"I happen to like nice men." – Leia Organa
"I am a nice man." – Han Solo
Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back
Han glanced across at Luke before the doors opened, a trifle nervous. His friend gave him a reassuring smile in return as though he'd guessed his thoughts.
They were to be awarded for their contributions at the Battle of Yavin and yet Han couldn't help but feel as though shooting Darth Vader from the Falcon was a hell of a lot easier than being presented a medal for bravery in front of the rebels. He felt like a sham.
He'd hardly ever done a decent thing in his life. And if he had returned to fight the Empire, it hadn't been solely driven by some noble delusion that he was going to save the galaxy. It had also been for Luke. And Leia, he admitted to himself. He couldn't have let them die even if it had meant risking his own life in the process. But none of that meant he really deserved this medal, did it?
The bugle soon resounded, their cue to begin walking across the path once the doors opened. Striding across with Luke, Chewie following behind, Han felt slightly overwhelmed by all the people standing, awaiting. They respected him. It felt strange, to command respect. Not for being a good smuggler or for talking his way out of things in a shallow kind of admiration, they genuinely held him in esteem.
He determinedly focused his gaze up ahead where Leia stood. Her Worship looked pretty good in women's clothes, he had to admit, and while he was tired of seeing her in so much white like some blessed angel – no angel had such a smart mouth – the colour did suit her. Instead of the cinnamon roll buns she normally had, her hair had been braided and coiled into a tight knot at the top of her head, not a strand out of place, the image of cool perfection.
From the higher steps, she was actually taller than him and she gave him The Royal Gaze as though to remind him of that. A stance that abruptly broke as she gave Luke an open smile. Turning back to Han, he offered her his own cocky grin.
She held the medal forward and he bent his head to receive it, resisting the impulse to glance down her low-cut neckline. He did, however, give her a wink as he looked back up at her, to which she looked rather amused.
The gold plated metal was heavy on his chest, as though reminding him of all the reasons he didn't deserve such a tribute. He tamped down the deprecating thoughts and turned to face the crowd as Luke did, one hand curled into a nervous fist by his blaster as the rebels applauded. He quickly tucked both hands behind his back and despite himself, he smiled. There was something gratifying in the looks of respect these men gave him...the idea that he was a nice man, even if he didn't entirely believe it himself.
Leia furtively made her way out of the celebratory after-party, seeking some quiet. She had been hounded by Luke for the past half hour, and while she thought he was sweet and found his shy attentions flattering, at the moment she wanted nothing more than a little solitude.
It was odd, really. As a political figure and rebel leader, it meant she was hardly ever alone, constantly surrounded by people without a real chance at privacy or comfort. And yet, the very bustle of people around her had seemed to meld her into a solitary individual by nature. She had few friends, most of whom were older men – the political leaders and generals she spoke with on a daily basis. The rebel soldiers revered her too much to befriend her. But for some strange reason, she had managed to find real connection with a young farm boy, a Wookie...and, she had to admit it, even a smuggler.
She hadn't seen Han very much at the party; she frowned, he was probably off drinking his heart out or debauching some willing female in a secluded corner. Not that it mattered; she had little interest in his pastimes.
Most people were celebrating at this time, so it wasn't difficult to find a place where she could be alone. Sitting under a large tree, far out of sight from the revelers, she heaved a sigh of content, unmindful of the grass-stains her white dress was bound to pick up. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to feel the pain of losing her family, her home, the torture inflicted upon her in the Death Star, though instead of tears, she only felt a heavy weight in her chest...a weight that slightly lifted as she reminded herself of the victory they had won...but it was not enough. The victory felt shallow compared to her personal loss.
"Running away from the party, Your Worshipfullness?"
She surpressed a groan.
Opening her eyes, she looked up at Han Solo with a forbidding frown that had no effect on his irrepressible smirk. She tried for diplomacy, "Would you please give me a little time alone and go back to whatever immoral escapade you were last tangled up in?"
"I believe the last escapade I was tangled up in was your dicey little plan for destroying the Death Star. As for immoral escapades...well, that's why I'm here now, isn't it?" he waggled his eyebrows at her.
She groaned aloud this time. "Why do you have to be so difficult?"
"Did you think I was easy?"
"Yes," she gave him a deadpan look in response to the innuendo.
"Ouch," he settled down easily beside her, "So tell me, Princess, why exactly are you not getting yourself drunk and enjoying the festivities?"
"I could ask you the same question," she glowered, shifting a little away from him.
"You have a hangover, don't you?" he looked amused, "I knew you were drunk last night."
"I was not! I hardly ever drink-"
"Which means you don't handle alcohol well when you do."
"I wasn't drunk. And I don't have a hangover," she muttered defiantly.
He fingered his medal idly, "I'm starting to think the effects of the alcohol still haven't left your system if you decided to give me this."
She glanced up in pure surprise at the impassive comment. "Are you mocking the idea of a reward for bravery?" she asked sardonically, "I thought you liked rewards."
"I do. When I deserve them," he rested his arms over his knees in a curiously vulnerable pose. "Don't get me wrong, I definitely wanted some sort of monetary refund for risking my life. But, a medal for bravery? I'm not brave, Princess, I've been goddamned selfish since the unhappy day I crawled out of my mother's womb. One good act doesn't make me a nice man."
She felt stunned. She wouldn't have expected such an outburst from him and yet, she understood what he meant. "You're right," she said carefully, "One good act doesn't make you a nice man. But, it's not about the act, it's about the intent, isn't it? You came back to fight when you could have left with your money. I'm not saying you've suddenly redeemed yourself," she said hastily, giving him a frown, "You're still a scoundrel." He grinned at that and she continued, "But whether you like it or not, you deserved the medal for what you did. You helped destroy the Death Star and you helped fight the Empire. Without your help we'd most likely be dead. So, this is our way of thanks."
Han looked contemplative for a few minutes, uncharacteristically solemn. Then he nodded his head slightly, "Okay."
"Is that why you came to find me?" she asked curiously, "To find out why you got the medal?"
"No, I didn't come to find you, I was here already," he stated, "What's – her – name – Talia? No...Tanya..."
"Tabitha?"
"Yeah, she was hunting me like a Sarlacc that hadn't seen living food in ten years."
Leia stifled an unladylike snort at the idea of Tabitha Wren being compared to a repulsive Sarlacc. "She's very beautiful."
"She can't stop talking enough about herself to allow me to notice that on my own," Han retorted sourly.
"I never would've taken you for a man who ran away from attractive women."
"I do when they're terrors from Carkoon."
They sat in companionable silence before Han asked again, "Why are you here?"
"I did say I wanted to be alone."
"And I said I wanted an immoral escapade," he countered smugly, "Looks like we're both gonna be disappointed tonight, sweetheart."
"Don't call me that," she rubbed her fingers into her forehead wearily, "You should've had your way with Tabitha."
"My way? She was regretfully more interested in her way."
"You'd be reaching the same destination."
"Oh no, we wouldn't be," he chuckled, "You're avoiding my question, Princess."
"I lost my home," she expelled a sharp breath, "There. Will you leave now?"
He didn't move, but only surveyed her intently. There was neither pity nor derision in his gaze, rather simple understanding.
And he leaned back against the tree, not saying anything. Strangely enough, his presence didn't irk her at the present moment. It was comfortable, sitting with him like this.
"I wasn't really avoiding Talia – or – whatever – her name –"
"Tabitha."
"Yeah. I came out here to think. I guess I'll stay here for a while, help fight...but eventually I'm gonna need to leave to repay my debt."
"You're not the type to settle down in one place for too long. You'll find your own path," she stated quietly.
"Yeah. I just don't know which path to choose right now," he replied.
"Luke would miss you a great deal," she said, not entirely willing to see the last of him either, "You might as well stay awhile. To help."
"I'll think about it," he shifted uncomfortably.
"You told him last night you'd stay," she pointed out.
"I know. I just don't know if I can."
"Well, what about what you want?" she asked.
He hesitated, then, "I want to stay."
She understood his uncertainty. He'd been a roamer his entire life, he'd made his living through smuggling illegal goods, it was difficult to change. Yet, he wasn't exactly the same man he was. Something had shifted; from a no-good smuggler, he'd suddenly become a war-hero, at least to the other rebels around. And while he didn't believe in the title, it did somehow put some responsibility on his shoulders. Whether he would carry that responsibility for the rest of his life remained ambiguous for the time being.
"Sometimes it helps to talk it out," she said, without thinking.
"Do you want to?" he prodded gently.
She looked up in surprise. He was probably the last person in the world she'd ever expected to speak with on a personal level, she hardly knew the man. In fact, she rarely spoke to anyone on a personal level, she realized ruefully.
"I've been to Alderaan before," Han said, leaning back, "It was a beautiful place. Huge mountains and lots of water. It was peaceful."
"I loved it," she spoke, surprising both of them, "It was my home, but more than that, it was a place where I felt safe and happy. I remember the people, the cities...the Cloudshape Falls...the Isatabith rain forest..."
"The Falls were stunning," he agreed.
"I didn't often agree with some of the rules imposed upon us, though," she smiled wistfully, "It was peaceful, that's true, but I think our lack of aggression also might have led to our downfall in the end. Weapons were banned...what?" Han had been giving her an odd look.
"Lack of aggression?" he repeated, looking skeptical, "You?"
She scowled, though she knew he had a point, "I disagreed with some of the more...conservative methods such as those."
"I can imagine. You're faster with a blaster than a bounty hunter."
She shrugged off the compliment, though she was pleased. "How did you ever manage to wind up on a peaceful planet, then?" she inquired.
He looked sheepish, "Trade."
"Ah...I'm assuming you didn't stay too long, then?"
"I was there for maybe a day," he admitted, "Ran into a bit of trouble, when negotiations turned ugly."
"On Alderaan?"
"You'd be surprised. Some of your peace-loving citizens pack a killer right-hook."
She almost smiled, before a pang of loss hit her, "And now they're gone. I'm one of the last living inhabitants left."
He was silent for a moment, as though searching for the right words to say. "They did it to hurt you, Princess. Not for any reason but just to show you that they could, to show you who's boss. And you got back at them. You destroyed the Death Star and now you'll keep on fighting till they're dead and gone. Tarkin didn't reckon that when he destroyed your home, that he'd just made you stronger. Because you're a fighter."
She looked up at him, stunned. His blunt words had more of an effect on her than any sympathetic embraces or statements of condolence could. He was right. She had more drive than ever now. She wouldn't stop fighting, not until the Empire's rule had been crushed.
She remembered a year prior when she had been unsure of herself, of her command, of her role. She hadn't been completely certain if she would be a strong leader in either the Senate or the Alliance. She had often felt world-weary, sometimes angry, sometimes afraid. And occasionally she had even considered giving up. There was none of that insecurity left now.
A few minutes of silence passed before he rose up and said, "I think I'll get back to the party...check on Luke...you coming?"
She hesitated. Part of her wanted to be alone, to avoid social interaction. Another part of her wanted companionship, wanted the chance to, for once, be human. Not a political figure, not a rebel leader...just Leia. And she realized that as much as the man could annoy her at times, he was perhaps the only person who really treated her as though she was normal. She craved normalcy.
He extended a hand and she took it to haul herself up from the ground, before they strode back to the festivities.
"Do me a favour, Princess."
"What?" she asked suspiciously.
"Signal to tell me when the Sarlacc approaches," he said with such a serious expression she couldn't help but smile.
"Will do, Captain."
They found Luke with Chewbacca and a few other pilots, talking and laughing uproariously together. "Where've you been all this time?" Luke demanded of Han.
"Checking up on the ship," he said easily, "She needed some tending to."
Thought I'd address Leia's grief over losing her home planet, as well as Han ruminating over his choice of whether to stay or not. I mean, it definitely couldn't have been easy for him to suddenly decide to fight alongside the rebels when he'd been a smuggler for so long. And, of course, I really wanted to show Han and Leia's relationship progressing to friendship. Thank you to those who have voted and reviewed! :)