on the sail barge...
Considering the magnitude of the spectacle that was about to unfold, she had little trouble avoiding the prying eyes of the drunkards as she slipped away from the bar once more. She had crept her way up the railing, a bottle of alcohol in hand. Here, she had a decent view of Luke standing on a plank, a grotesque mouth beneath him, open and impatiently awaiting its food. Despite his compromising position, his confidence never faltered. He almost looked proud to be so close to his own death.
"This is your last chance. Free us or die," he shouted.
Jabba laughed, Leia frowned, and Luke gave a little salute in their direction. She felt her lip begin to bleed when he was prodded.
"You're kidding," she whispered, then, a little more loudly, "Hey, wait, Luke—!"
Alas, she was too late. He'd already jumped off of the plank, grabbing the board and propelling himself upward in a ridiculous stunt. His lightsaber, the very thing they'd gone through months of trouble for, fell into his palm. He visibly relaxed as he ignited it.
Only now could she understand why they'd suffered so much for such a weapon. He wielded it with a sort of grace she'd never seen in her life, slicing through the guards in mere seconds. Behind her, Jabba erupted into a fit of rage, spewing commands at whoever would listen. Luke made haste as he freed Chewie and Han of their restraints.
She could do nothing but watch as Luke battled a bounty hunter below, Han and Lando, she assumed, hollering at each other frantically.
"Men are so rowdy," she muttered, turning away from the scene. Sighing, she gave Leia a tired look. The princess nodded.
She waded her way through the hectic crowd, finally reaching the man in charge. He was furious, tiny hands waving in the air as he made demands, his colossal tongue flicking spit in every direction. Cracking the bottle she'd been carrying over the edge of his throne, his attention was now on her.
"Pierce of shit," she seethed.
She shoved the jagged edges of the bottle into his side, twisting the cylinder until blood began to race down the edges. He cried out in pain, too distracted to realize that Leia had turned her chain around and was about to strangle him with it. Slinging it around his neck, she dove to the other side of the throne, pulling hard enough to cause the creature's eyes to start bulging. He gasped and thrashed, his heavy tail repeatedly thudding against the floor as he struggled. Finally, the movement came to a stop, and Leia let out a relieved sigh. She pulled Avery towards her by her wrist.
"Nice work," she said, turning her arm over to glance at the abundance of bandages. "Does it hurt?"
"Like a bitch," she replied, grinning.
"How do I get out of this thing?"
"Shit, I dunno. Here, let me—"
"Nope, that's just choking me, Avery, that's—"
"I'm doing my best, babe. How's this?"
"Worse, stop—"
Thankfully, a series of amused beeps interrupted them, Artoo proudly extending a nifty laser gun and breaking through the steel clasps. The three of them raced towards the stairs, rescuing a hapless Threepio on the way. They reached the deck, Luke spotting them immediately and shouting at them.
"Get the gun! Point it at the deck!"
Leia mounted the barge canon quickly, rotating so that she was facing the deck. Luke was there in an instant, wrapping an arm around her waist, his other hand clutching one of the mast's rigging ropes.
"Avery!" Leia called, grabbing the other girl's hand in hers.
"Not a good idea. He can't carry us both," she protested.
"I most definitely can. Wrap your arms around my neck and hold on tight," he replied.
She sighed, doing as he ordered, feeling her wrists burn when she struggled to stay secured around him as they soared through the air. She was proud to have only stumbled during their landing.
"Let's go. Don't forget the droids."
She turned to see the sail barge exploding behind them, flames consuming the heaps of steel and wood. In the stolen skiff, they navigated around the fire. Artoo and Threepio were retrieved rather quickly, and a collective sigh of relief could be heard as they finally departed from the chaos.
She collapsed onto the floor, closing her eyes and breathing hard. The sand did nothing to ease the pain she felt all over her skin, her bandages becoming dirtied as they flew. No one said anything for a long moment. Han had been the first to break the silence.
"So, we gained someone," he muttered to Luke, the young Jedi pulled from his thoughtful gazing by the statement.
At last, he let himself take in her appearance. She felt a wave of insecurity crash over her, and she attempted to shield herself from his calculating eyes. He sighed, kneeling down to face her better.
"Tell me what happened," he pleaded, gently trailing his fingers down the cloth wrapped around her neck. "You've been crying since I first saw you."
The declaration startled her, and she brought a hand up to feel at her face. It was puffy, she noted, and still damp from the tears she'd never realized she'd allowed to escape.
"They said it'd heal soon," she reasoned, trying to close in on herself.
Luke placed a knee between her thighs, leaning forward and brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"We don't have to talk about it right now," he offered, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip, "But don't shut me out, okay?"
She nodded, some of the tension leaving her body, and she gladly accepted the invitation for a hug. Burying her face into his neck, she sighed. He was so warm, so safe, and she never wanted to leave his side again.
"Thanks for the introduction, kid," Han muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Sorry," the other boy replied sheepishly, "Han, this is—"
"Thanks, but I can do that. Avery Adams; former university student, current member of the scouting division, girlfriend to Leia Organa. I know you can't see right now, so I'll go ahead and tell you that I'm much more attractive than whatever you're imagining. Did I miss anything, Luke?"
From behind Han, Leia masked her giggle as a scoff, her hand coming up to conceal the small smirk on her face. Luke looked moderately bothered, though he seemed more relieved that she'd regained some of her humor, and simply let out a sigh. Han, for his part, was trying to sort through the information she'd unloaded onto him, quietly repeating everything she'd just said. He squinted, turning around to face Leia.
"I can see better now. Girlfriend?" he asked.
"No," was her answer, grabbing his shoulders and spinning him so that Avery could witness his expression.
"Okay, so you're a funny guy, I see. Really, I applaud you. I've never laughed so hard," he snarled sarcastically.
"Thank you," she hummed, her uninjured hand grabbing Luke by his hair, consequently smushing their faces together, "But I'm not after your approval, Han Solo. This guy, however, seems to admire you quite a bit, so don't shit on me too much, okay? I don't need him running into your arms instead of mine. I've gotten used to his company."
Han's sour expression melted into something much softer, much more understanding, as if she'd unveiled her deepest secret to him. Not entirely sure what he'd taken from that, she leveled his gaze.
"I've never run into anyone's arms," Luke protested, breaking the tension between them. Squirming, he tried to move out of the uncomfortable position she'd twisted him into.
"Ah, there he is. For a minute there, kid, I was worried you'd grown up on me. Seems like you're still a brat, though. Good to know that I haven't missed too much."
Luke huffed, giving up on his attempts to escape—she wasn't entirely convinced that he'd ever been trying, really—and spared a fleeting glance towards his own hand. She followed his eyes, worry brewing in her heart when she saw a few wires sticking out.
"There's a hole in your hand," she noted, taking it in her own.
"What?" Han sputtered, attempting to crouch down to have a better look. Evidently, his ability to perceive depth hadn't been fully restored, so Leia had to catch him when he inevitably stumbled.
"Robot hand," she offered, assuming it was enough of an explanation.
"Don't call it that," he chastised, though there was no real venom behind it. "It's the L-hand 980."
"Neither one of you have clarified anything at all. What happened?"
"I overestimated my abilities," Luke replied, tone clipped and straightforward. "Oh, good. You brought it."
She frowned. They'd landed by the Falcon, Luke's own X-wing visible. They stepped into the sand, all of them trying to navigate their way to the ships. When the gang-plank lowered, Han pulled Luke over to the side, seemingly thanking him. She tried not to stare when they embraced, Leia stepping forward to express her own gratitude. The two of them hugged as well, and she caught the end of their conversation.
"I'll see you back at the fleet."
Her heartbeat faltered, her feet carrying her towards him before she was even fully aware of what she was doing. As he loaded Artoo into the X-wing, she found herself reaching out, her fingers tightly clutching onto the fabric of his shirt. He turned, grabbing her hand and placing it back at her side, his brows furrowed.
"It'll only be for a little while," he explained, cautiously caressing her.
She smacked his hand away, the pain in her limbs an afterthought as she pulled him into a hug. She buried her face into his chest, savoring his smell, his warmth, the sound of his heartbeat—everything, really. He sighed, running his fingers through her hair.
"You aren't usually like this," he said, "I'm worried."
"Something bad always happens," she whispered, holding him tighter, "Every time you leave me, something bad always happens."
He stiffened, pulling away from her and instead stroking her cheek, their eyes now meeting.
"And you always survive. I hate being apart from you, Ave, but you're strong on your own. You don't need—"
"Don't you dare," she seethed, "Don't you dare tell me that I don't need you. Save that noble bullshit for someone else."
His eyes widened slightly, then he relaxed into a sad smile. Gently, he brushed his thumb over her lip, in the way that he always did, and pressed his forehead against hers.
"Don't fool yourself. You aren't dependent on me; you never have been. Needing me for comfort is one thing, but for your own survival? You can take care of yourself."
"You seem confident," she murmured, sighing.
"Because I have to remind myself of it all the time. I want to be with you, always, but—"
"I know," she answered, her grip on him finally loosening, "Maybe I don't need you to survive, but—shit, this is so stupid, God—"
He chuckled softly, his breath fanning across her lips. She swallowed.
"I need you to live, y'know? You're right, I guess; I've always survived. I'm getting a little greedy now, though, 'cause you make me feel like—I don't know, just—there's more to this than getting by, right? There are ideals, and camaraderie, and passion, and cause. You embody it. All of it. You're good."
He inhaled shakily, pulling away from her momentarily only to envelop her in another embrace. His hand on the back of her neck, chin resting on top of her head, he sighed.
"Only a few more goodbyes after this, okay? We're nearing the end."
"Okay," she agreed, forcing herself to step back from him, "I'll see you in a little bit."
They stood, tension flowing between them as they watched each other in anticipation. What was she waiting for him to say? This was hardly any time for confessions. Finally, he looked away from her.
"Yeah," he breathed out, leaning against the X-wing, "See you."
And that was it.
a/n: sorry for slow updates but you guys are probably used to that haha! please vote or comment if you enjoyed!!