a heart in barcelona - a carrison fanfiction

Chapter 4 - The Newspaper

for jenny

"You go in first?" Harrison asks, fidgety. "I go in first?"

"You can go first, I'll just say I slept in too late." Carrie answers, brushing his hair from his forehead.

Their first day back on set in London after their weekend getaway in Barcelona is about to begin, and Harrison seems uncharacteristically... nervous.

"No one is gonna know." She promises with one quick peck on the lips before she sends him out the door, to the studio.

About thirty minutes later, Carrie walks onto the Pinewood Studios' premises, heading for the makeup trailer. A couple of crew members nod in her direction and she smiles in return. On her way to get her crown braid assembled, she walks by Mark's trailer and decides to knock.

"Hey, Marky Mark!" she shouts. He paces towards Carrie and envelops her in a tight hug.

"Carrie," he says, as she returns the hug. "I almost thought you weren't coming today." He breaks away from her and turns back around, heading out of the trailer.

She follows him out: "What do you mean?" she questions, walking quickly, trying to catch up to his pace. "Why wouldn't I come in today?"

"Carrie, there you are!" Martha, Carrie's designated hair stylist, calls out.

Carrie is pushed into the trailer, waving a half-goodbye to Mark as he disappears in between ships and blasters.

As she sits down on the chair, Martha cleans out the table somewhat, a doughnut wrapper, a water bottle and a coffee-stained newspaper being thrown to the trash.

"How was your weekend, luv?" Martha's inquires, curious, in her thick British accent.

"Calm," Carrie answers. "They were a calm couple of days."

"I see," she mumbles, as she pulls and pins her long locks. "Slept a lot, did ya?" she snickers.

"Hum, sure." An uncomfortable silence sets between the two women.

"How was your weekend?" Carrie asks, a good twenty minutes later.

"What, luv?" Martha's brow furrows.

"You were asking me about my weekend," Carrie says. "And I just asked you about yours."

"Oh, it was fine, luv," the braid is almost complete, as is her simplistic makeup. "Nothin' interesting in my life." She smiles, a sincere, sweet smile.

"Carrie Fisher, on set in ten minutes." A crew member shouts outside the trailer.

"Duty calls!" Carrie laughs, yet it's an edgy, uncomfortable laugh. All this talk about her weekend got her worried. Nothing to be worried about, though. No one knows.

She hops off the trailer and walks towards the Millenium Falcon. Harrison is already sitting outside it, script in hand.

"Hey lover," she whispers, flirtatiously.

"Hey," he smirks and gets back to his lines.

"So," she starts, sitting down beside him. "Didn't do the homework, I see." She laughs, nudging his shoulder.

"Had my hands tied up this weekend," he teases, though he doesn't stop studying his lines. Behind them, a couple of sparks laugh, and one of them is clearly looking in their direction.

"What's their problem?" Carrie asks, squeezing Harrison's arm. He shakes his head and says:

"Just ignore them." And she nods, smiling.