• "On the Turn of a Dream," Rebecca Maynard and Cindy Olsen

The stars and the hum of the Millennium Falcon running at sublight toward Bespin kept Princess Leia company in the cockpit as she finished her turn at watch.

"I'll getcha at 0:00. I don't want this princess turning into a pumpkin," Han had said to her with his patented lopsided smile and a wink, squeezing her shoulder as he left his captain's chair to catch a few hours of sleep. He and the Princess were pulling double half shifts to fill in for the extra-long ones that Chewbacca, having over twice the lifespan and therefore twice the stamina, took.

She had been sitting in Chewie's copilot chair when he left, but couldn't bring herself to take Han's chair, though she eyed it and the impression his body left in it more than once over the last several hours. The intimacy of sharing that sacred space was more than she was ready for. 'All we've done is kissed--once!' she reasoned with herself, trying to reign in her emotions. Unravelling one of the braids wrapped around her head, she brushed the braid out with her fingers and replayed the kiss in her mind.

What a kiss it had been. And what wonderfully warm and magical feelings it had churned up in her--feelings she didn't realize she was capable of having until that scoundrel put himself so close to her than she couldn't run, then couldn't resist him.

Leia leaned back on an armrest and laid her cheek on her hand, her dark brown eyes sparkling and petite mouth smiling at the memory of that kiss.

"Hi, beautiful," said Han, stepping into the cockpit and taking his seat, his body facing her and eyes fixed on the hair flowing down her back. "Thinking of me?"

Leia began to straighten and feel the usual perturbance at his presumptuousness, then remembered the new rules of their relationship.

"Actually, I was," she said, leaning back again, dropping her hand from her cheek, and looking him straight in the eye with her own lopsided smile.

Han's elbow slipped off an armrest at her reply, and a look of astonishment was quickly replaced with--could it be?--a shy, suffused smile.

"Good. You look relaxed," he said in return, leaning forward and laying a hand on her forearm. "That's just how I want to make you feel."

Their eyes locked for what seemed to be an eternity, then Leia broke contact and they both sat in silence, trying to get used to the phenomenon of having a civil--no, an actually pleasant--conversation.

"Why didn't you take my seat?" Han said after a while, flipping a few switches in front of him and indicating the captain's chair. "The view's better from here."

"I'm enjoying the view from here just fine," Leia replied with an amazingly coy smile, lifting her eyes to him.

"Why, Princess, I do believe you're flirting," Han said, his face lighting up and heart skipping a beat at her playfulness. The Corellian in him was now fully engaged. "I see a t'qella from where I'm sitting," he intonated. "I've never seen your hair down before...though, believe me, I've imagined it. I love it."

Embarrassed, Leia broke eye contact again and looked down to the cockpit floor, but she couldn't get the smile off her face. He had never spoken Corellian to her before, and certainly no man had ever discussed her hair with her.

"This is fun, isn't it?" Han asked, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Leia nodded, hands in her lap, and her smile broke wide open. The stars continued to fly by.

'You said we've got to talk,' Han thought. 'So talk.'

"So..." Han began cautiously, "where do you want to go from here...I mean, you and me?"

The Princess was just wondering the same thing. She loved Luke, but she felt too good right now, something she so rarely felt. And though she'd kissed Luke dozens of times, they'd never shared a kiss like the one she shared with Han. What did it mean?

She looked at Han to find him staring at her in earnest. Her heart leapt at the sight, then stopped as a wave of cold passed through her body and an image flashed through her mind--an image of Han, in handcuffs, with that same, earnest look on his face. Was he looking at her? Why was he bound? And why did she feel so hopeless?

Leia's face fell and eyes unfocused, and Han swallowed hard at the seeming implications. 'Oh, man--she's thinking about Luke.'

But then she was back and began to answer, forming her words slowly, feeling comfortable enough with him now to speak as she thought rather than form her sentences in her mind before she said them.

"I honestly don't know, Han," she began simply, speaking to the stars. "You've got things you've got to take care of...and so do I. They just so happen to lie on diverging paths. Yet..."

"What?" he asked, willing her to think the same thing he was.

"Why now? Our paths are practically diverging as we speak," she said, leaning on an armrest and rubbing her forehead.

"Because I've finally got my act together, Leia," Han blurted. His gambler's instincts told him it was time to lay his cards on the table. With a sabacc face and a racing heart, he moved to the edge of his chair, put his hands on his knees, and locked his eyes with hers.

"Look, I've gotta go to Jabba, but I'll be back--that is, if you want me...and for you, not your Rebellion. I've done my part for charity, beautiful, but I've got more invested in it now, and I can't come back unless I know I've got more to come back to."

'Wow. I really said it. That wasn't so hard, was it?' he added to himself.

Leia stared at Han, stunned by the implications of his words. She knew he was 10 years older than her, had a step up on her in experience and maturity, but she never suspected this depth of feeling for her from him. "Han, are you sure you mean...."

Unable to contain the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Han shot from his seat to lean over her, grabbing the arms of her chair.

"I mean I love you," he intonated, putting himself so close to her again that she couldn't run. 'But will she resist? This is it.'

Leia was learning that at moments of great pressure she should let go her conscious self and act on instinct. She was finding such a reaction infinitely more successful than trying to intellectualize at a particular moment. And so she acted, throwing herself at him with arms and lips, shaking with adrenaline. With a pilot's reflexes Han responded, wrapping his arms around her, lacing his fingers through her hair, leaning her back as their bodies pressed together and they kissed hungrily, desperately.

Arms still securely around her, Han stepped back and into his chair, pulling her on to his lap. That's when Leia wrenched her mouth from his and drew back. 'Oh, no--I went too far,' he thought. He braced himself for her royal wrath, but she instead curled up in his lap and laid a cheek on his chest, trying to catch her breath--and herself. Han breathed a sigh of relief, then began stroking her hair.

"Wow," they both said at the same time, then laughed at their synchronicity.

Leia lifted her head to smile into his eyes and found him smiling into hers. A long moment passed between them, then Leia laid her cheek back on his chest.

"Han, I'm sorry," she began, her voice reflecting into her ear. "This 'you and me'...it's all so sudden...I can't say what I should say to you."

She knew their situation was serious, and he deserved more. Leia pulled back to face him, his arms still around her. "But I do care about you," she said, laying a hand on his cheek.

"Beautiful, I don't want you to say or do anything you're not ready to," Han replied, locking his eyes with hers. "I just want to be able to hold you."

Leia smiled, and Han felt he'd just been given the best gift in the entire galaxy. "Well, hold me, flyboy," she said, settling back down on him.

In the shelter between his chin and chest, she hadn't felt so safe, so comfortable--so loved--since she laid her cheek on her father's chest while he told her sleep-time stories about the stars.

"Tell me a story," she said.

"Tell you a story," Han replied smiling, delighting in her request, stroking her hair again, and revelling in the calm between them. "About what?"

"About the stars."

He began to tell her a story about the constellations in the famous Otselie star system, the rumble of his voice beneath her ear lulling her into thorough relaxation. In another five minutes she was asleep, her steady, light breathing letting him know she felt completely at ease in his arms now. And so they sat, Han studying the rims of Leia's eyelashes, the turn of her nose, the curve of her lips.

'She loves me. I know.'

And the stars, the hum of the Falcon--and each other--kept them company.

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