A Shuffle of the Deck
by Deb Durkee
art by Liz
PART 5
"You wanted to see me?"
Mon Mothma turned away from the wall monitor at the voice. Her normally serious expression dissolved into a smile when she saw Han standing just inside the door to her office. He was someone she had never expected to see again, someone whose death would not just be a loss to the Alliance, but to herself as well. The loss of someone she called a friend. She had always liked the Corellian, taking no stock in Admiral Ackbar's words of warning about him.
"Han," she said by way of greeting, making her way around the large, circular conference table that took up most of the room. She embraced him; when she stepped away, her hands still resting lightly on his upper arms, she saw he was grinning.
"At least one high-ranking person is glad to see me," Han remarked.
Mon Mothma shook her head, waving distractedly. "Don't mind the admiral," she told him. "He treats Commander Antilles and Lieutenant Page the same way. Please, sit down."
Han nodded, and pulled out a chair at the end of the table. As he sat down, he could feel his leg muscles legs tingle as they relaxed. Mon Mothma sat down beside him.
"The medics say you're going to be fine," she said.
Han nodded. "I've been saying that, but no one's believed it until they hear the medics say it."
"You mean Leia didn't believe it." When Han nodded, she chastised him gently. "She spent the last year worried about you, you can't blame her if she keeps doing so."
Han shrugged. "Yeah, I know. I'm not used to having anyone worry about me."
"I think you're going to have to start getting used to it." At Mon Mothma's words, Han realized he was blushing, an unfamiliar sensation. "General Rieekan tells me you have taken command of the strike team to Endor."
"Yeah. I've got the members of the team established; everyone's agreed to go. Everyone wants a shot at the Empire."
Mon Mothma nodded. "Our recent victories have done nothing to hurt the morale of our troops. I'm sure Leia and Luke have told you about some of them."
Han nodded. He wasn't entirely sure where this was going, but he decided to play along for the moment. The fact that Leia hadn't known about the second Death Star had bothered him; she should be privy to sensitive information that he never would be, as he had no delusions about his position in the Alliance.
"I'm not going to ask you how you found out information that has yet to be declassified. That isn't the important part. I had a meeting with General Rieekan, General Madine, and Admiral Ackbar this morning, concerning not only your position at the head of the strike team, but the list that Lieutenant Page has submitted for approval. Coincidentally, everyone has been approved by a unanimous vote. But that isn't why I called you here, to speak with you in private before the general debriefing."
"Why do I get the feeling that this is something I don't really want to hear?"
Mon Mothma ignored his comment. "It was also decided that the strike team should not be sent down being led by a leader without a commission. Han, we'd like you to accept a generalship with the Rebel Alliance. As I'm sure you are well aware, this would give you not only a fairly large salary, but also a position of relative high standing. In addition, it would, of course, make you an official member of the Alliance. Will you accept our offer?"
Han leaned back in his chair, not entirely sure how he was going to answer. He had never been called into the headquarters of any government for a conversation like this. Usually he could expect a reprimand, not a promotion.
Of course, he had walked into this meeting of his own free will.
He had told Leia he had every intention of staying with the Alliance. And it had been the truth, but accepting this position would make it official. Mon Mothma had mentioned a salary, and he was surprised to find that money no longer mattered. Not anymore. It was ironic, really, for money was why he had joined up with the rebellion in the first place. He'd needed credits, and he had needed a lot of them, fast. That had been the only thing he had been thinking of. But now the rebellion had come to mean so much more, without his even realizing it.
But it would also mean turning his back on the life he'd had before, on the only life he'd ever had.
"I'll take it." He said the words almost automatically. He supposed part of him had been aware that Mon Mothma had been watching him with patient curiosity, and he knew that was the same part of him that had made this momentous decision. It was the part he had tried, for the most part successfully, to keep buried during his long years on what was generally regarded as the wrong side of the law. It was the part that knew just how much he had here with the rebellion, the part that had known that almost from the beginning. The part he had just made a conscious decision to listen to.
Mon Mothma smiled, a rare sight. As Han got to his feet she reached out to him, taking his hands in her own. Her skin was soft against his rough palms, and as she squeezed his hands he was suddenly aware of how much she had accomplished in her life compared to him. That didn't matter anymore, though; they were all the same in the end. They were all outlaws now.
"I'm glad, Han. You know we're all glad to have you back. For good this time, I hope."
Han grinned. "At least if Leia has anything to say about it." The words were strange to him, and the thoughts felt even more foreign. That someone could care for him enough to risk her life for him, and that he could return the feelings as strongly as he did--nothing had ever frightened him as much as that did. But at the same time, nothing had ever felt so good.
Mon Mothma nodded. "Go to her. Let her know you're all right."
"I will." She released his hands, slowly turning back to her seat at the head of the table even as Han started for the door. Just before his hand came down on the release, he glanced over his shoulder. Mon Mothma was still watching him, now sitting at the far end of the circular table.
"Thanks," he said, getting a puzzled look in return. "I imagine you did a lot of covering for Leia and Luke when they went looking for me. I suppose you did a lot of explaining for Lando, too. I owe you one."
A slight smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Then go find Leia. We don't have much time before the briefing; it's been scheduled for later this afternoon. Right after that, we launch the strike team to Endor. Spend what little time you do have with her."
Han didn't answer; he knew he didn't have to. He only left the Inner Sanctum, and when he did, a change came over him. It wasn't major; in fact it was so discreet that no one but those who knew him best would have noticed it. And even those would have attributed it to his recent experience in carbonite. But now he knew where he belonged--if he had any doubts about that before, they were gone. He had entered the room a ragged, tired smuggler, perhaps nearing the end of his career, and he had left a general of the Rebel Alliance.
Leia was coming down the corridor toward him, holding several datapads. He knew she was heading toward Mon Mothma's office, and he also knew that the leader hadn't summoned her there. He intercepted her, standing between her and the door to the Inner Sanctum.
"Han, how did it go?" she asked. She looked mildly surprised as he put his hands on her shoulders and leaned down to kiss her forehead. The expression on her face was one of mild confusion, as if to suggest that his response wasn't exactly a direct answer.
"Not bad," he replied, slipping an arm around her shoulders and turning her away from Mon Mothma's improvised office.
"I have to speak with--" Leia protested.
"She just gave us both the day off," Han explained, pulling her along with him as he started down the corridor.
"What happened? What did she want to talk to you about?" She looked up at him, not bothering to hide her curiosity.
"New orders," he replied, his voice stern.
"What new orders?"
"We're to do absolutely nothing productive until we're summoned to the briefing room later today," he told her.
"What?" Leia asked incredulously.
Han shrugged, slipping his arms around her waist and pulling her to him. "Orders," he reminded her, sensing she was about to turn away from him in disbelief.
"What did she really say to you?" Leia insisted.
"Classified information," he replied. He knew that his new title would be announced at the briefing, and he wasn't about to tell Leia before then. He might have tried to convince himself that he wanted to surprise her, but the truth was, he didn't know how to tell her. He didn't know the words to say how much he loved her, and that he felt more for her than he ever had for anyone else. He didn't know how to tell her that he would die for her, that he would do anything for her, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. So he only kissed her.
"Leia?"
"Hmm?"
She had thought he was asleep, his body pressed against hers beneath the rough-hewn blanket, his head pillowed on her breast, his arms wrapped around her. But his voice had drawn her back to the world, to the bunk she had taken as her own during her stay on the Mon Cal cruiser. Leia had been dozing herself, her mind slipping toward the blackness that was the somehow comforting void of sleep. She had found herself tired--serenewas the word, almost. Han was the first man she had ever fallen asleep beside, and she found the soft, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest lulling her into a sense of security, his touch comforting her, assuring that, in the end, all would be right. It had scared her, at first, but that fear had quickly left, chased away by his touch, and all that had been left was love.
Now he propped himself up on his elbow, pushing himself up so he could slip an arm under her neck, cushioning her head as he looked down at her. The only light, coming from a the small light in the corner of the room, played across half of his face, casting the other half in shadow. The light was dimming as night crept closer and closer to morning, but it was still enough to outline the ruggedness of his handsome features, to reflect deep into his dark hazel eyes. His hand never left the soft, bare skin of her torso, his fingers tracing lines across her ribs that made her shiver. The hand that had been resting on his shoulder slid down his naked back, she lifted the other to trace the contours of his full, soft lips. He leaned down to kiss her forehead, lightly, tenderly; she felt the roughness of his cheek against her own as he lowered his head. When he spoke, his breath was warm against the side of her face.
"Do you trust me?"
She looked up at him as he lifted his head, the question asked. There was something strange in his eyes, something that she had never seen in them before. It wasn't something that scared her; it wasn't something that should have. What she saw was a concern there, not for her, not for himself, but for them.
"Han, you know that I do. I wouldn't be here if I didn't," she answered softly. The question of trust had never occurred to her. Not even as he had taken her into his arms and kissed her, as he had traced a path across her throat with first his fingers then his lips, as he had slid her dress off her shoulders. What had occurred to her was the first time they had kissed, and how long ago it seemed. How long it had been since they had found themselves in each other's arms in that asteroid field, both running from the same enemy. How much they had been through since then, the long months he had been away from her, the anguish that she had been through before she had gotten him back. What had occurred to her was a solemn promise, a promise that she would never let him go again. Not to any bounty hunter, not to any assassin droid, not to any money-hungry thug who was out for the price on his head, who saw Han as nothing more than a way to earn a nice bundle of credits.
"You never asked me."
"Asked you...I don't understand."
He paused, looking down at her. But his gaze didn't meet hers, his eyes traveled over the soft whiteness of her throat, to the line where the darkness of the blanket that covered them both met that whiteness. "You never asked me if I was going to stay."
The words brought fear to her heart, fear unlike that she felt even as she saw him lowered into the carbon-freezing chamber on Bespin, with that last look of attempted, frightened confidence on his face. Because now it was his own choice. There was no debt hanging on his back, there was no Jabba the Hutt to send out the worst of the bounty hunters. He could no longer say he had to leave because he was afraid he was going to hurt her, that something might happen to her because of someone who was after him. He could no longer say that he had to repay a debt, that he had to leave the rebellion...now he could only make a decision based on what his heart was telling him. She knew that he had spent all his life on his own, and she knew that a lifetime of habit was hard to break. Space was his life; it had been since he had been old enough to pilot a ship by himself, and before, perhaps. To ask him to stay would be to ask him to give up a part of his life, and she couldn't bring herself to do that. It was the same reason that she wanted him to stay that she couldn't ask him to. He had to make the choice on his own, because he wanted to, and not because she had asked him to.
"It's not my decision to make," she replied. She was surprised by the tremor in her voice as she said it; this was the conversation she had been dreading. The Death Star had done its best to put the thoughts out of her mind, but they had been there even then, lurking, just waiting for the chance to come forward. Every time she had looked at him, part of her had wondered how many more times she would see him.
"Leia..." his voice was soft and thoughtful as he said her name, almost as though he had never heard it before. "It's as much your decision as it is mine. It's your life, too."
She shook her head, as hard as it was to do. "It's only my life if you want it to be. I can't ask you to stay with us if you don't want to. Someone told me once that sometimes you have to do what your heart tells you to. That's what I did when I fell in love with you. I can't ask you to do anything but the same."
"Always the diplomat, huh?" He lifted his hand from her torso and smoothed her chestnut hair back away from her face.
She managed a small smile at that. "It was the life I left for the rebellion. You can never really get away from what you were raised to be."
"I had a lot to think about when I was in carbonite, you know that. One of those things was what would happen if I ever got out of there. And, I decided that it wasn't up to just me anymore. I decided that I would only stay if you wanted me to." He paused thoughtfully, as though constructing the words in his mind before he spoke them. She started to speak, but he laid a finger across her lips to silence her. "I'm not finished. People talk, Leia. I don't know if you've heard them, but I can't pretend that I haven't. They want to know what a princess is doing with a criminal, with someone who has no past. With someone who has no future, some say. You know that I've never cared what people said or thought about me, and I still don't. If they had just been talking about me, I wouldn't care. But you...no one's said anything directly to me about the next step for the rebellion, if we bring down the Death Star, and there's no reason to think that we won't. But it doesn't take a Jedi to figure it out. And it doesn't take a Jedi to figure out that you're going to be there as a leader in that new government. So the only question that remains is to wonder whether you want to do it on your own, or whether you want to do it with a guy with a criminal record dragging down your reputation."
It was the most honest speech she had ever heard him make, the longest statement of his own unworthiness she had ever heard. She only hoped he would believe the truth when he heard it, that he hadn't convinced himself so deeply of something that was not close to being right.
She held him closer, needing to feel the reassuring press of his body against hers. She felt him shift his arm ever so slightly so he could rest his hand on her shoulder. "Han, it was you who taught me not to care what others think. It may have been people like those who you overheard who taught me how to be a diplomat, how to reason, how to think...but you were the one who taught me how to live, how to feel...how to love. And I don't want to lose that. I lost you once before, and I don't want to go through that again. My father may have toldme what it was I would devote my life to fighting for, but you were the one who actually showedme what it was. You introduced me to concepts I had only heard about. No matter what happened, no matter what went wrong, you were always there. You were always someone I could turn to, even when we seemed to do nothing but argue. I think I started to fall in love with you long before Hoth. When I had no family, no friends left in the galaxy, I found you. Han, what I'm trying to say is that I love you. And it doesn't matter what anyone says about us, or thinks about us. I don't care what they say about my title and your lack of one. Because as long as I have you to lean against when I get home--that's all that really matters. That's all I care about. You taught me to follow my heart. I am."
Han looked uncertain, as if he had not been expecting the torrent of emotion that had come pouring from her. His fingers traced her lips, and she had the overwhelming urge to kiss those rough fingers. His hand came to rest over her heart; she could feel it beating its regular rhythm in her chest, as she waited for his response. She could see in his eyes that he was trying to sort through everything.
He lifted his gaze to meet hers; it took her a long second to realize that the strange shimmer in his eyes were tears. He was trying to control his waivering emotions, and was doing a fairly good job of it. His voice was as strong and steady as it ever was when he finally spoke. "So...what are you trying to say?"
She laughed, and it was only when she heard the sound of it that she realized how nervous and trembly it sounded. Then she felt tears of her own sliding down her cheeks. "I'm trying to tell you that I love you. I want you to stay, Han; I've always wanted you to stay, even though I may not have said it, or acted like it. You're part of me, Han. And you always will be...no matter what you decide." She couldn't finish, couldn't tell him any more. She had thought of a thousand things she had wanted to tell him when he was gone, but now that he was back, looking down at her with those dark, soulful eyes, she couldn't think of a single one. They were all just at the surface, but they were piling over one another, all trying to escape at the same time. So she fell silent, knowing that in reality she didn't have to say any of those things, he knew already. He knew, because he felt them himself. She could see it in his eyes, for looking into his eyes now was like looking into his soul.
"I have to hear it," he breathed, his voice barely a whisper. "I have to hear you tell me you want me to stay."
"I want you to stay," she replied in the same soft voice. "Not for the rebellion, not for the good of those we're fighting for, not for the war. I want you to stay for me."
She had expected something witty from him, something that stayed with his tradition of not taking anything too seriously, in spite of himself. She had expected a vague reply, one that would force her to decipher his cloaked words. But instead she got only one word, one straightforward word, whispered as he lowered his head to kiss her, his warm breath playing over her lips and making her shiver again. She didn't know if it was the word she had expected from him, but it was the one that she had hoped to hear in all the lonely nights she had spent without him.
"Yes."
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PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4