Hi guys! Well, the new movie was so beautiful and heartbreaking and just lovely that I had to write something about it. Especially about Han and Leia. . .If you enjoy this, let me know! Reviews, favs, follows, etc. are greatly appreciated and could potentially influence me to write more fics on Star Wars, Han, etc. Thanks!

"So, someone told me you sent your best pilot on that mission to Jakku. . . A guy named Pip or something like that. " Han raises a silver eyebrow at Leia, who is doing her best to stay one step ahead of him on their way to the Falcon.

It's too much like old times, with all the pilots hustling to their ships, repair droids buzzing away at broken parts, medics tending to the injured soldiers, and Han refusing to notice it all. He was never very good at seeing the big picture.

"You heard right," she replies pointedly, knowing where this is headed, "Poe is the best pilot in the Resistance. He took out an entire battalion of TIE-Fighters with just his X-Wing squadron. I think he's earned the title."

"Well, yeah, best pilot in the Resistance, but is he really your best pilot." Han flashes the smirk that had won who-knows-how-many arguments with Leia.

She stops walking and looks him straight in the eyes. All she wants is to have a conversation, for crying out loud, not coddle his insecurities. Doesn't he owe her that much?

He pauses too, and it takes every ounce of self control he possesses not to gulp. The cold in her expression rivals the icy plains on Hoth; the danger in it is every bit as real as the Wampas that live there. This is a part of her he didn't miss.

"You weren't around for me to ask," she says, half retort and half reminder. There's no mistaking the hurt there, locked up tight for far too long and still not fully escaped.

She picks up the pace again without waiting for him to catch up. It takes a few jog-steps for him to fall back in stride with her, and by the time he does he's recovered his teasing grin. If he doesn't keep that ability to shirk everything off like it doesn't matter, like it doesn't kill him inside, what does he have left?

"So, technically, what you're saying is that I am—"

"Han, do you really want to do this now?"

This time it's him that stops in his tracks.

Deep breath. Two heartbeats hammering fast and scared.

"I don't know if we'll be able to later."

They look at each other like they hadn't since. . .since that time in Cloud City. Right before the Carbonite did it's work. Leia realizes how easy it is to lose him and how hard it is to get him back; every time, that's the way it is. Well, now she has someone else to try to get back, her son. Their son. Not to mention Luke.

She can't pull them back together all by herself. She knows because she's been trying.

"You do plan on coming back?" every part of her needs that to be a statement, but instead it's a question like it always is with Han. 'You know me,' he used to laugh before a trip on the Falcon, 'I'm too much of a scoundrel to stay in one place for long.'

By this point the crowd is streaming around them like they're a rock in the middle of a river. They don't bother to be pulled downstream.

Han pushes a hand through his hair, looking though his lashes to just barely make eye-contact; it might blind him if he looked straight on. Everyone knows not to look directly at a sun, and the same concept seems to apply here.

"Yeah," he finally answers.

Carefully, Leia nods; she can't let herself trust his word completely. That can only lead to disappointment. If nothing else, she's learned that it's better to be skeptical than heartbroken.

So, it's with a quiet, solemn manner that she responds, "Good."

It's a start. Which of course means he has to go and ruin it.

"So, Princess-"

Upon hearing the title she groans, tilting her head towards the sky because sometimes his face is just too frustrating to watch.

"Come on, that's not even my-"

"Okay, General, did Pilot Peppy-"

"Poe."

"Whatever. Did he make the-"

"Han. I promise. You are going to be Banther fodder if you bring that up one more-"

"Oh, General," Poe steps right in-between Han and Leia, who had been so busy with their usual spatting they didn't notice him coming. Pleasant and business like, he makes no apology for cutting in, either not hearing their fight or choosing to ignore it, "I almost forgot to inform you that the Red Squadron is-"

Han taps the newcomer on the shoulder, looking about like he had just tasted some spoiled blue milk. The Commander slowly turns around, not used to being interrupted while having an important conversations with the General.

"Uh, hi. Who are you?" Han questions.

Leia rolls her eyes, "Han-"

"No, it's fine, General. The name's Commander Poe Dameron, pleasure to meet you." Poe holds a hand out to Han, who in turn eases into a low chuckle but makes no move to accept the gesture.

He looks the younger man up and down, paying no attention to Leia's indignant expression. So, this is the famed Poe Dameron. He's kind of a pretty boy, but Han can't say he's surprised. The princess had always been a sucker for good hair.

After a long and immensely uncomfortable pause, he accepts the handshake, albeit smugly. "I'm Han."

Recognition dawns over Poe's face, "Of course- I should've realized! Han Solo. You were practically my childhood hero- I mean with that attack on the Death Star, and then making the Kessler run in, what, sixteen parsecs? You were incredible!"

Han grimaces, "Still am, kid. And it was twelve. Twelve parsecs. Why is that so hard for people to-"

"Okay," Leia cuts in, smiling politely and loud enough to drown out an engine turbine. She hopes to avoid any more one-sided alpha male crap. "Poe, if you would send it in hologram to my Data-Link, I'll take care of it."

"No problem," Poe salutes Leia happily, then turns to Han, "Honored to know you, Captain." The pilot takes his leave, giving Han a friendly clasp on the shoulder before he walks away.

Captain Solo makes no effort to stop his upper lip from curling a bit as he watches Poe exit from the corner of his eye.

"So that's the newer version, huh?" he turns his attention back to Leia, "The new 'best pilot'. Exactly how long did it take for you to replace me?"

"I am not having this conversation."

Leia tells herself that the Scruffy-Looking Nerf Herder isn't going to have the satisfaction of—

And then, without warning, his features turn warm enough to melt her annoyance into a weak-kneed puddle of emotion laced with nostalgia. Well, blast. She had hoped that trick wouldn't work on her anymore, but some things never seem to change.

"So, what conversation do you propose we have?" Han wonders, suddenly soft-spoken and gentle and still, after all the time that has past, ridiculously charming. One corner of his mouth turns up.

She thinks about it, heaving a sigh to gather herself, "How about we start small and work up to the big stuff. It might be. . . easier that way."

He laughs under his breath and glances at the skid marked pavement.

"I think I can do that." His chin jerks to the side; she gets the message and they both begin walking again.

This time they're not rushing to catch up with each other, they're just catching up.

"Do you want to start?" she asks, looking up at him with a smile in her eyes. He knows that with Leia, it's the eyes that count. She can fake a smile as easy as he can run his mouth.

There's a moment when they stay silent and watch each other, because maybe that's what they've missed the most. Not speaking, that's just asking for trouble. No, the best parts of their relationship are simply each other, being there.

It seems like they could travel lightyears before Han finally scratches his chin, thinking up a good discussion topic.

"You changed your hair."