Luke grabs Leia's hand and they start to run, pushing and shoving their way through the ballroom at first, until the crowd parts before them. The stormtroopers are starting to close in, and a few of them have their rifles unshouldered.

"They won't fire into the crowd, will they? Surely not here." Luke glances back at Leia.

"Maybe not here," Leia agrees. "Might hit someone important. But once we're out of the crowd…"

"Yeah." Luke draws out his lightsaber and keeps it ready to ignite in his hand. He's by no means an expert, but at worst he can probably deflect a few blaster shots, if he needs to.

"Get ready."

They break through the crowd and into the reception hall where they entered. There are troopers converging on the doors, but if the two of them are fast enough they just might make it.

They almost do. Three troopers get to the door first, rifles raised. Luke steps in front of Leia and ignites his lightsaber, managing to slash two of the rifles into slag before the troopers know what's happening. The third drops back in time to avoid losing an arm, giving Leia and Luke the chance to run.

The streets are quiet at this time of night, and there's no more crowd to disappear into. And Leia was right: as soon as they're out in the open, the stormtroopers start firing. Leia dives for cover and Luke wheels to face them. The first time he gets lucky, and the deflected shot hits one of the stormtroopers. After a few tries, he learns how to make that happen on purpose, and the fire coming their way slows down.

Even in evening dress, they're faster than the stormtroopers, and they buy time by cutting through side streets. "How long before they trace us as the Dengars?" Luke asks, as they both stop for a quick rest.

"Maybe an hour. We've got to get back to the Dawn and get off Naboo before they do." She smiles faintly, and even after their mad dash, she still looks beautiful. "Hope you didn't leave anything vital at the inn."

"Nah, I have everything I need." He takes her hand, and they're off again.

The spaceport is as busy as spaceports always are, and two humans in formalwear barely merit a second glance—at first.

"I don't like this." Leia hurries along at his side. "We stick out too much."

"We're almost to the Dawn. There she is."

Just as Leia goes up the ramp, they hear another voice yell, "Stop! You there!"

"I knew that was too easy." Leia hauls Luke up the ramp after her. "Please tell me this ship has weapons."

Luke rushes past her for the cockpit, trying to remember. "Yeah—Yeah, there's an aft gun. Starboard side. You know how to use it?"

"I'll learn! Get us out of here!"

For all its advantages, the Corellian Dawn wasn't designed for a speedy departure. Luke puts up the shields and waits for the engines to finish cycling.

"What are you waiting for?" Leia's on the comms.

"It's gonna take a minute. You got that gun figured out yet?"

The sound of an explosion rips through the spaceport and a newly arrived Imperial speeder vanishes in a ball of flame.

"Yes," Leia says.

Luke grins in spite of himself. "Nice shot."

"How much longer?"

"Forty-five seconds, give or take. Just keep them away from us." He speeds through the rest of his checklist, hoping he doesn't miss anything vital. As soon as they take off, they're bound to wind up with some pursuit. He'll find out just how maneuverable this old girl is.

He hears more shots fired, and sees the splash of laser bolts against the Dawn's shields. The shields are holding for now, but the Imperials are rolling out an ion cannon. "Come on…" Luke mutters.

Finally the board goes green and he fires up the thrusters. "Hang on, Leia." Without clearance or a flight path, this could get bumpy.

They soar out of the hangar, and immediately Luke has to dodge left to avoid an incoming shuttle. The ion cannon gets off a shot that barely misses them, so he pushes the Dawn's engines to get them more altitude.

A squadron of TIEs stream from the port. It's too many for them to handle with their one gun. Far too many. As soon as the Dawn leaves the atmosphere Luke is punching coordinates into the hyperdrive. If he can just dodge them until they can make the jump…

"Luke? Luke, I can't keep track of them all, there's too many!" Leia's voice has that edge it gets when she's on the line between panic and anger.

"I know, just do what you can. We'll be ready to make the jump in"—he looks at the console—"two minutes."

"You're using the scatter protocol, right?" She sounds a little more in control, and he hears her blasting away at the TIEs.

"Just programmed it in." Scatter protocol means the trip home will take a little while longer, but the random hyperspace jumps will shake off any tails.

The TIEs catch up to them and try to box the Dawn in. Luke puts the ship into a sharp dive and watches two more of the ships vanish from his radar as they collide. A third goes from one of Leia's shots. There are still too many.

It's the longest two minutes of Luke's life. He takes the Dawn through corkscrews, dodging this way and that, but for all his efforts, the rear quarter shield is failing, and with all his maneuvers, Leia's having a hard time getting a good shot. Finally, the computer beeps.

"Making the jump," he tells Leia, and the stars lengthen and they're in the tunnel. With three hours until their first hop, he slumps back in the pilot's chair for a minute to catch his breath.

He hears Leia's footsteps running toward the cockpit and spins around to stand in time to catch her. It's become almost a ritual after any fight, and it's one of the best things about surviving combat. They embrace for long minutes, her face against his shoulder, his buried in her hair.

When she pulls away, she's grinning at him. "You could've let me get a few more shots in. I need the practice."

Luke laughs. "How about we save the practice for when the odds are a little more in our favor?"

That moment happens again—he should be used to it by now—where they fall quiet, just looking at each other. "I'm sorry I—"

At the same time she says, "I shouldn't have—"

"You first."

"I shouldn't have lost my temper at that officer." Leia looks sheepish. "But just… the idea that anyone from Alderaan could willingly serve the Empire…"

"I'm surprised you didn't hit him sooner." Luke realizes that they're still standing with their arms around each other, and it seems completely natural.

"I'm surprised you didn't hit him. Didn't know you were the jealous type."

Luke looks away, biting his lip. "Don't suppose you'd believe me if I told you it was part of the act?" He starts to pull away from her, but she doesn't let him.

"Was it? Part of the act?" Out of the corner of his eye, he can see that she's watching him intently.

He can't lie to her. He can't lie to anybody, really, this whole trip has proved that but—he especially can't lie to her. "I know it's not my place. I'm sorry."

"What if it was?" Her voice is so soft that at first he thinks he's hearing things. He meets her eyes, and she says again, "What if it was your place?"

His heart feels as if it might burst through his rib cage. "You can't—I mean—we can't—" He stops and takes a breath, trying to center his thoughts. "You're a princess and I'm—"

"A hero," she says, and reaches up to touch his cheek. A smile flickers on her face. "My hero."

"Now you're making fun of me."

"I swear I'm not." Her eyes, smudged with her makeup after their mad dash across Theed, are wide and sincere.

"But—"

Before he can say anything else, she kisses him. It's somewhere between the surprised kiss at the statue and the overwhelmed heat of the kiss in their room, and ending it is one of the hardest things he's ever done. "Leia, I can't do this—" He breaks off when she laughs at him.

"Do you remember what I said on the way here?"

"Clearly." He takes the opportunity to step away from her. It's easier to think if she's not so close to him. "You said you asked me to come along because you knew I wouldn't try to take advantage of you." He takes another deep breath, shoving his hair out of his face. "And I've been doing just that."

"It's not taking advantage if I'm flinging myself at you. Honestly, Luke, my pride's getting a little bruised here." Leia folds her arms and leans against the pilot's chair. "What I also said was, I knew we could stay focused on the mission until it was over." She gestures at the cockpit, at the hyperspace tunnel beyond. "The mission is over. We did it."

"So you're saying…"

She takes a step toward him then another. "I'm saying… I want you to kiss me. I like it when you kiss me."

"Right now?" His brain feels too slow to keep up with what's happening.

"You got anything better to do for the next few hours?" She's smiling at him the way she does when she's about to get her way. A few hours, the thought makes his knees wobble.

Luke shakes his head mutely and Leia steps into his arms again. It feels like it takes an hour for their lips to meet again, hesitant start-stop movements toward one another until they finally meet in the space between them. Kissing as a conscious decision instead of an act of instinct is different, a little more awkward at first. Leia pushes him down into the pilot's chair and then settles in his lap, the fullness of her skirt spilling around her. This is much better, this was a good idea. Luke reaches up and cups her cheek with one hand, guiding their mouths back together. His other hand winds up spread across her back, half-tangled in the wild red curls of her hair, half-warm against her bare skin.

She groans and finally he doesn't take it as a sign that he should stop, instead he slides the hand on her cheek to the nape of her neck. Her hands fist in his jacket, pulling him as tight against her as possible. Her mouth is everything he ever dreamed of, but he needs more. He licks the seam of her lips and she opens for him with a hitch in her breathing. As soon as her tongue slides against his, he shudders, his hand tightening on her back. Suddenly he needs to feel more of her skin, and burrows that hand beneath her hair until he finds it, warm and soft and smooth. He traces the curve of her spine while she nips at his lower lip, and he lets himself think for the first time, to wonder, where the boundaries are between them, or if there are any.

The back of the gown plunges alarmingly low, and he runs his fingers all the way down until he meets fabric. Leia arches against him, her mouth leaving his, and there's new temptation in front of him. He pulls her to him and presses a kiss to her neck while his fingertips trace along the edge of her dress. There's the bitter taste of perfume, but her pulse is beneath his tongue. He can feel how alive she is, and there's an answering throb in his groin. It only gets worse when she tangles her fingers in his hair and holds him there, her breath a tiny whimper that makes his toes curl.

Luke's entire body buzzes with the awareness of her; he's dizzy with the feel of her beneath his hands and mouth, the way she yields. Leia isn't the first girl he's ever kissed, of course not, but it's the first time that the possibility of more has been right there, unspoken in the way her cheek rubs against his hair, the way she's squirming in his lap. He's not the only one who wants, and realizing that it's his kiss and his touch causing that want makes his head spin.

Newly bold, he trails his fingers back up her body, following the line of her gown, knowing exactly where it curves toward the front, exactly where the softness of her breast starts. At the last minute he loses his nerve, and his hand stops. He refocuses his attention on her neck, kissing up her jawline. He pauses only at the low breath of a whisper in his ear:

"Please don't stop."

This time the whimper is from his own throat. Leia pulls back enough to check on him, her dark, dark eyes searching his face.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

Her answering kiss is gentle but firm. "I don't want to stop at all. Not until you do."

He's certain then that she's done this before, and rather than a source of jealousy, it's almost a relief. But… "Leia… I've never…"

Leia's smile is the sweetest, softest expression he's ever seen on her face, and it threatens to tear his heart open. She brushes his hair back from his eyes and leans in to kiss him again, lingeringly. "I know. You don't have to now, either."

His face is on fire, his body is on fire, but Luke is nothing if not brave. "I want to." He lifts his chin and looks her in the eye. "I've wanted to since the first time we danced."

At first he thinks he's said the wrong thing, because Leia slips from his lap, but she reaches for his hand. "I don't think the captain's chair is the right place for this, do you?"

Luke follows her on legs made of rubber, only half-believing this is happening, that this is going to happen. It gets a little more real when they get to her cabin, and she leads him in. It's spacious enough, and the bunk is almost a real bed, not a tiny ship's berth. He swallows, suddenly nervous, until Leia pulls him down for a kiss, her hands finding the hidden fasteners on his jacket and working them open. He clings to her upper arms until she pushes his jacket away to reveal the pale linen shirt beneath.

"You should see if they'll let you keep the suit." She grins up at him. "It's very dashing on you."

He rolls his eyes, but it's impossible not to smile back at her. "Just think of all the places I could wear it. Mission briefings, scouting trips—"

"—my bedroom."

For a second it feels like his heart stops dead in his chest. "Might be worth keeping it then," he manages.

"Mm-hm." Leia toys with the buttons on his shirt, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

"Does that mean you get to keep the dress?"

She laughs. "Oh no. I'm hoping they'll let me burn the damn thing."

"No! It's beautiful."

"It's a horror, and once it comes off, I'm not putting it back on."

He covers her hands with his and his voice comes out in almost a rasp. "In that case, I can't decide if I should enjoy it now while I can or set you free."

"Both." Leia's arms go around his neck and they're kissing again, fiercer than before, the intent clear. She lets go of him long enough to start pulling at his shirt and he has a moment to wish he even knew where to begin helping her out of that dress. But then she's running her hands across his bare chest and his shirt is on the floor.

Something takes over in him and he needs to feel her skin against his. They kiss leaning towards each other, each trying to finish undressing without moving apart. It's only when he hears the rustle of her dress falling to the floor that he opens his eyes and steps back.

Leia is luminous; she glows. Luke can't stop staring at the line of her shoulders, the curve of her breasts, which are more perfect than he'd dared to imagine—when he'd even let his mind get that far. The swell of her hips make his hands itch to touch her, and her smile promises it will be worth his while.

"Off," she demands, nodding at his pants.

It takes him longer than it should to shed them, because he can't stop stealing glances at her as she turns down the covers on the berth. He nearly stumbles over his own feet when she crawls in, lying on her side and watching him. Finally he manages to untangle everything and fights his self-consciousness.

Leia's expression is everything. Her eyes move over his body and she looks a little like a predator who's just spotted dinner. When she crooks a finger at him, he is helpless to do anything but go to her.

#

Leia has never felt such a mix of overwhelmed affection and lust before. She'd expected that he'd be beautiful, but she didn't expect that he was still gangly as a colt and almost as skittish. It's endearing and appealing and she can't decide if she wants to protect him or eat him with a spoon.

When he comes to her, his body burns against hers, and as much as she wants to make his first time last, she's burning too. The way his fingers had skated over her back, the way his tongue had found the pulse point on her neck—she's already soaking wet and aching. He's hard against her thigh and she threads her fingers into his hair, to keep her hands from drifting down to touch him just yet. If she touches him now, this will be over too fast for both of them. Their foreheads press together; they exchange short kisses while their eyes stay fixed on each other's.

His hands are drawn up the dip of her waist, palms and fingers spread wide as if he can touch everywhere at once. Her patience runs out, and she covers one of his hands with her own and pulls it up to her breast. His gasp is lovely; the weight of his hand is lovelier.

His touch is almost too gentle at first, too reverent. She trails one hand down his chest, acutely aware of how much he's filled out in the year that she's known him. Training and just getting farther from adolescence have broadened his shoulders and chest. She distracts him with a longer kiss while her fingers tweak one of his nipples. His entire body jerks in response, but gratifyingly, he takes the hint and stops being quite so gentle. Luke's hands still bear the calluses of a farmboy, since toughened by time spent fighting, working on ships. Their roughness against her skin is impossibly right.

Leia rolls onto her back in an invitation for him to explore and oh, he does. His mouth soon follows his hands, tender kisses down the slope of her breasts, the faintest of licks on the tips of her nipples. He's teasing her, he has to be, and she captures his head in her hands to pull him in tighter, arching her back as he finally takes one of her nipples into his mouth. She feels the tug all the way down to her gut and twines her legs with his to get closer still.

His hand has settled against her hip, just pausing there. She tries to will it to move lower, letting her thighs fall apart to make the invitation clear. Finally, Luke inches his hand closer when he moves back up to kiss her again. His tongue teases into her mouth as his fingers tickle over the curls between her legs, making her arch up against him for more.

Leia has seen the strength in those hands, the dexterity; she's fantasized about this more times than she'd like to admit. He stops kissing her to watch her face as his fingers part her lips, and her heart gives a lurch when she realizes he's studying her reactions, learning her body. He learns quickly, and before long she's murmuring his name like a prayer, burying her face against his shoulder while her hips rock against his hand. His breath is ragged in her ear as if he's the one close to climax.

Her need is too great to wait anymore. Leia reaches between them and curls her fingers up the length of him, gratified by the way he whimpers.

"Leia—"

"Are you ready?"

He barely has the breath to say yes, but she hears him anyway. She guides him to a kneeling position between her thighs. His face—the expression she sees there takes her breath away: the serious little crease in his brow, the way his eyes lock onto her face as if he'll never look at anything else again.

Leia pulls him down to her and slowly, slowly he slides into her. They gasp in unison then laugh their way into a kiss until he's fully hers. She was already so close to coming, once he starts to move it pushes her toward the edge again.

No matter how slowly they move, everything happens fast. The sudden, sharp spike of her orgasm catches her off-guard and she writhes beneath him, pressing her face against his arm to stifle her cry. He gasps her name just a second after, his entire body trembling violently.

Luke tries to roll off her, but she pulls him down into her arms. He nuzzles at her ear, then her cheek before drawing back to look at her. She knows what he's about to say before he even opens his mouth, and she's not ready to hear it yet.

"Leia, I—"

"Shh." She presses a finger to his lips and follows it with a kiss. They roll to their sides again and lie there, arms and legs intertwined. The words he didn't say still radiate off him like heat, and it's not that she doesn't feel the same way—she's almost positive she does, she has no other word for this feeling—it's just… things are so uncertain. All she can do is show him, even if she can't say it.

#

Scatter protocol takes them a total of ten jumps to get back home, stretching a thirty-six hour trip to over forty-eight. Luke would stretch it out even longer if he could, but their supplies and fuel would run out long before he got tired of the quiet oasis the Corellian Dawn has become.

They don't spend the entire time in bed, although they keep winding up back there. But between those times, they talk, endlessly. Their one attempt to share the refresher ends in disaster, but at least Leia's hair is back to its normal color. She keeps trying to put it back up, and Luke keeps pulling out the pins to let it down. Leia gives up after a giggling chase through the ship that ends with him threatening to throw the pins out the airlock. He could spend hours losing himself in her hair, touching it, brushing it, savoring the way it drags against his body when she's on top of him.

They try dancing again, and they're so aware of one another now it's like they communicate without words. Of course, dancing winds up with them sprawled on the floor of the Dawn's lounge, naked and shivering cold, but sated.

It's morning, ship-time, and they're due to get home in a few hours. They lie curled up in the berth one last time, Luke wrapped around Leia from behind, his chin on her shoulder. He finally asks the question he's been dreading for the past day and a half. "What happens when we get back?"

"We'll hand over the chip and pray it's got something we can use on it." Her voice is warm and half asleep.

He kisses her shoulder. "I still can't believe that was the queen. I wish I'd known." Leia had laughed at him for ages when she realized who their contact had been.

"She didn't want you to know. You did fine." She yawns and burrows her face into the pillow.

"That wasn't what I meant though." He slides his arm beneath hers and wraps it around her waist. "With… us, I mean." Luke is giving her an out, a chance to say thanks this was fun, but…

Regardless of how he thinks she might feel, and regardless of how he knows he feels, he's seen her reluctance to talk about her feelings, and there are so many things about her life as the Last Princess of Alderaan that he can never understand. So he gives her an out.

Leia turns over in his arms to face him, and studies his face for a long, searching moment. "You really would let me go if I asked you to, wouldn't you."

"What else could I do?" He fights to keep any trace of misery out of his voice, although her words make something ache in his chest.

"The fact that you can say that, and mean it?" Leia cups his cheek in her hand. "That's why I don't ever want to let you go."

"I don't—I don't want to let you go either." The ache dissolves, and he kisses her to chase away the last remnants. "I won't, not until you tell me to."

He's not utterly naive, not anymore. They're still fighting a war and the odds are against them. She's still a princess and—despite her words—he's still a nobody. The future is a vast unknown in front of them. But she doesn't want to let him go, and that's enough for now.

It's more than enough. It's everything.