There

Disclaimer: Not mine. Just playing. Don't sue.

A/N: "Look at the size of that thing." That's what she said.

Summary: Part II, companion to "Here."

"Last time I talked to you; You were lonely and out of place; You were looking down on me; Lost out in space..."

Our Lady Peace, "Somewhere Out There"

--

Sometimes, Princess, I swear that you are colder than this god-forsaken planet that we've inhabited for the last few years. I've never seen you greet me with anything other than that icy gaze, the one that says you'll give me a moment of your time but only because you think I might use a blaster on you if you didn't. I wonder why you're angry at me, Princess, angry all the time. Why is that? Do you associate me with the day that your entire world fell apart and feel nothing but hatred every time you look at me? You don't act this way towards Luke, and he was there that day too. You're so confusing, sometimes, Princess, so infuriating sometimes that I just can't stand it anymore. There are days when I can't wait to get out of here, to get back to the life I left behind, to stop looking over my shoulder expecting to see a blaster bolt flying into my face, shot by one of the hundreds of bounty hunters looking to collect the enormous price on my head.

And then there are days when you look at me and smile a little, the little sad smile that's the best you can manage which I know must be so difficult for you because you have, after all, lost so much. Sometimes I am in awe of how you continue to go on day after day, barking orders at soldiers and droids and generals as if nothing has ever happened in your life to give you the slightest bit of pause. You have a lot of spark in your tiny body, Princess, and it is an amazing thing to witness. Frustrating as hell, yes, but still amazing.

But I'm glad that you decided to come to the Falcon for dinner because the truth is, Princess, I wasn't entirely sure that you would take the bait. But I need to talk to you about this, I need to get you alone for a minute and make you understand why it is necessary for me to go. And I need to see you eat something, some real food, one last time before I leave. Because, Princess, you sleep so little and you eat even less and as much as I don't want to admit it I worry that you'll waste away before my very eyes. You can't lead an entire war on no sleep and an empty belly. You'll kill yourself before that son of a bantha in the black helmet ever gets near you. You're so beautiful, Princess, so hauntingly beautiful. Your hair and your lips and your sad eyes. It's unfair that a person as beautiful as you has been thrown into something as ugly as war. I wish I could shield you from it all if you'd only let me, if I'd only let myself. I wish that I didn't have to tell you what I must.

I think that you know what I'm about to say before I begin to say it because you put down your fork, glance at me, and then stare at your plate, refusing to look at me again. Does it mean that much to you that I've stayed this long? Or are you just ready to get out of here?

"I have to leave," I tell you, trying, trying, trying to make you understand why, but you sit there in silence. No words, not a sound from your mouth. Don't I deserve a little better than that? I mean, the least you could do, Princess, is be a little nicer to me. I came back for you, after all. I came back a little for Luke, too, but mostly I came back for you. I came back because of what I saw in you after we had escaped the Death Star and the TIE Fighters and you'd had a chance to sit down and breathe and be alone with your thoughts. And Princess, I saw you. I saw the pain in your eyes, I saw this deep, gaping wound form in your soul, I saw you catch your breath and fight back the tears that I know you wanted to cry after the destruction of your very home. And, Princess, I knew then, even though I didn't know you at all, that I never wanted to see that pain again, to give you a reason to feel that pain again. And so I, the heartless mercenary, came back and I helped to the best of my abilities in the slightest attempt to stitch up the emptiness that you have to feel in the very depths of your heart. I did all that for you, Princess, so the least you could do is say something, anything, acknowledge that I've been here and that I will soon be gone.

I don't want to leave you. But you know that I have to go, Princess. I'm a dead man if I don't leave and I won't be doing you or the Rebellion any good if I have to watch my back every time we go near a civilized system and get involved in shootouts with bounty hunters like we did on Ord Mantrell. And if they keep sending us on missions together, Princess, like they've been doing so often, you're in danger too and I just can't stand that thought. You get into your own trouble, Princess, and I want to keep you away from that too, but I will never, ever, ever if I can help it put you into trouble that was my doing.

My doing. Not my ship's doing.

You're so quiet, Princess, that I worry you've left this conversation so I say your name and put a hand on your shoulder and you jump at my touch and prove to me that your mind has been somewhere else. Where? And then you look at me and I see it again, the very pain that I never, ever wanted you to have to feel. Your eyes, Princess, are like large brown pools into which I can so easily get lost, but now they are swimming with the tears that you won't let fall and I'm taken aback that my having to leave has had this effect on you.

And then you say it. "Please don't go." It's barely a whisper, but it rings in my ears. It's one of the most urgent things I think I've ever heard you say. Don't go? But you don't need me here, Princess. You've got plenty of pilots, plenty of friends. You've got no need for a roughed-up pirate that's as good as dead anyway.

"We need you here."

"No you don't, Sweetheart. You've got hundreds of great pilots."

"I need you here."

What? You need me here? Her royal highness? You've never needed anything before, much less me. I thought you didn't even like me.

"You what?"

"I need you here. I need you to stay."

"Oh?"

I can't believe that that was the best reply I could muster. You just told me that you need me. Me. The more conceited part of me wants to find out exactly why it is you want me to stay so I can exploit it in our future conversations. The slightly more intelligent part of me says that it was hard enough for you to admit even that and I should just accept what you've said and move on.

"So there you have it, Captain."

You won't look at me. Are you ashamed of how you feel? Do you think I'm going to judge you as weak? You may be many things, Princess, but weak is not among them. I could never think that about you. I reach a hand out to touch your face but you jerk it away. Fine. Instead I decide to place my hand on yours and give it a little squeeze. Your tiny hand feels so delicate in mine, and so cold. You are wasting away, Princess. I've eaten as many meals as possible with you to try and get you to consume more food and you just won't do it. I can't imagine how you'd shrink away if I left.

I feel my heart beat the slightest bit faster when you squeeze back.

"Well, Princess, I suppose I could stay a little longer. The Falcon could stand a few more repairs, anyway."

You finally meet my eyes and I see the tight smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. No, Sweetheart, I won't tease you about this.

Well, not yet.

"Hey," I tell you, motioning to your food. "You don't get to leave the table until you finish all of your dinner."

"Captain, I don't think that you are in any position to be ordering me around."

"Look, Sweetheart, you're on my ship so you obey my rules."

You smile a little more at that and pick up your fork and begin eating again. We sit in comfortable silence while we finish and I'm amazed that you and I don't need words between us all the time. You're a slow eater, Princess, you take tiny, tiny bites, but you finish it all. I'm proud of you. But now I guess I've kept you away from your duties long enough, Princess, so you can leave if you want.

I stand up and begin to clear your place. You catch my wrist and look intently into my eyes and you say my name. Your hands are smooth and your voice is even more so. You've managed to swallow whatever tears you wanted to cry and replace them with that icy shell that protects you that I pretend to hate but really adore so much.

"Han."

You say my name. Should I call you by yours?

"Leia?"

"Thank you."

I know that you don't mean for the nerf steak.

--