Work Text:
“Why do you always have to be so damn stubborn?”
Han whirled around, narrowly missing a large pipe with his elbow as he gestured at Leia. “Why do you always have to be such an asshole?"
Her eyes widened and her hands went to her hips. “Me?”
“Yes, you!”
He stopped and exhaled, letting his hand fall to his side. Fighting was all they seemed to do anymore, and he was tired of it, tired of everything. Turning away from her, he started down the corridor, heading towards the hanger where the Falcon was undergoing yet another round of repairs after nearly being blasted out of existence by the remnants of the Empire. He hoped Chewie had gotten the parts refitted for the hyperdrive.
“Han, stop it.”
She caught up to him and grabbed at his arm, pulling it back towards her, but he shook her off as he faced her again. “They’re all dead, Leia,” he snapped. “Dead. Like how many others before them?”
Her face fell, and he knew that now he was being the asshole. The lines on her forehead that showed too easily these days, the dark circles that made her eyes duller than they should be, he couldn’t stand it anymore. They’d been so happy, so vibrant, so fucking hopeful. And then Ben -
He almost winced at the thought.
“Too many,” she answered, shaking her head. “But their sacrifice, all our sacrifices, will not be in vain. We have to keep -”
Our sacrifices. How many more he wondered? Was his best friend and his son not enough? They had to take his whole damn heart and soul too? He always knew he was going to share Leia. With Luke, with Ben, and with the Rebellion, but he thought, rather foolishly, that when it was over, it would really be over. Except it wasn’t and it’s not. The Empire, the First Order, and whatever comes after, she’ll fight them all to the end, and he will love her for it, but he can’t stay here anymore and watch it. He can’t watch her die and hear hollow platitudes like ‘her sacrifice will not be in vain.’ As far as he could see right now, it was all in vain.
“Not we,” he said, almost smiling. “You.”
“What?” She watched him turn and leave again, frowning until he was almost at the door to the hanger. “Han, wait.”
Han stopped with his hand on the latch and leaned against the cool metal of the door as the sound of Leia’s footsteps stopped right behind him. Her hand came up and touched his shoulder, urging him to face her, and when he did it nearly broke him. She was staring up at him, searching for something in his eyes as her hand trailed down to take his, just like she had before Hoth, when she’d tried to convince him to stay and help the Rebellion for the tenth time, as if her feelings had nothing to do with it. And Force help him he wanted to let her, again and again.
He swallowed hard and leaned in, pressing a firm kiss to her lips. When he pulled back, she seemed even more confused.
“Where are you going?”
He squeezed her hand and let go. “Away.”
She seemed to understand then, and stepped back, the vulnerability he’d seen just a moment ago carefully tucked away beneath the face of General Organa. “Oh, I see.”
“No, you don’t,” he said, finally pushing open the door and letting the cacophony of the busy hanger into the odd calm of the corridor. “So long, Princess.”