#hlweek2018

“You know how to drive one of these?” he asked her, and the hungry look became a stone-faced glare directed at him.  He shook his head. “Stupid question. I’ll shoot,” he said, and he’d barely gotten on behind her when she took off.

Holy hells. She drives crazier than I do, he thought, as she snaked them through alleys, between buildings. “Hold on!” she yelled, taking another sharp curve. Han’s thighs were gripping the speeder for dear life, one hand around Leia’s waist and the other firing at the troopers following them.

Leia’s driving was like—Leia. The best of Leia. Bold, a little reckless, but with a surprising amount of strategy and control. Always a few steps ahead.

It was wild. They were wild, screaming through the boulevards on their way back to the ship, dodging blaster bolts and hearing the wind whip past them at every turn.

In between blasts, Han had somehow managed to get Luke on the comm.

“He made it to Chewie. They’re bringing the Falcon closer,” he yelled in Leia’s ear. “Other side of the—the hell?”

Leia saw it at the same time: looming straight ahead, a traveling fair with a small amusement park, crowded with beings. Both the perfect place to throw off their pursuers, and the worst possible place to lead a pack of Imperial troops.

She made a hard left, heard Han swear behind her but knew he was still holding on. They needed a hiding place, somewhere to stash the bike while they blended in among the fair-goers.

No question this situation was serious business, but Leia couldn’t help feeling a bit exhilarated at the chase. She’d felt wild, free, the speeder bike and the blaster like a part of her being, secure in the knowledge that Han was by her side—or in the present case, right behind her—at every turn.

“There,” he pointed out, like he’d anticipated what she was going to do next. She followed his gesture to a small bend off one of the alleys ahead and slowed the speeder to a stop.

“Hell of a royal drivin’ school they must’ve had,” Han said, and Leia recognized his tone well enough to take it as a compliment. She was examining her hair in the rearview mirror, tucking windblown strands back into her braids. “Hey, what’re you doin’? No time for primping.”

She appraised him quickly, recalling how he’d told her earlier that she was “too polished” to be believable as a fellow smuggler. “You need to get a little rougher,” he’d said. “Dirty.”

She flicked a sweaty piece of hair away from his temple. “You’re a little too rough to be my date for the fair,” she said. She licked her thumb and rubbed a bit of dirt off his cheek. “Need to clean up.”

He grinned at her. “C’mon.”

But Leia had a new idea. A disguise, of sorts. “Give me your vest,” she said, and when he did, she put it on over her own. She untucked his shirt, patting it a bit when she was done. “There. Now you’re messy with purpose.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Now can we go to the fair?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

It felt so strange to be strolling through the fair, Han’s arm draped around her shoulders, like they were a couple out on a date. So slow. Too slow. Something about running felt better, felt right.

She used to like lingering in a feeling, taking time to absorb where she was. Savoring it. But there was no savoring back at base, only time. Too much time to fend off the memories that plagued her brain. Too much time for the sadness that overflowed any container in which she tried to hold it.

Here, at least, it was safe to slow down. Han was her friend. He could protect her, she could protect him. And soon enough they’d be running again.

They passed the hoverwheel, the “Scrambler,” the fortune-telling booth. On the other side of the fair was the clearing where the Falcon was parked. Just a little ways to go, and then they’d be on their way back to base. Another successful mission.

She’d have to remind Luke not to make too much of their little escape.

Then she saw one of the agents pursuing them, and without thinking pulled Han into the closest hiding place she could find.

“Really playin’ it up, aren’t you?” he joked, and that’s when she realized she’d pulled him into the kissing booth.

She didn’t say anything, but directed him with her eyes and a nod to the space outside the booth. He got it, and nodded.

His breathing—both of their breathing—suddenly seemed impossibly loud. And Leia was now aware of how very close Han was to her. They were in each other’s air.

Voices outside the booth came closer, and Leia felt Han’s arm circle her waist, pulling her to him. His other hand, she knew, was at his blaster. She did the same. Pretending couplehood, preparing for battle.

The voices faded away. Either the agent had left, or he’d managed to set up a trap for them. Either way, there was only one thing to do. Han released her waist, his hazel eyes moving down to her face. “Ready?”

She nodded.

They burst out of the booth, blasters ready, tearing off through the rest of the fair, running again. It was madness, it was wild, it was real. It was, in a strange way, joy. They were out on a wire together, the clearing just ahead, the troopers behind them again as they broke away from the crowd.

But Leia no longer cared about the troopers, the danger. 

This is what I was born to do. What he was born to do. They were no longer running away, they were running to. To Luke and Chewie, to the Falcon, to the Rebellion, to each other. To freedom, to life. Baby, we’ll never go back.