't been sleeping well."
Han shot Chewbacca a glare that he hoped could kill. The Wookie suddenly became very interested in taking some pans back to be washed. "Nothing happened to me," Han said.
"We should all be dead." Leia's voice was hard, flat and final. "We aren't, but we should be, and we know it."
Like the princess needed to hear any of this. But she was more alert and engaged with them now than she had been at any other point that morning, studying Luke's and Han's faces in turn. Surely she'd been surrounded by Alderaanians the last couple of weeks, people ten times more screwed-up than he or Luke could hope to be. Hadn't she seen enough? Maybe not.
"That's it exactly," she said softly, tracing around the edge of her cup with one finger. "I keep wondering why I'm still alive."
"Because we have thick heads with the density of carbonite, so we decided two guys and a Wookie could take on half the Imperial forces." Han began to wish he'd laced his coffine with something stronger. Brandy, maybe. In fact, he could have just gone for the brandy. "That's why."
Leia didn't smile. "You really believe that was a stupid decision, don't you?"
"It all worked out," Luke offered.
"I don't make stupid decisions often, your Majesty, but yeah, that one was as stupid as they come. I shouldn't have listened to Ben Kenobi, but I did. I shouldn't have listened to you, but I did. I had the reward money on this ship, and I was flying away, free and clear. No way should I have flown back to that damned thing. But I did." It sounded like something a crazy man would do. Han couldn't afford that kind of insanity; high ideals could only get him killed. He wouldn't have lived even this long, if he hadn't known that.
Luke's blue eyes were so hopeful and sure that Han could have punched him. "You came back to help us."
"Get this through your metal-plated skull, Luke. I don't throw my life away for any reason. Not you, not Her Worship, not your precious Rebellion, anything. I ain't that kind of guy. If I were, I'd have gotten spaced a long time ago."
And yet. But still. All those protests were welling up inside Luke, and that hurt expression of his wouldn't hold them back long. Han didn't think he could stand to hear it. Maybe he could give the medal ceremony a miss after all.
Leia tilted her head, appraising him. "No," she said. "You're not the kind of man who would throw his life away. Not ever."
"Thank you," Han said, though he wasn't sure that was a compliment. "So, you got an explanation for my insanity?"
"I think you're the kind of man who would take a gamble."
Han considered this for a few moments. That actually made a lot of sense. For the first time, his decision at the Death Star didn't seem suicidal or crazy; it had been a gamble, a roll of the dice, a hand of sabaac with high stakes. And if he pulled a good hand – hey, that was how it went down sometimes. Besides, he'd always been lucky.
When he looked back at the princess, she was busily buttering another cake. Hard to believe this is the girl they thought was starving herself, he thought. She can out-eat a Wookie. "You might be right about that," he said.
"Are you admitting I'm right about something?" Leia raised an eyebrow at Luke. "Write this down. We may want it for the record."
"Too bad Threepio's not here." Luke, too, had relaxed as though nothing serious had ever come up between them. "He could have recorded it for posterity."
Leia tossed her long braid back over her shoulder, spirits apparently returning. "Or we could have played it over and over again."
"Cut it out." Han knew he was grinning.
The rest of the morning was simple and easy – Luke telling Leia all about his life with the troops, glowing in her presence like he had landing lights or something. Leia convinced Chewbacca to join them, and they took turns cracking jokes and stuffing their faces. Relaxed at last, Han needed a while to realize that he'd finally succeeded in distracting Luke and Leia, and himself too, for good measure.
It was nearly lunchtime before Leia rose from her seat; she moved so regally that Han had to remind himself not to stand when she did. No point in looking like a gentleman if he didn't have to. "Thank you," she said. "Luke, maybe you could walk me back –"
"Absolutely." When they gave the lecture about playing your cards close to the vest, Han thought, Luke didn't listen. "Positively. I'm ready when you are."
Leia's hand closed around Han's shoulder, a touch that surprised him. "We'll have the medals ready for all three of you by tomorrow at the latest –" Chewbacca interrupted her with a furious growl. "What's wrong?"
"He's not gonna wear a medal," Han said, pointing his thumb in Chewbacca's direction. "Wookies don't wear anything unnecessary. Goes against their religion."
"I never thought of that."
He grinned. "What, you never noticed the guy's got no pants on?"
The princess' cheeks colored, but she was composed as she asked, "Can you attend the ceremony, Chewie? You could at least stand in front of everyone, receive the credit you're due." Chewbacca considered that, then replied that it would be fine. Apparently Leia understood, because she nodded. "Any requests, Captain Solo?"
"Just promise me you're going to enjoy yourself."
As soon as he'd said it, he realized that might be a tall order – but Princess Leia nodded.
"Don't I get any requests?" Luke said, so patently jealous that Han had to stifle a laugh.
Leia slipped her arm through his. "You can tell me on the way."
The two of them wandered out; completely forgotten and satisfied about it, Han watched them go.
It was Chewbacca who broke the silence by asking if Han had been telling the truth when he'd promised the princess they wouldn't leave immediately after the ceremony.
"Yeah. Long as we get out of here eventually, it doesn't make much difference when. Besides, she still needs some distraction."
Chewbacca thought Luke might provide that for her, unless Han had any objections.
"Objections? No. But Luke's got his own problems. They could both use a hand, you know?" Han rose from the table, wandering toward the cockpit. "It's not like Jabba's ever going to find us here."
That was a good point, Chewbacca conceded. Han would have expected more of an argument from the guy, but hey, whatever.
Through the cockpit's windows, Han could see the docking bay, filled with ships and soldiers and droids. As he settled into his seat, he felt the combination of a sleepless night and a good breakfast making him drowsy. This chair had never felt more comfortable.
"What say we give it another month?" Han called to Chewbacca. He didn't wait for an answer as he tilted his head back, watching the Rebels through half-closed eyes. "Yeah, a month. Maybe two."
END
And, yes, I know the award ceremony seems to have taken place on Yavin -- but hanging around for a ceremony is so tactically suicidal I just can't back it up. Work with me here.
Tonight, after the long sucky day at work, I will be trying to come up with a brochure concept for a charity, specifically for reforestation in Afghanistan. Anybody out there work with/go to/know of a few really well-designed, interesting websites for charities? Just a general sense of the "feel" of these things would be helpful to me.
There is not enough coffee in the world for today.
ETA: Wishlist item just arrived -- America: The Book! Thank you! You know who you are! Oh, wow, did I need this today!
Also -- included only b/c of supervillain pick -- my Star Trek away team:
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