AN: So, full disclosure - I sat down to write something else. Something silly and fluffy and fun. But the tiny Han Solo in my brain wouldn't play nicely until I told this story (I swear I'm not crazy, it's just easier to do what he says most of the time.), so here it is. The NJO series really bothered me, for SO many reasons, but like anything annoying and controversial (COPL - anyone?), it also provides a lot of angsty-goodness fodder. Which is where this story comes in. Fair warning: it's sad (but we know that it does "end" okay, not here - but in the books...). But I'm also very happy with it, and dare I say... proud?

I hope you enjoy it as well. :)

For anyone keeping track of EU timelines, this is set before the opening scenes in "Agents of Chaos I - Hero's Trial"

(For anyone interested - I'm a HUGE Roman / Latin Nerd - I know, like I needed another thing to dork-out over, right!? - in regards to the title, "Maeror Meror" is Latin for "The Grief". I found it sadly fitting.)

Oh yeah, and not mine blah blah blah.

Bathed in the bright white lights of the bustling city outside, the room was cold.

So familiar.

Before sleep could claim her, she had sat, half curled across the headboard, remembering back through the countless nights they had shared here together. Simply being. Stealing time alone as the galaxy drifted along. A small smile crept across her face as her thoughts drifted across the memories of them both relishing the private tradition of breakfast in bed with their children on Saturdays. The twins curled up together in the middle of the large bed, Jaina in her usual place tucked securely against Han's side while Jacen leaned against her knees; laughing as they all watching Anakin turn very pink while unsuccessfully trying to suck up berries through a 'straw' made out of a rolled up pancake.

That memory faded quietly into the dark coldness which had settled into their little private world.

Curling tighter into herself; Leia sighed and drifted off to sleep, memorizing her city; watching the traffic slide silently across her view, half-counting the small dotted lights of repulsor-lifts flying up and down the adjacent structures.

Sometime later, the lights still brightly illuminating the cold empty room around her, Leia gasped and stuttered back further up the bed, dragging the blankets more tightly around her; having woken from a dream she couldn't remember, trying to grasp the edges of it as it fell away from her.

A dark dream.

The kind that had been kept at bay for so many years, only to reappear as she slept in cold loneliness; just as she had another lifetime ago.

They had been whole. A family. Happy. But now?

A nervous energy buzzed across the air. Sweeping through the space with a cold and unnerving certainly. Reaching out quietly, Leia touched the silence. Anakin.

She sighed and tossed the covers off, picking up the discarded sweatpants which hung half off the bottom of the bed, she tugged them on and made her way to the fresher. Auto-active lights on the night setting brightened the space in a dim warm glow. Common place items on the vanity a stark contrast to the impossible turn her life had taken only a short few weeks ago. Han's razor sat once again in its cradle. She had found it, after a particularly bad evening two - no, she stared harder at her own tired face in the mirror - three days ago, on the floor of the shower; having survived being flung across the room, it simply lay waiting for someone to restore it to its proper place.

Han had stormed around the apartment that evening - thankfully while their children were out - hurling destruction and pain, deflecting any attempt for her to get near him. She followed him, having run out of constructive things to try to do. Begged him to stop, look at her, talk to her, anything other than what he was angrily doing. He had stopped suddenly, spun on his heel and grabbed her, kissing her so roughly she jerked away in surprise. He released her just as quickly and stepped back, distant again. Arrogantly staring at her. She moved towards him, desperate to touch him. He turned; brushing passed her and was gone.

No 'fuck-you'. No 'goodbye'. Nothing. Three days.

And now, for the first time in a long time, she was lonely.

Anakin had been noticeably quiet and absent for the last few weeks. Choosing to spend more time away from home then he ever had. Perhaps escaping the pain, anger and his own guilty suffering which swam so easily around this space. Jacen was off-world and Jaina has taken up residence at the squadron barracks. Gods only knew what kind of mischief she would cause there. The thought of her daughter made Leia smile for the first time in days, a real genuine smile.

Jaina was so much like Han. Kindred spirits; each tending to know exactly how the other was feeling or what the other was thinking. It was eerie at times.

Jaina had been steadfastly avoiding Han for the last week or so. Easy enough, now she was living somewhere else. But that was, in itself, strange and worrying. No one had dared to breathe Chewie's name for the last two weeks, for fear of causing Han more pain. That was wrong, Leia knew. They should be talking about him. Laughing at all the trouble he had managed to find with them. The children especially felt the loss. Not more than Han, but differently. Chewie had been a constant in their lives, often around when she and Han weren't able to be. They had always been his first priority. No one had decided that outright, but that didn't change the fact that as soon as they came along, something shifted; the dynamic changed once again.

Dragging a hand around her neck, Leia stepped out into the darkened landing and felt for the top step with her foot. Muffling a curse for there being no manual light - for what must have been the thousandth time since they had moved in when the children were small - she made her way down the stairs. She found him in the living area. sitting on the sofa in the sunken conversation pit across from the large window. He stared unmoving into the night, across the bar where his father had once housed a stunning collection of glassware, bottles and liqueurs. The bar now held nothing - save one bottle of Ruusan Ice Wine Leia tended to drink on rare occasions. Everything else either unfortunately hurled in anger or drank in grief. There was nothing left.

Leia cautiously stepped around him, sliding a light hand across his shoulder. He nodded his head stiffly at her touch and moved slightly over to accommodate her beside him.

They sat in silence. Neither knowing what to say for a long time. Leia shivered in the cold air and moved to wrap a blanket across Anakin's shoulders.

"Dad's not home yet." Anakin stated quietly, his voice strained as his jaw clenched sporadically; as if tensing in time with unspoken words and worries. Leia watched him for a moment longer before replying, willing her voice not to shake and give herself away. He would know of course, he would have already felt it. Her fear, pain and regret. All her worries would be weighing as heavily on his mind as they were on hers. Her baby boy. The sensitive one. He had tiptoed around the apartment for days. Avoiding her, maybe. "I'm sorry, mom."

"This is not your fault, Anakin. None of this is." she replied softy but firmly. "He's out with a few friends, he'll be home soon." she continued, settling herself more comfortably and managing what she hoped was the same calm casual tone she had used so many years ago, when surrounded by three small faces, worried and wondering when their dad was coming home from whatever run-around he had been sent on.

"Mom. Stop. I know."

"What do you know, Little Jedi?" The corner of his mouth turned a fraction upwards at his pet-name, unused for so many years. 'Little' wasn't even remotely correct anymore; he was growing into a man. Tall and broad, he and Jacen both an almost identical match to their father.

"He hates me." Her eyes widened and watered instantly. She moved swiftly, kneeling in front of him, clasping her hands around his.

"Anakin. No. You're father loves you, don't ever think that. He could never hate you."

"He does. It's my fault,"

"No-"

"It is. Everyone knows it's my fault."

"Anakin. Listen to me. Chewie was part of this family, and he loved us as much as we love him. Chewie saved your life. He saved you, so you could save your dad. That's what he wanted. And your dad knows that. He's grieving. That's all. He doesn't hate you Ani. He couldn't never, ever hate you."

Anakin shook his head, staring down at his tightly clasped hands in silence. Leia could feel her heart inside her chest, crushing itself tightly with the effort to continue beating.

"He loves you, Ani." she repeated, moving a hand up to cup his face, letting her fingers trace the tousled ends of his hair. So much pain.

"I don't know, mom, he-"

"It's true baby. He's hurting. We all are. This is just something your father needs to do. He needs to be alone for a bit. I know it doesn't make this better - and it doesn't make it hurt any less. But it is true."

"What about Jaina?" he asked in a harsh whisper, tears threatening in his eyes.

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" She stroked his cheek once more. "What about Jaina?"

"Has he seen her?"

"I don't know. She didn't say."

"She could die mom."

Not trusting herself to speak, Leia nodded quickly a few times. Yes, she could; so many of them did. Every day during the war they lost pilots. They lost friends and family.

"She thinks she's too tough to die. I hope she's right."

Leia forced a smile. "She may stubborn, but she's not reckless. She'll be okay, Ani."

"You don't know that."

No. She didn't, but she couldn't say so. They had to believe they would all make it - Han included. The alternative was too horrid to consider.

"You need to sleep, Ani."

"So do you," he sighed, forcing a crocked smile at her and pushed himself to stand. "Good night, mom."

"Good night my darling. I love you." He smiled at that, and swiftly bent to kiss the top of her hair while he passed her, slowing walking to his room down the long hallway. It wasn't all that long ago, she pondered as she watched him disappear through his bedroom door, when he used to race back and forth down the hallway with Jacen while Han timed them to see who was the fastest. Jaina would sprawl on the floor of the living room pit reading book chips or lean against the stairs watching her brothers, while declaring that while they might be faster, she was undeniable smarter, as she didn't feel the need to run up and down the hall all evening.

Half pulling herself back up the stairs to bed, her mind fell back to only a few months ago. No war, no anger. When they still had Chewie, the children were at home, Mara was well; they were a family. She and Han were happy. She stopped abruptly in the doorway to their bedroom, leaning against the frame for support. She could see it, almost feel it. It buzzed sharply through the air around her and was gone. A memory. An evening alone together nearly three months ago. The children were out, and after a bottle and a half of wine, she had started teasing him about something unimportant and silly. He had lunged towards her, catching her solidly around the waist and hauled her against him, kissing her soundly. Drunk, for the first time in a long time, she giggled and ran her hands up his chest. The night had gone on from there. They had made it - somehow - up the stairs and through the doorway before he scooped her up and tossed her backwards onto the bed. He joined her, climbing across her body, pressing her back and down into the mattress. She had known that look. She loved that look.

How quickly things change. But, she thought sadly as she pushed her way into the room and discarded the sweater again on the bench at the foot of the bed, that's how war always happened; suddenly and without consideration for anyone else. War was indeed a very selfish thing.

Dimming the glass from the windows, Leia slipped out of her sweatpants and into bed, breathing deeply into the t-shirt which enveloped her, now the only thing she wore. Lonely most night lately, she had started to – again – sleep in Han's old shirts. The ones that would never be allowed anywhere expect the mechanical bay or the apartment. The good ones. The ones that smelled strongly of him. Covered in stains and holes. Softly worn and faded.

A light crash from the landing outside followed by a muffled curse as the door slide open pulled her away from sleep once more. A moment of panic was followed quickly by the startling realization of who was making all the noise caused her to remain silent, watching, stock still - the way one might watch a wild thing liable to disappear. A quick glance at the chrono beside the bed told her it was 0530.

Another slur of curses, clearer this time, followed by the solid heavy weight settling on the other side of the bed, was so familiar to her she would have known him anywhere. Something rather solid landed on the floor next to him, and he slid under the covers with her.

Struggling to keep her breathing even and normal, she listened. He wasn't asleep; not completely.

Han stretched out an arm; as he had always done, searching for her. Leia closed her eyes, willing herself not to move instinctively back against him - as she had always done. The bed shifted and pulled slightly as he moved beside her; a rough hand glided up her back, across her shoulders and down her ribs. A telling movement, one which spoke of passion, love and a tender understanding. Or at least, Leia thought bitterly, opening her eyes and grinding her teeth together, one that used to. He hadn't touched her since the night he got home. Not like this. He had become distant; and for that, Leia blamed herself. She should have done something, perhaps denied him the space he thought he needed. Forced him to face her, talk to her. But the silence had continued until there was no way out of it. She had caused this. A sob caught in her throat and she forced it down. Had he mistaken her granting him space for her not caring or trying to help him? The hand on her back wrapped around her lower ribcage and pulled her firmly up against him.

He was drunk and she was angry. Angry and hurt. But his breath, hot and close on her neck, washed the anger from her mind. Twenty years of closeness and instinct couldn't be undone by three weeks of distance, no matter how much damage had been caused.

His movements were heavy; desperate and raw.

Growling something completely incoherent into her ear, he rolled on top of her; one arm still wrapped under her, securing her to his torso, her back pressed flush against him. The other traveled up her back, lifting the fabric of the shirt to gather at the base of her neck. Ducking her head slightly, he was able to pull the soft cloth from her and cast it to the floor behind them. Gathering her curtain of hair away, exposing her neck to him, he growled a second time; a hoarse and broken string of Old Corellian she could just barely make out. He loved her. She was perfect. He was sorry. He was… broken.

Breathing heavily and reeking of cheap drink, he planted a rough kiss between her shoulder blades, his beard scratching her skin, and rested his forehead down against her neck. She lay still; hardly breathing. Waiting. Unsure of what to do. Her body called for him. Desperate to override her mind, throw away the anger and the rejection for even just a few brief minutes. To feel him again.

She didn't need to wait long. Strong, slightly tanned arms planted down on each side of her shoulders, as his breath came hot on the back of her bared neck as he nipped and bit his way across the top of her back, his beard scratching softy. He was murmuring again, disjointed words and an equal blend of basic and Old Corellian sentiments.

His knee wedged between her thighs, opening her to him. Feeling brave as he positioned himself at her, she took a breath and whispered a breathy expletive she had learned from him before they were married. The effect was instant, as it always was. His body covered her, holding her tightly to him and down. Possessive and strong, he moved within her as she pushed back against him carving out a brazen rhythm as he moved heavily above her.

They didn't last, they never did like this. Collapsing first beneath him, she cradled her head on her arms, drained and aching, watching from the corner of her eye as he fell to pieces above her, incoherently and with a final violent thrust.

"I love you, Leia." He whispered onto her shoulder, collapsing again beside her.

"I know." She breathed into the darkness.

xXx

Groggy eyes met her own for a moment before blinking heavily.

"Hi," she whispered finally as his still slightly clouded hazels met hers.

"Oh, hi." His voice was raspy filled with broken glass. Typical after a night of drinking and shouting, not something she had heard in a while, and at that - never with the degree of distance and detachment. It made her feel smaller. Less. Leia furrowed her brow and leaned up on her forearms, looking at his haggard appearance, tracing with her eyes the features she knew so well, untouching, as she was sure he wouldn't allow her.

"I didn't realize you were here," Han cleared his throat and staring up at the ceiling, rigidly ignoring her gaze.

Well, we've had more enthusiastic mornings, she thought, swallowing the growing lump in her throat.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno." He closed his eyes again, bringing both hands up to rub his face and letting them fall onto the pillow beneath him. Leia watched him for a moment, reading body language she had never seen before. They had their moments, all couples did, but this was something different. This was… detachment. That was the only word for it. He had never been detached from her before. Not even after the Hapen fiasco when he had been angry, possessive, demanding and perhaps even aggressive. Rightfully so, really. And her response had shocked her, and even encouraged him. But he had never been detached.

Feeling brave again, she lowered herself down again, moving carefully into the empty space under his arm. He tensed and kept his eyes resolutely on the ceiling. Not wanting to push him, she closed her eyes and forced herself to relax - feigning sleep again. They lay like this for some time. Both uncomfortable and unsure, until Han sighed and shrugged her away from him.

"Don't leave. Please. Please don't leave."

"I need a shower."

"Stay." She was openly begging him now. Half raised on her forearms, she couldn't quite keep her voice steady.

"Leia-"

"Please Han. You've been gone for three days, I was so worried. Please don't go."

"Oh really? You noticed, did you?"

"Don't be like that. Of course I noticed. As did your children. They're scared and worried about you."

"They have the Force, I'm sure they'll be just fine." Han all but snarled at her. He was quite a sight, the clinical side of Leia's brain decided. Naked, beaten up and angry with almost two weeks worth of growth cover his face, he was still devastatingly handsome. And he was hers, she thought stubbornly. Whether he wanted to be or not.

"Okay. I get it." She sat up, allowing the sheet to fall away from her, and smiled inwardly to herself as she watched his eyes widen slightly, taking in her naked form. "You're angry. I understand. I've been there. But don't you dare let them hear you say anything like that ever again. Ever. You can hurt me if you need to. That's fine. But I mean it, Han. I won't let you take this out on them. Never."

He was silent for several moments. His jaw twitching as she watched thoughts flit darkly across his face.

"So you understand, do ya?" He challenged at last.

"Of course I do." she softened, slumping down a little - trying, without words, to offer him an easy return. He didn't work, however. His eyes hardened further and he pointed a jabbing finger in her direction.

"He was my best friend and I left him to die! How the FUCK is anyone supposed to deal with that? How can you possibly know what that feels like?! You weren't there!" Han shouted, advancing on her a few paces. Leia sat unmoving. Perhaps they were getting somewhere - at least they were communicating, abet angrily.

"Han-"

"And don't give me anymore of your Alderaan crap," he snapped. "I've heard enough about it."

"My 'Alderaan crap'?!" She whispered, shocked. Where was this coming from, were they so much worse off than she had thought?

"Yeah. You think you're the only one who has ever lost anything! Well, you're not!"

"Maybe you should go then, Han."

"That's the plan, Sweetheart." He spat and punched the panel on the wall by the fresher and pushed his way through as the door hissed open angrily. As soon as it snapped shut behind him she collapsed. There was a loud bang from inside the fresher unit. The razor again, she assumed.

And as she listened, prone and crying silently on the again empty, cold bed, it struck her - for the first real time - that they may not survive this war.