Han & Leia | Galaxy of Us

Chapter 4

"I happen to like nice men." – Leia Organa

"I am a nice man." – Han Solo

Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back

Han glanced across at Luke before the doors opened, a trifle nervous. His friend gave him a reassuring smile in return as though he'd guessed his thoughts.

They were to be awarded for their contributions at the Battle of Yavin and yet Han couldn't help but feel as though shooting Darth Vader from the Falcon was a hell of a lot easier than being presented a medal for bravery in front of the rebels. He felt like a sham.

He'd hardly ever done a decent thing in his life. And if he had returned to fight the Empire, it hadn't been solely driven by some noble delusion that he was going to save the galaxy. It had also been for Luke. And Leia, he admitted to himself. He couldn't have let them die even if it had meant risking his own life in the process. But none of that meant he really deserved this medal, did it?

The bugle soon resounded, their cue to begin walking across the path once the doors opened. Striding across with Luke, Chewie following behind, Han felt slightly overwhelmed by all the people standing, awaiting. They respected him. It felt strange, to command respect. Not for being a good smuggler or for talking his way out of things in a shallow kind of admiration, they genuinely held him in esteem.

He determinedly focused his gaze up ahead where Leia stood. Her Worship looked pretty good in women's clothes, he had to admit, and while he was tired of seeing her in so much white like some blessed angel – no angel had such a smart mouth – the colour did suit her. Instead of the cinnamon roll buns she normally had, her hair had been braided and coiled into a tight knot at the top of her head, not a strand out of place, the image of cool perfection.

From the higher steps, she was actually taller than him and she gave him The Royal Gaze as though to remind him of that. A stance that abruptly broke as she gave Luke an open smile. Turning back to Han, he offered her his own cocky grin.

She held the medal forward and he bent his head to receive it, resisting the impulse to glance down her low-cut neckline. He did, however, give her a wink as he looked back up at her, to which she looked rather amused.

The gold plated metal was heavy on his chest, as though reminding him of all the reasons he didn't deserve such a tribute. He tamped down the deprecating thoughts and turned to face the crowd as Luke did, one hand curled into a nervous fist by his blaster as the rebels applauded. He quickly tucked both hands behind his back and despite himself, he smiled. There was something gratifying in the looks of respect these men gave him...the idea that he was a nice man, even if he didn't entirely believe it himself.

Leia furtively made her way out of the celebratory after-party, seeking some quiet. She had been hounded by Luke for the past half hour, and while she thought he was sweet and found his shy attentions flattering, at the moment she wanted nothing more than a little solitude.

It was odd, really. As a political figure and rebel leader, it meant she was hardly ever alone, constantly surrounded by people without a real chance at privacy or comfort. And yet, the very bustle of people around her had seemed to meld her into a solitary individual by nature. She had few friends, most of whom were older men – the political leaders and generals she spoke with on a daily basis. The rebel soldiers revered her too much to befriend her. But for some strange reason, she had managed to find real connection with a young farm boy, a Wookie...and, she had to admit it, even a smuggler.

She hadn't seen Han very much at the party; she frowned, he was probably off drinking his heart out or debauching some willing female in a secluded corner. Not that it mattered; she had little interest in his pastimes.