LUKE'S GIRL

The story is a series of vignettes, which cover a time period from a few months after ANH to just after ROTJ. It looks at Han's early perceptions of Leia as Luke's potential girlfriend -- and the ways in which his perceptions change, over time, as he ends up falling for Leia himself.

The characters are the property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm, et al. No infringement is intended, nor will I made any profit from this endeavor. Events from the Han Solo Trilogy by Ann Crispin are referred to slightly, but it is not at all necessary to have read those books to understand this story. ( I am particularly indebted to Ms. Crispin for her version of the rules and the deck used to play sabaac.) Also, the character of Xaverri referred to originated in the book "The Crystal Star" by Vonda McIntyre. Once again, that book isn't crucial to this story. I'd appreciate any comments; send praise or flames to Yahtzee63@aol.com.

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Part One

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"Han! Wait up!"

Han turned to see Luke loping across the shuttle bay, waving towards him. His mouth quirked in a lopsided, unwilling smile. He was glad to see the kid, but sort of embarrassed by the loud welcome; Luke was really too old to be so openly cheerful, so exuberant, just at the sight of a friend. At any rate, he wasn't used to the idea of anyone being so happy to see him. The younger man caught up to him, slapping Han on the back as he skidded to a stop. "You're back!"

"Yeah -- right on schedule. What's the matter, didn't think I could get past the border patrol?"

"No way. I knew you'd do it."

"So why are you surprised to see me?"

Luke shrugged and smiled, his face alight with unguarded enthusiasm. "I'm not surprised. I'm just glad, that's all."

But no matter how he fought it, Luke managed to get to him -- without even trying. Sometimes Han wondered if having a younger brother would have been like this -- would have awakened the same feelings of protectiveness, of comradeship.

That, however, was sentiment talking, and Han didn't let himself get sentimental. He'd found a friend -- rare luck in a hard world. All there was too it. No need to get mushy.

They walked on in companionable silence for a few moments; Luke obviously had something on his mind, but wasn't quite ready to speak up. Han was content to wait, and to try and get used to their new base -- the fifth world their Alliance unit had been stationed on in seven months. He looked around the caverns that surrounded them -- B'Reil's surface was uninhabitable, but within that world's lithosphere were millions upon millions of caves. Warmed by the heat of the planet's core, supplied by abundant subterranean rivers, these caves were a luxurious resting place. He looked up at the opalescent stone arching hundreds of feet above their heads, and thought, it's beautiful. After only a moment, he added: especially compared to some of the womprat-heaps we've been stuck in ever since Yavin. Even within his own mind, Han rarely let himself get soft.

"Guess what tonight is," Luke finally managed.

"The night I finally run some vari-gee piloting sims with you? We've been putting that off too long -- "

"That would be great! But that's not what I meant."

"Well, what did you mean?"

"It's the Princess's Name Day."

"Name Day? I'm not familiar with that one -- "

"She's adopted -- you knew that, right?"

"No, sure didn't." So Her Highnessness wasn't actually of royal blood after all. She sure acted the part.

"It's Alderaanean custom to celebrate an adopted child's Name Day, rather than a birthday, since that's not always known."

"That's logical. Only logical Alderaanean custom I've ever heard of."

"Well, there's a party tonight. Not a real big party -- "

"Still, they got quite a few people together. We're invited -- gonna go?" Luke seemed unusually eager -- then again, Han suspected it wasn't his company Luke was so eager for.

"Depends. Is this gonna be better than your birthday party? Because we've got to top that." Luke had turned nineteen not quite a month ago; they'd been in hurried, desperate transit from Revenna Minor to B'Reil. His "celebration" had consisted of a medium-grade bottle of Dantooine brandy, consumed in the Falcon's living area, by Han, Chewie, Luke, and Wedge Antilles. Han had poured lavishly, wanting to make up for the scanty gathering; he hadn't realized that Luke had only rarely touched intoxicants before. The latter half of the evening had been spent in the head, with Han mopping down Luke's head with a cold towel in those rare moments when Luke wasn't getting noisily sick.

Luke looked faintly green at the memory. "I don't plan on throwing up at this one."

"That's good; it's gonna be hard impressing the princess with a performance like that one."

"Who said I wanted to impress the princess?"

Han laughed. "Luke, you're good at a lot of things, but lying ain't one of 'em."

Luke blushed faintly, but quipped, "Yeah, I thought I'd leave that to you. Me, I'll handle the navigation, the piloting, the shooting --"

"Can it, kid," Han said, grinning. About time Luke started giving as good as he got.

He understood why Luke wanted him along. Princess Leia had, since that incredible day seven months ago, treated them both as friends; Han still had some problems believing that, given how different they were from the rest of the people she spent time with. Generals -- diplomats -- aristocrats. Her own kind of people.

Han personally didn't care much for that kind of people, and had only made an exception for the Princess because she seemed to have some sense underneath all the fancy trappings. He'd dealt with the rich and powerful before, in many circumstances: as a cadet at the Academy -- during the con games he'd been forced to run as a youth -- in a few scams and shady dealings he'd had not so long ago. Money and prestige didn't intimidate him.

Luke, on the other hand, was intimidated as hell. Han was being invited along as moral support, and knew it. He oughta get used to facing them on his own, Han thought. Leia obviously thinks the kid's wonderful -- she lights up every time he walks in the room. So why should he feel second-class?

Still, maybe there was time to teach him that later.

"It's been a rough trip, and I need to relax; I think a party sounds perfect. Come by and get me when you're ready."

Luke's face lit up with pleasure. "That's great. Thanks, Han, I knew I could count on you."

"Don't mention it." Han watched Luke lope across the docking bay, trying remember if he'd ever had that kind of boundless enthusiasm.

Probably not. His childhood hadn't allowed many opportunities for it. In all honesty, he only wanted to crawl back into his bunk and go to sleep. A night spent making small talk with the big shots was the last thing he wanted.

But Luke needed him, and it wasn't much to ask -- so he'd go. Besides, he thought absentmindedly, it would be nice to talk to the Princess again. She was maddening sometimes -- but she was always interesting. And he needed to get to know her better.

After all, she was going to be Luke's girl.

"Now, this of course is from Igern's second opera. 'Chalice and Altar' -- lovely work, don't you think?" Major Taroc Straate smiled winningly at Princess Leia. She smiled slightly and nodded. Luke, a few seats over, looked hopelessly confused.

Han took a long draught of his drink and prayed for the party to end. He'd had hopes for the evening when he first walked in; they did have a band, enthusiastic if amateur, composed of various Rebellion members who had learned to play in gentler times. The spread wasn't half bad; several people must have chipped in their food rations to afford the stuff. However, it hadn't taken long for Han's worst fears to materialize. The Princess's attention was being monopolized by a select few, some of them older generals; Han didn't mind those so much, since they obviously didn't mean to be so damn boring. But Straate was getting the hell on his nerves. He'd been schmoozing up to the Princess all night, and had obviously arranged this evening to be as upper-crust as possible. He had done it to please the Princess -- Han could forgive that. But he hadn't pleased her; at any rate, she didn't seem thrilled. And the toniness of the gathering had left Luke awkward and alienated. That, Han couldn't stand.

"Igern is such an intellectual composer, don't you think? 'Chalice and Altar' takes in so many heady themes. The role of self-sacrifice in the moral life -- the repression of desire -- all typical of his early work --" Han snorted, not as quietly as he'd meant to. Straate shot him a look.

"You don't agree, Captain Solo? Maybe you would like to share your thoughts on opera with us."

Princess Leia frowned at Straate, opened her mouth as if to speak. But Han didn't let her.

Don't defend me, Princess. I don't need it.

"Igern writes a lot about repressing desire in his early work, but it doesn't have a damn thing to do with his intellectual ideas. He was in love with a married woman at the time. She eventually left her husband; right about that time, Igern's music suddenly gets a lot lustier. She leaves Igern himself eventually and that's why his last opera's so depressing. Doesn't seem that intellectual to me."

Han gave up a silent offering of thanks to his Music History professor at the Naval Academy, wherever he might be. He'd hated that course then, but all those hours of study had just paid off: Straate's jaw was slightly slack, and he was obviously grasping for something withering to say. Princess Leia leaned forward -- effectively blocking Han and Straate from each other's view -- and said, "You don't think he might have dealt intellectually with an emotional loss?"

She wasn't defending Straate. Just engaging in conversation. Something about her expression was strange, though.

"I suppose he may have tried. Still, seems to me like his feelings are always the main theme of his work."

"You're right," she said, smiling with a little more warmth. "I admire him for trying, though. For making some sense of what had happened to him -- for creating art out of it. Not everyone has the spirit to do that."

Straate obviously felt this conversation had gone on long enough. "Well, I wouldn't have taken you for an opera buff, Captain Solo."

"I'm not a fan," Han took the final bite of his dinner, glanced over at Luke. C'mon, buddy, this would be a great time to change the topic.

Luke didn't get the clue. "I never even heard any opera before about a month ago."

Leia smiled softly. "You're the lucky one; all that wonderful music is still ahead of you. I know -- Captain Solo and I can teach you."

Han laughed, catching the mischievous light in her eyes. She laughed too, not mocking the idea, but reveling in the unlikeliness of it. Come to think of it, that was the first time he'd heard her laugh all night. Even now, the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Maybe I ought to leave that up to you, Your Highness. You're the expert."

"I'd like to learn," Luke said eagerly. Thank the gods the kid finally took a hint.

"Then I'll lend you some of my favorites," Leia said. "We could talk about them --"

"That would be great --"

Perhaps Straate realized Luke was getting the advantage; perhaps he only wanted to keep the party going. In either case, he gestured once in the band's direction as the Igern music drew to a close. They began a genteel calenada dancing tune, spirited but refined; some of the others at the table smiled in recognition and began moving to the open floor near the table.

"Princess, I took the liberty of arranging some dancing for the night. I'd thought to take you out on the floor myself, but perhaps your young friend would like the pleasure of this calenada."

Smooth, Han thought. He looks generous and friendly, making the offer, but I'd bet anything he knows Luke hasn't even seen this dance before, much less done it.

"I -- thank you, no. I don't know how." Luke's face fell as he realized the lost opportunity.

He'd be damned if he'd let Straate get the upper hand. "I know how," Han offered.

Princess Leia motioned him towards the floor, her smile again challenging. "This I have to see. Let's go."

He was aware that both Straate and Luke watched them go with some amazement, but was distracted by his own concerns. How long had it been since he'd been on a dance floor? A while -- years since he'd done anything this refined, at any rate. The Imperial Navy had done a good job of teaching the trappings of gentility to its cadets, but Han hadn't had much use for such things in the years since.

But as soon as he began moving his feet to the music, the dance returned to him -- a memory of the body, rather than of the mind. Han smiled, at ease once again, as they spun around the floor.

"So you can dance, too. You're a man of many surprises."

"You don't know the half of it, Your Worship," he grinned, arching his eyebrows to be comically lewd. She laughed again -- but there was still an air of melancholy about her. "Princess -- what's the matter? You don't seem very happy with your party."

Han didn't understand why he'd been nosy enough to ask, nor had he given any thought to how she might respond. So he was caught completely off-guard when she looked away from him and bit her lower lip -- she was in no danger of losing control, but it was as much as he had ever seen her composure shaken. "Hey -- I'm sorry --"

"No, it's all right. You're the first person who's thought to ask. This is just a difficult day for me."

Well, of course, you jerk. Her whole life, she's always been with her family for this celebration. And they've all died. This is the first time she's been alone.

He didn't speak; the usual words of condolence were grossly inadequate to such a loss. But he pulled her a little closer, tightened his hand on hers. To his surprise, she kept speaking. "I'd rather not have had a party. I just wanted to be alone in my cabin."

"So why did you let them do this?" "Them," in this context, meant Taroc Straate.

"Because -- the others needed a party. Needed something. It's been so hard, the last few months; an event like this makes people feel cheerful. It lets them feel as if things haven't changed so much, if we can still dance and drink the night away. Of course, it isn't true -- but just feeling that way for a night can help everyone go on."

"Everyone but you?"

She sighed. "Saying no would have been selfish. After all, just look at the band -- they're all so happy to be playing again. And everyone else is laughing and talking. I couldn't have turned this down."

"It's your day, Princess. You ought to come first."

Leia looked up at him as if he'd said much more than he'd meant to. Something in her eyes, something about his response to her, threw him off-guard; Han covered quickly, leading her into a tricky move in the dance, spinning her around once, as smoothly as if he'd done it yesterday. She followed his lead perfectly, except for one thing: when she spun back into his arms, she stayed with her train of thought. "I did hope that the party would cheer me up too. That I'd be able to --"

"Forget about it?"

"No. Never that. But that I'd be able to manage it. To deal intellectually with an emotional problem, like Igern. Do you see?"

"Not really. To me, it sounds more like you've picked up on the idea of self-sacrifice."

He'd pushed too far; Han saw her pull back a little, smile mirthlessly. "Self-sacrifice isn't something you believe in, is it?"

"I'm not much into repressed desire, either," he joked, and was surprised to see her blush, delicately but definitely.

Just then, the music stopped; gratefully, Han turned from the Princess and applauded the band. From the corner of his eye, he could see Straate fuming -- and failing to cue the band. He seized the moment and spoke above the clapping in the room. "What'll we have for the next dance?"

He'd hoped somebody would shout out a suggestion, taking the party's control from Straate. But he hadn't guessed that everyone would turn to Leia. The guest of honor -- well, of course, she'd get to pick the next dance.

She gave him a look of not-entirely-mock exasperation, then smiled as if nothing would please her more than to lead the evening's festivities. He was expecting another calenada, or something equally refined; once again, he'd misjudged her.

"How about the margengai glide?"

Cheers of approval met this suggestion; the glide was a popular dance around the galaxy, had been for years. Everyone knew how -- even Luke, apparently, since he was cutting through the crowd towards them.

"Princess, I can dance with you now -- if you'd like," Luke said, offering her his hand.

"I would like. Of course, that's assuming Captain Solo will release me." She looked over at him, good humor either restored or expertly assumed.

Han dropped his head in a mock bow. "I wouldn't dream of stopping you, Luke. Dance the night away."

And so they did.

The rest of the night Han hung out in corners, talking to Wedge or a couple of the other pilots about engine remodifications, the gravity anomaly half a system out -- stuff he understood. Nothing as confusing as his conversation with the Princess.

Nothing as interesting, either, although he didn't admit it to himself. When he did look at her, he looked at her dancing with Luke or one of the generals, to all appearances enjoying herself thoroughly. (Straate, apparently recognizing defeat when he saw it, had turned his attention to a comely young navigation tech.) And he smiled when he saw her and Luke during one of their many turns about the floor -- they look like they belong together, he thought. Sappy thing to think about, but it's true.

As the evening drew to a close, Han watched with bemused interest as Luke tried to get up the courage to kiss the Princess on her cheek; the kid's intent was blazingly clear, even from across the room. If she recognized it too, she didn't give any sign. In the end, Luke seemed to think better of it, and simply took her hand for a moment before turning away. Leia didn't watch Luke go. Instead, she lifted her eyes, finding Han in the darkened room almost instantly. He was somewhat abashed to be caught staring at her -- which was what he had been doing, although he hadn't really realized it -- but smiled at her, lifted his hand in a quick wave. She returned the wave with what must have been her first genuine smile of the night, then turned to go.

"Didn't I tell you? Wasn't this great?" Luke said, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

Han nodded. "Better than I would ever have expected, to tell you the truth. But now it's way past time for me to get some sleep."

They wandered down the corridor towards the Falcon. Luke had quarters on base, but often bunked down in the Falcon's extra rooms. Han never questioned his reasons; he liked the younger man's company.

"So, did you enjoy the dancing? Looked like you were making some pretty good time with the Princess out there," Han teased.

"You were the one who got to slow-dance with her. And it looked like you were enjoying yourself. A lot." Luke was trying to match his friend's light tone, but the sight of Han and Leia in each others' arms had clearly annoyed Luke.

Han opened his mouth to deny all interest in the Princess Leia Organa -- then thought better of it. He's never gonna get up the nerve to approach her if he's left to his own devices, Han decided. He needs a push.

"Hey, she's a beautiful woman. Last I checked, she was available. That makes her fair game."

"Fair game? Han -- are you serious?"

Han laughed. "Serious enough to run circles around you, farmboy -- that is, if you don't get on the ball."

Luke stared at him for a moment -- then laughed out loud. He shoved Han playfully; Han shoved back, just hard enough to knock Luke out of step.

"Run circles around me? I don't think so," Luke said, stumbling back into place beside Han.

"One thing's for sure -- I can still pilot circles around you. Are we gonna run those sims tomorrow?"

"You got it," Luke laughed, looking over at Han with an expression so happy and trusting as to turn a sterner heart than Han's. He ruffled the kid's hair as they walked on.

He'll catch on yet, Han thought.

Leia threw one of her cards into the interference field, only moments before the values changed. Luke winced, thus clearly telegraphing to the other players that he wished he'd done the same.

Luke still had a hell of a lot to learn about sabaac. Leia, on the other hand, was catching on fast.

Han looked down at the fifteen of flasks he'd already tossed into the field, fighting the urge to moan in despair. He'd been trying to take it easy on Luke and Leia -- they'd only been playing for a couple of days, after all -- but freezing a card with such a high value was just asking for trouble. He meant to be generous, not suicidal.

Leia had, in the last few months, taken to traveling on the Falcon whenever possible. They'd had to switch bases once again -- just when Han had gotten comfortable on B'Reil -- and had numerous brief missions throughout the year and a half he'd been with the Alliance. He found that he enjoyed them more with Leia aboard; she was a leader, after all, and Han liked being at the center of the action.

Plus, she was fun to have around, when she wasn't being annoying as hell.

His mood improved somewhat when he saw his new card values: the two of staves and the three of flasks. Positive twenty -- not a bad hand at all. If only the randomizer wouldn't shift values again!

Han caught himself. What the hell are you getting worked up for, Solo? You guys aren't even playing for credits.

But he was still playing to win. And so was Leia. That made it exciting enough.

Leia looked at him, her expression as steely as he'd ever seen it on a battlefield. "I call," she said.

Han raised an eyebrow. She was getting pretty confident for somebody who hadn't known the rules a week ago.

Luke, shaking his head slowly, laid out his hand. The ten of flasks, the ten of staves, and the Commander of coins -- for a total value of thirty-two. "I got wiped out," Luke complained.

"You can say that again, kid," Han said, never taking his eyes off the Princess. He laid out his cards, tapped the fifteen of flasks. "Positive twenty, Your Highnessness. Can you top it?"

Doubt flickered in her eyes. "I'm not sure, actually." She put down the Ace of staves and the Ace of coins -- together, they were a positive thirty, but the card she had in the interference field proved to be the Star, with a value of negative ten. She too had a final value of positive twenty.

"You tied?" Luke said hesitantly.

From his resting spot nearby, Chewbacca growled in affirmation.

"So who wins?" Leia asked, her hands on her hips.

"Well, positive card value beats negative card value. My twenty is all positive value -- yours requires a negative card. So you lose again, Princess."

"Is that a real rule?" she accused.

"What -- would I lie?" Han shrugged elaborately, putting his whole body into it.

Leia turned from him and looked at Chewie. "On your Wookie honor -- is that a real rule?"

Chewbacca nodded, holding out his paw for Han to slap in victory. Luke and Leia looked at each other, shaking their heads.

"It's a trap, you know. He's an Imperial plant, sent here to corrupt young minds," Leia said.

"I've suspected this all along," Luke said. "But he won't stop there. No, he's got to humiliate us."

"Humiliate you? I haven't even started making you two put credits in the pot yet. Wait until I take away your money before you talk about humiliation," Han crowed.

"I take it your Force talents don't work in card games," Leia said, ignoring Han.

"Ben didn't have time to teach me the legendary gambling tricks of the Jedi," Luke said, straight-faced. "I've been through enough for one night. You ready to go to bed, Princess?"

Han raised one eyebrow at the unintentional double-entendre; Luke caught it immediately and blushed a brilliant pink. Leia either ignored it or missed it altogether. "I'm just getting good at this. I want to play again."

"Again? You haven't had enough punishment yet?" Han chuckled.

Leia looked at him steadily across the table. "You're just afraid I'll beat you."

"The hell I am." Han was grinning now as he slapped the cards together, ready to deal again. "So, kid, are you in?"

Luke looked at the Princess for a moment; she was intent on Han's hands, shuffling the deck. Not until much later would Han realize that Luke had perceived more, in that moment, than anyone else in the room. "No. No, I'm out. Good night, you two."

"Good night," Leia called.

Han frowned, catching something in his friend's tone -- but Luke had already turned to go. Chewbacca growled his agreement with Luke, and lumbered off to his own quarters.

Which left Han and Leia alone together. Curious, how rarely that happened. And how much he enjoyed the realization.

"And here we go, Your Worship." He looked at his cards -- the Mistress of coins, the Commander of coins, the Commander of staves. Too damn high. He'd wait for the randomizer to change his luck.

Leia, to his chagrin, instantly tossed a card into the field. They sat in silence for a moment; the randomizer was inactive, as it sometimes was -- Han hoped vaguely that he wouldn't end up with the same cards throughout the round. "We'll have to work on Luke, huh?"

"His card-playing talents need some refinement," Leia agreed.

"I meant getting him to stay with the party instead of crashing out on us. No fun without him, right?"

"You don't have fun with me?" She was teasing him. At least, he thought she was teasing.

"Oh, yeah, sure. Yeah, of course I do. But you'd like to have him around, I'm sure." For some reason, Han felt the need to dig a little deeper into the ongoing flirtation between Luke and Leia -- it had lasted for over a year and a half now, but seemed to be at a standstill. The progress, or lack thereof, in this romance mystified him. A little fact-finding seemed in order. Just as an interested friend, of course.

"I enjoy a tough opponent. That's not Luke."

"Fair enough," Han said.

Well, that was food for thought.

The randomizer finally shifted values again; Han tried to keep his enthusiasm from showing. Seven of staves, seven of coins, eight of coins. Twenty-two -- a near-perfect hand. Only a perfect twenty-three or an Idiot's Array could stop him now.

He watched Leia carefully; the chances that she could beat him were minimal, but he still wanted to take her measure. She wasn't really giving anything away -- but it didn't hurt to look. He rather liked to look. For once, her long hair wasn't braided up; she had it gathered back only in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. Generally, Leia was seen either in military coveralls or the flowing formal gowns she chose for grand occasions. But now she wore a simple, dark blue robe. She seemed comfortable -- here, in the Falcon's dingy hold. Han had thought he'd never see the day.

Wait a second, Han said to himself, I'm wasting precious time here. I'd have ended any other game a while ago. He tossed all three of his cards into the field and saw her glance up at him, surprised. "That's right, Your Worshipfulness -- I'm calling. What've you got?"

Disgusted, she slapped down her cards -- her total score was only 16. "I don't believe this. I think you stack the deck, or you're using a skifter, or something."

"I have plenty of skifters, Princess, but I don't waste them on the likes of you." Seeing her genuine annoyance, he added quickly, "Still, I gotta admit, you've picked up the rules quickly. You just pulled a bad hand this time. Given a little more practice, especially with betting, and you might have a new career ahead of you."

"Traveling around the galaxy as a gambler?" She smiled at the idea as she took a sip of her wine.

"Sure. I had a friend who did that in pretty good style; if you've got the talent for it, it's not a bad way to live." Han thought back to Lando's wolfish grin when he'd cleaned out a sabaac match. For the first time, he was able to recall his former friend without anger; he just grinned at the memory of his laugh.

He thought she'd shoot him down with some withering comment. Instead, she sighed wistfully. "Going all around the galaxy, living by my wits and my luck, answering to no one -- I have to admit, it has a certain appeal."

"Well, then, there's hope for you yet." Han was surprised to hear her talking that way; he liked it. He liked it a lot. Not least because he knew she was thinking of his own vagabond lifestyle, imagining it glamorous and exciting. He'd just keep the stories about endless sublight smuggling runs to himself.

He gathered the cards back together. "Ready to try again?"

Leia shrugged. Obviously, the repeated defeats had dampened her enthusiasm for sabaac. But she didn't make a move towards leaving.

And he didn't want her to leave.

Inspiration struck. "You know, a lot of people believe you can use a sabaac deck to tell fortunes."

"A sabaac deck? Oh, come on." Leia looked at him skeptically.

"Hey, you're the one who believes in this all-powerful Force controlling everything, existing everywhere, right?"

"That's different."

"No doubt. But we'll play it your way -- if the Force moves through everything, it could move through this deck of cards, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "I guess it does."

"So this could work. Anyway, don't you want to know the future?"

"You're going to do this?"

Han nodded and began shuffling the deck. "Prepare to be amazed."

"Where did you learn to do this? Did you run confidence games as a medium?"

"No, that's one of the few scams I never tried. But I did --" Han hesitated for a moment. He didn't often talk about his past, and this chapter in particular was rather offbeat. "I did travel with a magic show for a while."

"You're kidding." When she looked at his face and realized he was serious, Leia burst into laughter: not the jeering he'd expected, but a laugh of sincere delight. "But that's wonderful. You were a magician?"

"No -- even my talents have some limitations. I used to work with Xaverri; ever heard of her?"

"I saw her once," Leia said. She watched him carefully as she continued. "She was an excellent illusionist -- and very beautiful."

"That fact did not escape me." He slapped the deck down before her.

Hopefully, this would distract her before he got into discussing his old love affairs, and LONG before he got into discussing the costume Xaverri had made him wear. "Cut the deck, Your Highness."

Leia did so, then leaned forward on her elbows as Han began laying out the cards. "Eleven cards can tell the story of your life -- and here we go." He pointed to the two topmost cards. "These are origin cards; they should explain something about your past." Han turned them over to reveal the Master of sabers and the six of flasks. "The Master of any suit usually refers to an individual, a male or whatever comes closest for your particular species. So this is a man in your past. The Master of sabers is a dark figure; he holds a sword out over the landscape, and his shadow stretches out to the horizon."

"A bad guy?" She raised her eyebrows as she looked at the picture. Leia obviously wasn't buying it yet, but she was interested.

"He could be. He's superimposed over the world, and he's sitting on a chair of stone; generally, he's a very dangerous character. Some people just interpret the stone as a sign of strength."

Leia shrugged. "Let's be generous; I guess that could be my father. He wasn't a villain with a sword by any means, but he was strong. And he did rule a planet; the shadow could just stand for influence."

Han nodded; he would have been happy she was playing along, if he hadn't been studying her face so carefully. She could rarely discuss her father without going silent and sad. Best to keep moving. "Next up is the six of flasks. See, we've got a courtyard filled with golden cups and flowers; it indicates a place of wealth and beauty. Check out the merchant leaning down to give the flask to the little girl; this card tells us that you grew up in privilege and luxury, and that people were generous to you. Now, that's the understatement of the year."

"You did stack the deck," she accused.

"I didn't, I swear. But I have to admit, this one is turning out unusually well so far. Want to see if my luck holds?"

"Let's go."

"The next two are determination cards; they'll suggest the elements in your life that take you away from the people and places suggested in the first two cards." He turned over the card beneath the Master of sabers; it was the Commander of sabers. "This is a young man, someone who didn't enter your life until recently. But he's connected to you, or he will be. He's also connected to that older man we saw a minute ago. He's ready to fight, but he's holding back -- he's got that sword behind him, you see? And he's facing into the wind; that indicates a long struggle."

"Now who could that be?" Leia asked.

"Well, this guy is someone headstrong and virtuous -- sounds a lot like an aspiring Jedi Knight we know." He smiled at her, enjoying her discomfiture.

She scoffed, "How would Luke be connected to my father?"

"Through you, maybe?" Han said innocently.

It was hard to tell in the cabin's dim light, but he thought she blushed. "Keep going already."

When he turned over the next card, Han grimaced. The meaning of the card was all too plain -- no sugarcoating it to smooth it over. "This is the eight of sabers," he said quietly. "The blades are all in a circle around a bound and blindfolded woman; she's powerless and imprisoned, and cut off from her home in the background."

"And that's the card that indicates the end of my childhood?" She asked, her voice sharp.

"Specifically, the end of your time in this place. The one suggested by the six of flasks."

Han had never had a fortune-telling session work so perfectly. And never had he so desperately wished to be inaccurate.

Leia sat silently for a moment, then took another deep drink of her wine. "Well, now I know you didn't stack the deck. You'd never have done that to me."

"No. No, I wouldn't have. We can stop if you want to."

"Are you kidding? Apparently this is my chance to learn the future. Keep going." It was as much a command as he had ever heard her issue to the troops.

"All right then. These three pairs will each indicate a main course that your life will take in the future, and that course's outcome. Then the final card shows your ultimate destiny." Han paused. "You're sure?"

"Turn over some good cards. I need cheering up." She managed to smile.

Least you can do, Solo. "First up is the ten of sabers."

"That one doesn't look encouraging."

Han took in the image of the man sprawled across the landscape with ten blades in his body, blood pouring into rivers. "No, it doesn't. Then again, it's not so surprising. The ten of sabers means war."

"And the outcome?"

Please, gods or Force or whatever, let this be a good card. He flipped it over, then grinned. "Three of flasks. Women dancing in a garden; that's a strong card. It predicts celebration."

"So we're going to win the war against the Empire?"

"According to this card, we are."

"I hope your fortune-telling abilities are better than your fashion sense."

"You just watch it, Your Highness." Han didn't bother firing an insult back at her; he was too relieved to see her smiling again. "The next great force in your life is -- well. The Commander of flasks."

"Is that something or someone?"

"Someone," Han admitted. "A man, usually."

"So what happened to Luke back here?" She tapped the Commander of sabers. Why did I describe that guy as Luke? Han thought regretfully. Then again -- it had "looked" like Luke.

"He's not out of it -- the fact that he's connected to your background, and that he's a force for change in your life, means he's important. Maybe more important than this guy."

"But maybe not."

"Maybe not."

"That means I need to know more about the Commander of flasks, then, doesn't it?" Leia was studying his face very carefully.

"He's an older man -- not a geezer or anything, but older than the Commander of sabers. He's someone who has traveled a lot, moves in a lot of different areas -- he's on a Vrinithian stallion, but he also has emblems of fish and birds. Land, sea, and air, you get it?"

"I get it. What else should I know about him?"

"He's alone -- he's isolated. But he's holding out the cup to an unseen figure. Making an offer of it to someone."

"And what does that mean?" Leia asked quietly.

Han began to suspect that the conversation he was having wasn't at all the conversation he'd thought he was having.

"That this guy is going to give something rare and valuable to you. You're going to get this offer of something important."

She traced around the edge of her wineglass with one fingertip. "I suppose it could be a diplomat. I mean, at the end of the war -- and we know now that we're going to win the war -- there will be a lot of negotiations, I'm sure."

There it was. A nice safe explanation, perfectly believable. He should have thought of it himself.

So it was to his surprise that he found himself saying, "It might not be a diplomat. This might be a more personal offer."

She raised her eyebrows as she considered his words. "Well, then, turn over the next card. I have to know what to answer."

Han turned it over slowly; his fingertips were warm against its glossy surface. "The ten of flasks."

Ten golden cups hung suspended in a rainbow over a man and woman in an embrace. In the distance, children played. "Looks like a good card," Leia offered.

"It is a good card. One of the best in the deck."

"Does it stand for love?"

"That's usually how it's interpreted." Han felt thirsty, all of a sudden; he hadn't poured himself a drink earlier. So it was logical -- only logical, of course -- to pick up Leia's cup and take a sip of her wine. He handed it back to her, vividly aware of the brush of their hands as he did so. "It can also stand for general good fortune. At any rate, the outcome of this is very positive."

"So when this man makes me an offer, I should say yes."

Han realized how long it had been since either of them had actually looked down at the cards; their gazes were locked on each other.

Wait a second -- how did this get to be about me? Is this about me? Am I just imagining this? Why I am even thinking this way?

To lighten the mood, he shrugged and smiled. "You should, if you believe the cards. Next thing you know, I'll have you reading coffine grounds."

She scowled at him as she slumped back in her seat. "This was your big idea, hot shot."

That was a little more like it. "Moving on. The next major course in your life -- hmm, that's interesting. The eight of flasks. You have this guy wandering through a strange landscape, taking the place of the missing flask in the formation. That's usually somebody searching for purpose. Like some kind of spiritual quest."

"When am I supposed to have time for a spiritual quest?"

"These things don't work on a calendar, Your Worship. You're gonna go do it sometime, but I don't know when."

"And what happens to me when I do?" She flipped over the next card herself.

"This is Balance, one of the special cards. See how the guy has one foot in the water, one on land, and he's pouring the water between the two cups? That stands for mastery. I'm not sure how that plays in with the whole quest thing, but it's usually a good card to get."

She smiled again, her earlier annoyance fading. "All my futures seem to be turning out well. Is this last card going to confirm it?"

"The last card isn't your future, it's you. Let's see what you're going to be -- now why am I not surprised? The Queen of Air and Darkness."

"That's a good card?"

"Yeah -- it's a woman of great power and influence, Senator Princess Leia Organa. I'm starting to think you stacked the deck."

Leia shook her head, even as she leaned forward. "No, I'm innocent. This can only be fate."

Han leaned back and draped his arms across the back of the couch. "So, am I good or am I good?"

"You're wise not to give me another choice." Leia finished her wine, looking into the empty cup as she continued, "I enjoyed that. You'll have to teach me, sometime."

"One game at a time," he replied.

She smiled. "I'll look forward to our rematch." Then she got up and turned to go. "Good night, Han."

"Good night -- Princess." He'd almost used her name. Why did he never use her name?

And there was another stupid thing he was wondering about. What the hell had gotten into him?

He knew, of course. But he refused to give words to the answer.

Han picked up the Commander of sabers for a moment, then put away the cards. He'd played enough games for one night.

"What's that, Chewie?'

Chewbacca asked him for the hydrospanner, then pointed out rather testily that this was the third time he'd had to ask. If they wanted to make their supply run tomorrow, Han needed to pay a little more attention.

"All right, already, don't curl your fur over it. Here." Han put the spanner in Chewie's paw without looking, nearly shocking his buddy in the process. Chewbacca whined in protest, then turned to see what had Han so intrigued.

A few meters away, Luke was doing maintenance work on his X-wing. At any rate, he had the panels open and the tools out. What he was really doing was talking with Leia. And enjoying himself, too; their joined laughter rang through the docking bay.

"They seemed utterly unaware that they were being watched. Han, on the other hand, could feel Chewbacca's gaze on him. "What are you staring at?"

Chewbacca wasn't sure, but he was beginning to believe he was staring at somebody jealous.

"Take that back," Han demanded. "I am not jealous. I'm just interested in how they're getting along, that's all."

Luke touched the Princess' shoulder briefly as he went off into another anecdote; all his old shyness about her had evaporated, and he was now enthusiastically telling her some story or other. Han couldn't quite make out the words among all the other noise in the docking bay.

Chewbacca had a theory about what Han was really interested in, if Han cared to hear it.

"I don't. And weren't you the one nagging me about the repairs? Why don't you use that hydrospanner you were so hot to get?"

Han turned back to his work, ignoring the conversation going on nearby. His feigned indifference took more concentration than the work on the gravi-lifts.

This is driving me crazy, he thought. It's not like I want to interfere. I don't, I really don't. She's a pretty girl, but she's not my type. Is she ever not my type. I just want the kid to get his act together already, so I'll know they're together, and I don't have to keep wondering about it. Well, he decided, I don't have to keep wondering about it. I'm just not gonna think about it anymore.

He managed to think about other things for about three minutes -- and was doing a great job, not that anyone could know to compliment him about it -- until he was tapped on the shoulder. Han turned around to see Luke and Leia, both in disgustingly good moods.

"What are you so absorbed in over here? It's like you're mesmerized," Luke said.

"She's my lady," Han said, patting the Falcon's side. "Gotta give her some loving care from time to time."

"You make it sound like flowers and candlelight, instead of gravity upgrades," Leia laughed.

Han smiled grudgingly. "She's not that particular."

"Not if she's with you." Leia raised one eyebrow at him, the signal for their inevitable duels.

"You know, Your Worshipfulness, once you decide to step out of your ivory tower --"

Leia gestured at her own dusty coverall in mock anger; whatever else her existence was, it wasn't sheltered. Han well knew this, but conveniently ignored this fact for the purpose of argument. "You might understand that not all ladies go for these bloodless aristocrats you surround yourself with."

"You'd think the man had never met me," Leia sighed. "I spend all my time hanging around with combat troops."

"And you still haven't learned a damn thing about men. You must be a slow study," Han smirked. "Need a tutor?"

"Hmm, you're probably qualified," Leia said, putting her head to one side. "I remember the old saying -- those who can't do, teach."

Luke cracked up, as did Chewbacca, barking his amusement from within the Falcon's hull. Han folded his arms and scowled; the anger wasn't real, of course. The unspoken rule in all their verbal jousting matches was that neither of them could really get angry, no matter how brutal the conversation became. "Well, then, Your Highness, you ought to be eminently qualified to teach charm school."

"You could use lessons there, that's for sure."

"You don't know the half of my charms, Princess." Han leaned forward slightly, stretching his arms to the Falcon's landing struts. This let him loom over her -- not quite enough to be intimidating, but certainly enough to be suggestive.

Leia pushed his chest back away from her. "I'd hate to think I'd seen them all. As far as I know, I haven't seen any. Assuming there are any." With that, she half turned to go, airily waving goodbye. "Enjoy playing with your tools, gentlemen."

They watched her go in mutual silence. Luke spoke first: "I can't believe you let her have the last word."

"I throw a round from time to time. Gives her hope. What's up, kid?"

"I'm trying to add extra connections for Artoo, and I'm getting all tangled up. You said you had a T7 anx that might work."

"Sure thing. In fact, let me come over and take a look at it; maybe I can straighten out some of those tangles."

"Thanks, Han." Luke's earlier amusement seemed to have faded somewhat; he was quiet as Han sifted through his gadgets to pull out the T7. As they began walking over to the X-wing, he finally spoke. "Hey, I've been thinking we ought to talk about something."

"Talk about what?"

Just saying the name seemed to cost Luke. "Leia."

"Your romance finally heating up, huh? I saw you two earlier; looked pretty cozy. So, what, you need advice?" Han's voice sounded a little too jovial, even to his own ears. He knelt by the X-wing's open panel and began pushing aside extra wires.

"I don't know whether we're -- I mean, that's not what I wanted to talk about."

"You just said you wanted to talk about Leia."

"I do. But I don't want to talk about Leia and me. I want to talk about Leia and you."

Han paused for only a moment, and never even took his eyes off the open panel. "You think I'm being too hard on her when I tease her? Listen, if I offended her, she'd let me know. Would she ever."

"That's not what I meant."

"So what did you mean?"

"Han -- if you want to ask her out, go ahead. It's okay with me."

He looked up at last; Luke seemed perfectly miserable, although he was keeping a straight face. When their eyes met, the younger man smiled bravely. "I mean, you do want to ask her out, don't you?"

"Where did you get that idea?" Han demanded.

"Well, you hang around her a lot, and you're always flirting with her --"

"I'm always fighting with her. Don't you listen?"

"Fighting and flirting aren't always that far apart. Not with you two, anyway."

"Okay, so, I flirt with her some," Han admitted. "But I don't mean anything by it. You should know that by now. I guarantee she knows it."

"I think she likes you."

"I think she likes you. I mean, sure, she wants me -- women do. I deal with that all the time. Not the same thing."

"Han!" Luke obviously didn't know whether to be offended or laugh. "Leia's a nice girl."

"You don't have to remind me. She's too nice for her own good. But nice girls are just as interested as the other kind, Luke. In fact, they're usually much more curious." Han was trying very hard not to laugh. "You have a lot to learn about women, farmboy."

"You have a lot to learn about one woman," Luke insisted. His voice had a new, unaccustomed gravity. "I don't think you're ready to take this seriously. But when you are, just know that it's okay with me, all right? I care about Leia, but I don't own her."

"Hey, come on." He took his friend's arm and squeezed it for a moment. "Seriously, Luke, could you see us together? A princess and a guy like me? It wouldn't work. A princess and a guy like you, on the other hand -- that's a possibility. Don't walk away from Leia on my account."

"Who said anything about walking away? I'm not going anywhere," Luke retorted, surprising Han. "Just because I realize you're in the game doesn't mean I'm admitting defeat."

After a moment, Han grinned. "Good for you, kid. That's the spirit." He slapped the T7 anx into Luke's hand, half-saluted, and began to walk back to the Falcon. Luke looked confused. "Wait a second -- I thought you said you were going to work on the connections yourself."

"You just laid out the new rules; every man for himself, right?"

Luke made a gesture recognized on several worlds as being extremely rude. "I try to be mature about this, and this is the thanks I get."

Han sighed. "Luke -- I'm just messing with your head. What I said is true; she's not serious about me and I'm not serious about her. But I appreciate the thought. And honestly, I've got a lot of work to do on the Falcon. If you're still in a tangle tonight, come on by and I'll see what I can do."

"Okay. Thanks, Han." And with that Luke turned back to the X-wing.

Han went back to his own work on the Falcon; at least, his hands went through the motions. He couldn't help going over the conversation he'd just had with Luke.

Where did the kid get an idea like that?

Well, it was pretty obvious where he got the idea. It had occurred to him too.

Maybe to the Princess as well--

But no. She might play around with Han, but it was Luke she really cared for. Hadn't he watched them together all afternoon?

At least Luke had the gumption to bring it up, and fight for the girl he wanted. Now, maybe, the kid would get on the ball, and finally start romancing Leia in earnest. After more than two years, they'd be together. The thought of that was strangely uncomfortable. But he shrugged that off. Luke and Leia together, he mused. It's about time.

Han slammed down the lever on the console, saw the stars streak and blur as the Falcon was hurled into lightspeed.

"That was close," he whispered, as he wiped the blood from his scraped knuckles. "That was too damn close."

The navi-computer flickered, informing him moment by moment how much further away they were getting from Ord Mantell. Not far enough for his taste. For a long moment, he sat there, inwardly cursing that bounty hunter for being too damn good at his job, Chewbacca for being laid up with some weird alien virus and out of commission when Han had needed him, Jabba the Hutt just for being Jabba the Hutt, and himself for being an arrogant fool. He was used to the fact that his past could -- and, with alarming frequency, did -- catch up with him. Han was resigned to that by now. He knew what friends and enemies he'd made along the way; he watched his back. But it hadn't been his life on the line this time. It had been Leia's. And that he couldn't bear.

Han pushed himself up from his seat, surprised to feel his body still shaking from the exertion of their escape. (And that was the only reason, absolutely the only reason, his feelings were not involved in this, no way.) Was she hurt? He'd seen the bounty hunter's blaster shoved into her gut, seen blood on her face as they ran towards the Falcon. He had to make sure she was all right. But of course she was all right, wasn't she? She'd managed to run through the entire spaceport with him, and had dodged more than a few energy blasts. He'd just go back there and make sure. No reason to worry.

So why was he running?

His boots slid on the smooth surface of the Falcon's corridors as he came to the door of her bunk; he came to a stop just before the opening, just where she first came into sight. Leia sat atop her bed, holding a cloth to the side of her face -- she'd been bleeding, but not heavily. And while she was pale from exertion and pain, she seemed to be recovering.

She was all right.

The relief hit him like a physical blow; he hadn't realized he was holding his breath, but now he sighed so deeply his chest ached from it. Didn't seem to do a damn thing about the shaking -- damn it, why was he still shaking? -- but it was amazing, how hard it hit him.

At least, he thought that until the moment she heard him sigh, and turned toward him. When Leia's eyes met his, that rush of feeling claimed him all over again -- and this time, he couldn't explain it away so easily. He wanted to explain it. At any rate, wanted to explain why he was just standing there, gaping at her when she clearly needed help. And yet he wasn't saying anything, and neither was Leia. She just looked at him, dark eyes wide.

After a moment, she whispered, "I thought he'd killed you."

Han made a sound that might have been a laugh, if his throat hadn't closed up. "I thought he was going to kill you. Leia --"

He didn't finish what he was going to say. He couldn't think, not for the life of him, what he might have said.

Leia let the cloth drop from her face; he saw the cut on her temple, the bruise that would be a black eye gathering dark beneath her ice-pale skin. The evidence of her close call shook even the fragile composure he still had.

And then she reached out to him. One hand, stretched toward him, pleading for -- what?

He didn't know. He didn't care. Han took her hand and pulled her up into his embrace, clutching her to him fiercely. Leia buried her face in his shirt; her cheek rested against his chest. She had to feel the hammering of his heart.

Her hands slipped around his neck, bringing him even closer to her. He responded in kind, letting his touch slide down the length of her back, up again to her shoulders, caressing her.

Han had always thought the Princess beautiful. He had dreamed of her. He had desired her. And he had somehow convinced himself that it was no more than the normal male response to a lovely woman.

But this -- the need to feel the rise and fall of her breath, the humming of her pulse beneath his hands -- this was more than desire. He could control desire. This he couldn't control.

Leia nestled her face into the curve of his neck and shoulder; he felt the heat where skin met skin and shivered at the contact, even as she did. He found himself kissing her hair, drinking in the soft scent of it.

All he had to do was tilt her head back -- so easy, she'd let him, she'd do it herself in a moment -- and their lips would meet. He was vividly, hotly aware of the length of the bunk stretched behind them; if this began, they'd be lying there together in moments, clothes stripped away, bodies --

Damn it, Solo, what the hell are you doing?

This is your best friend's girl!

He pushed her away, too roughly; he saw Leia flinch, as if stung. Han covered it as best he could: "I can't stay back here -- there's stuff I need to see to up front. You're okay?"

"I'm okay." She was staring at him, bewildered; which of them she was bewildered by was anyone's guess.

"That's good. I'm going back to the cockpit." And he left her with that, refusing to look back and see her face.

He couldn't think about her reaction right now. He couldn't get past the voice in his head.

What the hell did you think you were doing? You flirt with her, sure, that's one thing, but you weren't taking it seriously! Neither of you! She would never take you seriously -- you know that, she was just upset and overwrought and -- damn it, Luke's in love with her! You want to hurt Luke? Sure, you tease him about her -- tease him a lot -- but you never took it seriously.

Did you?

By the time he'd returned to his pilot's chair, Han was feeling as embarrassed as he ever had in his life. Somewhere along the line, he'd gotten hung up on Leia. He'd known it for a long time, really; he was too old, had been through too much, not to know. But he'd hidden from the truth as long as he could. He couldn't any longer.

All this was troubling enough without the fact that he didn't have a damn idea how she felt about him.

She loves Luke, doesn't she? You can't miss the connection they have. They spend so much of their time together, and Luke clearly adores her, and of course it's Luke she's in love with. Luke is a hero. A Rebel. Maybe a Jedi one day, if you believe in that sort of thing.

She'd never take a guy like you seriously. Never.

And yet the way she'd reached out for him --

Maybe it's just desire, Solo. She's a healthy young woman, and, let's admit it, you don't look half bad. She's lonely out here and she just got scared. So she wanted you. That's pretty simple.

Sounded plausible. But it rang painful and false within him.

Well over an hour passed before he trusted himself to leave the cockpit. It had to be patently obvious to Leia that he wasn't working on the Falcon -- he could've completely reprogrammed the navi-computer in this much time -- but she hadn't come up to question him.

He moved into the Falcon's living area; Leia was piled up on one of the couches, drinking some beverage that steamed in its tankard. She'd bandaged the cut on her head; the black eye was now fully purple and swollen. So it was a slightly lopsided look she gave him as he entered. "Another smooth getaway, Captain Solo."

So, she's gonna play this cool, Han thought, as annoyed by this as if he hadn't been planning on doing the same thing himself. Fine, then. "Not smooth enough; we both lost some blood, something I don't much care to repeat."

"I'll work on the firing range. I could've drawn my blaster a lot quicker than that if I hadn't let myself get out of practice."

Leia spoke lightly, but Han heard the genuine blame in her voice. "Hey. Princess. You did great. It's my own damn fault for not knowing what he was up to a lot sooner than I did."

"How could you have known? I didn't suspect him either."

"I deal with creeps like this. You don't. You shouldn't have to."

She shrugged. "After three years in the Rebellion, my social circle has expanded. Wouldn't you agree?"

Even in her bruised face he could see the teasing light in her eyes. He smiled back at her. "Guess so, Your Worship. Particularly if you're hanging around a guy like me."

Han had no sooner said the words than he realized he'd just left himself wide open. Leia was staring down at her drink, trying to gather the words. Trying to talk about what had just happened -- well, nearly happened -- between them.

Oh, no. No way. He had to head this off -- keep it light -- play the old game, where they both knew the rules.

"Maybe I oughta say, hanging all over a guy like me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Come on, Princess, that was quite a clinch back there. I thought you were going to swoon."

She gripped the tankard so hard he thought it might break. "I -- do -- not -- swoon."

"Coulda fooled me." Han said, folding his hands behind his head. "I mean, I get this kind of thing a lot, but still, I'm flattered."

"As I remember it, you were the one with the wandering hands. Just because I was a little shaken up, you decided you could take advantage of me."

"Take advantage of you?" After fighting so hard to restrain himself, this was just about more than Han could stand. "Listen, if I'd decided to take advantage of your -- attentions -- we wouldn't be sitting out here having a chat."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"I'm pretty sure of you."

The teasing wasn't teasing this time. They were lashing out at each other, trying to hurt. And succeeding: Leia was quivering with embarrassment and anger.

Solo, come on, what are you doing? Cool off, will you?

But he couldn't. He was angry at himself for wanting her, angry at her for -- why was he angry at her again?

And then he realized why.

"Too bad Luke can't be sure of you," he growled.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, genuinely puzzled beneath her rage. "What did I do to Luke?"

She really didn't know. He'd thought just the mention of Luke would bring her back to herself -- remind her of the guy she had waiting back at the base.

But Luke's name didn't seem to have any impact on her at all.

Oh, hell. She did take me seriously. It isn't Luke she wants. Maybe it never has been. And I'm sitting here tearing her apart -- damn, damn, damn. Her outrage and betrayal were in every line of her body; she was as keyed up as she had been before, but now all that energy was working against him. "I haven't done a damn thing to Luke. From the sound of it, you're the one who's so sure something's going on -- and you're the one who was willing to interfere."

"Nothing's going on? After three years?" Han still sounded angry -- he could hear his voice, as if from a distance -- but the question was genuine. Could he have been wrong, all this time?

He wanted to be wrong.

The Princess wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. "Nothing yet. Nothing I have to be ashamed of betraying. Unlike you."

Han opened his mouth to shout back at her, but couldn't find words. What she'd said hurt too much. Luke was his friend. One of the best friends he'd ever had. Despite all Han's boasts and insults, despite the fact that he had tried to weasel out of rescuing Leia, despite his near-abandonment at the Death Star's approach -- Luke had seen something in Han that he liked. That he trusted. And he'd gone with his own instincts, gone against every logical calculation, and taken Han as his friend without hesitation.

And this was how Han had repaid him. Trying to seduce a woman Luke loved. He was angry at himself. But he lashed out at Leia.

"Well, Your Worship, if it takes more than 3 years to get you heated up, I'm glad I didn't waste any more of my time. I pity Luke, trying to defrost a block of ice like you."

"Luke might have better luck. Especially now that I --"

Her voice choked off, and for the first time Han saw how hurt she was, beneath the anger. The pain within him echoed in response, and he made one last, inadequate attempt to get them out of the mess they'd made.

"Especially now that you -- what?" he asked quietly.

Leia looked at him for a long moment, taking stock of him. Then she turned on her heel and walked out.

No doubt she'd stay in her quarters the rest of the trip.

He made his way back to the cockpit; there, at least, he had some semblance of control. Not that there was anything left to do.

Besides considering a change of course.

Han had never officially joined the Rebellion. The reasons he gave Luke and Leia were the truth, so far as they went -- he didn't care for uniforms, or titles, or orders. He helped out. But he maintained his independence. The unspoken part of that independence was his freedom to leave. And, for the first time in three years, he found himself considering that option. What else could he do here? The Rebellion was still on the run, no doubt -- the fight wasn't even close to being won -- but it wasn't like he couldn't help on the outside. There would always be weapons to be run, arrangements to be made in the shadowy smuggler's lanes. In some ways, Han could actually be more useful to the Rebellion on the outside -- a hard truth he'd always resisted acknowledging.

He'd wanted to stay around. For Luke and -- time to admit it -- for Leia. Neither of those reasons seemed to carry much weight anymore.

Luke deserved better than this. He deserved to be able to go about courting the Princess without complications, especially from somebody he thought was his friend.

And Leia --

No doubt, right now, she hated him. Going back there and apologizing wouldn't do a damn bit of good. Who knew how she'd feel tomorrow, though? Would she have let this slide, like their other arguments? Somehow, Han thought that was unlikely.

She cared about him. He didn't doubt that, for all her hard words. For a moment, he actually let himself consider the possibility of being with her. As different as their pasts had been, they had found a place in time, and a way of life, that brought them together. If she really cared about him, it wouldn't matter who he'd been, or what he'd done. The thought of that -- of the happiness of that new beginning -- actually made him catch his breath. But only for a moment.

There was a big difference between caring about him and doing something about it -- and Han thought what he'd done probably just widened the gap considerably.

He was a smuggler. He had a criminal record in several systems, and under several different aliases. His earliest memory was begging in the streets for food. He knew he'd never stoop that low again -- but beyond that, nothing was certain.

She was a princess. He'd seen holos of her as a child, jewels pinned in her hair as she played in the palaces of Alderaan. She was a hero of a Rebellion that might, one day, change the entire galaxy; when and if that day came, she would ascend to even greater power.

The only things more different than their pasts were their futures. At least that's how it looked to Han at that moment.

He wanted her. Oh, gods, how he wanted her.

But he wasn't going to get her -- and it was better for him to go ahead and face the facts, instead of humiliating himself by running around after her. Not that it wouldn't be good to hear her admit that she wanted him too. To kiss her goodbye -- no, to tell her goodbye properly, taking a whole long night to do it --

He cut off that line of thinking quickly. I can't go right away, he decided; they need all the help they can get, setting up the base on Hoth. But soon. Soon I have to leave the Rebellion, and Luke, and Leia, he thought. For all our sakes.

She collapsed next to him; despite her own pain and fear, she cradled his head in her arms, comforting him. "Why are they doing this?" Leia whispered.

"They never even asked me any questions," Han groaned. If Vader didn't want to know where the Rebels were, or their plans, why put them through such torment? He remembered the grid he'd been strapped on -- the grotesque display of twisted metal, the shrieking agony that had jolted through his entire body.

Han tried to silence the pain of his aching limbs, tried to feel only the touch of Leia's fingertips on his forehead.

Their cell doors slid open; Lando stepped in, looking almost as ashamed as he deserved to. Han felt his strength rush back into his limbs, along with a crushing rage. "Get out of here, Lando!"

"Shut up a minute and listen," Lando said sharply. His voice was edged with bitterness, maybe even guilt. "I'm doing what I can to make this easier for you."

"This oughta be good," Han sneered.

"Vader has agreed to turn Leia and Chewie over to me," Lando continued. "They'll have to stay here, but at least they'll be safe."

Leia safe. Han knew the Empire too well to trust Vader's words -- but he wanted to believe it, wanted it desperately. He could bear it if only Leia were safe --

Leia protested, "What about Han?"

Lando looked long and hard at the man he'd once called his friend. "I didn't know you had a price on your head. Vader's given you to the bounty hunter."

Given to Boba Fett. That meant he'd be within Jabba the Hutt's clutches all too soon.

So this was it. The end.

Unless he could still, somehow, get through to Lando. In the old days, he'd known Lando, flashy and slick as he was, to be a good man at the core; he couldn't have changed so much in just a few years. Could he? "You don't know much if you think Vader won't want us all dead before this is over."

"He doesn't want you at all," Lando said, "He's after someone named Skywalker."

Han and Leia gasped in unison. "Luke? I don't get it," he said, bewildered. What on earth could the Emperor's right hand man want with a kid from Tatooine?

"Lord Vader has set a trap for him, " Lando explained.

"And we're the bait," Leia finished, her voice grave.

"Luke's coming here?" Han said. Oh, gods. Not Luke too. At least let Luke get out of this mess alive!

When Lando just nodded, Han hit the boiling point. His life, Chewie's life, Leia's, and now Luke's, everything Han held dear -- everything he loved -- was being destroyed. All in a day. "You fixed us all pretty good," Han had to pause before spitting out the last word: "friend!"

With that, he launched himself at Lando, getting off one powerful punch to his jaw before being shoved back cruelly by the guards. The impact of their laser rifles crumpled him over with pain. Chewbacca snarled and started for the guards; they would surely have killed him, had Lando not cried, "Don't shoot!"

He turned back to Han, his expression unreadable. Lando was breathing hard with pain and emotion as he said, "I've done what I can for you. I'm sorry it's not better, but I have my own problems." On the whole, he sounded more as if he were trying to convince himself, rather than Han.

"Yeah," Han growled, "you're a real hero."

Lando walked out without another word. Han let himself slump onto the tiny bench. As he did, Leia dabbed at his bleeding chin, and laughed softly as he grimaced. "You certainly have a way with people."

Han almost smiled at that. "It's the famous Solo charm."

"Famous for what, I wouldn't want to guess," she said.

"Hey, it worked on you, didn't it?" Han met her eyes for the first time, and was surprised to see tears well up in her eyes. She didn't cry -- gods, the woman never cried -- but he wouldn't have blamed her. He felt like it himself.

"Han -- I --" she hesitated, glancing over at Chewbacca. Obviously the lack of privacy was bothering her; Chewie, not normally the most adept at social subtleties, caught on immediately and began studying C3PO's workings with renewed interest.

"What do you want to say, Princess?" he whispered, using the title, for once, with all respect.

"Last night -- I should have gone to bed with you," she confessed quietly. "I wanted to, you know I wanted to --"

"Shhh," he soothed her, pushing himself up from the bench to stroke her hair. "It's all right."

"But it isn't. I thought I'd take the time to be sure of myself --"

"Then you did the right thing. I told you that last night." It had killed him to say it, to walk away from her bedroom door with the taste of her lips, and the softness of her body, still so close and so real. He'd laid awake half the night, twisting up his sheets, unable to stop dreaming of her. Could that only have been a few hours ago?

"How can you say that, here and now? Damn it, I thought we'd have other chances. After three years of war, you'd think I'd know that you have to take the few chances you get. I should've seized the moment." Leia hung her head, regretful and shamefaced.

Han couldn't answer her seriously -- he was in desperate danger of agreeing with her, which was the last thing she needed. So instead, he smiled. "I can think of some other things you should've seized."

She spun about to look up at him, amazed and angry -- until she burst into laughter. "Do you ever stop?"

"Nope, never." He couldn't help grinning at the sight of her smile. They probably didn't have many happy moments left; he wanted to savor each one. "That's what I like about you -- you don't let me take myself so seriously," Leia said, ruffling his hair. "Promise me you'll never stop making inappropriate jokes."

"I promise," Han said, wondering if he'd ever have another opportunity

"Tell me more things you like about me."

Leia looked up at him, willingly joining him in cheerful denial of their fate. "Hmmm -- it's sort of a short list --"

"That's good. We haven't got a whole lot of time here."

She laughed once more, caught up in his gallows humor. "Well, I like this," Leia said, stroking one finger along the scar on his chin. "It just begs to be kissed."

"The best thing about me is my scar?"

"No," she whispered, suddenly serious again. "Do you want to know the best thing about you? The thing that made me want you?"

Han took her hand in his. "This I definitely have to hear."

"Just over two years ago, at my Name Day party, when we were dancing -- you remember?

"Couldn't forget it." That party seemed to have taken place centuries in the past.

"You told me that I shouldn't think of other people's needs on my Name Day. You told me that I should come first." Leia smiled unevenly. "Do you know -- in all my life, you're the only person who's ever said that to me? There's always been duty: to Alderaan, to the Rebellion, to royal protocol -- always something. You're the only person who thought that part of my life should be for me, and me alone. I hadn't realized how much I needed to hear that."

Han embraced her tightly, feeling her panic-rushed heartbeat against his own. "Somebody should have told you sooner."

"Nobody did," she whispered. "Only you."

Suddenly, Han realized that Leia was no longer wearing the cocoa dress she'd had on earlier; she was in a dusty white coverall instead. He felt a pang of guilt and fear; why had he been so caught up in his own agonies? How could he have failed to notice? "Leia, why are you wearing this? What did they do to you?"

Leia stiffened within his arms, then pushed herself away slightly. She was silent for a long moment.

Oh, gods, no. "Leia --"

"It's not what you think," she blurted out. "They didn't rape me. They wanted to hurt me, but more than that," Leia swallowed hard before continuing. "they wanted to humiliate me. I guess that was enough for them."

Han felt rage sweeping through him again, impotent, useless rage. "I should never have brought us here."

"You did what you could. If you hadn't, I would've died on Hoth. Maybe I'm going to die now anyway, and the difference can only be measured in days -- but they were the days I spent with you." Leia looked at him again, so tenderly that he felt his own self-control waver.

He took her by the shoulders and shook her ever so slightly. "Listen, Princess, don't let me catch you talking like that. Luke's coming here, right? He might not make it in time for me -- but he'll find you here. He'll outsmart Vader, get you off this rock. He might be on his way right now!"

"He is," she said quietly. "I can feel it."

Han paused, silenced by the depth of emotion in her voice. Leia's gaze was distant, fixed on something -- someone -- far away. On Luke.

It caught him off guard, although it shouldn't have; why should he assume, just because Leia cared for him, that she'd stopped caring for Luke? Han knew, all too well, the potential for being in love with two people at the same time.

For a moment, he felt painfully jealous of Luke -- a jealousy he had no right to feel, he reminded himself. Luke fell for her first. He'd come in later. Han no longer felt guilty about that; what was happening between him and the Princess was too powerful to deny. But the strength of what he felt for her didn't erase Luke's place in her life.

He was going to die -- Han knew that, accepted it. He'd heard stories of how Jabba dispatched those who displeased him; he was well aware that his death was going to be long and excruciating, and utterly inescapable. His own fate didn't bear thinking about. But Leia --

She won't be alone, he told himself in an attempt at comfort. Luke and Leia will have each other. They'll get out of this mess; that's something, at least. They'll go on together.

The thought of her with someone else, even his best friend, stung him to the core. But at least he could picture Leia -- and Luke -- happy, safe, and loved.

"Luke's going to rescue you," he whispered, pulling her back into the warmth of his embrace. "He's going to get you out of this. You'll see."

"Maybe. I don't know," Leia said, her voice colored with doubt, though not quite the kind of doubt he'd been expecting. "I think he's in greater danger than we are."

Han somehow forced himself to smile. "I'm afraid I can't agree, Your Worship. If he ain't in a prison cell with a Wookie who hasn't bathed in two weeks, Luke's doing a hell of a lot better than you and me." She chuckled softly, looking up at him again with a smile on her face. Chewie was unable to resist speaking up, and growled at his friend in mock anger.

Only someone who understood Wookies as well as Han could've read Chewbacca's distress. He looked at his friend, recalling all the sacrifices Chewie had made on his behalf. You know, he thought, I haven't done that bad. If I have friends like these, and won a woman like Leia -- I must've been worth something after all.

"What did he say?" Leia asked, her voice tremulous.

"He reminded me that I've smelled prettier myself."

And once again -- maybe for the last time -- he was rewarded with the sound of her laughter.

The forest moon of Endor was quiet, at last. After hour upon hour of shouting, cheering, and singing, the Rebel troops had finally fallen silent. Most of them were sleeping, probably incubating massive hangovers. Leia, heavily medicated by a mobile TwoOneBee, was curled up in the hammock where Han had left her; her shoulder wound was hopefully healing as she slept. The other wounds she'd sustained were less tangible, and no doubt slower to heal.

On the night before, when Leia had confessed the full truth about her parentage to Han, he'd said nothing; he just held her and let her rage against the cruel irony, that could have made Darth Vader her biological father. What she'd said had made no difference in Han's love for her -- nothing could, anymore -- but it had shaken him. Profoundly.

He'd kept his fears and confusion to himself; right now, Leia was in too much pain herself to take on the additional burden of reassuring him. The night before, just after she'd learned the truth -- she'd been crying. Leia never cried, never -- and yet she'd wept brokenly in Han's arms. He'd known then that something had pierced her to the core. Han didn't intend to further burden her with his misgivings until he'd come to some kind of peace with them.

And this brought him to Luke.

He caught up with his friend as Luke was preparing to jump on a rocket scooter. "Hey -- where you headed?"

"There's something I should take care of," Luke said, rather vaguely.

"Mind if I tag along?" Han asked.

Luke looked at him carefully for a moment, then smiled. "Sure. Hop on." He patted the seat behind him.

Han took hold of his friend's waist as they shot off through the woods of Endor's moon. Dawn's light was only just creeping through the vast trees; all around, he could see the wreckage of AT-AVs, the abandoned stormtrooper armor, the sleeping Ewoks. All evidence of the furious battle they'd just fought, and won -- Han was glad to see it. Otherwise, he'd have had trouble believing it.

They'd defeated the Empire. They'd won the war.

No matter what else weighed on his mind now, that was reason enough to take heart.

Finally, some time after they'd pulled away from the Rebel encampment, Luke slowed the scooter to a stop. Han jumped off a moment after his friend and glanced around the tiny glade. "What are we doing here?"

In answer, Luke gestured towards a smoldering pile of wood. Han looked at it, first uncomprehending; then, as he stared, shapes were made clear. A boot. An artificial hand. A helmet -- all in black --

He shuddered as he recognized the mask of Darth Vader, there in the smoking woodpile.

"I cremated him last night," Luke said quietly. "His biological remains are gone now. But I didn't want to leave the armor here." He gestured at the charred metal.

"I can see why," Han agreed. Every last shred of that monster should be destroyed.

But Luke's next words were spoken with a gentleness that Han was unable to account for. "I don't want anyone taking this as a trophy."

Luke lifted the blaster he'd brought and fired; the helmet sparked into blue-white flames and disintegrated into dust. Two more shots ensured that the rest of his armor met the same fate.

Han stared at the remains of the funeral pyre for a few moments; then he turned to look at his friend. Luke's face was lined with grief -- yes, grief. For the monster that had been Darth Vader.

And for his father, Han reminded himself: his father, and Leia's.

He remembered Luke's face as it had been only three and a half years ago; could that guileless kid have been so quickly replaced by this weathered, tragic man? Han felt a brief pang of loss; it was the boy who had first trusted and befriended him. And the boy would never return.

All of it seemed impossible. And yet it was true.

"I can't believe that he was your father. Yours and Leia's. That doesn't make any sense to me," Han confessed.

"Sometimes it doesn't make sense to me either. But you have to remember -- he wasn't always the creature you knew. He was Anakin Skywalker, once. A Jedi Knight, a pilot, a husband. A good man."

"So what happened?"

Luke held one hand to his forehead. "He was overtaken by the Dark Side. It's seductive, Han. I know how seductive it can be. But once you go over to it -- it consumes you. Forever, it dominates your destiny. As it did his."

Han frowned as he looked over at Luke. "You mean, it nearly got you? You nearly became -- what he was?" The horror of that, the sheer incomprehensibility of his beloved friend being so twisted and evil, sickened him.

Surely Luke would deny it. But instead, he nodded slowly. "Yes, Han. It nearly happened. I'll never be able to promise you that it won't happen. I'll have to struggle against the Dark Side for the rest of my life."

"And Leia? Will she -- I mean, could she --"

"If Leia decides to explore her powers through the Force, as I hope she will, then she, too, will have to contend with the Dark Side. She'll fight it, Han. And you and I can fight with her. That will help." Luke watched his friend's face for a long moment before continuing. "But it could happen. I don't think it's likely, but the possibility will always be there."

Han breathed in and out deeply, then regretted it as he coughed from the acrid, metallic smoke in the air. "I can't imagine that."

"Don't try. It's better for us all if we concentrate on all the good that might come out of this. Leia might someday be a Jedi Knight, just as I am; together, the two of us could begin rebuilding the order. That's worth fighting for."

Fighting again. Hadn't they just won a war? Han sighed, mightily tired. Still, he couldn't let the subject drop yet. "This strength in the Force -- it runs in your family?"

"Yes, it does."

"Then our children will have to face this too?"

"Probably. We can only resolve to be strong for them. To have learned enough to guide them along the true path." Luke was silent for a moment before he actually began to smile. "Children, huh?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, we haven't really talked about that yet, but -- I love her, Luke. I'll be with her as long as she'll have me. And that means -- anyway, I hope it means kids."

"Well, well, well." Luke looked insufferably pleased with himself. "I'm glad to hear you say that. I was afraid I'd have to ask whether your intentions towards my sister were honorable."

Han laughed. "The first honorable intentions I ever had!"

"I doubt that," Luke said softly.

After a pause, Han continued, "Your sister. That's hard to believe, isn't it?"

"In some ways. But in others, it makes a lot of sense. As soon as Ben told me, a lot of things that had confused me suddenly came clear. It puts our relationship in perspective."

They were silent for a while longer, before Han finally managed to ask, "But you loved her, didn't you?"

"Yes. Yes, I loved her." Luke ran his hands through his sandy hair. "I still do. But it's not the same thing at all, now."

"You couldn't just quit feeling that way about her overnight." Han couldn't imagine falling out of love with the Princess; he studied his friend's face carefully, looking for signs of the pain he was sure Luke still carried with him.

"No, I couldn't. It takes three months, ten days, and, oh, about four hours." For the first time in far too long, Luke laughed.

"What? I don't follow."

"After Bespin, Leia told me that she'd fallen in love with you. It didn't surprise me -- I mean, it was a long time coming, we both saw that -- but that was the first time I knew it for sure. And I knew that we were going to get you back or die trying. So I started the work of changing my love for her. And it took about three months before I really came to terms with it. But I did learn to bear it, Han. Good thing, too, as it turns out."

Han stood staring at his friend for a long moment. "You were willing to walk away from her -- for me?"

"You were willing to do the same for me," Luke pointed out. "You tried to yesterday; Leia told me. Don't think I don't know what that must have cost you. That means a lot."

"Yeah, well, you know I would've -- I mean, for you, I'd --" Han paused, then raised one eyebrow at Luke. "Are we about to get all mushy here?"

"Yes, I'd say we're definitely in danger of it," Luke agreed.

"Well, then, why don't we -- let's just say that I --

"Han -- I know."

They stood side by side for a long time after that, studying the ashen remains before them; Han was able, at least for a moment, to feel some sorrow. Not for Vader himself -- it would be a cold day in hell before he ever learned to see Darth Vader as anything but the heartless killer he'd known. But he did at least see the murdered possibility -- a wise and loving father, raising his two children as they grew up side by side. That had been lost forever. That was worth grieving for.

The sun finally crowned the horizon; the brighter light brought Han back to the here and now. "We ought to start back, Luke," he said, stretching his sore muscles. "Leia's probably going to wake up soon; she'll want us there."

"You're right," Luke agreed. "You always think of her first."

"That's my job."

"Promise me --" Luke's voice trailed off for a moment. When their eyes met again, Han could see the last embers of the boy's first love. The last evidence of the boy who had been. "Promise me you'll take care of my girl."

"Always," Han said.