Ficamnesty: Star Wars, Leia, post-TFA
Title: Untitled
Universe: Star Wars, post-TFA
Characters: Leia, Lando, Rey
Summary: News travels fast, but Rey still has questions.
News travels fast in their circles. The same networks Leia used in the Rebellion days are still in place, made stronger by years of lush funding from a Republic government that will never be anything to anyone ever again. Word spreads through their camp and through the galaxy and almost as soon as the Falcon has landed, the calls start.
Condolences, requests to join, to fight the power that slaughtered the Republic and their illusory hero.
Her husband.
She doesn’t want him to become a rallying cry. Fight for Coruscant, she wants to tell everyone. Fight for Alderaan. For little boys and their fathers and a peace so brief she might have imagined it.
**
Lando finds them, somehow, and arrives in the middle of the night. Leia thinks Ackbar or Wedge must have met him, found him a bed, because he looks refreshed when she startles at the sight of him at breakfast in the base’s communal dining area.
He doesn’t see her coming, isn’t expecting her yet, and he jumps at her hand on his shoulder.
Leia is relieved at the look of naked sadness on his face. He covers it fluidly, but it is there under the mask as he rises and takes her hand as he has a thousand times before, kissing it gently. He always liked to make Han jealous, and Leia closes her eyes at the rush of memories.
--“Hey now, hands off my girl,” Han said after Lando twirled her in a mock dance on Endor.
--“Get your own,” Han growled at some stuffy function when the government was new and they stifled giddy laughter at the newness of it all.
--Han’s finger waved in jest and warning at their wedding, his other hand close at her waist as his old friend raised a toast.
She squeezes Lando’s hand as he straightens. “Hello, Leia,” he says.
She hasn’t seen him in more than a decade. Ben was still home with them, then, a wild child insisting that Uncle Lando take him up in his new ship-faster, higher, more, always more. Lando was a soft touch, gave into the boy and came back from the adventure with a wide smile and a bowled-over look. He shook his head. “That kid,” he said with wonder and what, in retrospect, might have been fear.
He is older, now, but so is she. So are they all.
“Hello, Lando,” she says. She runs her thumb over the back of his hand, feeling the skin as it wrinkles. “Here to join the fight?”
He shakes his head. “You don’t need me,” he says. He glances around the room, slowly filling with Resistance fighters, all young and strong and firm in their purpose.
Leia smiles. “No,” she says. “But I am glad you’re here.”
**
They wait two weeks before sending Rey to find Luke. The Falcon needs repairs. Chewie, though he would never admit it, needs time to grieve. He sits with Lando, the two of them sharing stories from before Leia’s time.
Leia can tell the girl wants to lean in, take in all the tales of Han Solo, Smuggler and Pilot, but she tugs Rey away by the shoulder. “This isn’t for you,” Leia says, trying to be kind.
Rey smiles, a small gesture. “I know,” she says, still glancing back at the two. “I don’t want to intrude. But I grew up hearing stories of Han Solo and Luke Skywalker and I want to know everything I can.”
Leia wonders who told her these stories, if it was the family who abandoned her on Jakku or the other scavengers or holovids smuggled in for a credit and a drink.
What a life she will lead now, this scavenger girl who stumbled off the Falcon into Leia’s arms before pulling back to share impossible news. “He’s dead,” Rey had said, clearly, as if she would only get one chance.
Leia had nodded. “I know,” she said softly, sadly. “I know.”
Understanding rippled through the girl, who stepped back quietly.
Now, perhaps Rey remembers that Luke Skywalker had a sister as Force-sensitive as he. Just as Han Solo had a wife and the Rebellion had a leader, someone who could tell at least some of the tales.
Leia guides Rey to a seat outside. Since Han’s death, she’s been stepping away from the dim light of their underground headquarters. It would be a poor metaphor, seeking light in the darkness, but Leia craves the warmth on her face and the fresh air against her skin.
She fixes the girl with a curious but warning look perfected over many years of mothering. “What do you want to know?” she asks.
Rey’s enthusiasm is tempered, Leia thinks, by her audience. Nonetheless, she repeats “Everything?”
--Han, tossing his shrieking toddler into the air in the flight bay, both oblivious to the hubbub as a diplomatic transport opens to reveal the scowling prime leader of XXX. The trade negotiations are more difficult than needed because of the man’s distaste for children; Han’s insisting that Ben be part of the delegation to see him off after the treaty signing.
--The Falcon, quiet. The pilot’s chair has never been big enough for two, but the cockpit has the best view of the stars and the copilot’s seat is too far away. “A baby,” Han says idly, a practiced tone meant to hide excitement. “Huh.” He tightens his arms around her.
--A long trip in a broken ship spent spitting insults at each other, intimate blows that land squarely. It is the worst argument of their acquaintance, and Han sinks wearily into a chair in the rec room. “If you’re going to fight dirty,” he says, “we should get married.”
“I can’t tell you everything,” Leia says. “We wouldn’t have time.”
Rey laughs. “No,” she says, though Leia thinks she is not acquiescing so much as putting Leia off for another day. So Leia is surprised when Rey asks, not about Luke and Han, but: “What is the one thing you wish you knew when you were my age?”
This motherless child, who never had a chance to ask questions about the universe-
--“But Uncle Luke, why is anger evil?”
--“Mom, do you ever want to just stop fighting? Take a vacation?”
--“Why do you have to go, Daddy?”
-looking not for stories, but advice. Leia wants to give her both.
She says, “When I was your age, or thereabouts, I watched the Imperial government destroy my planet and with it, the only family I had ever known. Within days, I had met Luke and Han and Chewie, almost gotten killed by Darth Vader and in a trash compactor-no one else will tell you about that, and you’d think it wouldn’t stand out, but it does-.”
Rey laughs at the line and Leia continues. “And after I survived all of that, we fought the Death Star at Yavin.” Leia smiles, trying to give the girl what she wants. “I heard there was some pretty fancy flying by Luke and Han-Wedge could tell you about it.”
Leia puts her hand on Rey’s arm, leaning in and taking a deep breath. The sun is starting to set and the air is cooling around them, a hint of a natural world Leia hasn’t spent much time in lately or ever. She says, “I wish someone had told me to slow down.”
Universe: Star Wars, post-TFA
Characters: Leia, Lando, Rey
Summary: News travels fast, but Rey still has questions.
News travels fast in their circles. The same networks Leia used in the Rebellion days are still in place, made stronger by years of lush funding from a Republic government that will never be anything to anyone ever again. Word spreads through their camp and through the galaxy and almost as soon as the Falcon has landed, the calls start.
Condolences, requests to join, to fight the power that slaughtered the Republic and their illusory hero.
Her husband.
She doesn’t want him to become a rallying cry. Fight for Coruscant, she wants to tell everyone. Fight for Alderaan. For little boys and their fathers and a peace so brief she might have imagined it.
**
Lando finds them, somehow, and arrives in the middle of the night. Leia thinks Ackbar or Wedge must have met him, found him a bed, because he looks refreshed when she startles at the sight of him at breakfast in the base’s communal dining area.
He doesn’t see her coming, isn’t expecting her yet, and he jumps at her hand on his shoulder.
Leia is relieved at the look of naked sadness on his face. He covers it fluidly, but it is there under the mask as he rises and takes her hand as he has a thousand times before, kissing it gently. He always liked to make Han jealous, and Leia closes her eyes at the rush of memories.
--“Hey now, hands off my girl,” Han said after Lando twirled her in a mock dance on Endor.
--“Get your own,” Han growled at some stuffy function when the government was new and they stifled giddy laughter at the newness of it all.
--Han’s finger waved in jest and warning at their wedding, his other hand close at her waist as his old friend raised a toast.
She squeezes Lando’s hand as he straightens. “Hello, Leia,” he says.
She hasn’t seen him in more than a decade. Ben was still home with them, then, a wild child insisting that Uncle Lando take him up in his new ship-faster, higher, more, always more. Lando was a soft touch, gave into the boy and came back from the adventure with a wide smile and a bowled-over look. He shook his head. “That kid,” he said with wonder and what, in retrospect, might have been fear.
He is older, now, but so is she. So are they all.
“Hello, Lando,” she says. She runs her thumb over the back of his hand, feeling the skin as it wrinkles. “Here to join the fight?”
He shakes his head. “You don’t need me,” he says. He glances around the room, slowly filling with Resistance fighters, all young and strong and firm in their purpose.
Leia smiles. “No,” she says. “But I am glad you’re here.”
**
They wait two weeks before sending Rey to find Luke. The Falcon needs repairs. Chewie, though he would never admit it, needs time to grieve. He sits with Lando, the two of them sharing stories from before Leia’s time.
Leia can tell the girl wants to lean in, take in all the tales of Han Solo, Smuggler and Pilot, but she tugs Rey away by the shoulder. “This isn’t for you,” Leia says, trying to be kind.
Rey smiles, a small gesture. “I know,” she says, still glancing back at the two. “I don’t want to intrude. But I grew up hearing stories of Han Solo and Luke Skywalker and I want to know everything I can.”
Leia wonders who told her these stories, if it was the family who abandoned her on Jakku or the other scavengers or holovids smuggled in for a credit and a drink.
What a life she will lead now, this scavenger girl who stumbled off the Falcon into Leia’s arms before pulling back to share impossible news. “He’s dead,” Rey had said, clearly, as if she would only get one chance.
Leia had nodded. “I know,” she said softly, sadly. “I know.”
Understanding rippled through the girl, who stepped back quietly.
Now, perhaps Rey remembers that Luke Skywalker had a sister as Force-sensitive as he. Just as Han Solo had a wife and the Rebellion had a leader, someone who could tell at least some of the tales.
Leia guides Rey to a seat outside. Since Han’s death, she’s been stepping away from the dim light of their underground headquarters. It would be a poor metaphor, seeking light in the darkness, but Leia craves the warmth on her face and the fresh air against her skin.
She fixes the girl with a curious but warning look perfected over many years of mothering. “What do you want to know?” she asks.
Rey’s enthusiasm is tempered, Leia thinks, by her audience. Nonetheless, she repeats “Everything?”
--Han, tossing his shrieking toddler into the air in the flight bay, both oblivious to the hubbub as a diplomatic transport opens to reveal the scowling prime leader of XXX. The trade negotiations are more difficult than needed because of the man’s distaste for children; Han’s insisting that Ben be part of the delegation to see him off after the treaty signing.
--The Falcon, quiet. The pilot’s chair has never been big enough for two, but the cockpit has the best view of the stars and the copilot’s seat is too far away. “A baby,” Han says idly, a practiced tone meant to hide excitement. “Huh.” He tightens his arms around her.
--A long trip in a broken ship spent spitting insults at each other, intimate blows that land squarely. It is the worst argument of their acquaintance, and Han sinks wearily into a chair in the rec room. “If you’re going to fight dirty,” he says, “we should get married.”
“I can’t tell you everything,” Leia says. “We wouldn’t have time.”
Rey laughs. “No,” she says, though Leia thinks she is not acquiescing so much as putting Leia off for another day. So Leia is surprised when Rey asks, not about Luke and Han, but: “What is the one thing you wish you knew when you were my age?”
This motherless child, who never had a chance to ask questions about the universe-
--“But Uncle Luke, why is anger evil?”
--“Mom, do you ever want to just stop fighting? Take a vacation?”
--“Why do you have to go, Daddy?”
-looking not for stories, but advice. Leia wants to give her both.
She says, “When I was your age, or thereabouts, I watched the Imperial government destroy my planet and with it, the only family I had ever known. Within days, I had met Luke and Han and Chewie, almost gotten killed by Darth Vader and in a trash compactor-no one else will tell you about that, and you’d think it wouldn’t stand out, but it does-.”
Rey laughs at the line and Leia continues. “And after I survived all of that, we fought the Death Star at Yavin.” Leia smiles, trying to give the girl what she wants. “I heard there was some pretty fancy flying by Luke and Han-Wedge could tell you about it.”
Leia puts her hand on Rey’s arm, leaning in and taking a deep breath. The sun is starting to set and the air is cooling around them, a hint of a natural world Leia hasn’t spent much time in lately or ever. She says, “I wish someone had told me to slow down.”