AN: I haven't written in a while. Between school and some mental health issues, it's been hard to find the time, motivation, and inspiration. This piece isn't great, and it's very angsty-but I think you'll like it. You know me-can't have an unhappy ending. Don't go looking for many similarities between any Star Wars canon and this story, because you won't find much. It's really just our favorite characters in an original plot. Also, I didn't do much research. There are probably some definite historical inaccuracies. All that being said, I do hope you'll enjoy It's Been a Long, Long Time.

The August evening was warm. Leia was sitting primly in a chair in the corner of the dance hall, watching the couples twirl around in time to the music. Shara and Winter had talked her into coming against her better judgement, and now she was chastising herself for being weak enough to bend to their badgering.

Her friends were pretty and vivacious. They knew how to flirt with boys and liked doing it, too. Leia was quieter and preferred reading to socializing. They were never without a partner, and Leia had yet to be asked to the floor.

A tall, good-looking man who'd come in with a group of people was sitting a few tables away, eating the peanuts out of the little bowl on the center of the table. He looked up when she glanced at him, and Leia looked away quickly, embarrassed that he'd caught her staring. When she stole another glance a moment later, he was still looking at her, and he gave her a crooked little smile and a small wave of his hand. Swallowing a smile, Leia returned a polite wave. Her granny would have died of fright if she'd known her only granddaughter was flirting with a man in a dance hall.

Studiously avoiding his gaze, she glanced around the hall, looking anywhere but towards him. Motion drew her eye a minute later, and she realized that he'd thrown a peanut at her to attract her attention. Leia gave a pointed look a the offending nut and then looked expectantly at him. He smiled stupidly at her and beckoned her over. Leia blew out an exasperated breath and looked in the opposite direction. She would not be beckoned to like some two-bit floozy.

A few peanuts hit the floor near her feet before one made contact with her arm.

Leia's head whirled toward the man, shocked at his audacity.

"What?" she mouthed sharply. He inclined his head toward the dance floor. Leia rolled her eyes and looked away again. There were no nuts flying in her direction any more, and Leia thought she'd won.

"You're real good at this hard to get bit." His voice was like rich, dark chocolate. Leia looked up at him, shocked by how tall he was now that he was right beside her.

"Heaven forbid you actually have to talk to a woman to get her to dance with you," Leia sniped. That crooked grin spread over his face again and Leia nearly melted.

"May I have this dance?" he asked.

"I don't even know your name, and besides. I was just leaving," Leia replied, standing. "But…I suppose one dance wouldn't hurt." She'd never figure out where that last part had come from, but he smiled and offered his arm.

"I'm Han Solo," he introduced himself.

"Leia."

The band struck up a Glenn Miller song, and Han pulled her in. He smelled intoxicating, a hint of pine and raw lumber on his jacket. The floor was crowded, and as they reeled on the polished wood, they were forced to stand even closer because of the sheer volume of people around them.

Her feet didn't touch the floor for the rest of the night, or for any of the nights that came after.

00

Leia put the dish on the table, settling it between the delicate, new rose in the vase and the two tall candles that would light their mealtime.

"Just another day, Leia. Just a regular date."

The thin, willowy brunette adjusted her pink dress, smoothing out the creases around her hips. She stepped into the powder room to fix her lipstick and ensure her hair was just right. She wanted to look perfect for their last night together.

The doorbell rang, and Leia ran to light the candles and turn out the dining room light before letting Han in.

Smoothing a hand over her skirt once more, she opened the front door. Han stepped in out of the dying daylight. In the warm glow of the parlor light, he was as rugged and handsome as ever, a slight shadow of whiskers on his chin, dirt under his nails from working at the mill, edges of his hair brushing the soft collar of his shirt.

"Evenin', Sweetheart," he murmured, closing the door quietly behind himself before pressing a sweet kiss to her mouth.

Just another night, Leia reminded herself as he took her into his arms to prolong the kiss. She responded passionately, desperately, and Han pulled back gently.

"Hey. We promised this was gonna be a normal night, remember?" he reminded softly, tilting her chin towards his for another brush from his lips.

"Just any other evening," she breathed, begging, pleading, crying out to the universe to revoke Han's draft letter, destroy his orders, end this forsaken war before he had to leave the safety of Coruscant Bay.

Han seemed to read her thoughts, and he squeezed her hands.

The meal passed with with half-hearted small talk and long periods of painful silence made bearable only through Han's hand clamped firmly on hers over the table.

After dinner, Han helped her carry the dishes into the kitchen. That was something she'd always appreciated about him-he wasn't above helping her with the dishes.

They sat on the porch swing with their after dinner coffee, listening to the radio through the open parlor window. Leia didn't care that they were sitting far closer than what was proper. Instead, she worked on committing the feel of him to memory. His arm was around her shoulders, his hand rubbing the lacy edge of her sleeve. Her head was tucked into the curve of his neck, listening to his breathing and soaking in his heat through his flannel shirt. Her hand was splayed over his chest, and she could feel his heart beating against her fingertips. The program ended just as the parlor clock chimed the hour.

The broadcaster had barely said 'Good Evening' before he launched into news about the war.

"Can we turn this off for tonight?" she asked. Han nodded and followed her into the parlor. Fiddling with the dial, Han switched it to a musical program instead of switching the set off.

"Dance with me," he requested, tugging her against him. Leia complied willingly, leaning her cheek against his chest and settling her hand in his. He twirled them about slowly around the parlor, like so many of the evenings they'd spent at the dance hall where they met.

Edith Piaf's wavering alto floated out of the wireless first, singing in French. The song was lilting, and they swayed together, enjoying being close as the chorus repeated. Dancing wasn't something they did often, but somehow, it made things feel more normal.

Nat King Cole's voice was next, singing 'I Love You for Sentimental Reasons.'

They continued moving together to the music for a long while, 'til the candles on the dining table were burned down to drippy stubs in the silver candle holders.

The last song that played was Bing Crosby's crooning voice singing 'It's Been A Long, Long Time.'

"Kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again. It's been a long, long time," he sang. Han did as he was told, bending his head down to meet Leia's lips.

The words were about homecoming, and Leia forced herself to look past the next...the next what, months? Years?... He's coming back to me, Leia assured herself. The night he came home, they'd dance to this song together, just like this, and they'd share all these same kisses to make up for lost time.

In the meantime, Leia urged herself to remember what his kiss felt like and tasted like, savoring the comforting, familiar feeling while she could. Wrapping her arms around his neck during the instrumental portion, Leia hugged him tightly, memorizing just how tall he was in comparison to her. Bing started singing again, and Han adjusted to their new position by slipping his hands slowly over her back as he leaned down to kiss her.

"I need to be on my way," Han murmured, hugging her tightly.

"Please don't go," Leia whispered, finally unable to keep the tears from her eyes.

"Leia, I have to," Han replied.

"No-tonight. Stay with me. Please," she asked, looking up at him.

"I'll stay," he promised.

00

Han finished his post flight check and Pilot-Han fell away. Pilot-Han was the one that could follow the orders of his superiors, the one that could go from sound asleep to in the air in a matter of minutes when a scramble-order came through. He was the one that wore his flight suit like he'd been born in it, and flew with precision only dreamt about by most. He was the one that could function like a machine, no matter what this man's army threw at him. He was the one that could fall in bed after a long night of adrenaline-fueled combat and not dream of anything.

It was very rare that Regular-Han pushed Pilot-Han out of the way, but as he walked away from his plane, Han was shaking so severely that he could hardly stand. Leaning against the wall, Han scrubbed a hand over his face.

It was hardly his first bombing run. It wasn't even their most successful mission. Why was it affecting him like this?

It was the town. Han was suddenly brought back to grade school when they read a book about Europe. The chapter on Germany had focused around that little town he'd just bombed. He remembered reading about the little deli near its center, and the distillery at the edge. There had been a grainy picture in the corner of the page showing smiling citizens in the park. Even at that young age, Han had wanted to travel all over the world, and he added that small German town to his list, too young to understand the politics that had precipitated the Great War or would cause the next.

He'd just dropped forty-five hundred pounds of explosives on that town. On that little deli, and the distillery, and the smiling people in the grainy picture.

Han sat heavily on the concrete floor of the hangar and fished in his pocket for the photograph he always carried-Leia, smiling brightly, her eyes almost jumping off the page as they sparkled.

This photograph had brought him more comfort than he could say during the year that he'd been away from Coruscant Bay. The edges were frayed and the corners were bent from being taken in and out of his pocket so often.

This time, though, his girl's gleaming facade didn't bring him calm. They had girls, too, those men in that little town. They wouldn't pick a flower to bring to her on the way home from work, or be greeted with a kiss when they rang the bell. How would he feel if he couldn't kiss Leia again? And children-he and Leia talked a houseful. Didn't that little town have houses full of families?

Han pushed the thought from his mind. They bombed a factory that made weapons and the massive rail yards, not the farms and houses. He was helping to dismantle the German war machine.

That's what Leia would tell him if she were there. She would praise him for doing what he knew needed to be done. Han brushed his fingers over her photograph again, wishing he were touching her face, could run his fingers through her curly hair, or feel the silk of that red dress, or nestle his hand into the small of her back.

He could barely remember what her body felt like under his hands the night before he left, or what her perfume smelled like on his skin as he left her. His hands flowed over an instrument panel with more precision than they'd ever flowed over her.

The realities of war hit Han for the first time in a year, and he wept.

00

News of the official truce came one warm May afternoon. Leia was reading, the radio playing Glenn Miller softly in the background, when the newscaster suddenly burst through, quickly spitting out the news.

"Luke!" she cried. "Luke!"

Her brother came dashing in from the garden.

"What?!" he yelled. The reporter began repeating the news, and Leia pointed excitedly at the wireless, hardly able to keep herself from jumping up and down.

He was coming home. The danger was over with, and it was only a matter of time before Han was back where he belonged. That night, she wrote to him, pouring love and excitement into the ink on the page.

It took only a few weeks for men to start to return. The national news broadcasts on the radio listed the numbers every day-increasing from hundreds to thousands. In the morning paper, the names of men returning from all over the county. She recognizes so many of them-boys she graduated high school with, older brothers of friends, and people that Han knew. Once a week, the train would come from New York, bringing troops home. Practically the entire town came down to the station, packing the platform to welcome home their sons, brothers, husbands.

No one ever knew who to expect. The mail was in a mess, and every letter that Leia tried to send was returned weeks later, crumpled and torn. Men who returned told stories of the confusion in Europe-entire battalions of men were picked up and moved to an entirely new place overnight because they were needed for the liberation of a Nazi Death Camp or the reorganization of a fallen city.

Still, Leia knew Han would come back to her soon.

Men returned in droves. Every week, she and all her friends would go down to the station and clasp hands, waiting, hoping, praying that their brother or boyfriend or fiance would be one of the faces disembarking from the train.

Shara's boyfriend, Kes, was first to come home. Shara broke their chain and ran across the crowded platform. Kes scooped her up and twirled her around, kissing her passionately.

A few weeks later, Winter's brother was on the train, and Leia went yet another week without word from Han. Winter and Shara still came to the station with her for a little while, but eventually, the troop train started coming only twice a month, and the crowd at the station began to thin.

One evening after dinner, Luke took her hand when she stood up to clear the table.

"Leia...do you...Well, is there anywhere that information about Han might have gone, other than here? The army doesn't really recognize your engagement as...well, official...they might not send his information here," Luke stated gently. Leia fell into her chair, blanching.

"Well, I suppose it might go to Corellia Heights…"she presumed.

"Oh, good thought," Luke said in a falsely cheerful voice.

"Do you really think...he's not…"

"No, no, no!" Luke assured quickly. "I just wondered if they...maybe sent his orders there."

"Oh. I suppose it's possible," Leia agreed quietly.

"On second thought, it's probably nothing. He hasn't lived up there for years," Luke reasoned.

"Indeed," Leia whispered, standing and taking the dishes to the kitchen.

She didn't tell her brother that she cried into the dish pan that night.

Luke didn't tell Leia that he drove up to Corellia Heights the next day and asked at the post office for any mail. There was none, and whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, he wasn't sure.

The trains stopped being used solely for troop transportation, and the station platform once again became more crowded as business people and other travelers mixed in with the few returning soldiers. Shara and Winter no longer came to wait at the station with her, but Luke did. Each day that the train pulled away and the station cleared with no sign of Han, he'd silently take her hand and guide her back to his pick-up.

On the radio, they announced that there would be only one more round of troop trains. The next morning's paper listed the date, and Leia circled it in red pencil on the paper calendar that hung in the kitchen.

She and Luke drove to the station on the appointed day, and the platform was just as crowded as ever. Smoke from the train, became visible as a gray trail off in the distance, and soon, the tracks started humming. Leia gripped Luke's hand tightly, her knuckles white, trying not to think of what would happen if Han didn't get off that train. It slowed into the station and the crowd grew restless, those waiting to board gathering their personal effects and stepping toward the rails. The train lurched to a stop and the conductors threw open the doors.

Everything was madness for a few endless minutes. Her short stature kept her from seeing much of anything other than coats and suitcases. Luke had only a slightly better vantage, and together, they stood on tiptoes and craned their necks to search for Han.

The conductor called 'all aboard', and Leia's heart began to sink. The platform cleared rapidly as the last of the disembarking passengers exited and the last of the travelers hurried aboard the train.

"He's not here," she breathed, squeezing Luke's hand. "He's not…" Tears welled up behind her eyes and Luke started to pull her into a hug.

"Leia!"

She recognized his voice and began running in the direction from which it had come, searching through the clusters of people.

"Leia!"

He was much closer now, and she was in his arms almost before she saw him. His hands caught both sides of her face, bringing her in for a kiss. Leia's arms closed around his neck, and Han moved his hands to her waist to lift her off her feet, holding her close as their kiss continued.

"I love you," she whispered through tears. Han gently put her feet back on the platform and bent down for another kiss before returning the sentiment.

Luke finally caught up with his sister, but Han and Leia only had eyes for each other. Her hand skimmed over his stubbled jawline, the wings pinned to his jacket, the buzz-cut that had started to grow out. Han's hands rubbed up and down her back, brushing her curves and squeezing her shoulders.

Leia pulled him in for another long kiss.

"I promised I'd be back. It's been a long, long time, but here I am," he offered, brushing a lock of curly hair out of her eyes.

Somewhere in the distance, Bing Crosby began singing.

"Kiss me once, and kiss me twice, and kiss me once again…"

And Leia intended to do just that.

AN: Thanks for reading! If you liked it, leave me a review! If you want to see some of the pictures that I used for inspiration, they are on my tumblr organanation!