"You're trembling." – Han Solo, Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back
Han lounged back on the bench beside Luke and Chewie as General Rieekan barked out instructions and orders for the fleets he'd be sending out for a rescue mission on Dantooine. Leia stood at his side, scanning the groups of rebels with a critical eye.
"Probably be us four again," Luke murmured, nudging Han. They usually accompanied Leia as a team when she was allowed to take lead in missions.
"Unless Rieekan's got other plans for you," Han nodded; occasionally, Luke took one of the starfighters instead because of his remarkable piloting.
"I doubt it. He doesn't trust putting the Princess solely in your hands," Luke teased lightly.
Han pretended to look wounded, "Out of the two of us, it's clear I'm the responsible one."
His friend snorted, "I'm sure the General will agree after you showed up to the last awards ceremony, drunk."
"I didn't mean to!" Han protested feebly, "I was just...ah...having an early celebration of my own..."
Luke shook his head, grinning, "The only reason he hasn't kicked you out yet is because of how useful you are. I suppose he'll just have to count his blessings that you haven't seduced half the female population on Hoth, yet."
Han chuckled, saying nothing. It amused him how his reputation had built as a careless womanizer – which he was...but hadn't been for a long time. Sure, he flirted left, right and centre with all the women, that was just his nature. But he hadn't exactly had the time, nor the right sort of motivation for a sexual encounter in a long time. Chewie joked around about it giving him an aura of mystery – something women loved. Or, all women excepting one, at least.
Leia came forward, as Rieekan stepped back, addressing the remaining troops with further instructions and details on the layout of the rescue, then assigning them their positions. Han watched her, leaning back as he waited for his name to be called out along with Luke's... "Ryles, Skywalker, Jordan – you'll be accompanying me," she stated briskly and he froze, frowning.
Luke glanced at him, a little apologetically, "I guess you're the one needed elsewhere."
"Guess so," Han muttered, staring at Leia, though her gaze passed over him neutrally, as she assigned him and Chewie other positions.
The groups departed into their formations and Luke sauntered over to join Leia, who greeted him with a warm smile, laughing at something he said. Han turned away, swallowing down something bitter that tasted suspiciously like jealousy...Luke was his friend, there was no reason for him to hold any ill-feelings against him, especially not over a woman. Let the Princess choose whomever she wanted...there was no reason for him to care. Except he did. He cared a great deal.
He had supposed after that unexpected encounter in his ship that she'd be warmer towards him, but she wasn't. If anything, she'd only become more distant, as though he'd done something wrong. He couldn't figure out for the life of him what he'd done wrong, however. It couldn't have to do with him giving her that crystal...she'd practically tackled him in her gratitude...but, things had only changed between them since then. He hadn't tried to figure out what was wrong, though, only had engrossed himself more fully in his assignments. He hadn't decided whether or not he'd stay, so maybe it was best that Leia kept her distance for the time being; it was becoming increasingly difficult, controlling some of his baser instincts when he was around her. But, still, part of him wished she wouldn't.
And now as he grit his teeth, making his way towards the Falcon, Chewie following silently behind him, he wondered...even if he did leave...would it really matter that much to her?
Leia paced her office floor furiously. The day had been an absolute mess. The rescue mission had not gone to plan, there had been far too many casualties and careless, reckless Han Solo had almost gotten himself killed. She had noted he'd seemed a little distracted, but she'd hardly suspected it would culminate in that dangerously shallow dive he'd taken the Falcon in. Her heart had nearly stopped for a moment – she'd fully expected the ship to crash into smithereens by that rock, but it had jerkily managed to curve back upwards before the worst could pass.
She had deliberately chosen not to include him in her group to make sure she didn't get distracted, but that hadn't worked very well, had it? She'd been rattled – she hadn't been as clear-minded and sharp as she usually was and she'd made mistakes. She hardly ever made mistakes.
Once they'd arrived back on Hoth and she'd reiterated the events back to the General, she had barked out a brief order for Han to see her in her office, but it seemed as though the Captain was taking his own sweet time about it – it had been ten minutes, already.
She had enough. Stomping her way to the door, she flung it open, prepared to angrily barge out, only to collide face-first into the Captain's chest.
"Oof!" she grimaced. The day couldn't get any worse, could it?
He caught her shoulders, steadying her, "You alright?"
"Can't you look where you're going?" she demanded, her face reddening as she stepped back.
He raised an eyebrow, but wisely refrained from responding. "You asked me to come to your office?"
"Yes, yes I did," she closed the door behind him, retreating to the safe corner behind her desk. "I asked you to meet me here ten minutes ago."
Han warily approached her, crossing his arms, "Luke was relaying what happened today."
"Whatever Luke had to say could wait. You should've been here on time."
"Fine. I apologize, Your Royal Highness," he laid emphasis on the title, irking her further, "Now, will you tell me why you ordered me here?"
"I called you here to talk about your irresponsibility today," she gritted her teeth as he rolled his eyes. "You could've killed yourself! And Chewbacca too! What were you thinking, making that dive?"
"I knew I'd make it," he replied arrogantly, "I've been in tighter corners."
"That doesn't make it any more acceptable! This isn't one of your joyrides, Captain, we've been over this before, you can't allow for reckless mistakes."
"Reckless mistakes? From what Luke's told me, you weren't holding your moral high ground today either, Princess," he retorted, "What the hell were you thinking, sending him in the middle of that madness?"
"He handled –"
"Don't tell me he handled himself fine! He could've been killed, he's young and naïve, you know that already! He wants to be some goddamn hero, so of course he'll want to head right into the fray, but that doesn't mean you can just allow it!"
"I'm the one in charge here, Captain –"
"Oh, right. I'm just the idiotic underling who doesn't know what he's doing. I've been piloting for years; I know how to handle my ship. If you have a problem with it, take it up with Rieekan!"
"The General's already complained far too many times about your behaviour to me, I'm the only thing standing between you and a dismissal!"
"So then, why are you?" he challenged, placing his hands on the desk, leaning forward so he was on eye-level with her, "Let me leave, then, if you're so keen on it."
"Oh please, we both know you can't stay in one place for too long. I don't need to dismiss you, you'll do it yourself," she retorted angrily.
"Can't stay in my place, you mean," his eyes glittered dangerously, moving closer. The desk wasn't providing much of a barrier and she certainly wasn't backing off. "You think I'm some low-life, here for the hell of it, don't you? I'm certainly not Luke, I'm not the golden boy, here to fight for some righteous cause – on that account, you're right. But, think about this, Princess. You're not the saintly figure in white all the time – you make mistakes, too. You make reckless decisions, you lose your temper, you've done things you've regretted because you're a person, too. So, don't pretend to be something you're not. At least I know what I am. What are you?"
She opened her mouth and then closed it, staring at him in shock. She hadn't expected that from him. What was she? What was she fighting for? She couldn't even be sure anymore, everything blurred around the lines. She was just tired. So tired. Of fighting. Of running away. Of pretending not to care. Of pretending to constantly know what she was doing, keeping herself together.
Some of the anger receded from Han's eyes as he watched the emotions pass through hers. He sighed, standing up straight and holding out a hand, "C'mon."
"Where?" she looked at him, confused.
"I think we both need to blow off some steam. It's been a long day."
She didn't question him further, but followed him out and to the hangar where the Falcon was. He led her to the storage compartment where they held their training sessions. It had been a while since they had a training session, she'd gotten pretty good. He proceeded to strip off his jacket and boots and she followed with her heavy snow gear, heaping them in a small pile on the floor. She wasn't sure if this was going to help them though, she was already getting warning signals in her head, the tension between them had hardly eased, but at this point, she could hardly care. All she wanted was to forget about her responsibilities in the moment and let go.
She gave him no warning before throwing a punch. He blocked it deftly, his countenance unreadable, lashing back out. She ducked under the swinging arm and caught it, pressing it against his back from behind him, twisting his arm tightly enough to hurt. He winced and she loosened her grip immediately, but that only left him room to turn his body back around and hooking his leg around her ankle, tumbling her over. Six months ago, she would have hit the ground with a thud and suffered a sore tailbone for days, but now she only caught herself with her hands, springing back up lithely and kicking out, making sharp contact with his middle. He staggered back, breathing heavily – they both were – and leaned back against a crate, waiting for her to make her next move.
The air had turned heavy, tangible in its warmth, touched with the light, clean scent of her – something lemony and fresh. Her cheeks were stung rosy, her flushed skin disappearing under her camisole; he couldn't help but wonder if she was pink everywhere else too. She was normally so pale – he loved bringing colour to her; in angering her, flustering her, what ever way he could. Passion painted her human, and she was all the more beautiful for it.
She was all wound up; raw, restless energy coiled up, waiting to strike. She needed an outlet, but it was probably better that wasn't him. He grabbed a punching board from the side and held it in front of him, "Here. Just strike out as hard as you can."
She walked over wordlessly and glanced up at him, before setting her focus to the padded board. At first she hit out in practiced, calculated moves...but, then she glanced up at him again, and resumed, applying much more force, punching out roughly without thought. He took a step back with the force of it, but he only came at him, harder, faster, until he was certain she was going to leave hard, aching calluses all over her knuckles. He didn't stop her, though. He just watched, silent, standing as still as possible until her energy burned out.
She threw out one last punch – probably picturing his face on the board, he figured wryly – before stepping back and examining her hand. Her knuckles were considerably reddened, he knew for a fact they'd hurt like hell later on, but she didn't make a fuss. Only scrutinized them thoughtfully.
"I've got something for sore knuckles, if you'd like," he offered, dropping the board. She nodded and he took her to his cabin, rummaging through a drawer until he found the little pot of salve. Leia sat on the edge of his bed, looking tired – though not in that old, world-weary way she sometimes did. She looked spent, her brown hair tangled and messy, bits falling out of her thick braids.
He handed her the container, "It smells bad, but it'll help lessen the soreness and marks."
"Thank you," she responded quietly, opening it and beginning to apply it clumsily over her bruised hand.
"You're gonna have to rub it in," he added. She bit down on her lip and attempted to press her fingers harder against her knuckles, but he could tell it was an effort for her. It probably hurt a lot worse than hell.
"Here, give it to me," he said gruffly, holding out his hand. She hesitantly placed hers in his and he dipped his fingers in the green stuff, before gently circling around her knuckles, building up the pressure. She tensed up and he sought conversation to distract her. "You feel better now? After letting all that out?"
"I was pretty angry, before," she admitted, "It was unfair of me to speak to you like that."
"Nah, I probably deserved it," he shrugged, rubbing his thumb across the bone of her index finger, "I was angry too." He didn't specify why. She let out a tiny gasp as he pressed down hard and he grimaced, "Sorry. Need a drink?"
"I'll be fine," she shook her head, "Thank you, though. If you hadn't brought me here, I'd probably be yelling at some poor pilot in the barracks...I'm not very good at controlling my anger."
"You have a lot to be angry about, I don't blame you," he said frankly, "And I'm not one to judge. We make quite the pair, don't we, Princess?"
"We certainly do," a tiny smile curved her lips for an instant, then just as quickly faded away. "When you're angry...what do you do? What helps?"
He was surprised she asked him. "I fly, usually," he admitted, circling his fingers rhythmically over her knuckles, hardly paying attention to what he was doing, "Usually taking the Falcon around helps...but sometimes it doesn't..."
She nodded, "I tend to immerse myself in work."
"Exactly. We've all got something to hone things down. But if you've got too much energy in your system, there's nothing like hitting something to make you feel better. Or breaking something," he added as an afterthought.
"Breaking something?" she looked amused.
"Chewie's specialty," he grinned, "Usually someone's bones, if he's really angry."
She laughed, the pure sound of it ringing clear and bright in the little room. "Why were you angry today?"
His amusement faded and he focused down on her hand, "It was nothing. Little things rile me up, you know me."
"I don't think you're a low-life," she said softly, "And I've never meant to insinuate that I look down on you or anything like that."
"I know," he said simply, and that was enough to suffice. He'd probably massaged enough of the ointment into her skin by now but he couldn't bring himself to stop touching her, so he let his thumb pass over the back of her hand in lazy strokes.
She tensed up again, but this time he knew it couldn't have been from pain, he wasn't going near her knuckles. He didn't look up at her, unsure of what he'd see and questioned, "Still hurts?"
"Just a little."
"But not here?" his index finger traced down to her wrist, where he could make out the delicate veins under her pale skin, "You didn't sprain anything here, did you?"
"No, it doesn't hurt there," she confirmed, but curiously enough, her fingers had begun to quiver, almost imperceptibly.
He followed the lines of her palm, tracing the tiny trembles to the tips of her fingers, gently pulling back and forth, "And it doesn't hurt when you close and open your fist?"
"I had no idea you had picked up from the nurses," her tone was dry, but she was still shaking.
"Not the nurses. I know a fracture from experience," he explained, tracing the outline of her fingers.
"I fractured my hand?"
"No, your hand seems fine to me, if a bit bruised and raw...which begs the question...why are you trembling?"
And then he looked at her and wished he hadn't because her eyes were wide and vulnerable, staring back at him. She attempted to tug her hand away, but he still held on, searching her. "Let go," she mumbled, "Please."
He did and she rose up awkwardly from the bed, inching her way out of the room. "You're not staying?" he inquired, opting for nonchalance as he wiped his sticky hands off with a towel.
She looked back with a small sad smile, "Are you?"
And then he knew if he left, it would matter very much to her indeed.
A/N: Wellll, would ya look at that? I didn't take super long to update this time, did I? :P Thank you again for all the lovely responses. Just letting you know there are about three or four more chapters until we get to the ESB timeline. Hope you're enjoying the story so far! Do let me know what you think :)