Leia hadn't intended to run away. That wasn't the plan.

Not that there had been much of a plan, just instinct, just a clear directive in her being: I have to get out of here.

She wasn't sure why it had happened now. She'd gotten through the toughest of the anniversaries just fine. Three months ago, she'd breathed her way through the commemoration of the first year since her planet's demise, followed quickly by the celebration of the Rebellion's victory at Yavin. Thankfully, Han and Chewie had spared her (and Luke, and Wedge, who also hated celebrating that day) from the post-ceremony celebrations by letting them take refuge in the Falcon for the remainder of the day.

That explained why her instincts had led her here. At least, partly explained it.

This feeling, this instinct had really started in the days leading up to her father's birthday. It was like a drum rattling in her own chest, a heartbeat only she could feel and hear. But not hers.

Ga-gung, it said. Ga-gung.

She'd thought it was dread, her body trying to gird itself for another anniversary, another reminder of everything she'd lost. And when she'd made it through Bail's birthday relatively unscathed, she'd assumed it would go away. But it had followed her, taunted her.

"This really was a brilliant strategy," Mon Mothma had said to her quietly one afternoon, after a High Command meeting. "Your father would be so proud."

"Thank you." Ga-gung. Ga-gung.

Poring over plans with General Rieekan to determine from which of the secret accounts around the galaxy to draw funds this time, she'd seen her father's distinctive script on a flimsi. Ga-gung. Ga-gung, ga-gung.

It was everywhere, suddenly, and it wouldn't leave her alone.

Certain things helped. She barely noticed it while in the field. Although, to be fair, eluding Imperial agents did tend to make her own heart beat faster, drowned out any other thought or sound. Talking with Luke seemed to help in the moment, but their talks tended to make her reflective later, which made the beat harder to ignore. Her exchanges with Han—which sometimes felt dangerous in a different way, one that she couldn't yet classify—were a brief respite as well.

That might explain why she'd picked a fight with Han this morning. Not that she would ever admit to having done so, because Leia Organa was not raised to do anything so childish as to pick a fight.

Lelila, you know better than this. So do better, her father's voice said.

She'd even yelled at her father in her dreams last night, a defiant teenager all but pounding on his chest. Why did you leave me? she'd demanded.

I trusted you with my life, he'd answered, and that was when she'd woken up.

It was still the middle of the sleep cycle, but she'd gotten up, dressed, fixed her braids. Gone in search of late-night kaffe and something productive to do. It wasn't the first time she'd abandoned sleep over the last few weeks. She was almost used to it.

The heartbeat had followed her anyway. Ga-gung. Ga-gung.

I have to get out of here.

She'd gotten through most of the rest of the day, avoided Han to prevent a shameful replay of their morning argument, held out until five minutes before she was supposed to meet with General Rieekan about plans for a new base.

I have to get out of here. That was almost louder than the heartbeat, now.

Leia watched the time for their meeting come and go. She didn't go. She didn't comm to cancel. She turned off her comm.

I have to get out of here.

And somehow, she'd ended up here.

The Falcon seemed to have its own hum, its own heartbeat at times, even when its pilot and co-pilot were nowhere to be found. They were both on duty, she knew, having drawn up the duty roster herself.

The Falcon's hum seemed to quiet the drumming in her chest, at least a little, so she drew closer. Before she could think, she was punching in the codes Han had given her when they'd hidden out during the Yavin commemoration. The ramp lowered.

She seemed to be doing everything without thinking, just doing, though occasionally her mind would keep her from anything exceptionally rash, like attempting to literally fly away. That would attract attention, end up grounding her. She didn't want attention, she just wanted the Ga-gung inside to quiet down.

If she'd been thinking rationally, she certainly wouldn't have ended up in Han's cabin. But she did. And somehow, as she sat down on the bunk, the drumming in her chest began to quiet and the voice inside her no longer demanded to leave. It felt warm, right.

She lay down, the scent of Han's sheets an odd comfort, and she suddenly had a vivid memory from her childhood.

It was when Auntie Tia's pittin ATAV, the one she let Leia name, was just a baby. Leia had begged to keep ATAV in her room one night, but the little one's pitiful mewing cry was making it impossible to sleep. Bail had come in to see why Leia's light was still on way past bedtime, and found her desperately trying to comfort the little animal.

I don't know what to do, Leia had cried.

Bail had gently picked up the pittin in one of his hands and guided Leia back to bed with the other. When she was settled, he'd laid ATAV on Leia's chest. She was taken away from her mother too early, he'd said. Hold her close to your heart, so she can feel it beat. It will comfort her, make her feel like she's home.

Sure enough, once snuggled next to Leia's heart, ATAV stopped crying and soon went to sleep. Bail had waited by Leia's bed, placed ATAV in her warm nest beside the bed to keep her safe, then kissed Leia on the cheek before leaving the room.

Goodnight, Lelila.

Goodnight, Papa.

"What in nine hells makes you think I know where she is?" Han demanded. "I've been on duty, same as you."

[She seemed very upset this morning. What were you two fighting about this time?] Chewbacca asked.

"Somethin' stupid, same as always," Han said. "What, you trying to blame me for her running off now?"

[I am not blaming you for anything. I just want to make sure the Little Princess is alive and well,] Chewie retorted. [She missed a meeting, and no one has seen or been able to reach her for hours.]

Han paused. This was serious, he had to admit. Blowing off meetings and comms was not like Leia. "All right. Let me change my shirt, and we'll help find her." He disappeared into his cabin.

Before Chewie even had time to get his crossbow, Han was back.

"Uh, I know where she is."

[I could make a good deal of money from this information], Chewie joked, after they had both looked in on—and med-scanned, just in case—a peacefully sleeping Leia, curled up on Han's bunk as if it were her own.

Han's eyes turned stormy. "I swear, if you ever—"

[You know I would never do that to the Little Princess], Chewie said. [But it is good to know that you care.]

Han ignored his teasing. "We should let her sleep," he said, already moving on to what to do next. "She's been running on fumes for weeks."

Chewie nodded. [You will let Luke and the General know she is all right?]

"Yeah. But not a word to anybody else."

The first thing Leia noticed upon waking was what wasn't there. The drumming in her chest had stopped.

No, not stopped. Aligned. The beat of her sorrow, her loneliness, her loss was still there, but it just was, now. It was part of her, rather than working against her. She breathed with relief, then opened her eyes.

Oh, no. What have I done?

She was in Han's cabin on the Falcon. In his bunk. The lights were clearly set for the morning cycle, there was a kaffe smell drifting in from the galley, and there was no way Han had missed seeing her in his bunk.

He'd left her a note.

Hope you finally got some good sleep. Come grab some breakfast when you're up.

Her first instinct was to sneak out anyway, just to avoid the embarrassment of facing Han, but she'd been raised better than that.

"Mornin' Princess," Han greeted. Leia was relieved to hear no hint of mockery in his voice. "Sleep okay?"

"I did, thank you," she said, trying to figure out how to bring up the obvious question: Who else knows I'm here? "I'm sorry I took over your bunk," she said.

Han shook his head. "No problem. Next time, just give someone a shout, yeah? Rieekan was pretty worried about you." He lifted the kaffe pot towards her. "Want a cup?"

"Please," she said.