Han & Leia | Galaxy of Us

Chapter 13

And it didn't help ease her discomfiture regarding why she was in the storage hull of the ship in the first place.

Han wasn't entirely sure this was a good idea himself. Contrary to what he'd allowed Leia to assume, this hadn't been his idea, it had been Rieekan's. The interfering busybody seemed to think Han would be the perfect man for the job. It seemed everyone had taken notice of his and Leia's friendship. Or perhaps that wasn't quite the word. Half the base seemed to think they were having some kind of clandestine affair and he'd observed the vast majority watching their daily squabbles with poorly disguised amusement.

Luke was getting a little antsy as well. Even after a year on Hoth and the kid was still making sheep's eyes at Her Royal Highness at every opportunity. Leia didn't encourage him, but she didn't discourage him either. She smiled at him, patted him on the shoulder, much like one might treat a stray puppy. Perhaps that was a tad harsh...she did treat Luke as her friend, she trusted him, liked him...but didn't seem to be attracted to him, from what Han could surmise. Not that he could tell the kid that. He certainly couldn't tell him she was attracted to him either. Luke had already suspected Han's casual flirtations with the Princess to hold more ground than was warranted. And after hearing about Rieekan suggesting Han train Leia, the boy had shot him a warning look, muttering, "You better not get any ideas..."

"I'm not any happier about this than you are, kid," Han had responded dryly. He was just as aware as Luke about how physically close he'd be getting with the Princess – which would pose a number of problems to both his groin and his sense of good judgment – but, he couldn't deny that Rieekan had a point. Leia needed to be better prepared than with simply a blaster by her side. He liked his blaster just as much as she did; it was failsafe and handy in a tough fix. But if needed be, he could fight with his fists too and if the Princess thought she was able to lead a raid, she'd need to be willing to get her little white dress dirty if necessary, trash-compactors notwithstanding.

And so here he was, watching her remove her bulky snow-gear and attempting to maintain a professional outlook. He almost snorted at the thought. If someone had told him two years back that he'd be watching a beautiful woman undress with a "professional outlook", he would've laughed in their face.

"Well?" she stood before him with a discernibly edgy air.

He cleared his throat. Enough wool-gathering. "Now, I know better than anyone you don't like being told what to do." She made a little harrumphing sound which he wisely chose to ignore. "But, you're gonna have to listen to what I tell you to do here. This is my territory and if the General said I've gotta teach ya how to fight, then that's what I'm gonna do."

"And how are you going to teach me?"

"Simple. I teach you the basics and then you fight me."

She looked incredulous, "You're double my height!"

"That's not the issue. Sure, you're not gonna be able to rely on your weight to shove me over, but you're agile and that's just as good. You could take your attacker by surprise if you wanted to, it's not like they'd expect a puny little thing like you to do any serious damage."

"Thanks," she replied wryly.

"So we've gotta focus on your strengths. You're small and you're fast. And with the right manoeuvring, sweetheart, you won't need weight to toss a grown man over. I'm not asking you to become a professional. I just want you to be able to defend yourself."

She sighed in resignation, "Alright. What do I do first?"

He began to circle her, sizing her up as though she was a potential opponent, "Right now, I want you to think: if someone grabbed you from behind, what would be your first instinct?"