Physical pain is quickly forgotten. Mothers forget the
pains of childbirth when their newborns are placed in their
arms; once a victim has healed from an injury the agony of
the wound is not remembered so much as the inconvenience
it caused. Cuts and bruises fade from your skin, and then
from your memory.

Emotional pain, on the other hand -- it lingers. It
lingers and festers and takes up residence in your
psyche. And while the intensity of the traumas and
sorrows may lessen, precarious scabs remain, lying
in wait to be torn and re-opened so that the hurting
begins all over again.

Or at least that's what Leia's psycounselor kept telling her.
She personally thought it was a load of crap.

Leia remembered the physical pain all too vividly. Burning
knives slicing her flesh, cold steel burrowing into her brain,
her skin being flayed from her body layer by layer as her mind
pounded with the realization that she was about to die and the only
way to save herself would be to betray everything that she believed
in, everyone she held dear.

She remembered, all right.

But the emotional pain -- the despair and hopelessness during
her captivity, the anguish and fury of her interrogation, the
black hole that consumed her when Alderaan was destroyed -
all that could be forgotten, if you just tried hard enough. If you
buried it down so deep that ignoring it was second nature; if you
simply denied that it had ever happened to you.

Or if you twisted it into something else. Something hard and
cold and detached. And then balled it up and stored it in
a corner of your soul and never allowed anyone access to it,
ever again.

At the very least, you could convince yourself that you'd done
that, that you had managed that transformation. And if that
conviction ever faltered, you could always just pretend.

Leia had become very good at pretending.

****
"Mistress Leia, please wait!"

Leia reluctantly slowed her pace through the makeshift
tunnels that served as corridors in the Hoth base and
allowed the protocol droid to catch up with her.
"What is it, Threepio?" she asked, barely keeping the impatience out
of her voice.

See-Threepio paused for a moment, as if he were
out of breath from running and needed to compose himself
before he could continue. "General Riekeean has been trying
to locate you," he said in his clipped mechanical tones,
gesturing with one golden arm. "He says it is a matter of
some importance, but he hasn't been able to reach you on
your communicator."

Leia wrestled with a flash of guilt. She was on her way to a psy
session, and had purposely turned the comlink off so she wouldn't
be interrupted. "I'm on my way," she said tightly. Knowing that
Dr. Mulani would understand that something urgent had come up,
she headed in the direction of the command center with Threepio
at her heels, the droid chattering all the while about the fascinating
reproductive habits of Tauntauns. She barely managed to resist a
well-placed kick to the droid's vulnerable wiring center.

"I'm glad you're here," Riekeean said when she arrived. The general's
steely eyes glinted with concern beneath his graying hair, and
his lined face looked grim in the bath of wan light from the
surrounding monitors. "We have a situation."

Leia raised an eyebrow, raised it even higher when Riekeean
shifted so that Han Solo was visible behind him. The command
center was hardly Solo's favorite hangout.

"Your Highness," Han said in greeting, managing as always to make her
title sound like a thinly veiled insult. She nodded stiffly in return.

"Captain Solo discovered something rather interesting while
he was on Stenax," Riekeean said, either oblivious to the sudden
tension in the air or choosing to ignore it. He looked to Han,
signaling that the pirate should elaborate.

"A reliable source of mine's heard rumors of plans for a new cloaking
device some hotshot scientist has cooked up," Han told her. "The buzz is that
just one of these babies can establish a distortion field covering
up to five cruisers at a time, if they fly in close enough
formation. And it's strong enough that you could practically
float right under a Star Destroyer's nose and they'd never
know the difference. Its capabilities are unbelievable -- if it works."

"And it would be a huge help to us," Leia said, following his
line of thinking. "So how do we get our hands on these plans so that we
can find out for ourselves?"

The two men exchanged glances. "The scientist
who developed it...he's Alderaani," Han said.

Oh. "So?" she asked, straining to keep her voice casual.

"Apparently he'll only speak to other Alderaanians,"
Riekeean said. "He's hesitant to deal with =anyone=, but
from what Captain Solo's acquaintance has gleaned,
a fellow...'orphan,' as he put it, would be enough to
persuade him."

Realization clicked and gave her an instant headache. "You
want me to go? I'm not the only member of the Alliance who called Alderaan
home." An image of her lush home world moments before its disintegration
floated in her head, nearly making her dizzy. She rubbed her eyes in an
effort to banish the vision and hoped that the gesture would pass for a
sign of fatigue.

"But you are the most important personage from
Alderaan we have left," the general pointed out. "And with
your considerable diplomatic skills..."

"I'd be more persuasive than most," she said, finishing his
sentence for him. Especially since this guy couldn't know that
I'm the one responsible for the destruction of our planet, she
added silently, grimly.

He nodded. "Exactly."

Leia resisted an urge to gnaw at her fingernails. "Where
is this eccentric holed up?"

"Athos," Han informed her.

"Eccentrics do tend to choose the most inconvenient places,"
Leia said wryly, thinking of the remote planet's lava-spotted
surface, then stifled a sigh. She really didn't want to do this.
But what choice did she have? The Rebellion needed her.

"Fine, I'll go." An accusatory voice in the back of her head
asked, And just how do you think you're going to pull this off without
falling to pieces? but she squelched it through sheer force of will.

"Excellent. Captain Solo informs me he can leave first thing
in the morning," Riekeean said.

Her jaw dropped. "=He's= going with me?"

Han's grin was salt in the wound. "The general thinks I'm
the best man for the job, given my...resourcefulness."

"And your instincts," Riekeean added. "If this isn't all on
the level, I'm trusting you to catch on and get the Princess
out of there."

Hmpf. As if she'd need his help. As if their escape from
Tarkin's space station hadn't been entirely her doing.

The space station...

"Princess? Princess, are you all right?"

Riekeean's voice guided her back to the present and her vision
slowly came back into focus. "I'm fine," she said firmly, blinking hard.
"Just tired." Maybe Dr. Mulani would be able to squeeze her in despite her
missed appointment...

"I want to ask Luke to come along too," Han said. His eyes were full
of questions as he studied her, but he knew to leave well enough
alone. "I figure if he does have some of that Force stuff like he thinks
he does, it couldn't hurt to have him on our side."

Good. At least having Luke along would make the trip a bit more
pleasant. "Fine. I'll see you in the morning."

"Bright and early," Han said cheerfully. She wanted to deck him.

****
"So how do you feel about this trip?" Occula Mulani asked in
her blandly soothing voice. She smoothed the soft fabric
of her bright green caftan around her as she took her seat.

"I'm confident that we'll be able to secure the cloaking device,"
Leia said carefully, knowing that wasn't what the doctor meant.

The stunning Twi'lek female gazed at her equably, her pale blue skin
muted in the soft light of the private chamber. "And how do you
feel about seeing someone from Alderaan?"

"There are other Alderaanians in the Alliance," Leia pointed out. "I
don't have any problems dealing with them."

It was a half-truth at best and they both knew it. Leia avoided the
Alderaani men and women of the rebel group as much as possible,
unwilling to risk accusatory glares or loosely concealed pity. She had
no evidence that any of them actually felt that way about her, of course,
but didn't see much point in going out of her way to find out if they did.

"But those men and women know you, understand what happened to
you," Mulani said. "They are your comrades in arms. This man...you
don't know how he'll receive you."

"He won't know that it was my fault," Leia said stubbornly, fixing her
eyes on the vibrant Mon Calamari tapestry hanging on the far wall of the
office. The multi-hued swirls and abstract patterns were almost hypnotic.
She wondered if the effect was intentional. "My involvement is not
common knowledge."

The shapely tentacle-like appendages that led from Mulani's head
down to around her shoulders actually twitched. "You still believe
the destruction of Alderaan was your fault?" The subject was well-traveled
ground between them.

"Wasn't it?" Leia countered.

"I thought we had moved past this, Leia."

What did she mean, "we?" "Will I ever?"

The doctor's dark eyes skewered her with disconcerting intensity.
"You tell me."

Leia rose from her chair, actually visualizing her nerve endings
starting to fray. "I have to go now. I have a lot to do before I leave
in the morning."

Mulani opened her mouth as if to object, then closed it and
settled for a shrug. "If you need to reach me at any point
during your trip, please feel free to do so."

Leia muttered an affirmative and made a hasty exit.

****
Leia tried to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach
the next morning as she approached the battered wreck of a spaceship
that Han Solo called the Millennium Falcon. Ordinarily she wouldn't have
any doubts about her ability to successfully complete a mission, but the
fact was that she had been increasingly...well, fragile, lately, much as she hated
to admit it. And to make matters worse, everybody knew it. It had been Mon
Mothma herself who'd ordered Leia to attend psy sessions with Occula Mulani,
after Leia had experienced what was delicately referred to as an "episode"
during a strategy meeting.

"Episode." Mon Mothma's lovely euphemism for Leia's bursting into
animal-like shrieks and then subsiding into near catatonia when
a visual of Vader had been projected onto the view screen.

Occula had tried to explain to her that such incidents were not
unusual following a particularly traumatic event, but Leia still
had a difficult time believing they could happen to =her.=
She refused to allow herself to be so severely affected by her
experiences. She just didn't have the time. She knew, in the clear
light of day, that she was above this nonsense -- unfortunately, her
subconscious seemed to have other ideas.

The sessions were helping, she knew that. But they also forced her
to confront a lot of things she wasn't quite ready to face.

"Leia!"

She jerked her head up to see that Luke had materialized at her side.
How in space did he do that? He was quiet as a pookah-cat.
"Hi, Luke. All set for the trip?"

The farmer-turned-star-pilot's blue eyes flashed a youthful excitement
that was reflected in his wide grin. "You bet. One thing, though --"

"Why, Mistress Leia! Good morning!" The familiar synthesized voice
was accompanied by the sound of metal heels clicking unpleasantly
against the cold ground behind her. She didn't have to turn around
to recognize the source, especially when a chorus of beeps and
whistles joined in as well.

She groaned, and Luke shrugged sheepishly. "Threepio and
Artoo are joining us," he said, finishing his sentence.

"Don't they always?" she muttered under her breath.

"Sorry," Luke said, "but there's not all that much for them to do
around here right now, and I figured you never know when they
might come in handy."

Threepio minced up alongside her.

"Mistress Leia, I want to assure you that all protocol relations with
the residents of Athos are in my more than capable hands. Don't
forget that I am fluent in over --"

"Six million forms of communication," Leia said curtly. "I know, I
know." She threw a look heavenward, cursing whatever gods saw
fit to continually make her the butt of their cosmic jokes. "I'm sure
your assistance will be invaluable."

The sarcasm was wasted on the protocol droid, as usual. "Why
thank you!" Threepio chirped, obviously pleased beyond the
boundaries of his programming. "I am as always at your service."

"Right. Hi, Artoo," she said a bit more affectionately as the astromech
droid rolled past her. Artoo gurgled what sounded like a positive
greeting.

"'Bout time you guys showed up," Han called as they approached
the Falcon. He was standing on the boarding ramp, hands on his hips.
"Didja decide to sleep in or something? Have trouble kicking your
overnight company out of bed?"

Leia merely glared and brushed past him up the ramp, trying but
failing to keep her body from touching his in the process. She
ignored the good-natured ribbing that ensued between him and
Luke behind her.

"Hi Chewie," she called when she got on board, and heard a faint
answering growl from the direction of the cockpit. She stowed her
thermoseal bag in an overhead compartment and headed up there
herself. As expected, Chewie was seated in the co-pilot's seat,
running the standard pre-flight check.

"Everything okay?" she asked. Chewie rumbled something she
assumed translated as "No problem."

She studied the massive, brown-haired wookiee covertly as she
took one of the passenger seats, amazed as always by Chewbacca's
seemingly equal capacities for violence and tenderness. She hated
to admit it, but she'd grown rather fond of the walking carpet.
"Typical," she grumbled to cover the sentiment threatening her inside.
"Han gets angry with us for being late, and then takes forever to get
his butt in here."

"If I'd known you were so fond of my butt I'd have gotten here
sooner," Han quipped as he strolled into the cockpit. He moved past
her toward the pilot's seat, taking great care to keep his back to her,
so that as he brushed by his derriere was practically shoved in her
face.

She could feel her cheeks coloring and cursed his timing. Don't let
him know you're annoyed, she chanted silently. Don't let him know
you're going to either kill him or throw him down on the floor and
tear his clothes off... The thought shocked her for a moment, but she
decided to go with it. It was admittedly a more pleasant alternative to
what had been occupying her mind of late.

Luke entered close behind, shaking his head at Han's antics. "So
about how long will the trip take, Han?" he asked as he took the
seat next to Leia. Around them the Falcon was humming to life,
whining and screeching and rumbling.

"About five hours once we go to light-speed," Han answered. "Okay,
boys and girls, get ready, cause now we're flyin'..." And then they were
shooting out of the Hoth base, up toward the stars and the endless night.

****
"Mind if I join you?"

Leia looked up from her datapad -- not that she had actually been
seeing anything on the screen, she was far too preoccupied --
and smiled at Luke. "Not at all."

He slid in next to her behind the game table and ran a hand over
the checkered surface with an almost affectionate touch. "My uncle
and I used to play this game a lot. Only we had to use real figures,
we didn't have the fancy holographic stuff."

Leia heard a catch in his voice, and looked at him worriedly.
Sometimes it was easy to forget that she wasn't the only person
in their group who had suffered great loss. "You miss him,
don't you," she said quietly.

He propped his chin in his hands before replying. "Yeah, I do.
We didn't always get along, but...I loved him. And my aunt.
They took good care of me. I guess I did a lousy job of paying
them back."

Leia looked at him in surprise. "Luke, how can you think that? You
know their deaths weren't your fault, it was the Empire..." She winced,
hearing Mulani's words echoed in her own. Do as I say, not as I do.

"I know. I do. But sometimes there's this guilt...it passes, though.
Eventually." He grinned at her, and she was pleased when the Luke
she knew so well resurfaced. "I hope I'm not depressing you."

You're about a year too late, she thought ruefully. "It's fine,
Luke. You know I'm always willing to listen whenever you
want to talk."

"I know," he said sincerely. "So how are you doing?"

She looked at him steadily, meeting those innocent blue eyes of his, and
debated whether or not he wanted a truthful answer to his question.
Semi-truthful, perhaps? She gave him a tight smile and said, "I've been
better, but I'm okay." Provided that okay could be defined as not quite
throwing herself out of the nearest airlock.

"How are your...sessions going?" As soon as the words left his mouth
he looked stricken, as if he had accidentally spilled diplomatic secrets.
As if her "episode" wasn't common knowledge throughout the Alliance,
thanks to the ever-reliable gossip mills.

"Fine," she said curtly, not wanting to discuss it further.

Luke opened his mouth, obviously wanting to push the issue, when a
small explosion resounded throughout the ship, the concussion jostling
Luke and Leia where they sat and

and she heard herself screaming, again and again and again and she
couldn't stop. She could hear Luke yelling her name as if from a great
distance, but she didn't understand what he was saying, didn't understand
anything at all. She kept screaming and screaming until a tiny part
of her mind wondered if she'd truly dropped off the edge into madness
this time.

And then warm, rough hands were grasping her wrists,
encircling her face, massaging her temples, enveloping her with warmth,
and a new voice called her name firmly, insistently. She had to stop, had to...
With a great effort, using every last vestige of will power, she
managed to breathe finally, to fight her way out of that madness
and bring her vision into focus to look at...Han. When she
realized it was his hands holding her face, she stiffened.

A flicker of something unidentifiable crossed his face and was
gone. He released her and tried to grin. "Thought we'd lost
you for a minute, there," he said, and now she could clearly
see the worry in his gaze.

"Sorry," she said quietly, feeling her cheeks redden. How
long was this going to go on? She still didn't feel quite right,
as if her limbs had become gelatinous. "What happened?"

"Uh, Chewie was having trouble closing a valve, and Artoo decided
he wanted to be helpful. Wound up twisting the thing so
damn tight it burst." Han ran a hand through his hair sheepishly.
"Blew compressed air all over the place. Sounded like an explosion."

"Is the damage bad?" Luke asked nervously.

Han shrugged and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Nah.
We've flown with worse. I just need to get it taken care of when
we land on Athos." He seemed to suddenly realize he was still
crouched in front of Leia like a servant before a queen, and stood
abruptly. "Do you want to go lie down or something?" he asked
her, strangely solicitous.

"I'm fine," she insisted, knowing they wouldn't believe
it for a second. She didn't believe it herself.

He jerked his thumb toward the back of the ship. "Go ahead, take
the spare cabin. I'll let you know when we're about to land." She
opened her mouth to protest, but he didn't give her a chance. "Go,"
he said in a voice that brooked no argument.

Ordinarily she would have tried to brook one anyway, but she really
did want to lie down for a bit, if for no other reason than to be alone for
a while. "I'll do that," she said stiffly, and made her way to the back of
the ship. She could feel Han and Luke's stares crawling across the nape of her neck.

****
The small guest cabin was a spartan affair, equipped only with
the necessities: narrow bunk, closet, a small storage chest. She
sat down with a sigh on the bunk and tried to pull herself
back together. How could that tiny explosion have startled
her so? She'd encountered enough battles and explosions
since...since the Event. So why now?

Occula Mulani posited that reactions to highly traumatic situations
were often delayed, even by years. She saw nothing unusual in the
fact that Leia was only now having the episodes, the severe nightmares,
the occasional lapses into near-catatonia. But Leia didn't like that theory;
it was too abstract. She wanted a more concrete reason for her current
state of mind, something she could evaluate and assess on its own terms.

She sighed again, a sigh of frustration and anger and impotence. Maybe
a quick nap would help after all, assuming she didn't have another one
of her brilliantly executed and horrific nightmares. If she was lucky
she wouldn't be asleep long enough for one to strike.

Her head had barely touched the pillow before she sank into darkness.

****
Han woke her as promised, and proceeded to sit down on the edge of the
bunk, acting suspiciously like he wanted to Talk. She and Han didn't Talk,
not to each other. In fact, they avoided it as much as possible.

"I'm not going to like this, am I," she said, wiping her eyes lethargically.
Han's expression was sober, lending an uncomfortably attractive aspect to
his rugged face. It was so rare to see him without his sardonic grin that he
almost looked like a different person -- a better-looking one, at that.

"I heard about what happened to you in that meeting, and I gotta say it
didn't surprise me much," he said finally.

She blinked. It was just about the last thing she'd expected to hear from
him. "It didn't?"

He shook his head. "Nah. It happens more than you'd think, more than
people like to advertise. Stuff happens, and your brain has to deal with it
one way or another. Sometimes the way it picks isn't the greatest, but
what are you gonna do? You can't control it. Hell, it even happened
to me once, years ago."

"What happened?" she asked, curious in spite of herself.

His hazel eyes darkened and he looked away from her. "That's not
important. What is important," he continued, bringing his gaze back to
her once more, "is that I got through it. Sweetheart, when we rescued you" --
some rescue, Leia thought automatically -- "I didn't know about what
you'd been through. I just knew you were tough. But then when I
realized you were the princess of =Alderaan,= well, let's just say I'm
amazed you didn't completely lose it before now."

"That's not all of it, Han," Leia said quietly. She paused, and she could sense
that he would wait for as long as she needed until she was able to continue.
In the back of her mind she was shocked with herself for wanting to tell
him, but she suddenly needed to share it with someone, someone who
wouldn't analyze it to death, or judge her. And for all of his faults, one
thing Han had never, ever done was judge her. She forced herself to meet
his quizzical look and plunged forward. "Vader tortured me." The words
were lead in her mouth, but she got them out without screaming.

Han looked at her a moment longer, then rubbed his forehead wearily.
"I'd suspected as much. I'd have been surprised if they hadn't. But you
didn't tell them anything."

He phrased it as a statement, not a question, and Leia knew there was
no doubt in his mind as to the answer. She found herself unreasonably
touched by this small faith in her. "No, I didn't," she whispered. "But I
almost did. I almost --" She broke off, drew her knees up to her chest,
and fought back the sting of tears. She would not cry in front of this man.

"But you didn't," Han persisted. "And that's all that matters." His hands
grasped the air in frustrated gestures as he tried to put his thoughts into
words. "Look, Your Worship, the Empire'll bleed you dry first chance
they get, they'll do it to anyone, just because they can and because they
get off on it. And it's just normal that you're flipping your lid a little. But
if you just let people help you for a change, you'll get through it, you'll see."

"Is that what you did?" she asked. "Let people help you?"

He shrugged again. "Well, I'm not most people. Do as I say, not as I do,"
he said, cracking a self-aware grin.

She smiled back, hearing him echo her thought of a couple hours earlier.
"I can't believe I'm even considering taking advice from you."

"Hey, maybe if you listened to me more often..." He trailed off as she
glared at him. "Arright, =there's= the no-nonsense princess I know. We
land in about ten minutes, okay?"

She nodded and watched him get up off the bunk and head for the door.
"Han?"

He looked back, raised his eyebrows.

"Thanks."

"I won't let you forget you said that," he said half-mockingly, and left her
alone.

****
Athos had an unusual climate, one that dictated a life of desolation.
Although a large portion of the planet's surface was covered by
both active and dormant volcanoes and intermittent poolings of
molten lava, there was little to no bright sunlight. Almost every day
on Athos was gray and dreary, yet virtually without precipitation. To
make matters worse, the heat was stifling, heavy with a humidity that
would never be quenched. That the planet housed as large a population
as it did in scattered small communities was surprising to say the least.
Luckily, its remote location combined with a lack of Imperial presence meant
that travel restrictions were practically nonexistent, so the small group of
rebels was able to bypass the general docking bays and land in a relatively
discreet and distant area with little difficulty.

In order to cope with the oppressive weather, Leia had outfitted
herself in a pair of short pants and a military-issue tanktop, with her
gear stowed in a lightweight carry-bag that she had slung over one
shoulder. Luke was similarly dressed in a khaki sleeveless shirt and
matching pants. Han's only concession to the heat was to remove his
usual black utility vest, leaving the long-sleeved white shirt underneath.

"Don't worry about it," he'd said to Leia's inquiring look. "I don't sweat
like other people." She had merely rolled her eyes and decided to keep
her fashion advice to herself.

They had purposely set down near the small town of Bolosos on the
eastern side of the planet, since rumor had it that the scientist they were
searching for lived in the neighborhood. The group disembarked from
the Falcon and set out on foot, Han grumbling about how conspicuous
they all looked. When challenged, he admitted that he didn't have any
better ideas, and so eventually subsided into a surly silence.

An hour or so later they reached the outskirts of the "town," and
Leia took the opportunity to survey their surroundings, trying to figure
out why a displaced Alderaanian would seek refuge here. The terrain
was craggy, packed with dark dirt, and flat except for the scattered
volcanoes in the distance. She could detect a thin trickle of lava traveling
down the side of one distant peak and was glad that it was safely far away.
The settlement itself looked much as she imagined Tatooine would: domed
earthen dwellings, scruffy weather-beaten types milling about, the occasional
landspeeder or battered transport whizzing through the streets - if they could
even be called streets. They were more accurately described as haphazard
paths of hard-packed dirt. Everything seemed to be covered with a thin layer
of grime. All in all, just charming.

"Reminds me of home," Luke said absently, and she winced at the way he
often seemed to read her thoughts.

They had barely entered the settlement when Han pulled up short. "Arright,
Chewie'n me are gonna go ask around, real casual-like. You two stay here
with the droids."

Leia crossed her arms, irked. "So you're giving orders now, is that it?"

"Look, Your Highness, I've had a lot more experience in...'information
procurement' than you have. Besides, I don't think you'd fit in at the places
we'll be visiting." Han had decreed that the best place to go for information
in any town or city was the local watering hole, and no one had come up
with a reason to disagree.

Leia opened her mouth to protest, but Luke beat her to the punch. "What
about me?" he asked plaintively.

Han looked the younger man up and down and grinned. "Nah, you wouldn't
fit in, either."

Leia had to smother a smile at Luke's indignant yelp in spite of her own annoyance.
"Captain Solo," she said in her most professional tone of voice, "perhaps you've
forgotten that I acted as an agent for the Alliance during my tenure in the Imperial
Senate? I assure you, I am just as skilled as you, if not more so, at 'information procurement,' as you put it. As for fitting in," she said, gesturing to her ensemble,
"I'm hardly dressed as royalty at the moment. I can handle myself, believe me.
And I =am= the senior officer on this mission," she reminded him.

"Hey, I'm not an official part of the Alliance, so don't even think about pulling
rank on me," Han said, wagging a finger at her.

Leia inclined her head, silently conceding the point. "Nonetheless..."

"Nonetheless..." Solo mimicked. He scratched his head and looked at Chewie
for counsel, who shrugged and growled incomprehensibly. Han sighed the
sigh of the long-suffering martyr. "Okay, you can come, as long as you keep
quiet. But =you=," he continued, cutting off Luke's imminent whine, "stay here.
Take a look around maybe, get a feel for this place, test out your powers of
observation. Do some Force thingies if you want. But I'm not bringing a whole
party in there, no way."

Luke obviously wanted to argue, but after a glance at Leia backed down. "Fine,"
he grumbled. "But I don't like it."

"No one's asking you to, kid," Han said, relenting a bit.

"But Captain Solo!" Threepio chimed in. "It is quite possible that you will be in
need of my expertise in the area of language and dialects. Shouldn't I accompany
you and Mistress Leia?"

At a warning look from Leia Han shook his head. "I don't think so, goldenrod.
Basic is real common on Athos, and besides, people who are drinking usually
don't take kindly to droids. We need you, we'll come get you."

"In that case, I will remain here with Master Luke and inform him about the
history of Athos. It's actually quite fascinating..."

Han rolled his eyes and turned to Leia once more. "You ready?" he asked.

She nodded, and she fell in next to him and Chewie as they set off in search of the
local saloon. It didn't take long to find it; it was the only structure in Bolosos that
showed any signs of real activity, and the faint sound of music drifted out from the
interior. A cluster of suspect-looking characters framed the entrance, eyeing all
passersby with looks of distrust and unease, but the sight of Chewie was pretty
much enough to keep anyone at a distance.

The inside of the saloon was about what Leia had expected: dark, smoky, crowded,
noisy, and nauseatingly pungent. A circular bar dominated the small room, and
beings of a fairly large assortment were present, although the majority of the patrons
were short, vaguely reptilian Athosans. Han led the way to the bar, ordered Corellian
whiskey for himself and Leia and a Karbarran brew for Chewie.

I suppose now I get to see the self-proclaimed smooth operator at work, Leia thought
sourly. She took a sip of the whiskey and winced when it burned her throat.

Han made a show out of downing his drink in one gulp, then set the glass back on
the bar with a clunk. "I'll have another," he told the bartender.

The gray-skinned Athosan female looked Han up and down appraisingly, the
ridged crest that lined her skull pulsating, and finally handed him another drink.
"You sure you can handle that, human?" she asked in fluent Basic.

"I'm a Corellian," Han said, grinning. "I drank this stuff in my baby bottle."

The Athosan paused for a moment, then burst into shrill laughter, her snake-like
tongue darting in and out of her mouth in a way that was almost mesmerizing.
Leia tried not to stare. "Well said, Corellian."

With that, Han and the bartender fell into an easy repartee, and less than an
hour later Han had ascertained not only the location of the Alderaanian scientist,
but the best route to get there and the only decent place to eat along the way.
Leia had to hand it to him, he knew what he was doing. But while he had been
cozying up to the female Athosan, she had been taking stock of their surroundings,
and what she saw and felt put her ill at ease.

Nearly all of the beings in the bar, humanoid or otherwise, seemed morose,
downtrodden, suspicious, unfriendly. They fidgeted, snapped at each other,
averted their gazes and didn't engage in much conversation.

All of which, in Leia's experience, meant Imperial trouble.

She could be misinterpreting, of course, and there were a number of factors that
could be responsible for the general aura of the room. Maybe Athosans were just
a miserable lot. With this climate she couldn't blame them. But Leia couldn't
shake the feeling that it had something to do with the Empire. It was a gut feeling,
a sixth sense of sorts, one she had always trusted in the past. And she didn't like
what it was telling her now.

"Well, Your Worship, what next?" Han asked next to her ear, and she started out
of her reverie. He looked mighty pleased with himself. As usual.

She did her best to look down her nose at him, quite a feat considering their height
difference. "I should think that would be obvious."

"Well, the thing is, according to Iskalia, here," he said, gesturing toward the
bartender, "it's gonna be dark real soon, and we don't want to be out and about.
Something about scavengers."

"Lovely," she said dryly. "In that case, I guess we should head back --" She was
cut off as a Zeltron stuck his face in between hers and Han's. What the hell was
a Zeltron doing on Athos? She sighed. By all that was holy, she hated Zeltrons.

"Hey there miss, how are you this beautiful evening," the young man said, his
white teeth startlingly bright against his handsome fuschia face. "I was wondering
if I might enjoy the pleasure of your company for --"

"Get lost," Han said gruffly, pushing the guy aside. Han's feelings toward Zeltrons -
=male= Zeltrons, anyway -- weren't much more charitable than Leia's.

The Zeltron in question straightened up indignantly, perfectly arched eyebrows
beetling. "Hey, man, I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to the lady."

Han's hand not-so-subtly went to his holster. "You're not talking to anyone, got it?"

The Zeltron followed Han's movement with his eyes and abruptly changed his tune.
"Hey man, no need to get upset, I'm outta here." With one last smile for Leia, he was
gone.

"I was perfectly capable of handling that situation myself," she said frostily. Hell,
for all he knew, maybe she wanted a date tonight. Zeltron or not.

"I know you were. That's not the point," he said.

His eyes locked onto hers, and it occurred to her how odd it
was that Chewie and the rest of the bar suddenly seemed to fade into the background,
while her awareness of the man before her sharpened in intensity until it was almost
painfully crystal. For a timeless moment the entire world consisted of her and Han,
and the most unnerving part of it all was that she liked it. More than liked it.

"Then what is the point?" she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

He leaned in close, his face inches from hers, and she could smell the whiskey on
his breath. "Maybe I just don't like Zeltrons."

Her heart pounded beneath her rib cage. "Maybe I don't believe you."

"Maybe it doesn't matter if you believe me or not," he countered. His gaze traveled
down and held on her lips, which parted as if by his command. She drew in her breath,
held it. His mouth worked soundlessly, so close to hers.

And then he shrugged abruptly and grinned, shattering the moment. "Hey Chewie,
you ready to get out of here?"

The Wookiee rumbled impatiently. He'd probably been ready for quite some time.

Han held up his hands in a conciliatory manner. "Calm down, we're going." He got
up from the bar stool and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Coming, Your Highness?"

She glared at him, annoyed at him for ending their interlude, and annoyed at herself
for being annoyed. She swallowed a sigh and followed him outside.

****
They had little choice but to spend the rest of the night in the Falcon, making
plans and preparations for the next day. Leia considered sharing her "Imperial"
suspicions with the others, but decided against it, chalking it up to paranoia and
over-sensitivity on her part. It was rare that she second-guessed herself, but
considering her recent state of mind, keeping quiet for the moment seemed to
be the best course of action. Luke, meanwhile, had come up with the idea of
renting a landspeeder to travel out to the scientist's homestead, and had made
arrangements to pick one up in Bolosos in the morning, and she was thankful
that he had the presence of mind to handle such practical matters.

And soon there was nothing to do but wait.

Predictably, inevitably, they wound up sitting around the gaming table, drinking
from Han's personal stash of Corellian ale and exchanging exaggerated war stories.
Leia kicked off her boots and sat with her legs curled up under her, content for
the moment to sip at her ale and observe the two men in her life who tore her in
such completely different directions.

She first turned her attention to Luke, who was in the middle of one of his "good
old days on Tatooine" stories, describing in excruciating detail some suicidal
wombat-killing maneuver down the infamous Beggar's Canyon. Han and Chewie
listened attentively - or appeared to, anyway. She couldn't read Chewie's expression,
but she was certain that Han was fighting back a grin. She couldn't exactly blame
him. Luke's enthusiasm was an acquired taste.

Skywalker's blue eyes glinted and his strong, farmer's hands illustrated his story
with expansive gestures. She smiled to herself as she watched him, a much different
smile than the one Han was suppressing. Luke was one of the most gentle souls
she had ever known, and at times the kinship she felt with him was downright
disconcerting. It was as if he was the best friend she'd always longed for, but
never dreamed she'd discover.

Han Solo was another matter. Her gaze slid over to the pirate, but she tried not to
let it linger there. If he caught her staring he'd never let her live it down. Han...gods.
Han conjured up all together different feelings, musky and visceral and sweaty.
Tangled limbs, flesh against sweet flesh, joining in the dark...

"Kid, you've told us this story a hundred times, and each time you tell it that
canyon gets narrower and the damn womprat gets smaller," Han drawled, cutting
Luke off in mid-sentence. Leia snapped to attention, berating herself for letting
her fantasies run away with her.

"Go to hell," Luke said hotly. "And I suppose you've never exaggerated about
that Kessel run you can't stop crowing about?"

"Boys, boys," Leia cut in tiredly, as used to their brotherly competitive streaks as
Luke was to her and Han's bickering. "Can we at least =try= to behave?"

"Sure, =mom=," Han said. He grinned that trademark insouciant grin of his that
made her want to slap him. "So why don't you share one of your own tall tales
instead?"

She grimaced, knowing she couldn't possibly refuse his challenge without losing
face. So she racked her brain, trying to think of something that wouldn't get her
laughed out of the room, and eventually hit on one of her favorite childhood memories.
"Well, I could tell you about the time I ran away from home."

Luke laughed and Han raised an eyebrow. "Do tell, Your Highness," Han said
mockingly. Chewie rumbled with what sounded suspiciously like amused
anticipation.

"I was thirteen," she began, cupping her hands around her glass and staring down
at the dark liquid. "My father had just announced he would be traveling to the
Hadrian system as a kind of working vacation. Press the flesh, see the sights,
that sort of thing. He wanted to get their perspective on the current state of the
Empire, feel them out for possible assistance to the Rebel cause. Not that he
put that forth as his official reason, of course.

"I wanted to go. Badly. So badly that I threw dignity to the wind and begged
him to let me go with him. Looking back, I'm not sure why it was so important
to me. I guess when you're thirteen, everything is life or death. There's no such
thing as middle ground, or compromise.

"And so, with a predictable adolescent sense of the dramatic, I informed my
father that if he didn't trust me enough to make the trip with him, then he could
do without me for good. That if he didn't let me go, I would run away."

"Did he believe you?" Luke asked.

Leia laughed softly. "What do you think? Of course he didn't. What was I going
to do, hijack a fighter and blast off? Escape to another part of Alderaan, when
everyone on the planet knew my face like the backs of their hands?

"So no, he didn't believe me. And by not believing, he underestimated me, too."

"Well, we've all made that mistake," Han observed.

"Do you want me to tell the damn story or not?" she asked, wishing he would
just once let a snide remark go without feeling the need to vocalize it.

He grinned. "By all means, Your Highnessness."

One of these days... "As I was saying," she continued, granting Han a dirty look,
"he underestimated me. And that was the last straw. I had to prove to him that
I wasn't the helpless, delicate creature he seemed to think I was. So I stowed
away on his cruiser when he left."

Luke's jaw dropped as Han grinned appreciatively. She forged on, meeting their
eyes now, beginning to enjoy being the center of attention for once. "I hid in the
luggage compartment, of all places. I wasn't discovered until they arrived on
Hadria and my father's manservant came to collect the bags. Roland was not
amused," she said, smiling at the memory.

"Neither was my father, for that matter. It was the angriest I'd ever seen him -
at least, the angriest he'd ever been with me. Of course, a lot of that anger stemmed
from his concern for my safety, but I didn't realize it at the time. When I explained
to him that he'd left me no choice, that I'd had to prove to him that I was a valuable
associate -- well, he was still angry, but I think he found the whole situation pretty
funny, too."

"So that was that? You just stayed with your father, like you wanted to from the
beginning?" Luke asked.

"Well, it wasn't quite that simple," she admitted. "I had to take over Roland's duties.
I was basically my father's slave for a month. He even introduced me to the Hadrian
dignitaries as his valet." She made a face at the memory.

Han and Chewie exchanged glances, then both burst into laughter, Chewie's rumbling
guffaws louder than she'd ever heard them. Han grinned gleefully. "What I would've
paid to see that."

"I can only be thankful that you didn't have the opportunity," Leia said smoothly.

"You know, Princess, if you ever feel a need to relive the good old days, my boots
could use some shining -"

"Can it, Solo," she said before he could get any further. The pirate merely chuckled.

"But did your father treat you differently, afterward?" Luke asked. "I mean, did
your plan actually work in the long run?"

She considered the question and smiled at the bittersweet memories it conjured.
"Well, when we arrived back on Alderaan, he told my entire family the story,
and my grandfather from then on liked to call me 'the little butler,' just to tease
me. But from then on I was more like my father's partner, his right-hand woman,
so to speak. It was the beginning of my path to the Imperial Senate, under his
guidance. He trusted me. He always trusted me." She tried to swallow around
the sudden tightness in her throat, and stared into her glass as if the remaining liquid
was the most important thing in the world. It's too bad that in the end, I failed him.
Failed all of them.

But she didn't say it aloud. Didn't want to see the pity on their faces.

****
Leia jerked awake, sitting straight up in bed, heart pounding, vision swimming,
the acidic taste of fear in her mouth. Where was she...? Who...? She
sensed someone in the room with her and reached out blindly in the darkness,
terrified that her nightmare had somehow come to life.

"Hey, it's okay," a familiar voice sounded.

Relief flooded her with an almost euphoric rush. As he sat down next to her
on the bunk she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his body, for
once not caring about the reaction it might provoke. She felt his warm flesh
and breath against her skin and allowed it to soothe her, to wash away the
horror. His arms and chest were solid and strong, reassuring, comforting.

He stiffened for a moment in surprise, then returned the embrace, resting
his chin on the top of her head and patting her back awkwardly. "Luke's
outside," he said after a moment.

"Oh, gods, I can't," she whispered. "I don't want to see anyone, I can't deal
with it right now..." Somehow =his= being in the room with her
didn't bother her, although she wasn't sure why.

"Okay, okay," he said in a surprisingly soft voice. Han eased out of her
embrace and went to the door of the cabin, then stepped outside. Leia
hugged herself as she listened to the muted sounds of an argument on
the other side of the door. Within moments Han returned, the cabin
door whooshing closed again behind him.

"He went back to bed," he said, rejoining her on the small bunk. He now
carried a small glass of water, which she gratefully accepted.

"He went away that easily?" she asked skeptically, almost hurt by Luke's
acquiescence.

"Oh, he's pissed," Han told her. "I just explained to him that I
had more experience with this kind of problem than he did, and that you
needed your space. He brought you that water, though, you can thank
him for it later." He paused. "It's funny. I heard you screaming 'cause
I'm sleeping right next door. But when I got up, Luke was already up too,
and he's sleeping way on the other side of the ship. Don't know how he
heard you. Pretty weird, huh?'"

Leia filed that piece of information away for future reference as she
sipped at her water, but didn't have the will to examine it more closely at
the moment. In fact, now that her initial terror had subsided, she was
uncomfortable in Han's presence once more. Especially since now that
her vision had adapted to the dark, she realized that Han apparently slept
in nothing but a pair of shorts. Gods. She felt suddenly self-conscious
wearing her oversized sleep shirt with nothing on underneath the thin
material. "I'm okay, now, Han. You can go," she said.

"You sure you don't want to talk about it?" he asked. "I told you,
keepin' it all to yourself don't help anybody, you or your...your friends."

Friends. The word flowed through her, gave her strength. She had
never had many friends. Still didn't. The two men and the wookiee on
this ship were some of the only beings alive who qualified for the title.
"Friends," she repeated aloud.

Han shifted on the bunk, making it creak. He scratched his head absently.
"Tell you the truth, Princess, I don't know what the hell we are half the time."

She mustered up a smile and met his eyes. "'Friends' is good," she assured
him.

He grinned. Her heart started up again, but this time it had nothing to do
with nightmares. What the hell was wrong with her? He was a pirate, for
gods' sake. "If you say so, Your Worshipfulness. So...do you wanna talk,
or something?"

"Or something" popped into her head, but she exorcized it quickly. She
couldn't help but be amused at his increasing discomfort with the
"friendliness" of their situation. It was apparently as much of an effort for
him as it was for her. The thought comforted her in an odd way.

She smiled, but then all frivolity disappeared as fragments of her dream
rushed back to her. "It was a bad nightmare, Han," she admitted. "Like...
like I was there, again, but this time...this time I talked. I told that evil son
of a bitch exactly what he wanted to know." She shuddered slightly and
crossed her arms as a ward against the fear. "In the dream I didn't just
hate him, I also hated myself."

Han cleared his throat, seemingly at a loss for words. It was disconcerting
to see him this way, and she almost felt guilty for bringing it out in him.
She half-wanted him to brush it all away with a cocky grin and a sardonic
comment. If only it were that easy.

He finally spoke in measured tones, his fists clenched against his knees.
"What you gotta remember, Princess, is that you =didn't= tell 'em anything.
Nothing. And what goes on in your head at night, that's just your inner
demons screwin' with you. It's okay that your brain's trying to work stuff
out. But don't let it rule you. You're stronger than that."

She nodded. "I know. I do. It's just...dammit, I hate this!" She pounded
her pillow in frustration. "Why is this happening now, when it didn't
happen then? This is bullshit, Han. I'm sick of it."

He grinned at her vituperation, probably glad that for once it wasn't directed
at him. "You know what, sweetheart?" he said in a bemused tone of voice,
as if he had just thought of a joke he wasn't going to share with the rest
of the class. "You're gonna be just fine. Trust me."

Trust him. Right.

Trust him, when he'd probably be leaving the Rebellion as soon as he found
an easier way to line his pockets.

Now where the hell did that come from, Leia? She scowled at him, but it had
no effect. He kept on grinning.

"Get some sleep, Your Highness," he said, oblivious to her change of mood.
"We got a helluva day ahead of us tomorrow." He leaned in close. "How
about a goodnight kiss?"

She shoved him, feeling all the usual anger resurface. Gods, she hated him
sometimes. "Go take a cold shower, Solo."

He laughed. "See, you're acting like your old self already!"

He slipped out the door while she was still looking for something to throw at
him.

****
Morning dawned gray and hot, as it almost always did on Athos. Following a light
meal, the rebel group piled into the landspeeder Luke had thoughtfully picked up earlier
that morning. Han granted Luke the wheel of the speeder, but not without first
making a crack about farmboys being better land drivers. Iskalia's directions were
easy to follow, and within an hour they could see the signs of a small town
that was hardly worthy of the name. A few scattered huts and a central well
were the only signs of civilization. They came to a stop a short distance
away to confer.

"It's your show, Princess," Han said. "How d'you wanna play this?"

She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "I guess...I should go alone."

"No!" Luke yelled as Han simultaneously said, "Out of the question."

She rolled her eyes, placed her hands on her hips. "We know that this guy
will only talk to Alderaanians. Last time I checked, neither of you qualify."

"It's still too dangerous for you to go by yourself," Luke reasoned.

"Okay, look," Han said. "We'll compromise. Take Chewie with you. He
doesn't know Alderaani and you can pretend he doesn't know Basic either.
Most people assume Wookiees don't know it anyway. Hopefully
this old fossil won't care about him being with you, so long as you're the
one doing all the talking."

Leia mulled it over, hesitant to agree with Han on any level. His idea did have
merit, though, and she'd certainly feel safer with Chewbacca watching her
back. "Fine. Chewie, is that okay with you?" The Wookiee growled
affirmatively. "That's settled, then."

"Fine," Han grumbled. Luke kicked the dirt under his boots, his displeasure
plain. When would they learn that she didn't need either of them hovering
over her? She did just fine on her own. Better on her own.

"You know, I did manage to take care of myself before you two flyboys came
along," she said dryly, hoping to jar them out of their funk. Both of their heads
jerked up in shock, and she suppressed a laugh. They were so predictable
sometimes. "Come on, Chewie."

The princess and the Wookiee cautiously made their way into the center
of the town, keeping an eye out for any signs of life. Nothing. A slight
breeze rippled across Leia's skin, playing with the loose tendrils of hair
around her face. Chewie growled his skepticism. "Artoo picked up a
number of life readings in the area," Leia reminded him. "There must be somebody
here." She fancied that she could hear her voice echo in the emptiness of
the ghost town. She scanned the vicinity, wrinkling her nose at the stale smell
hanging in the air. Didn't they have indoor plumbing? What sort of place was
this? Maybe Chewbacca was right after all.

"I don't know," she said absently. "I've got a bad feeling about this."
Chewie rumbled in agreement.

She was about to call it quits when a sound from behind startled them both.
Leia whirled around.

"Princess?" A hesitant voice asked. "Is that you?" A short, thin man came
into view, leaning heavily on a cane.

She gasped. "Finandel."

****
Leia sat on her heels and watched in amazement as Finandel hobbled
across the earthen floor, the rigors of age showing clearly in the lines
on his face and his arthritic gait. It had been five years since she had
seen him last. Five years since he'd severed all ties with her father and
left Alderaan for good. The harsh tones of that final argument still rang
in her ears.

"How long have you lived here?" she asked. It didn't look like =anyone=
lived here, she reflected grimly. The walls were bare and the room
they were in was hardly furnished, save for a couple of chairs, a low
table, and a tall wooden chest, through which Finandel had just
finished rummaging. She glanced out the window at Chewie, who
was acting as an alert sentry, then returned her gaze to Finandel and
moved to help him as he eased down onto the seat next to her.

"Three years now," he said, smiling at her. He held out a thin white book.
"I thought you might want to see these."

Puzzled, she took the slim volume from him and opened to the first page.
Her breath caught in her throat. It was a picture -- from a time when holos
weren't quite so common -- of her father, looking younger than she could
remember, his arm slung around Finandel's shoulders and grinning from
ear to ear as if he didn't have a care in the world. He was so dashing, she
reflected wistfully, with salt and pepper hair and those disarming green
eyes that could glint like hardened gemstones when he was angry. "When
was this taken?" she asked softly.

"Shortly after your parents took you in," he said. "Bail was so thrilled to
have you."

The harsh sting of tears pricked her eyelids. "I still don't understand why
you had to leave."

He looked at her sadly, patiently, infinite calm in his soft brown eyes.
"Yes, you do."

She sighed, acknowledging that he was right. "Father was devastated
after you left."

He nodded without surprise. "Leaving Alderaan was probably the
most difficult thing I've ever done," he said. He let out a short bark of laughter,
startling her. "How ironic that leaving in turn saved my life."

She closed her eyes, forcing back the images his words conjured up.
Please, no more "episodes," please... She chanted an old Alderaani
lullaby to herself until her breathing returned to normal. When she
opened her eyes again, Finandel was studying her with concern.

"Are you all right, my dear?" he asked anxiously.

She blinked hard, bringing the world back into focus. "Of course."

"Tell me, Leia..." He trailed off, hesitant, but obviously needing to
ask her something. He took a deep breath and exhaled before
continuing, and the faintest tinge of a sigh colored his words. "Do
you know exactly what happened? Why the Empire chose to
destroy Alderaan? Was it because of your father's activities,
or was there some other reason? Do you know?"

Leia considered the man before her. She thought about how much he had
meant to her family, to Alderaan. And so she did the only thing she could
do. Looked him straight in the eyes and lied. "No. No, I don't."

****
Once she explained to Finandel why she was there, what she
wanted from him, and for whom she wanted it, the old man grew
very serious and businesslike.

"I have to admit that a small part of me hoped that the Rebellion would
seek me out, that I might aid their cause against the Empire," he
said slowly, scratching at his stubbled cheek. "That's partly why I started to
spread word of my design in the first place. But now, after seeing you...you
are so young, my child. So full of life. I still don't know if I can bring myself
to contribute to a war, in any fashion."

Leia sighed internally, expecting no less from this man for whom
pacifism had become the reason for living. "But it is only through
victory in our war with the Empire that we can restore peace to
all the worlds it touches. You know that."

He studied her wearily. "It is the same old argument, isn't it, my
dear?" He patted her on the hand, mustered up a smile. "Give me
a night to think things over. I will have an answer for you in the
morning. I'm afraid that is all I can give you right now."

She nodded, knowing that the man had spoken his peace for the
moment, and not wanting to push him. "I'll go back to my ship
and return tomorrow," she promised. "I hope you'll be able to
help us."

"Regardless, it has been wonderful seeing you again, my child.
I only wish your father could be with us."

She felt the tears sting again, and this time didn't blink them away.
"Me too."

****
She and Chewie re-joined the group at the landspeeder to find Han and
Luke engaged in a half-hearted stone-throwing contest. Typical. "I hope
we're not interrupting?" she asked mildly.

They snapped to at the sound of her, and she found herself staring at
nearly identical sheepish grins. For the love of Dalmoosha... Something
pulsed deep in her abdomen at the sight of them, and she allowed herself a
brief moment of over-explicit fantasy before getting it together. "Let's go."

They looked at her in dumb confusion. "What happened?" Han finally asked.

"He has to think about it. We have to come back in the morning. Can we
go now?" She jumped into the back seat of the speeder and fidgeted impatiently.

Luke walked over to her, leaned in over the side of the speeder until his face
was close to hers. "You're not telling us everything. Something's upsetting you
a great deal, I can feel it."

Her eyes widened. How in hell did he do that? It was very annoying sometimes.
"I know him," she admitted, not meeting his gaze. "He's my...he was very close
to my family."

"Shit," Han said from somewhere behind her. Luke merely reached over and
covered her hand with his.

"It'll be okay, Leia," he said simply.

She managed to smile up at him. He almost made her believe it.

****
Ordinarily the group might have been grateful for some unexpected downtime, but
the fact that they were acting covertly, combined with the fact that there was nothing
to do on Athos, kept them confined to the Falcon for the evening -- again. While Han
and Chewie were more than used to it, Leia and Luke soon found themselves chafing
at their enforced stay in the enclosed spaces of the small battered ship. It was little
wonder that after eating a singularly unappetizing meal from Han's limited food stores
the two of them made their way outside.

Athos was considerably cooler once the sun went down, and Leia and Luke stretched
out on the ground in blessed relief a small ways from the Falcon, looking up at the stars
and breathing deeply of the crisp night air.

Leia locked her hands behind her head and closed her eyes, willing the tension of the day
to ooze out of her. If she could have one wish in the world at that moment it would be for a
massage, but she didn't feel comfortable asking any of her male companions. Well,
maybe Chewbacca, but she didn't want to take the chance of him underestimating his own strength and snapping her neck by accident. She tried to visualize the kinks in her back unknotting on their own, but it didn't help much.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Luke's hesitant voice intruded on her quiet.

"Not really," she said. Then Han's words came back to her: help anybody, you or your friends.>

Damn. Taking advice from Han Solo. It must be a sign of the end of the world, or at least
something close to it. She suppressed a frustrated sigh. "It's just very difficult for me to
see Finandel. Or anyone from Alderaan, for that matter."

"Why?"

"Because it's my fault that it's gone," she said, as if the answer were obvious.

"What?" Luke exploded, and she looked over at him in shock. His eyes had darkened and
blotches of red stood out on his tanned cheeks. "You were a prisoner of the Empire.
The =Empire= blew up Alderaan. =Tarkin= blew up Alderaan. You...you're the last
person to blame!"

She raised an eyebrow at him, cynicism cutting through the warmth she felt at his
vociferousness. "Luke, you weren't there. You don't understand."

"Maybe I understand better than you think," he said sullenly.

"Luke, if I hadn't been captured -- "

"Then they might have blown up Alderaan anyway, just because they could," he said,
cutting her off. "Or if not Alderaan, then another planet just like it. They wanted
to make a point, Leia, with their favorite weapons: destruction and fear. And they were
going to do it no matter what, no matter who they hurt in the process, no matter if
you helped them or not. So for you to blame yourself for that -- well, you might as
well lay all the other evils of the galaxy at your feet, too."

She shook her head in further denial, but deep down his words hit home. It was
nothing Occula hadn't told her before, but hearing Luke say it made it more reasonable,
somehow. Maybe because Luke carried around his own burden of guilt, but didn't let
it consume him. She reflected with a tinge of ruefulness that she could probably learn
from his example.

"You're pretty smart sometimes for a farm boy, you know that?" she said softly.

He grinned, and she could practically =hear= him blush. "Call it farmer's wisdom," he
replied, embarrassed.

They lay back in silence once more, each lost in their thoughts, with only the sky and
the stars and each other for company. Leia was just starting to unwind when Luke shifted
and turned toward her.

"Leia, sometimes I --"

"Hey, kids," Han's voice interrupted. They both craned their necks to see him standing
over them, a bottle of wine in one hand and a deck of cards in the other. "I hope I'm not
interrupting anything," he said innocently.

"Not at all," she said, careful to keep her voice neutral. She had an idea of what Luke
had been about to say and was glad for the reprieve. She knew that he carried around
some strong feelings for her, but she didn't feel quite ready to deal with them. Not
when she didn't understand what she was feeling herself. For him or for the irritating
but gorgeous Corellian towering over her.

"Care for a hand of Komarr or two?" Han asked, plopping down onto the earth beside
them. He tried not to wince when his joints popped, but Leia caught the look anyway.

"And what are we supposed to bet with?" Leia asked.

He leered at her. "Our clothing."

"In your dreams, Solo," she snorted. Luke smothered a laugh. Very wise of him.
"What about Chewie?"

"Huh? He doesn't wear any clothes."

"I mean," she said, trying to keep her frustration to a minimum, "where is he?"

"Oh." Han sounded vaguely disappointed. "I don't know, he's in a weird mood.
Decided to repair that busted valve instead of socializing. He gets like that sometimes."

"Well I'm glad there's one practical pilot on board," she said dryly. "Doesn't he have to
buy spare parts to fix it?"

"Oh, we have a nice little stash of just about everything," he answered, grinning. "I
wouldn't worry about that."

"Me? Worry?" she asked, mock-innocent, grinning back in spite of herself.

"So deal the cards, Han," Luke said, a jealous edge evident in his voice. Leia almost
jumped. She had actually forgotten he was there.

"Always in a hurry, aren't you, kid," Han said. "So what are you suggesting,
Your Highness, we just play for =fun=?" He made the word sound like an
obscenity.

"What have you got against fun, Captain?" Leia asked, putting a slight tease into
her voice, surprised at herself for doing so.

He shrugged. "Nothin', so long as I'm the one having it," he said, dealing the cards.

They played a few hands in easy companionship, Han not surprisingly winning every
round. Leia thought to point out that Luke would easily win were he to use the Force
to help him out, but neither man found her observation to be particularly amusing.
Blows to the ego all around,