He suspected something was amiss when he stayed.

Oh, sure, he was a recognized Hero of the Rebellion, and that came with lots of perks. Everyone was happy to see him all the time (even Princess Leia, not that he was paying attention to her in particular). He was invited to every party (or at least all the raucous ones thrown by the pilots… sometimes even the princess would show up). People gave him stuff, too. One day he'd come back to the Falcon to find a crew of ten dragging an enormous replacement part for the Falcon's hyperdrive. They said it was a spare from a ship destroyed in the battle and that they'd been told by…someone (there were some shifty eyes at that point in the explanation)… that there was no other ship it would fit. Han suspected this was less than accurate but wasn't going to look too closely into the happy coincidence.

Chewie kept telling him to enjoy himself, especially since many young women, men, and beings of various genders were eager to mate with him. He knew that Chewie was correct. He wasn't oblivious to the admiring looks he was getting in the corridors, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to pay attention.

Which was, in fact, a little concerning.

No, Han only had eyes for one particular being, the most infuriating, willful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. Everywhere he went on base, he saw her - sometimes regal, sometimes mischievous, sometimes furious… always with those big eyes. He couldn't seem to avoid them, even when he closed his eyes.

Still… it wasn't a problem. It was only infatuation, and would go away in time. He figured he'd do a few more missions, say goodbye, and that would be that.

There was nothing to worry about.

Staying for more missions had been a mistake.

Somehow, he'd ended up basically acting as Leia's personal chauffeur, ferrying her to location after location, both of them relying on quick wits and Han's piloting skills more than once as the Empire tried to catch them.

It was a situation that forced them into proximity far too often. Han had come to respect Leia's intelligence and instincts for people, which was worrying enough, but the worst danger by far was in how… comfortable he was around her. She wasn't helping matters any, either. He often found her on his ship, whether they were on-base or not, bare feet tucked under her as she read reports or at least pretended to read reports (he'd caught her reading novels more than once, not that he blamed her for taking a few minutes to herself).

He hadn't yet been able to bring himself to demand his personal space back. He knew how hard she worked, how much she gave and gave to anyone who asked anything of her.

Besides, half the time she was there Luke came, too, and Han liked the kid. Naive and a little spooky, sometimes, but… true.

Fine. He could enjoy all of this for now, but he was still going to have to leave. Sometime.

Fucked. He was fucked.

One final mission, he'd thought. Then he really had to take care of this bounty. Maybe he'd even come back afterward, not that he'd said anything of the sort, not that he'd allowed himself to think it.

Things were getting… weird. Quiet conversations that went late into the night. He caught himself bending toward her, more than once, halfway to kissing her before remembering why that was a bad idea. And he'd seen it on her face, too, that same wanting.

The mission itself was strained by the effort to keep things normal, but they were managing, dancing around each other, keeping just enough distance until suddenly they weren't and Han was kissing her and she was kissing him back and then they were being shot at and Leia went down and Han's whole life just stopped.

Everything in the galaxy stopped.

And then Leia rolled to her feet and took out their attacker with a brilliant shot, almost impossible, almost without looking, and they broke for the Falcon as fast as they could.

And Han was fucked.

He was so fucked that even as he knew how fucked he was he almost didn't care. He would happily be fucked for the rest of his life, as long as he never had to see her like that again. Maybe he couldn't guarantee that, seeing as she was helping to lead a rebellion, but he could make sure that he wasn't the reason for it, like he'd almost been today. Because that shooter had been after him. He'd scanned the news after they'd taken off, seen the mention of the bounty hunter, and knew today was his fault.

So he'd leave.

And leave… her.

Fuck.