August Writing Challenge: Submission #2 by Knighted Rogue

August Challenge Submission

“Whiskey and Wine” by KnightedRogue

It started with an urgent message sent to the Falcon.

Han Solo may have had his less-than-ignoble days but a message tagged as “urgent” was never something any good spacer ignored. And now that he was respectable, it was almost - almost - second nature to toggle the comm array and watch the message as it came through. Maybe the message was from Chewie on Kashyyyk, warning him of something he’d heard from the Imperial warlords. Maybe it was Lando out in the Outer Rim with a lead on that upstart Trader’s Guild that was causing trouble. Maybe it was Luke out on Yavin 4 doing whatever it was Luke did on Yavin 4.

But none of those familiar faces materialized when he switched on the message. Instead he saw the features of a very disgruntled Alderaanian princess.

“Han,” she said, “I have a … situation that needs your help. Would you mind coming by my office as soon as you get this message?”

The image flickered out and Han was left confused. Leia’s office wasn’t far from where the Falcon was currently docked, maybe twenty minutes’ walk. He wasn’t thrilled about being summoned like a servant, though a few years of close personal contact with Leia made it clear to him that she hadn’t meant to sound so imperious. Leia’s royal background didn’t appear much in their daily lives anymore. Not at home, at least.

So something was up. He packed up the hydrospanners he’d been sorting and grabbed a jacket before initiating security on the Falcon and heading out.

When he opened Leia’s office door, he found her leaning back in her nerf-hide chair, staring out a large transparisteel window, a scowl on her face. A dark bottle sat on her desk, corked and unopened. He wondered what it was.

“Hey,” he said, once the door slid shut behind him.

She looked up at him, her scowl still in place. “Hi,” she said. She leaned forward and put her elbows on the desk and her head in her hands. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

He cocked an eyebrow and sat down in one of three chairs on the other side of her enormous desk. He could have sworn there had only been two chairs there yesterday when he picked her up for dinner. “What’s going on?” he said.

She kept her head down. “I just had the worst meeting.” He kicked back and put his boots on her desk. She waved her hand in the air. “There are two water glasses in the cabinet. Can you get them?”

“Fantastic idea,” he said, eyeing the bottle. He grabbed the glasses, opened the bottle and quickly poured a little into each glass. The bottle had a label in a script he couldn’t read and the liquor smelled awful, but he sipped it anyway, curious. “This is … terrible.” Offensive, really. “What is it?” he asked.

Leia sipped from her glass while still keeping her forehead resting on one of her palms. “It is a traditional Hapan matrimonial wine.”

He almost spit it out.

Leia finally looked at him. “The meeting was with a delegation from Hapes. They tried to arrange a ‘merger of two royal houses’,” she said, air-quoting.

“Ah,” He set the wine down and scowled at it. “And how did that go for them?”

Leia looked at him, took another drink. Han winced in sympathy. “I told them to get the hell out of my office and leave the wine.”

He almost laughed. “Very diplomatic.” It hadn’t really occurred to him to worry about Hapan royal houses. Luke, yeah, he’d worried about Luke way back when but that had all been straightened out. Since then he’d learned to trust Leia a little more. Jealousy was a factor sometimes: she was a powerful and beautiful woman and he was away quite a bit. But jealousy was a different animal than being insecure. A little jealousy kept things interesting. “How’d they take that?” he asked.

Leia blinked at him over the rim of the glass. “Not well.”

And then she winked at him.

This time he did laugh and took another drink. He grimaced and set the glass down. The wine hadn’t improved. “I can imagine,” he said, running his finger around the rim of the glass. “Did you just cause an intergalactic incident?”

For the first time, she smiled. “Probably. You should have heard them. Lineages and bloodlines. Which is hilarious in it’s own right, but they don’t know that.”

He looked out the transparisteel window, disturbed by her words. “Huh,” he said. “I’m surprised you didn’t punch them.”

Leia sighed. “I wanted to.”

Han looked back at her. Leia was tired; she’d worked long hours today to try and clear her schedule to spend more time with him while he was still on leave. “You know what, Princess?” he asked, picking up his glass again and tossing back the awful wine like a shot. “I think we should celebrate this little event here.”

She leaned back in her chair and tilted her head. “How so?”

He poured more wine into both their glasses, then lifted his up in a toast. “To your incredibly terrible romantic decisions.”

She laughed loudly and clinked her glass against his.    

After the initial bottle of (really just wretched) wine, Leia surprised him by removing a bottle of Whyren’s Reserve from the hidden drawer in her desk. When he asked her why she just happened to be storing his favorite whiskey in her office, she smiled and informed him that she’d been saving it to smuggle into his flight bag when he deployed again. A proper going-away gift, she said.

This woman.

An hour later Han was feeling nicely buzzed, the smooth taste of the best Corellian whiskey credits could buy easily overpowering the Hapan wine. There was a metaphor in that somewhere, Han was sure of it. Leia was now sitting on top of her desk, facing him cross-legged. She looked so casual, so young. It made him a little desperate.

“I’m pretty sure I’m drunk,” she declared, and tossed back another shot of whiskey.

“I think you’re right.” He leaned back in his chair. “Drunk in your office in the middle of the work day.”

She nodded with exaggerated decorum. “Shameful.”

He couldn’t help but smile. Buzzed as he might be, Leia had solidly landed herself into what he would call trashed. Very few things in the galaxy were as rare. In the back of his mind, he knew she would never get drunk in public, or while on a mission, or outside of her strictly private social circle. Though the thought of taking an uninhibited Leia to a bar and acting like a normal couple was a nice one, he also knew it wasn’t in the cards for them.

Still.

He stood up and kicked his chair back until it hit the wall behind him. Perched on top of her desk, Leia was at eye level with him: another rare occurrence. She set her glass down and leaned to the side a bit. When she straightened up, he was standing close enough to put a hand on her knee and she jumped in surprise. Her eyes widened, already dilated and full, and she pursed her lips.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, running a thumb down her neck until his palm rested on her shoulder. “I’m glad you turned down such a great offer.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not a great offer. A merger.”

“Whatever,” he said.

When he kissed her, he pushed his entire torso against hers. His force tilted her head back a bit, and he felt her struggle to uncross her legs and hang them down the sides of his. Her tongue tasted like whiskey and that unidentifiable warmth of Leia: a vicious combination to him, even at his most sober. He groaned in the back of his throat and she swept a hand into his hair.

“Han,” she said as she bit his lower lip. “You need to lock the door.”

Lock the door? His lips were drifting down to the underside of her jaw, sweeping over the softness of her skin to her ear. He couldn’t fathom what she was talking about. He kissed her earlobe, then scraped his teeth lightly across it. She hummed and ran a hand down his back to pull his shirt from his pants.

Oh.

Oh hell yes.

He grinned and pressed his hands into her hips, pulling back so he could see her eyes. “I hate to say it,” he murmured, staring at her lips, “but are you sure about this?”

Leia arched an eyebrow at him. It occurred to him that though he’d seen her drunk before, he’d never seen her incapacitated. And that, he thought, might be one of the biggest reasons he loved her. She twisted her fingers through the fasteners of his shirt and loosened the top two buttons. Then, slowly and holding his gaze, she leaned over and kissed his collarbone. He made a quiet choking sound at the innocent eroticism of it all.

She broke him. Continually and constantly.

With a flash of movement, he pushed her back against the top of her desk and leaned over her. Digging his knee into the grain of the wood, he ran his palm up her leg, sneaking his hand under her robe as she bent her knee and worked on the rest of his shirt buttons. His fingers found lace and he pulled until it was a scrap of very expensive color on the floor.

He realized that this was not meant to be an exercise in restraint. This was meant to be hard and indecorous.

She’d gotten his shirt unbuttoned and was working on the fasteners to his pants. Nimble fingers triumphed and suddenly her hand was sliding against him, warm and heavy. Han quickly divested himself of the pants and then went back to work, sliding his hand up her leg.

Her hand was distracting him now that she was free to stroke him at will. She would tighten her grip unexpectedly then resume her slow, almost excruciatingly soft caress. He would have been tempted to tell her to stop teasing him if he weren’t doing the exact same thing to her. He felt her warmth slide across his fingertips, pressing into her clit and then easing off. Once he was sure she was ready and with one quick look back to her eyes, he removed his fingers and pressed inside her in one quick thrust.

The galaxy zeroed in to a pinprick. He only peripherally noticed his knees digging into the desk and his hands sliding under her shoulder blades to hold the back of her head. He disintegrated into sound and touch. Part of his brain thought too loud, her office, too loud! But that thought pulled his focus from her, and her warmth, and her hands and her hips. And that was unacceptable to him at the moment.

“Han,” she murmured.

He sped up. Their pace was frenzied and he heard the sound of a bottle breaking on the floor, but he had no context for it. The breath burned in his lungs. Leia moaned and bent her knees further, pushing her hips up to his. The angle was better now, more comfortable. He wanted to grab her hips to help her maintain the rhythm, but didn’t like the idea of Leia throwing her head back into the desk and winding up with a concussion. So he kept his hands under her head and focused on her lips and the breathy way she was whimpering his name.

He gritted his teeth. He was already feeling the tightening that signaled his release, but he also knew Leia wasn’t anywhere near her own. She had little tells that he relied on in these situations and she wasn’t giving him any of them. No fluttering eyelashes, no lip-biting, no curling toes.

So he pushed his knees into the desk, wrapped his hands around her back and lifted her up. In the process he slipped out of her and he was tempted - so tempted - to  just dive right back in. But the look on Leia’s face, the confusion in her beautiful eyes, was incentive enough to stay the course.

“Not okay,” she mumbled. It was almost a pout. He briefly wondered if he’d ever seen her pout before. She folded her legs over his thighs and scooted closer to him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she pushed her face right up against his. “Come back.”

He grabbed her thighs, stepped down off the desk and dragged her to the edge. “Got a better idea,” he whispered into her ear. Then he stood up and, with just the smallest wobble, lifted her. She pulled back and smiled at him brilliantly, wrapping her legs around his waist.

His intended destination was obvious. The first time he’d come here, the office had been sterile: no ornaments or decoration to it. He’d made a point of expressing a little fantasy he’d had during long nights on innumerable Rebel bases before Hoth. It’d been a personal favorite of his: Leia naked in her office, brutally beautiful and passionate for him. He’d requested a piece of wall, just a small one, without shelving or artwork or annoying lighting fixtures. Leia, being Leia, had blushed, then smiled, and then agreed.

And so he moved her to his little empty place in her otherwise impeccably decorated office, pressing her against the wall with a barely discernable thump. Leia laughed and kissed him, craning her neck to reach his lips. Han helped her out by ducking his head; this position - while inexplicably one of her favorites - was inconvenient for foreplay. He was relieved when he felt her hand surround him again, lifting the heavy fabric of her robes and guiding him back inside her.

Heaven. Pure heaven.

He picked up right where they had left off, their pace quick and their rhythm pounding. He flexed his arms and squeezed her legs where he held her up. She tilted her head to the side and closed her eyes with such pleased concentration that his chest seized. Now, with the change in position, he could feel those telltale signs: the fluttering, the biting, the curling. He felt her fingernails dig into the muscle just below his neck. Her lips were bruising, and she kept breaking the kisses to gasp out his name.

The combination was maddening. Her heat, her voice, the rhythmic pounding against the wall. His mind fractured, a million pieces flying out into the space around them except for one very clear, very focused part that felt her shift against him, felt her shudder, heard her cry out. She was suddenly dead weight in his arms. His knees buckled and they slid to the ground.

He brushed a kiss to her throat and she hummed, sliding her hands up his neck to the sides of his head. Silence descended as their breathing quieted. Han had the absurd thought that afterglow had never looked so good as it did on Leia, all flush and smile and tired limbs.

She broke the stillness, her smile fading. “You know I would never have accepted his proposal, right?”

Han watched her eyes, deceptively alert despite the whiskey and the sex. “I know.”

It really hadn’t occurred to him that she would. Not for a moment. He found that incredibly comforting.

She smiled again, dazzlingly. It was like a star going supernova. “Good,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. “That’s good.”

A pause. Han was nowhere near falling asleep; the floor was hard beneath him and his knees were starting to ache where they’d hit the desk. He was thinking about the best way to get Leia up off the floor and back to their apartment when she laughed softly against his shoulder. “That wine was terrible,” she said against his shirt. “I’d take the whiskey anyday.”

“Of course you would,” he said, running a hand up and down her back. “I’m pretty sure anyone would.”  

It’s a good thing she has better taste in alcohol than she does in men, Han thought, despite his words. He decided to rest a moment, wrapped up in his princess, genuinely grateful.They could take a few minutes before reality settled in, he reasoned. That’s what drinking was for, after all.  

August Writing Challenge Submission Number One by Justine Graham and Erin Darroch

                                                      Make Mine a Double
                                     By Justine Graham and Erin Darroch

Leia Organa smoothed the skirt of her formal dress and settled into her seat at the table beside Han Solo as applause faded around her, feeling jubilant and more than a little bit tipsy. She’d just finished delivering the last official presentation of a rather long and tedious post-war Core Worlds conference,  and it had gone very well—or, at least she thought so; it was all becoming a bit of a blur. Certainly the warm response from the audience this afternoon was even better than she’d been expecting. Cheerfully, she decided she ought to consider drinking four glasses of Rydonnian spicewine before every speech from now on. Although that beverage was far more potent than her usual choice of drink, it seemed simultaneously to smooth away all of her irritations and to stimulate her senses in the most enjoyable way; plus, it was deliciously easy to consume.

On the dais, the Chancellor of Sacorria took the podium again and began droning on and on about something or other, and Leia had to stifle a yawn. After a morning of back-to-back lectures, followed by four solid hours of keynote speeches, group discussions and formal presentations—as well as far more alcohol than she was accustomed to imbibing in one afternoon—even Leia’s eyes were beginning to glaze over.

Unwisely reaching for her wine glass yet again, she glanced sideways at Han, who appeared to be doing an excellent job of feigning attention to the Drallan speaker at the front of the room. With a glimmer of amusement, Leia wondered if it were actually possible for her Corellian sweetheart to sleep with his eyes open. He certainly seemed to be doing that right now, and Leia wasn’t the least bit surprised. Although he’d volunteered to accompany her to the conference, acting in the dual capacity of pilot and personal security, he had a much lower tolerance than most people for such brain-draining, bottom-numbing activities. Leia noted with interest that, despite the fact he wasn’t ordinarily much of a drinker, the tumbler full of Corellian whiskey in front of him was easily his third or fourth. Eyeing him speculatively, Leia decided he must be bored out of his mind and in need of a little light entertainment.

Buoyed by her celebratory mood, and feeling the effects of the unprecedented amount of wine she’d consumed already, Leia dropped her hand beneath the table to Han’s thigh and gave him a little squeeze through the coarse fabric of his dress uniform trousers. His only response was a little twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. But when she began tracing a lazy, swirling, circular pattern with her fingers, beginning at his knee and traveling slowly up the inside of his thigh, she saw him arch one eyebrow almost to his hairline. Leia paused, biting her lip to keep from smiling, and then resumed sneakily stroking her way towards his groin. Han shot her a quick, incredulous glance before composing his face and directing his gaze back towards the podium, clearing his throat and shifting just a little lower in his seat.

With a furtive glance around to ensure that no eyes were upon them, Leia grew bolder. Keeping her elbow tucked in and being careful of appearances, she dragged her fingers up Han’s inner thigh until she reached her ultimate goal and began a slow, deliberate stroke. She was rewarded by the immediate and vigorous response of his body to her touch, and increased the pressure of her caress ever-so-slightly, enjoying the corresponding twitch under her fingertips. But years of playing Sabacc had evidently equipped Han with the superb ability to bluff, so although she could feel him rising to the occasion, as it were, the only outward sign of his predicament was a slight catch in his breath and a barely perceptible clenching of his jaw.

And still the Drallan Chancellor droned on, thanking each speaker in turn—and with needlessly elaborate detail—for their respective contributions to the week-long conference and to the war so recently ended, sending half the delegates off to sleep, and the other half gesturing for more wine to numb the pain. Leia smirked to herself, enjoying the more tangible distraction she’d discovered under cover of the sumptuous tablecloth, and wondering how much longer they were going to have to endure the litany of gratitude before they were dismissed. The sound of her own name brought her focus sharply back to the room, though, and the Chancellor’s next words stopped her teasing ministrations dead in their tracks.

“And in addition to the lovely Princess Leia of Alderaan, whose fortitude and leadership has been such a shining example to us all—and whose, ah, very lively speech this afternoon kept us all greatly amused—our gathering has been graced by the presence of another illustrious representative of the New Republic: General Han Solo of Corellia!"

Leia pressed her lips together and surreptitiously withdrew her hand from Han’s lap as the hundred or so members of the audience began shifting around to look towards their table at the rear of the room. All eyes focused on Han and, to his credit, he managed to summon a little smile and even sketched a reasonable salute to the crowd. Leia registered his response only dimly, however, because her wine-fogged mind was suddenly trying to work out if she’d actually intended her speech to be amusing.

“General Solo,” the Chancellor boomed from the dais, “we so seldom have the opportunity to hear from you directly, although your bravery in rescuing the princess from the first Death Star and your courage in subsequent battles against the Empire have long been applauded by us all. We would be deeply honored if you would please take the podium and say a few words to the assembly.”

As the audience applauded the Chancellor’s suggestion and continued to look towards Han with expectation, he swiveled his head in Leia’s direction. Glancing at him, she instantly read the plea in his eyes; it was as plain as if he’d spoken the words aloud: You got me into this, Princess. Get me out of it. Fast!

Leia’s eyes widened. Leaning forward, she reached for her wine glass and lifted it to her lips once more, trying to maintain a straight face.

She could intervene, she supposed....

But where would be the fun in that?

                                                   ✽✽✽✽✽

An hour later—and with two more glasses of spicewine coursing through her system—Leia, with Han at her side, joined the milling crowd of conference delegates as they trailed behind Lady Marzenia Ashnus, the Sacorrian Minister of Culture, as she proceeded down the vaulted corridors of the Dorthus Tal Parliamentary Palace, through one of the ubiquitous formal parlors and out onto an adjoining stone terrace. After the seemingly endless speeches had finally come to an end, the crowd had been divided into smaller groups and assigned to official guides whose job it was to accompany the delegates on a walking tour of the palace and grounds; an excursion that was meant to be one last “treat” for those who’d endured the full duration of the conference. Presently, Lady Ashnus was urging the twenty-odd members of her group to take up places along the stone balustrade bordering the edge of the little terrace, and directing everyone’s attention to the quaint but beautiful town square below. Though it was just past sunset in Dorthus Tal and the light was beginning to leave the Sacorrian sky, there was still plenty of illumination from the softly glowing village lights, and most of the crowd leaned over, craning their necks for a view. Leia hung back slightly, though, and Han stayed with her, a few steps behind the rest of the group. The Minister’s bright, melodic voice prattled on, relaying snippets of history and pointing out elements of architecture, as the guests crowded around making appreciative sounds and venturing polite questions.

To Leia, the sound of Marzenia’s voice, the muted chatter of the guests and the hum of activity from the square below all blended into a singular droning with a lulling quality. Were it not for the odd unintentional jostle or the sharp, rousing laugh of another guest, Leia was certain she could fall asleep standing up. The generous measures of alcohol she’d imbibed had softened all of her senses and left her feeling relaxed to the point of lethargy—and increasingly woozy. She wondered if anyone would notice if she slipped away to one of the palace parlors to curl up on a sofa for a nap.

Behind her, though, Han’s looming presence offered a renewed focus for her waning attention, as he drew near enough to touch. He seemed to have forgiven her earlier attempt to torment him with her teasing caresses. Or perhaps, she mused with an inward smirk, he was just back for more entertainment. Whether intentionally or not, he’d certainly positioned himself well, she thought as she cast a glance over her shoulder to be sure there was no one behind them. Keeping one hazy eye on the distracted crowd and feeling grateful for the cover of the deepening twilight, Leia slipped a hand down behind her own hip, relying on familiarity and physical memory to guide her hand to its goal.  

This time, she was rewarded not only by the telltale hiss of his sharply indrawn breath, but by the slight forward press of his hips against her palm. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him lift his tumbler of whiskey to his lips and take a sip. To outward appearances, he seemed as interested in Lady Ashnus and her history lesson as any of the others in the group, but the insistent nudge against her palm told a different story. Pressing her lips together to stifle the urge to laugh, Leia cupped her palm over the growing bulge and felt the heat of his body rising under her hand. One tiny part of her mind—the part not completely debilitated by too much alcohol—was mildly scandalized by her own indecorous behavior. But she was having far too much fun to stop now, and Han certainly wasn’t going to interrupt what she was doing to remind her of the rules of etiquette.

Conveniently, Lady Ashnus still held the attention of the crowd, now directing their focus off to the western edge of the square, so Leia continued her surreptitious caresses. Dragging her fingernails up the length of him, she scraped lightly against the rough fabric of his trousers, creating a faint vibration and eliciting a shiver from Han that reverberated through her fingers. Enjoying his reaction, she traced the thick outline of him again through the fabric, increasing the pressure of her touch as she felt him twitch heavily in response. She repeated the motion a few times, firmer and slightly faster than before. Abruptly, Han closed the narrow gap between their bodies, nudging Leia’s hand out of the way and sliding one splayed hand around her hip to pull her fast against him. Leia wrapped both of her arms around his as it encircled her waist, and then tipped her head up at an angle to catch a glimpse of his face. He met her gaze with a smoldering one of his own, and Leia couldn’t help herself. Heedless of the nearby audience, not even checking to see if anyone was looking their way, she stretched up and lifted her mouth to his. Han obliged her unspoken request, his mouth descending on hers and capturing her lips in a deep, hungry kiss for one long, delicious moment. He tasted faintly of whiskey and Rodian peppers, and the touch of his lips made Leia dizzy with desire, but he withdrew too soon, and she was left feeling slightly bereft—although she supposed, somewhat hazily, that it would be highly inappropriate to continue such passionate caresses in present company.

Turning her attention back towards the tour group, Leia squinted and tried to focus on what Lady Ashnus was saying, but the full force of that last glass of spicewine was just beginning to hit her system and she felt as though her eyes were crossing. She blinked slowly, trying to clear her vision, but soon gave it up as a lost cause. Closing her eyes for a moment, she leaned her head back against Han’s chest and watched the darkness swirl and swim behind her eyelids. Han pressed up against her, the hard ridge of his erection jutting insistently against the small of her back, and Leia smiled. She answered him with a languid nudge of her hips, a deliberately slow movement designed to make him crazy, and was gratified to hear him release a low groan, which he swiftly converted into a little cough and a clearing of his throat. Leia grinned, straightened up, and opened her eyes.

“Yes, General Solo?” The clear voice of Lady Ashnus pealed like a bell through the evening air. “Did you have a question?”

Behind her, Leia felt the tensing of Han’s body as all eyes turned in their direction once more, but he had long ago mastered the art of pretense. Barely skipping a beat before he responded, his rich baritone voice was a warm caress against her ear. “No, no questions,” he responded over the heads of the small crowd. He lifted his tumbler, now nearly empty, in a toasting gesture. “I just wanted to say, I’m really enjoying this evening.” Smiling, he brought the glass to his lips and tipped the remaining liquid down his throat.

Lady Ashnus smiled widely, clearly thrilled by what she interpreted as Han’s praise. “Thank you, General. I’m so pleased to hear that.”

Han beamed another smile and waited for her to return her attention to the group before Leia felt him relax and heard him expel a pent-up breath. He gave her waist a little squeeze with the arm still encircled there, and she felt the firm reminder of his highly aroused state prodding against the upper swell of her hip, before he released her and reached to set his empty glass down atop the flat stone balustrade.

The Minister, calling out now over the murmuring chatter of the crowd, encouraged everyone to follow her back into the building as the tour resumed, and she began extolling the significance of the antiquities awaiting them in the vast corridors of the palace. Leia turned to follow, politely allowing the rest of the crowd to pass through the doors before she moved to fall in at the rear. Suppressing a little snicker, she wondered if their next stop would provide another opportunity to entertain her bored Corellian companion.

Before she reached the threshold of the palace, however, she felt Han’s strong hand close around her wrist, and then his urgent tug pulled her around to face him. In an instant she saw that he was far from bored now. The look of unbridled lust in his eyes told her that his first impulse was to drag her to the rough stone floor of the deserted terrace and give her exactly what she wanted—and what he obviously wanted, too. With both hands now around her wrists, he pulled her close, and their mouths met in a molten kiss, tongues tangling in a delicious fusion of wine and whiskey that made Leia’s head swim. Then Han’s hands seemed to be everywhere at once, raking deliciously down the slope of her back to her hips and pulling her firmly against him, then skimming up the smooth bodice of her shimmersilk dress to gently squeeze and stroke her breasts, before sliding warmly around the nape of her neck, his fingertips venturing under the loose arrangement of her hair to graze her scalp, sending shivers of longing racing down her spine. He drew back and met her eyes with a gaze that went straight to her head like another glass of wine, before descending to capture her mouth again in a kiss that made her moan.

Taking full advantage of the fact that they were alone and out of sight of the others—at least, for the moment—Leia boldly returned his urgent caresses. She worked her hand between them and slid the flat of her palm down lightly over the front of Han’s trousers, then dragged her fingertips back over the hard length of him with gentle pressure on the way up, delighting in the strangled groan that escaped his throat. As he bent his head and began to blaze a trail of scorching kisses down her neck, she slipped her hands under the hem of his uniform jacket and hooked her fingers into his belt loops, then pulled his hips tightly against hers. The momentum made her teeter precariously on her heels, and Han tightened his grip around her waist to prevent her from toppling over completely.

Through the fog of lust and alcohol, from some far-away, wine-drenched corner of her mind, the voice of her saner self cautioned—not here, not here—and Leia paused, trying to gather her words. Before she could voice her concerns, though, she found herself in motion, being led by the hand over the threshold of the terrace, through the parlor and down the plushly carpeted corridor, stumbling slightly behind Han as the ornate interiors of the palace passed by in a gilded blur. Slipping down a side hallway that veered off the main corridor, Han brought them to an abrupt halt in front of the first door he found. Leia peered blearily around his shoulder at the placard on the front, squinting at the Aurebesh characters printed there, and dimly made out the words “Executive Council Meeting Room” in bold letters that swam before her eyes, and then she squinted again to read “Authorized Personnel Only” in smaller script below. This printed injunction elicited a fit of laughter from her; knowing Han, he would consider being half-crazed with desire and desperate for privacy to be authorization enough.

“Ssh, Princess!” Han hissed, giving her hand a little tug. “You wanna get us caught?”

He nudged the door open, and Leia found herself ushered into a large, windowless, ornately decorated room, which was dominated by a long, rectangular central table and surrounded by an array of carved wooden chairs with upholstered seats. Leia drifted into the room and stood swaying, vaguely aware of Han poking his head out for a quick glance up and down the hallway before shutting it quietly behind him, plunging them into complete darkness. There was the sound of Han fumbling around for a moment, and then the room was softly illuminated as he located the light controls and dimmed them down to minimum. Leia blinked and squinted as her eyes adjusted, then swiveled unsteadily on her heels as her muddled brain registered the sight of Han stripping off his uniform jacket and then dragging a couple of chairs in front of the doors to act as a barrier.

The floor started to tilt at rather disconcerting angles beneath her feet while Han assembled his makeshift security system, so Leia kicked off her shoes and made her way over to the conference table, then began an awkward attempt to hitch herself up onto it. The heavy, slippery fabric of her formal gown hindered her movements, however, and she slid back to the floor with a thunk. Leaning back against the edge of the table, she cupped both hands over her mouth in an effort to muffle another burst of helpless giggles. Han appeared in front of her then, frantically shushing her again—though he seemed to be laughing, too—and wrapped his hands around her waist. Then, as if by magic, she was perched on the edge of the table, and he was standing a few steps back, raking her from head to toe with a heated gaze. Leia smirked at him, tilting her head to one side to keep him in focus. For a moment, she sat swinging her dangling feet coquettishly, and then she leaned back on her hands and parted her knees in silent invitation.

“Gods, Leia,” Han ground out, and suddenly he was between her thighs, his strong arms wrapped around her back and his hot mouth fastened on hers. He kissed her deeply, coaxing her lips apart, and stroking her tongue with his. Leia breathed a little moan, wound her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, delving deeply into the delicious feel of his lips against hers and relying entirely on the strength of his arms to keep her from falling back.

Dimly, she was aware of him fumbling one-handed with the full skirt of her dress, shoving the heavy fabric up until it sat bunched around her hips, and his roughened fingers stroking the soft skin of her inner thigh. His deep voice reverberated in her ear, muttering what sounded like questions: something about too much to drink, something about waiting, something about later?

“No, not later,” Leia insisted, gasping, and clutched at his shoulders to hold herself upright. “Now.”

“You’re sure, Sweetheart?” His voice was hoarse, his breathing ragged, his tone sincere. But he was already sliding his hands up the bare skin of her thighs again, hungry for her, wanting her to say yes.

Resolutely, Leia lifted her hands to either side of his head, trying to hold him still so she could give him her Most Serious Look. She found it helpful to close one eye. “I know exactly what I’m doing,” she whispered fiercely, then drew his mouth to hers for another deep, urgent kiss. She broke the contact and drew back a millimeter, breathing heavily. “And I know what I want.” Tangling her fingers in his hair, she pressed her mouth to his once more, drawing his lower lip in and sucking lightly on it until she heard him groan.

He dragged his mouth away from hers and along the line of her jaw, then pressed his face against her ear. “You’re driving me crazy, Leia.” As he spoke, his hands continued roaming restlessly under her skirt, venturing higher up the inside of her thighs, stroking the tender creases there with his thumbs.

“Mmm,” she hummed with pleasure at his touch, and smiled in satisfaction at his words. “That was the plan….”

Han growled low in his throat and slid his hands around the curve of her hips, snagging his fingers in the thin Morvolian lace of her panties. She heard the rending of the material, and felt the delicate garment give, and then a firm tug as he pulled them free. She had a muddled, fleeting thought about the expense of that tiny, ruined scrap of fabric, but it was lost in Han’s muttered curse as he pushed the folds of her skirt up out of the way again, his hands fumbling in his haste. Leia sighed, smiling, and leaned back, coming to rest on her elbows.

Then his dark head dipped low as he sank down between her thighs, and her awareness splintered, conscious thought giving way to pure physical sensation, fragments of perception driven by her senses alone….

…the heat of his breath between her legs…

...the deft touch of his fingers…

...the silken stroke of his tongue….

She lifted her knees and draped her legs over his broad shoulders, then dropped her head back, concentrating on every exquisite caress of his lips and hands. In the midst of her abandon, the voice of her saner self whispered to her again, and a single thought flickered through her mind: what if someone finds us here, like this? Her drunken mind tried to imagine the scandal that would erupt if the last princess of Alderaan were to be discovered looking so thoroughly debauched, with the roguish Corellian’s head buried between her thighs.... The idea was strangely thrilling, though, and it fueled her urgency. Leia whispered Han’s name, half plea and half demand, and arched her hips, urging him on with a heightened sense of need.

She felt him straighten up in response to her voice, her legs sliding down to dangle to either side of his hips again as he rose to his full height, and then she felt the warmth of his hands through the shimmersilk of her dress as they stroked her waist and ventured higher up her body. Leia sighed and stretched out on her back beneath his touch, giving herself up to pure sensation once more…

...his strong fingers stroking her breasts, tweaking her rigid nipples through the thin silk...

...his eyes, dark with desire and urgency and need, meeting hers in the dim light…

...the nudge of movement near her knees and the distant metallic clink of his belted trousers striking the floor....

He settled between her thighs and she felt him for the briefest of moments: strong and hard and impossibly warm against her sensitive flesh. Then he hooked his hands behind her knees and she felt the exquisite, stretching sensation of fullness deep in her core as he entered her in a single, powerful thrust. They groaned together, and Leia felt overwhelmed for a moment with the pure pleasure of their union, the satisfying weight of his body pressing against hers, and the heat of his presence inside her. Then he began moving within her, driving everything else out of her mind, everything except for the sweet friction between them...

...the taste of his mouth, whiskey and spice, and the familiar scent of his skin…

...the sound of his ragged breathing, and her own breathless moans…

“General Solo? Princess Leia? Did you get lost?” The high, melodious voice of Lady Ashnus rang like a gong through Leia’s addled mind, silencing her in an instant and bringing Han’s movements to a sudden halt.

Their eyes met and they clung to each other, locked together and frozen in place, as they listened to the sounds of their erstwhile group passing along the main corridor nearby. Once again, they heard their names being called as their solicitous tour guide retraced her steps, looking for them. Despite the imminent danger of discovery, Leia erupted into a fit of uncontrollable snorting giggles, which were quickly smothered by the palm of Han’s hand. Widening his eyes, he shook his head at her, fighting to keep his own laughter in check, and wincing slightly as Leia’s body spasmed beneath him in suppressed mirth.

The Minister’s voice drifted to them once again from farther away. “They must have decided to depart before the end of the tour,” she mused aloud, her voice tinged with disappointment. “That truly is a pity. General Solo seemed quite fascinated with our history, and I’d saved a few of the most interesting pieces for last. Well, I suppose we should move on….” The sound of the Sacorrian woman’s voice faded along with her footsteps, and it became clear that the tour group was once again in motion, and heading away.

Leia finally released the tense breath she’d been holding, then found Han’s eyes again and they both burst into quiet snickers and snorts of helpless laughter. Leia shifted up onto her elbows and Han, still buried deep inside her, scooped one strong arm behind her back and pulled her up to meet his gaze. She clutched his shoulders and beamed a happy smile up at him, squinting a little as she tried to focus on his face. His hazel eyes were slightly red-rimmed with the effects of the alcohol he’d imbibed, but they were alight with amusement, too, and gleaming with hungry intent.

As he gazed at her, he slipped his other hand under her skirt, sliding slowly up and down the length of her thigh, creating a delectable friction that made Leia’s blood thrum in her veins. Her eyes flickered to his sensual mouth; she wanted to devour those lips, to nip and nibble and kiss her way across the tender flesh, and she licked her own lips in anticipation. Then his warm mouth was pressed against hers once more, and every nerve ending caught fire. Opening her own mouth a little wider to accept the teasing tip of his tongue, she gasped as he began to move inside her again. He hooked one hand behind her knee to hitch her closer—as if they could possibly get any closer, as if they could merge—and the intensity of their mutual need transformed the last of their gasping laughter back into urgent moans, and groans of pleasure. Han then resumed his steady movements, rocking her body slowly at first, and then with increasingly powerful thrusts, as their tongues tangled together and Leia’s fingertips raked through his thick hair.

After a moment, they broke apart, panting for breath, and Leia tried to meet Han’s gaze once more. Though the room was swimming and he looked a little blurry around the edges, she managed to give him a triumphant grin. “Bet you’re not bored now, Flyboy,” she said archly.

She was rewarded with a gleam of white teeth and the crinkling of his eyes as he broke into a grin, and then he dipped his head down to drag kisses up the side of her neck. He pressed his lips against her ear, and his rumbling voice hit Leia’s system like a double-shot of Corellian brandy, instantly and deliciously trebling her intoxication.

“You’d win that bet, Sweetheart,” he murmured. “You’d win that one hands-down.”

The End

Authors’ Notes: The setting and timeframe for this story were borrowed from a longer fic we wrote together (“The Only Constant”). This little interlude could serve as a follow-up to that story, so if you’ve read that and you’re wondering...yes, the sadly ruined Morvolian lace undies are brand-new. But that’s a story for another time. :)

August Writing Challenge

It has been almost alarmingly quiet around here, though I'm sure that is largely my own fault for not saying much lately. So, let's do something completely for fun. Like just totally silly fun. 

So, here is a completely inappropriate challenge: Drunk Han and Leia sex. Yes, that is correct. It is up to you whether you want to get into the explicit details or not. I will request that these be light-hearted drunken sex and not like, angry drunken sex because it's my blog and I can do what I want.

So, go forth and write and submit. You may also submit a photo you want to accompany your story, and if you don't I may attach a photo of my choice. Have fun.

Happy Birthday, Harrison Ford!

It is really hard to believe that the man is 74 years old. And funny to think that the picture I posted up there was when he was already sort of "old" in his 50s, and that was probably at least 20 years ago. It would be really nice if we could go back in time, wouldn't it? Sadly we can't. We'll have to settle instead for what looks like one more Indiana Jones movie from him and no more Han Solo. Did I mention I'm still upset about that? Oh, and Blade Runner, which looks like it will be featuring him sporting a giant beard and long hair like an old homeless man, or perhaps a more aged version of Tom Hanks' character in Cast Away. Apparently he is vacationing in Europe before he goes and does his part of shooting that sequel, which he probably won't actually be in that much of anyway.

Sorry things have been quiet around here, summer is not exactly my favorite time to blog. And to be honest, I am not even reading or keeping up with Episode VIII stuff I've seen out there, because I don't really care what happens going forward. I'm no avoiding spoilers, they've just basically figured out a way to make it impossible to do anything going forward I might kind of care about. Well, I mean I guess there is some potential in there somewhere, but I'm sure they won't go that route.

Here is another nice picture though:

What Do Han and Leia Fans Have to Look Forward to?

It's been quiet around here and we haven't posted for a while, and a comment and answer on another post has had me thinking about this. As the post title says, what do we, as Han and Leia fans, have to look forward to in this new Star Wars universe?

The more time that passes as we get further and further away from the movie, the more I'm realizing that as it stands now, the answer for me at least is nothing. It was also apparent when I was at the movies last week and the trailer for Rogue One played. I had seen it online already of course, and honestly I'll probably see it anyway, but the total indifference I felt as I watched it was almost unsettling, especially for me, always having been such a big Star Wars fan.

It's also strange to me that I honestly feel like I would be more excited about new movies going forward if they had skipped ahead another 30 years until Han and Leia and Luke were gone anyway, and maybe we learned that they had some kids and lived relatively quiet lives and we just never saw or heard from them again. But to instead be given such a dark, horrible future for them, it just pretty much killed it for me.

I'm not trying to tell anyone that they shouldn't be looking forward to more Star Wars, and in fact would like to be convinced otherwise. So please tell me what if anything you guys are looking forward to seeing. For a time I was kind of intrigued by the new characters, but the more time that passes, the more I'm realizing how I'm not at all emotionally invested in them. I'm not in the slightest bit anxious about seeing what happens next. I was annoyed at first when they announced Episode 8 was being pushed out 6 months later, but now I don't really care. Release it in 2020 for all I care at this point. Or "cancel" it like a TV show, whatever. I'm more disappointed that Agent Carter got canceled than I would be if they told us they just weren't going to make another movie. That's pretty sad.

I know we technically still have Leia, but what is left for her? It is apparent that they are going to virtually ignore the fact that Ben is her son. All she does is sit back and watch other people do battle and endure more and more heartache and lost loved ones while barely showing any emotion whatsoever. There is really nothing "good" that can happen to her now, so what's the point? I mean I suppose theoretically she could get her son back, but there would still be that kind of major underlying tension there since he killed her husband. And presumably billions of other innocent people. So, I don't know, when you take away any hope I don't know what I'm watching for and supposed to want to see happen. Probably largely why I am not so emotionally invested in the new characters, the precedent now is that everyone is doomed to be miserable forever.

It really sucks to be a Skywalker.

Agents of Chaos I: Hero's Trial - The Review

Ah, we are falling behind on these, aren't we? After several years off, it is probably ok though. I actually finished reading this book a couple of weeks ago but I'm finally getting around to writing the review.

If there is an award for the book where Han is the biggest asshole, I think this one wins.

When last we left our heroes, we actually really weren't hearing much about our favorite couple. I guess this wasn't so bad though since Han is just a complete mess and Leia is busy doing her thing. But still, there wasn't a lot going on for them in the last couple of books. This book seems to want to make up for that. From what I recall of reading this series fifteen years ago when it came out, that's kind of how it went. One book would focus more on some characters, the next one on others. This particular duology focuses on Han specifically more than most. But don't get too excited about that, because he is definitely still not himself. 

We begin on Kashyyyk, where a memorial service is taking place for Chewbacca. I'm not really sure how or why it took us several books between his death to actually get here, but at least it is finally happening, and we're told it's six months after his death. And for the first time in several books, the entire Solo family is together, and they are kind of, sort of, almost seeming normal in spite of the circumstances. Apparently there is some sort of Wookiee tradition in death that even the humans closest to them, including Han, don't know about. That's not what this is, though. And apparently whatever ritual that might have been was not possible because Chewie's body could not be returned home, which is pretty sad. 

The scene of this funeral is told from Threepio's perspective. During the Wookiee speech he sees Jaina holding Han's hand in both of hers while Han's eyes look red. There are a lot of little things in this book where Jaina is sort of Han's go-to while he is really trying not to get into it with Leia too much. I think while of course I'd prefer it if he went to Leia more, it seems kind of in character that he is more in tune with Jaina here. I can see him feeling a lot of guilt when it comes to Leia, and not so much with Jaina. So he can accept comfort from her without worrying about being called out on what he's been doing, which Leia would surely be doing. And Han and Jaina have always seemed to share a close bond. 

He also mentions that apparently Han had tried to get into his old Corellian Bloodstripe pants but his "increased waistline" would not allow it and he had to help him add the stripes to some new ones. In the last book they were talking about how Han was all thin and haggard, so again they can never seem to decide on things to be consistent in these books. It goes on to say that Leia and Jacen are standing across from Han and Jaina, Leia's head on Jacen's shoulder. 

After the talking is finished, Han mentions to Jaina that he actually kind of envies Threepio, because he can never know the pain of grieving. Jaina tries in a motherly way to get him to eat, and he is not interested but at least he is pretty nice to Jaina and not snippy. Chewie's wife gives Han a bowcaster that Chewie had made, and his son gives him a satchel that was also his. There is a brief discussion that apparently Waroo and Lowbacca will be taking over Chewie's lifedebt. I remember reading this part when this book first came out and thinking, oh great, so we're just going to get a replacement Wookiee and act like nothing has changed except the name of his copilot? Fortunately, Han does not like this idea and does manage to get them not to come with him.

A little while later, we finally get a quiet Han and Leia moment for the first time in a very long time. Han is standing over a section of walkway without any railing among the very, very tall trees.

"You'll want to watch that first step, flyboy," Leia said from behind him.  

 Han gave a start but didn't turn around. "Funny thing is, ground zero's always a lot closer than you think."  

 Leia's footsteps drew nearer. "Even if that's true, you might want to consider a sturdy pair of repulsor boots."  

 He aimed a skewed grin over his shoulder. Kashyyyk's humidity had fashioned a mane of Leia's long hair, and updrafts tugged at her flowing skirt and sleeveless blouse.  

 "No need to worry, sweetheart. I'm already down there."  

 Leia came alongside him and glanced warily over the edge. "And I thought the view from our apartment was unnerving ..." She took gentle hold of Han's arm and eased him back from the edge. "You're making me nervous."  

 "That's gotta be a first." He forced a smile. "I'm fine."  

 Leia's brow furrowed. "Are you, Han? I heard about what happened with Malla and Waroo."  

 He shook his head in renewed agitation. "I have to put an end to this life-debt business once and for all."  

Well, at least Han and Leia are talking again, and it is almost sort of normal and he isn't hiding away from her.

Chilled by Han's scowl, Leia straightened her smile. "I didn't mean to sound flippant, Han. I understand what you're feeling. Today couldn't have been easy for you."  

 He averted his gaze. "I wish I understood what I was feeling. I thought the ceremony would help put things to rest, but it's only made matters worse. Maybe if I'd been able to retrieve Chewie's body and there'd been some kind of funeral ..." He allowed his words to trail off, then shook his head angrily. 

"What am I talking about? It's more than missing out on some ritual."  

 Leia waited for him to continue.  

 "I know I can't change what happened at Sernpidal, but I blame myself for getting us into that fix to begin with."  

 "You were trying to save lives, Han." 

 "And a lot of good it did anyone."  

 "Have you told Anakin that you've made your peace with not being able to save Chewie?" Leia asked cautiously.  

 Bitterness contorted Han's face. "That was my biggest mistake - putting him in the pilot's seat."  

 "Han -" 

 "I don't mean that it was Anakin's fault. But I know I wouldn't have made the same decisions he made." He snorted a bitter laugh. "We'd all be dead - Chewie, Anakin, me ... And now this craziness about continuing the life debt." Han paced away, then whirled to face her. "There's no way I'm going to be responsible for the death of another member of the honor family, Leia."  

 "You weren't responsible."  

 "I was," he snapped. "Who knows what kind of life Chewie would have had if I hadn't dragged him all over the galaxy running spice and chakroot and whatever else we could smuggle."  

 Leia frowned. "Meaning what, Han? That you shouldn't have rescued him from slavery? For all you know, Chewie might have ended up dying in an Imperial labor camp or in some construction accident. You can't allow yourself to think that way. Besides, don't try to tell me that Chewie didn't enjoy gallivanting around, with you - and that had nothing to do with a life debt. You heard what Ralrra said: Adventure was the reason Chewie left Kashyyyk to begin with. You and he were two of a kind."  

 Han firmed his lips. "I guess I know that. Still ..." He shook his head mournfully.  

 Leia placed her fingers under Han's chin and turned his head. Positioning herself in his gaze, she smiled broadly. "You know what I remember most? The time Chewie strapped me to his chest and carried me across the underside of Rwookrrorro. Like I was a toddler."  

 Han snorted. "Consider yourself lucky. One time I had to ride in a quulaar slung from Tarkazza."  

 Leia clamped a hand over her mouth but laughed anyway. "Katara's father - the one with the silver stripe on his back?"  

 "That's the one." Han laughed with her, but only for a moment. Then he turned and gazed but over the tree-tops. "It gets easier for a moment, then I'm right back to remembering. How long does it take, Leia? Till you're past it?"  

 She sighed. "I don't know how to answer that without sounding trite. Life is all about change, Han. Look at this place: luma-poles have begun to replace phosflea lanterns, repulsorlift vehicles are replacing banthas ... Things have a strange way of reversing direction when you least expect them to. Enemies become friends, adversaries become confederates. The very Noghri who tried to kill me became my protectors. Gilad Pellaeon, who once came here to enslave Wookiees, fought with us at Ithor against the Yuuzhan Vong. Could anyone have predicted that?" Leia extended her hands to massage his shoulders. "Eventually the heartache fades."  

 Han's muscles bunched under her touch. "That's the problem. The heartache fades."  

 He sat down, letting his feet dangle over the edge of the bridge. Leia squatted behind him and wrapped her arms around him. They remained unmoving for a long moment.  

 "I'm losing him, Leia," he said despondently. "I know he's dead, but I used to be able to feel him alongside me, just outside the edge of my vision. It's like if I turned quickly enough, I'd catch sight of him. I could hear him, too, clear as day, laughing or complaining about something I'd done. I swear, I've had conversations with him that were as real as this one. But something's changed. I have to think long and hard to really see him, or hear him."  

 "You're getting on with your life, Han," Leia said softly. 

  He laughed shortly. "Getting on with my life? I don't think so. Not till I've found some way to make his death count for something."  

 "He saved Anakin," Leia reminded.  

 "That's not what I mean. I want the Yuuzhan Vong to pay for what they did at Sernpidal - and for all that they're continuing to do."  

 Leia stiffened. "I can understand that coining from Anakin, Han, because he's young and hasn't figured things out. But please don't make me hear it from you."  

 He shrugged out of her hold. "What makes you think I know any more about life than Anakin knows?"  

 She dropped her hands by her sides and stood up. "That's something I hadn't considered, Han." 

 "Well, maybe you should," he rasped, without turning around.

And that is the abrupt end of that chapter. Well, at least briefly they smiled and laughed at each other, and there was some affection and tenderness there. It is clear that Leia handles grief better than anyone in the history of the galaxy. At least Han let Leia hug him before he started being angry again.

Eventually we jump ahead and Han seems to suddenly be in a rush to get off Kashyyyk rather than waiting another day as initially planned. Luke starts questioning Han about his sudden need for hasty retreat and Han has to catch himself before he gets angry and lets him know he is tired of all of this sympathy. Then he turns to Luke:

Han started up the ramp, then stopped and whirled. "You know, I don't know what's worse, everybody's fumbling attempts to make me feel better or your self-importance. You may think you have me figured out, pal, but you don't. Not by a long shot. Oh, I know you've lost friends and family, and now, with Mara being sick and all, but Chewie gave his life for my son, and that makes it different. You can't know about that, Luke." 

  "I don't pretend to know about that," Luke said calmly. "But as you say, I do know something about grief."  

 Han held up his hands. "Don't talk to me about the Force - not now. I told you a long time ago I don't believe in one power controlling everything, and maybe I was right, after all."  

 "After all we've been through?"  

 "What we've been through," Han said, pointing his forefinger at Luke's face, "had a lot more to do with blasterfire than swordplay, and you know it."  

 "It was the Force that brought down the Empire."  

 "And just how does that help me?" Han glanced around at Leia, their three children, Lowbacca, C-3PO, and R2-D2, all of whom looked uncomfortable. "I don't have the abilities of a Jedi or the delete functions of a droid. I'm just a normal guy with normal feelings and maybe more than his share of shortcomings. I don't see Chewie, Luke. Not the way you claim to have seen Obi-Wan, Yoda, and your father. I don't have the Force at my back."  

 "But you do, Han. That's all I'm trying to tell you. Let go of your anger and bitterness and you will see Chewie."

Han opened his mouth and closed it. He spun on his heels and hurried up the ramp only to stop and reverse directions again. "I'm not ready to walk this plank," he grated as he passed Luke.  

 "Han!" Leia shouted.  

 He turned, but looked through her at Jaina. "Take the Falcon back to Coruscant."  

 Jaina's eyes widened. She swallowed hard and stammered, "But what about you?"  

 "I'll find my own way back," he yelled over his shoulder as he marched off.

While I don't love the idea of Han turning his back on his family like this and running away yet again, I do kind of find this whole thing in character. He feels like an outsider. I think that when he isn't feeling quite so lost, the fact that he is the only one in his family without the Force doesn't really bother him. And before he always had Chewie to share that with anyway. But now, sure, I think he would feel more lost about it than ever. And again, I also for some reason like that in the end it is Jaina he looks to for taking his ship back. It's like he knows he can still tell his daughter what to do and she won't argue with him, unlike Leia who most certainly would, and he also trusts her completely. 

So now we get a little bit of Leia and Jaina, who are on the Falcon. Jaina was going to go off with Luke but Leia said she didn't want to fly the Falcon alone. This is another one of those things that has never been clear to me, there are books that say that you actually can't fly it alone, so I don't know what is right, but anyway. Jaina notes that Leia looks especially small in the seat that Chewie used to occupy, and they have been very quiet for the trip thus far.

"Not often I get to fly Dad's ship," Jaina said casually, hoping to open a conversation. 

 Leia reacted as if she had been yanked from a trance. "What?" 

"I said I was surprised Dad asked me to fly the Falcon home." 

  

Leia smiled at her. "Record holder at Lando's Folly ... Rogue Squadron pilot ... Your father thinks very highly of your skills." 

  

Jaina was quiet for a moment. "I hope he gets home all right." 

  

Leia laughed. "Don't worry, he'll hop a freighter or a trader's ship and probably beat us back to Coruscant. He doesn't need help in that area." 

  

"Or any other area," Jaina said, frowning. 

  

Leia made her lips a thin line and took her daughter's hand. "Don't confuse refusing help with not needing it."

"Why is he like that?" 

  

"How much time do we have?" Leia joked. "The short answer is that your father wasn't raised the way you and I were. He didn't have the support of a family or the comfort of a stable home." She shook her head. "He's been so many things - a swoop racer, a pilot, an officer in the Imperial Navy, a smuggler - but all those occupations have one thing in common: they require extreme self-reliance and a certain amount of aloofness. He didn't grow up accustomed to getting help, so he's certainly not about to ask for it." 

  

"But he's been acting like he's the only one who misses Chewie." 

  

"He knows that isn't true, and he's aware of how he's been acting. When he and I returned to Sernpidal after Chewie died, he told me he suddenly felt that the world had become unsafe - that he'd always thought of our family and close friends as almost immune to tragedy, living in a kind of bubble. How all of us have managed to survive the things we've been through is nothing short of astonishing. But all the narrow escapes, the flirting with death, only made Han feel more invulnerable. Chewie's death changed that. Your father even included Mara's illness as evidence of how insecure and unpredictable everything has become." 

  

Leia paused, recalling something. "It didn't occur to me until later on that I'd heard him express the same doubts once before - just after you and Jacen and Anakin had been kidnapped by Hethrir. Do you remember how protective he became?" 

  

Jaina shook her head. "Not really." 

  

"Well, you were pretty young. But trust me, your dad wouldn't let any of you kids out of his sight for months." Leia glanced at Jaina. "He'd like to have everyone believe he's a hardened skeptic, but the fact is, he runs on faith." 

  

"Then why is he keeping such a distance from everyone?" 

  

"Because giving in to his pain would require him to break down and really grieve, instead of shutting himself off from the world. And he's too slick for that." 

  

"Is that how he got that nickname?" 

  

Leia shook her head. "That's another story." 

  

Jaina tortured her lower lip with her teeth. "Mom, he will come home, won't he? I mean, we're all he has right now, right?" 

  

"Of course," Leia started to say, when C-3PO interjected, "I only hope it's enough." 

I did enjoy this little exchange, and I think it is a good example of how Leia knows Han so well because her assessment is entirely accurate. Although definitely a little sad that you can tell Leia is concerned that she may have lost him completely at this point. She is still maybe being more patient about it than Han really deserves though. I also liked the little call back to when the kids had been kidnapped and that after they came home Han wouldn't let any of them out of his sight. I can definitely see that being the case. Also good that Jaina doesn't really remember it, because go read the review of that book, you forget how traumatizing that ordeal would've been for those poor kids. I also liked the bit where Leia says Han still wants everyone to believe he is a hardened skeptic, but she knows he is not.

Oh, now random aside, remember how Mara is very sick? In this book she is doing especially poorly and was not able to accompany everyone to Kashyyyk. We also got this annoying line when Luke is with her: "... one of the more devastating aspects of Mara's illness had been its detrimental effect on the depth and intensity of their bond."

Ok, we get it, they are SOOOOO special and no couple ever has been so intensely bonded. Whatever, moving on.

Han finally makes it back to Coruscant and waited a few days to finally go check out the Falcon. Then we have a very lengthy passage where Han recounts every major event in its history, from the time he won her from Lando, narrow escapes, meeting Luke, his first kiss with Leia, all of the various modifications made over the years. Of course he desperately misses Chewie because he was such a big part of most of those memories. But after going over every detail of the exterior and the interior, he is interrupted. It's Roa, one of Han's old friends from way back in his smuggling days, and he wants Han's help. This is the beginning of bringing back some old school Han from before he became the family man. And I would even venture to say that doing it this way, like they do in these books, in this temporary way, is much more acceptable than how it happens in the so-called "new canon." But again, anyway....

Han brings Roa back to his apartment, and Roa gives Han a hard time about the fact that he is living in such a big, fancy place, where Han downplays it and says it's all just because of Leia. Han goes up to see her when Threepio tells him she is packing to leave again. She has been busy dealing with refugees. I think that is one of the things that makes this all more believable, Leia is not chasing after Han and trying to figure out what to do about him because she is way too busy dealing with this war. They share a rather short conversation and Han mentions he is not taking the Falcon and she can take it out if she wants.

Leia studied him. "Han, what's all this about?" 

  

"We're just going to check up on a mutual friend." 

  

"And you have to leave immediately?" 

 Han shot her a look. "Now or never, Leia. It's that simple." He grabbed a travel pack from the closet and began to stuff clothes into it. 

 Leia watched him for a long moment. "Can you at least stay until Anakin gets home? You've been avoiding him all week." 

 Han kept his back to her. "You can tell him good-bye for me." 

  

Leia moved deliberately into his view. "You two have more to say to each other than good-bye. He's confused, Han. You tell him he shouldn't feel responsible for what happened on Sernpidal, but your silence and anger send the opposite message. You have to help him through this." 

  

Han looked at her. "What's he need me for? He's got the Force." His eyes narrowed. "What was it Luke said to me? Something like, because the kids are Jedi, I won't be able to keep up with them much longer. Well, that's exactly what's happened. They've grown beyond me." 

  

"Luke didn't mean that the way you're taking it." Leia approached him. "Han, listen to me. Anakin's need to avenge Chewie has as much to do with pleasing you as absolving himself. He needs your understanding and your support. He needs your love, Han. Even the Force can't grant him that." 

  

Han blew out his breath. "If you're trying to make me feel guilty, award yourself a medal." 

  

"I'm not trying to make you feel guilty. I'm only trying to -" She stopped herself and let her shoulders sink. "Forget it, Han. You know what? Maybe it'll be good for you to get away for a while." 

  

Without comment, Han went to the wall unit and began to rummage through one of the drawers. In a moment he had hold of his thirty-yearold BlasTech DL-44. He ran his thumb over the nub of the front sight blade, then he slipped the weapon into its holster, purposely cut to expose the blaster's trigger guard. 

  

Leia watched him place the handgun in his pack. "Promise me that's for a quick-draw contest," she said worriedly.  

End of chapter. So, once again, Han and Leia are headed off on their own. I guess at least that last interaction could've probably been a lot worse, right? So, Han is on the ship with Roa, about ready to go, when Anakin shows up. They're still kind of awkward around each other, but I guess at least on slightly better terms than before and Anakin doesn't seem quite so afraid of Han.

"I - I have something for you." Anakin unclipped a small leather case from the belt that cinched his tunic. "Consider it a going-away present." 

  

The lightweight cylinder Han prized from the case was shorter than his hand and no more than four fingers wide. Scored along its length, it appeared to be made of some sort of shape-memory alloy. 

  

"I give up," he said at last. "What is it?" 

  

"A survival tool." Brightening slightly, Anakin took back the device and ran through procedures for accessing a score of miniature utensils, including knife blades, spanners, a luma, and the like. The tool even featured a macrofuser and a miniature transpirator. 

 For a moment, Han didn't know what to say. "Look, kid, it's a clever piece of hardware, but I don't have any hiking trips planned for the near future." 

"Chewie made it for me," Anakin said evenly. 

  

Han's face fell. "All the more reason I can't take it, if he made it for you." 

  

Anakin placed it in Han's hand nevertheless. "I want you to have it, Dad." His eyes darted nervously. 

 Han started to protest but thought better of it. The tool was a peace offering, and refusing to accept it would only widen the rift that had separated them since Sernpidal. 

  

"First, Chewie's bowcaster and shoulder bag, now a survival tool. I usually don't do this well at birthdays." He forced a smile and turned the tool about in his hands. "Who knows, maybe it'll come in handy." 

  

"I hope it does," Anakin muttered. 

  

Han lifted an eyebrow. "Why's that sound like some cryptic remark your uncle would make?" 

  

"I only meant that Chewie would get a kick out of your using something he made." 

  

"Yeah, he probably would at that," Han said, averting his gaze. "Thanks, kid." 

  

Anakin was about to speak when Roa called down to Han from the top of the ramp. 

  

"We're cleared for liftoff." 

  

Han turned to Anakin. "Time to go." 

  

"Sure, Dad. Take care."

   

They embraced, stiffly and briefly. Han started for the Happy Dagger but stopped halfway up the ramp and swung back to Anakin. "It's going to be all right, you know." 

Anakin stared at him, blinking back tears. "What is - the war, my feeling terrible about Chewie, or your taking off without letting anyone know where you're going?" 

And again, end of chapter. Honestly, this book is kind of annoying with abrupt chapter ends, seeming to leave off final remarks from Han. What did he say? Did he give any indication either way even if he didn't respond verbally? Apparently we'll never know. I guess we should at least be glad that Anakin is back to talking to Han and Han is no longer mad at Anakin. But seriously Han, give your family a break, huh? The small good thing is that not long after this as Han is remembering that terrible day he lost Chewie, he remembers his words to Anakin, "You left him." And he very much regrets having said that to him and wishes there were some way he could take it back. So I guess that's good. But maybe he should try telling his son that.

Han had not known where he was going when he left, and he wound up on..... Ord Mantell. The galaxy is really small in Star Wars because they are always mentioning and going to the same planets. That was also where Leia was going, and Han knows that. And not long later, we find out it also happens to be the Vong's next target.

Things start to get crazy and Han loses Roa, who may or may not be dead, and then finds himself saving a Ryn who won't leave him alone. At one point as they are escaping the Ryn says he is too young to die, and Han says, "Yeah, and I'm too well known." Exactly. Han Solo can't die. Even he knows that. Han also then finds himself in a similar situation that Anakin had been in on Sernpidal:

It also dawned on Han that he was in the same position Anakin had found himself in on Sernpidal, forced to choose between the lives of a shipload of strangers and the life of one friend. The realization pierced Han's heart like a vibroblade, and he swore to himself that if he made it home in one piece, he would put things right with his estranged son.

FINALLY he sounds like maybe he will soon come to his senses. After some more chaos, things calm down and Han actually runs into Threepio, and knowing the droid will not be able to keep this meeting to himself, Han relents and goes to see Leia in her hotel. She does at least attend to some of his wounds, applying bacta to his forehead. This little meeting though does not go well.

"What will you do now?" 

  

Abruptly Han stood up and paced away from the vanity, combing his hair back from his face with his fingers. "I don't know. Look for him, I guess." 

  

Leia regarded him with disbelief. "Look for him? How do you intend to do that?" 

  

Han shook his head. "I don't know yet." He glanced at Leia and scowled. "What do you expect me to do - pretend it never happened?" 

  

"Of course not. I only meant -"

Han waved his hand at her. "Ah, how could I expect you to understand?" 

  

Leia folded her arms and squinted. "You think I don't know what it's like to lose a friend?" 

  

Han held up a hand. "I don't need you reminding me about Alderaan or Elegos A'Kla -" 

  

Leia's eyes flashed. "Have you completely lost your mind? How dare you say that?" 

  

Han met her gaze. "Careful, Leia," he advised, "I'm not in the best mood." 

  

Leia clutched her neck in elaborate concern. "And I certainly wouldn't want my name added to the list of people who have crossed the infamous Han Solo." 

  

Han pivoted slightly to throw C-3PO a wry glance. "Great little fighter for her weight, don't you think, Threepio?" 

  

C-3PO stared at him. "Pardon me for asking, sir, but -" 

  

"Are you coming back to Coruscant with us?" Leia asked, planting her fists on her hips. 

  

Han shook his head. "It's like I told you, Roa and I were interrupted." 

  

"And you've no intention of telling me what this is about."

  

 Han shrugged. 

  

"What happened to the man who preferred a straight fight to sneaking around?" 

  

Han's brow furrowed and his jaw dropped a bit. "Who's sneaking around?" 

  

She frowned in disappointment. "You've changed, Han." 

  

"What are you talking about?" he protested. "I'm the same as ever. Timeproof, weatherproof, rust resistant." 

"You think so?" Leia took him by the shoulders and swung him around to face the mirror. "Take a good look." 

  

Han fell silent for a moment. "That's not the years, it's the parsecs." 

  

Leia exhaled wearily. "You can be so exasperating." 

  

He snorted. "Yeah, I guess you wish you'd married some pro zoneball player instead of a smuggler, huh?" 

  

Leia firmed her lips in anger. "That's not it at all." She gestured to the window. "It's reckless of you to be roaming about out there. For all you know, the Yuuzhan Vong have some kind of dossier on you. 

There might even be a price on your head." 

  

"I'm not exactly 'roaming about,' Leia." 

  

"Then tell me what you're doing." 

Han started to say something but stopped himself and began again. "I knew it would be a mistake to come here," he mumbled. 

  

Leia stepped back in genuine dismay. Now she stopped Han when he started to speak. "You know what I think, Han? I think that you should plot a course around Coruscant until you've worked this out. I mean it." 

  

Han nodded, tight-lipped. "Maybe you're right, Leia. Maybe that's for the best." 

  

She made no attempt to restrain him as he snatched his travel pack from the floor and let himself out. But no sooner did the door seal than she sank to the bed, as if stunned. 

  

"Well, that certainly wasn't in the plans," she said flatly to C3PO. 

  

"The plans, Mistress?" 

  

She looked at him askance. "It's an expression, Threepio. I didn't really have any plans." 

  

C-3PO appeared to slouch. Leia smiled in spite of herself. "Human thinking isn't all it's prized to be, Threepio. In fact, sometimes it's better not to know what's on someone else's mind."

This might be my least favorite Han and Leia passage in the EU that is not in COPL. So many things wrong here, and I'd also argue that this, to me, doesn't really feel like them, does it? Han is practically heartless, throwing Alderaan into the conversation. And given how he is acting, I actually don't think Leia gets nearly as mad as he probably deserves. I guess I can't really see Han being quite this selfish and talking to Leia like that. There were parts of this estrangement that seemed to make more sense to me, this was definitely not one of them. What do you think? Given this exchange, I wouldn't blame Leia for never wanting to speak to him again.

So, Han goes and gets drunk again. And then he decides he needs to get to Bilbringi and has Threepio arrange passage by impersonating Leia. Han still just seems like a heartless jerk through all of this. Han boards the Queen of the Empire, and briefly - BRIEFLY - thinks about how Lando apparently had met Bria aboard that ship. Then he runs into the Ryn he had helped escape before and learns his name is Droma. Droma is like the alien version of what you think John Boyega was probably like with Harrison Ford, acting like they are totally best friends and not leaving him alone. Of course he is a pilot, because just, of course he is. Han is still acting under an alias though and tells him he is more of a mechanic. Oh, but Han hears a song, and this happens:

From the restaurant came the strains of "Smoky Dreams," a song that had been perfectly matched to Bria Tharen's whiskey contralto, and one she would often sing.  

  

"The song reminds you of something," Droma said, observing Han cannily. 

  

Han smiled without showing his teeth. "Good old days." 

  

"How old?" 

  

"Old enough to be good," Han told him.

Stop thinking about your old girlfriend, Han!!! Ugh, it's so hard to tell if he is thinking of her because he wants her back or if it's just because Chewie was alive then. Newsflash, Han, Chewie was also alive most of the time you were with Leia! But Han just keeps on playing sabacc and pretending he is 22 again.

Leia is back with Luke and Mara, telling them about the whole incident and she is none too pleased with Han accusing her of not understanding his grief. Luke tries to be reassuring.

"When Han and I first met, he had me convinced that he was as reckless as he pretends to be," Luke continued. "But Obi-Wan said something I'll never forget. He said that there was more to Han than met the eye, and that he had real substance beneath his callous front." He smiled in recollection and looked at Leia. "Obi-Wan also said that only a special person would have a Wookiee for a companion - and that not just any Wookiee would be found roving the galaxy in the company of someone like Han." 

  

Leia smiled sadly. "You don't have to remind me that Han's special. But that's just the problem. He needs that kind of companionship. Chewie and Han, I don't know, they seemed to steady each other. Chewie kept Han in check."

Leia at least still thinks Han is special. Again, probably more than he deserves at this point. Threepio then bursts in frantically to tell them that the Queen of the Empire is under attack. They have no idea why he is so worked up over it, and he explains how Han is on board and it was his fault. So of course they decide they need to go after him.

"We could go," Luke said. 

  

Mara threw him a dubious glance. "Even if we used the Namadii Corridor, we'd never make it in time." 

 Leia shot to her feet. "You're forgetting one thing. We'll be flying the fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy!"

At least Han leaving Leia the Falcon turned out to be a good thing. 

Ok, so more battle stuff, craziness, and, like always, they all run into each other again amidst the chaos.

  

Leia's face lit up. She tried to run to Han's arms, but he deftly avoided contact. 

  

"Did you spot any departing shuttles when you were coming in?" he asked. 

  

She shook her head. "We -" 

  

"Leia, meet Droma," he said in a rush, dragging the Ryn between them. "Droma: my wife, Leia." Leia blinked. "Droma? Who -" 

  

"The corvette," Han said to Luke. "Is it away?" 

  

"No, Han -" 

  

"Reck must be headed for the Yuuzhan Vong ship," Han said, shooting Droma a look. "Reck?" Leia asked. "Peace Brigade," Han said, as if one word. "They reclaimed the defectors." 

  

Luke regarded him with intense interest. "Defectors?" Han turned to him and a fragile-looking Mara, clenching his fists in recall of what Elan had said about a Yuuzhan Vong-introduced illness. 

  

"No time to explain." He raced up the ramp. Droma glanced at Leia. "Nice to meet you," he said, then dashed up the ramp, stiff tail shaking behind him. 

  

Luke looked at Leia in puzzlement. "Han, wait," he started to say, when Leia laid a restraining hand on his arm. 

  

"No, Luke, let him go." She gazed up the ramp as Han and his accomplice were vanishing from view. "I've a feeling he needs this."

Ok, seriously? How understanding are we expecting Leia to be by now? Han has been trying to avoid her completely, and when that isn't possible, he just ignores her. It's all just getting to be a little too much and she doesn't seem to be all that bothered by any of it.

There was a bunch of stuff with 2 Vong, 1 being Vergere who you have heard/will hear more about. Apparently they were going to kill Han, but as you can imagine, they were not successful. They do, however, get a hold of Vergere's tears, which prove to be some sort of antidote to Mara's illness, and she utilizes them and immediately starts to feel better. So, good news there, I guess.

Eventually we skip ahead to the Solos actually being home, which should probably be nice but of course isn't really. Han mentions how something told him that he could've died at the hands of the Vong there but he was able to evade it, and he is telling this to Anakin while Leia looks on.

"Thanks." 

  

Anakin's brooding look changed to one of perplexity. "For what, Dad?" 

  

"For not telling me that I was hearing Chewie through the Force." 

  

Anakin smiled. "Yeah, like I'd even think about saying that to you." 

  

Han raised his index finger. "And don't even think about telling your uncle, either. All I need is for Luke to hear that I'm hearing voices. This is strictly between you and me and the stair pillar, got it?" He turned slightly in Leia's direction. "No offense, sweetheart." 

  

Leia showed him a blatantly counterfeit smile. "Better the stair pillar than the tread, sweetheart."

I never thought I would dislike reading Leia calling Han sweetheart, but it's like you can just tell she is saying it in anything but an endearing manner. But, there is at least some good news for father and son.

Han nodded smugly, stood up, and approached Anakin. "Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for showing up at Roa's ship that day." He proffered the survival tool. "If it wasn't for this ... well, you know all about that." 

  

"Thank Chewie," Anakin said. "He made it." 

  

Han shook his head. "I've already thanked Chewie. This is something between you and me." He grasped Anakin by the shoulders and tugged him into a tight embrace. 

  

Leia thought her heart might break. Her hand flew to her mouth and she fought back tears. 

 Han moved Anakin away, but he kept his hands on his son's shoulders. "I'm sorry for what I said and the way I've been acting since Chewie died, Anakin. We did everything we could have done at Sernpidal, and Chewie knew that. We both know who's responsible for his dying. But I don't want vengeance prompting you to do anything foolish, you understand? You and Jacen and Jaina are more important to me than you'll ever know." 

  

Anakin nodded and almost grinned. He and Han embraced once more.

Finally! A direct, unambiguous resolution to something, and Han admitting he was wrong. It's about time. Anakin tells Han that he has to go off with Luke, and Leia interrupts and tells them that Mara is on the upswing, and they share a little family group hug. Anakin finally goes to leave.

"Hey, kid," Han shouted as Anakin was heading for the skyway bridge. "Any chance that Lowbacca's become so busy with Jedi stuff that he and Waroo have forgotten about the life debt?" 

  

"Not when I spoke to him last." 

  

"Blast," Han muttered. "I guess I'm going to have to deal with this sooner or later." He glanced at Leia and smiled. "So Vergere was on the level, after all." He gave his head an incredulous shake. "It's funny the way things work out. You go in search of one thing and end up finding something else. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was the Force at work." 

  

Leia kept quiet. 

  

Han narrowed his eyes and nodded. "Wookiees have an expression, that the real quarry of every hunt is the unexpected. But I guess you tend to forget that when you've been out of the game for a long while." 

 Leia heard something different and troublesome in his tone. She indicated his travel pack. "That hasn't left your side since you got back," she said, as casually as she could. "Are you going to unpack or are you planning to have it stuffed and mounted?" 

  

Han moved for the pack. "No use in unpacking just yet." 

  

Leia folded her arms under her breasts. "I guess I should have seen this coming. Then you're not really home." 

  

"I've been home too much lately." He grinned at her. "I figured you must be getting tired of seeing me hanging around." 

  

Leia didn't move. "Don't try to turn this around, Han."

Sigh, here we go again. Han mentions going back out to help with Droma.

She took a step toward him. "Do Wookiees have anything to say about taking senseless risks? Not a moment ago I stood here listening to you caution Anakin against doing anything foolish, and now you tell me you're going off after Roa and Droma's missing clanmates. Make up your mind which way you want it to be, Han." 

  

"What's wrong with having it both ways?" 

 Leia snorted. "Relapse complete. Say hello to your former self, Han." 

  

"Relapse, nothing. This is the same me you married, sweetheart. Besides, you're one to talk. While I was moping around here, you were on Dantooine, in Imperial Remnant space, all over the place, taking exactly the same kind of risks." 

  

"Are you saying that if I give up helping refugees, you'll give up your fling with the past?" 

  

"My fling?" he said. "What do you call what you're doing?" 

  

Leia started to say something but changed her mind and began again. "The New Republic is in a tough spot, Han. I could use your help." 

  

Han held up his hands. "I've heard that before." 

  

"And you've usually listened." 

  

Han paced to the railing and back, avoiding her gaze. "In a way I'm already helping you out. I mean with Droma's family being refugees and all ..." 

  

Leia fell silent for a moment. As relieved as she was to see him finally emerging from grief, she couldn't help but sense that he was intent on starting over, as he had done all his life - from abandoned kid to Imperial officer, and from smuggler to Rebel leader - always recreating himself. From what little she knew of Droma from their few encounters, he seemed cut from the same cloth. For all Droma's concerns about his scattered clanmates, he was a drifter and a rogue at heart, addicted to adventure. 

  

Leia watched Han pace the edge of the balcony. "I don't know how you've done it for so long," she said finally. 

  

He stopped to look at her. "Done what?" 

  

"Raise a family. Walk so far from the edge." 

  

"That was just my 'fling' with stability." He tried out his grin, but it didn't work. "Look, I'm just leaving, okay? I've got obligations." 

  

"What about your obligations to us?" 

  

"This has nothing to do with us." 

  

"Oh, no?" She advanced on him. "I learned a long time ago that you couldn't be bound by anyone's preconceived ideas of who you should be. And I'll admit I love that about you. But keep one thing in mind: I'm not Malla, Han. I won't have you dropping by here once a year, using our home as a base for your escapades." 

  

Han curled his upper lip. "You're way off the mark." 

  

She smiled faintly. "I suppose we'll just have to see about that." 

  

Han frowned sadly, then put his arms around her. "Trust me." 

  

She leaned away to show him a dubious look. "I've heard that before." 

  

He raised her hand and kissed the palm. "Tuck that in your pocket for later on." 

  

Scooping up his pack, he made for the sky bridge without looking back.

I am getting PTSD reading this stuff. I remembered hating it when I read it all 15 or so years ago, and I might hate it even more now. And again, I'm not even sure how to take any of this. I mean, I guess at the very end Han is almost kinda sorta reassuring to her by saying that what is going on isn't really about them? And that Leia shouldn't worry that she is going to be like Malla? He's not doing a great job of being reassuring though, and continues to behave without any regard whatsoever for her feelings on anything.

Han then flies off with Droma, and they are trying to find his sister who is a refugee. It basically seems as though Droma is being set up to replace Chewie as Han's new copilot no matter how much Han tries to insist otherwise. And, end of book.

I think I'm going to have to give this one a Han and Leia factor of 1 again. Yes, another 1. But you read this review, right? Seriously, Han is just way too callous and selfish here. Being grief-stricken and running away is one thing, but being so seemingly heartless in his interactions with Leia is just too much for me. No, no, no. It's like how in COPL if Leia had really treated Han like that, I would want him to leave her. Well, here, if Han really treated Leia like that, I think I'd want her to leave him.

I can't tell you how much I want to get to the part of this series where they reconcile!