[BURR]
Why do you write like you're running out of time?
Write day and night like you're running out of time?
Ev'ry day you fight, like you're running out of time
Keep on fighting. In the meantime—

- "Non-Stop", Hamilton, Lin-Manuel Miranda.

"Han?"

He sighed, as he heard the Princess call out for him. Why had she come aboard his ship this time?

"Han, are you-?"

"in the hallway!" he shouted. "Watch your step!" In addition to the mechanical compartment he as working in, nearly all of his smuggling holds were open as they moved around their contents in preparations for all the new supplies they'd hopefully be picking up on this next trip.

"Are you going to be ready to take off by tomorrow morning?" He could hear the skepticism in her voice as she surveyed the torn open all way. He remained below.

"Well, Your Highness, this trip is awfully last minute, so I have to shuffle around a few things to make room for these arms you're hoping to pick up."

"What are you fixing this time?' She had located the hatch he was in, and was staring down at the ratchet in his hand.

"Routine," he told her.

"I'm sure."

Han turned his attention back to the bolts he was tightening. "Don't worry, Your Highness, she'll be ready by Oh-Six-Hundred." Han worked in silence for a moment, cranking the tool in his hand. After he finished with the ratchet, he looked up, wondering if she'd left. It was strange for her not to be talking. Not only was she still there, but she was sitting with boots dangling into the hold. She wasn't paying attention to what he was doing. Her gaze was down the hallway, but she seemed to be completely zoned out.

"Did you need something?"" he asked. Nothing. Han reached up with the ratchet, and tapped her boot. "Did you need something?" She startled and looked down at him. "What did you need?" he asked again.

"Hmm?"

This was strange. He'd never she her with anything less than laser focus. The girl couldn't seem to ever relax. "I'm guessing you came on board for a reason."

"Well..." she started, "I wanted to talk details about the mission."

They had already discussed the details. Han bit back that retort. Something was bothering her. If she just needed a spot to hide out for a bit, fine. Normally, he would have been fine letting her just sit there with her legs dandling, staring off into space, but he needed to weld.

"Can you give me ten minutes?" he asked. "Just gotta weld this."

"Routine," she smirked.

"Yes, routine," he snapped back. It was routine. This weld routinely popped. "Can you wait in the lounge?" he asked. "You shouldn't be looking down while I'm doing this."

Leia nodded, and got up without a fight. "Is there caf?"

"Maybe?" he offered. "There was. Chewie might have finished it. Make more if you want."

She left him alone in the hallway to work. Half an hour later—there had been a few more welds to repair than he'd thought—Han hoisted himself out of the mechanical compartment and slid the hatch shut. She hadn't come back to hound him when the ten promised minutes had come and gone, so he figured he could take the time to close up the smuggling holds too.

He could smell the caf she'd made from down the hall. Good. He could use a cup. He wiped the grease from his hands with a rag and headed for the lounge. The Princess was sitting on the bench behind the crew table, her knees pulled to her chest. One hand was wrapped around her mug of caf, the other arm rested on her knees with her chin in her elbow. She looked so tiny, curled into a ball like that.

Han crossed to the counter and poured himself a mug. If she'd noticed him come in, she didn't say anything, nor move. She didn't need to talk to him about anything, it seemed, she just wanted to hide out for a while. In the year he'd know her, she was going non-stop, constantly surrounded by her fellow leaders.

He sat on the bench beside her, and leaned back against the wall. It was nice to just sit for a while. He'd made five smuggling runs for the Rebel Alliance in the last month, and was looking forward to a bit of a break. But he arrived back on Yavin to the news of a highly valuable cache of weapons that Leia was going to negotiate for. Of course, he had been the requested pilot. They had reached a sort of truce of late, and she when she wasn't being haughty, he actually kind of enjoyed her company.

He sat there drinking his mug of caf for a half hour in absolute silence. Silence was not something he usually associated with Leia's company. She hadn't moved at all—not even to take a sip of her caf, which was still full, he noted, and sure by this time, cold. Was she asleep? He leaned forward to look. No, she wasn't.

It was more than just needing some time alone. Something was really bothering her. Han wondered how long it would be before someone came looking for her. There was surely some meeting she was supposed to be in. The Alliance loved their meetings. He tried to attend as few as possible.

Han pushed himself to his feet and returned to the decanter of caf. He didn't quite fill his cup with the hot brown liquid, instead leaving a little for Leia once she snapped out of her fog.

Han sat back on the bench, and she suddenly became aware of his presence, jumping in surprise. He caught her hand that held the mug just before it ended up in her lap.

"Let go," she told him, still catching her breath.

He did as she requested, and he half expected her to bolt from the lounge immediately. But she didn't. She sat back against the wall and closed her eyes for a moment, then focused in on her mug, taking a sip. She scowled at the now cold beverage.

He held out his hand to take it from her.

"I need the energy," she said, taking another sip with a scowl.

"I know," Han replied, reaching in again. "There's more. I'll dump the cold one and pour a hot one."

Leia nodded and let him take the mug. He poured the last of the caf and brought it over to the table, sitting back down beside her and handing it to her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She took a sip. "About what?" she challenged.

"Something's bothering you," he replied, without pause.

"I'm fine." She sat up stiffly.

"Princess, in the last hour you've been quieter than I've ever seen you in the year since I met…" he trailed off as it hit him. It has been a year. Almost exactly. And he'd met her mere hours after her planet had been blown away. "Alderaan."

He had never really thought about it. To the Rebel Alliance, the loss of Alderaan represented a reduction in supplies, but it was a much larger loss for the Princess. He didn't recall her ever showing emotion about it.

She snuck a glance at him before quickly returning her gaze to her mug and nodding. After a moment, she spoke, "This year its hard. Harder than when I watched it happen."

"Watched it happen?" Han repeated. Holy hell, what had they put this girl through on that Death Star?

She nodded, blinking furiously. Leia shook her head now, angry at her own show of emotion. She put her mug down on the table, and curled her knees to her chest again. turning her back to Han.

He had absolutely no idea how to proceed. Crying women had always made him uncomfortable, and she clearly didn't want him to see it. But then again, she'd chose the Falcon as a safe place to hide out. He placed a hand on her shoulder, expecting her to pull away, but she didn't. He leaned in a little closer, raking his hand back and forth across her shoulder blades.

"Last year, you were fighting for your own life," Han started, "you had to stay sharp, focused. And you were. You put aside your grief. This year the danger is less…imminent." Leia nodded.

Han chuckled, changing tactics. "It's why you proposed this trip. It didn't need to happened now, back to back with the other five, but you need to be busy."

She swiveled to face him. "You'd rather have your time off."

"I could have said no."

She contemplated that. He contracted with the Alliance on a trip by trip basis. "You aren't turning down anything while the money keeps flowing in."

No, he wasn't. And missions that involved taking her somewhere were even more appealing. Not only did they pay better, but he had to admit, he rather enjoyed verbally sparring with Her Highness.

"I knew you wouldn't turn this down, she continued, pushing herself to her feet.

Han cocked an eyebrow at her. "I see. So you specifically requested me." He stood facing her.

She crossed her arms in front her chest glaring at him. "I did," she told him, holding her ground. "No special treatment here."

He gave her a hard time like he would anyone else, perhaps more so. "You like that."

"I do. And you get the job done efficiently.," she told him in that bureaucratic voice of hers.

He stepped closer. "And what job is that?" he purred.

Leia sighed, exasperated, and stalked to the doorway. "Is the ship ready?"

"You think I'd be sitting her if she wasn't?"

"Oh-six-hundred."

"Yes, Your Worshipfulness," he grinned.

She rolled her eyes at him as she turned to go, but a smile was tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Protests to the contrary aside, it seemed she liked verbally sparring with him too. How quickly it had pulled her out of her funk. It was probably exactly why she'd come here in the first place.