Fic Amnesty: SW (Mrs. Reynolds fic)

[holdouttrout]

A(nother) brief note about FicAmnesty: These are going to be bits and pieces of fanfiction that I *like* but can't really do anything with. Either the ideas ran dry, or the styles didn't work past a certain point, or I just plain didn't feel like finishing them. They are put here for other people to get inspired by, nag me ceaselessly about, or just enjoy. If you do not wish to see poor, orphaned fics, just write me a comment and I'll take you off the list. There's a filter on the list because 1) My RL people read this journal for some unknown reason, and 2) The people in other fandoms just don't care.

This is a random bit of SW fic that I played with briefly. The idea was inspired by the Firefly episode, "Our Mrs. Reynolds." Sort of. It's going to FicAmnesty status because although I had, at one point, an entire plot thought up, I shamelessly stole bits for my love-of-the-week AU drabble-verse.

To the fic!

*_*_*_*_*_*

The girl kept looking at him with an open stare, the expression in her eyes markedly different from that of the other girls stealing their glances. The other girls looked up until they caught his eyes, blushed, and looked away again, only to share looks between themselves.

When he felt her stare, he looked up. She held his gaze, accusing him with her eyes. She was actually glaring at him. And unlike the others, once she caught his eye she didn’t look away. She held his eyes, challenging him as yet another girl giggled behind his back and put another roll on his plate.

She narrowed her eyes, clearly disgusted at the other girls’ antics. Han was amused and let a smirk answer her. She didn’t look away, but she did flush. Han raised his mug to her, wondering what he’d have to do to make her look away.

A raucous laugh startled Han from his game. His host, the sort of large, jovial man who always seemed to end up in charge of dirt-poor settlements threw himself into the chair next to Han, bumping his shoulder and causing some of the liquor in his mug to slosh over the side.

A hand clamped on his shoulder.

“Han! Are you enjoying our gratitude?”

The girl was gone, vanished from the light of the fire. Han smiled weakly at the large man.

“It’s a swell party, Giaou.”

“I’m sure you are glad we convinced you to stay. I know, I know, you wanted to take off to get to a job that could pay better—“

With the preserves, grain, and plums—plums, of all things—that were right now masquerading as his cargo, he thought Giaou had a talent for understatement.

“But maybe there are other ways we can repay you, eh?”

And before him was the girl. She wasn’t looking at him, this time. She was glaring at Giaou, who ignored her.

“This is my niece, Leia.”

“I would not call you family, Giaou. Family do not sell their own.” Her voice startled Han; it was lower than he expected, and forceful.

Giaou laughed at her words as Han felt a sinking sensation.

“Giaou—“

He held up a hand. “I inherited her from my brother, but she is used to a different kind of life. She was spoiled and is, perhaps, too spirited. Much too spirited for this place, but not, perhaps, to be a wife to a man such as Han Solo?”

“What?” Han exclaimed. “Giaou, you can’t be serious. I can’t—“

He glanced at Leia, her dark hair spilling over her face, her eyes wide and dark and annoyed, but under all that—maybe a little hopeful. Definitely a little scared.

He tried again. “This is insane. You can’t honestly expect me to take her as my wife.”

Giaou shrugged. “If she does not go with you, I will have to find another place for her.” My wife has told me that she cannot deal with the girl anymore. I can’t just throw her out—she is family.”

Han looked at Leia again. She was looking at Giaou with disgust. “Uncle, I would gladly go if there were anywhere to go. I would not claim you as family if I had another choice.”

“I’ll take her.”

Both heads whipped around to stare at him. He avoided the girl’s eyes and said, “Hey, better me than some lout, right?” He wasn’t sure who he was addressing.

Giaou grinned. “Good! Then we’ll just have you sign the marriage papers, and you can be on your way!”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*

He heard her hesitate at the bottom of the ramp. He caught her deep breath and then she was striding up the ramp as if she owned the ship.

“Welcome aboard the Millenium Falcon, honey,” he said with mock sweetness as she appeared at the top of the ramp.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I can’t call my wife honey?”

“If you think for one instant that just because you and my uncle agreed to this—transaction—that I’m going to act like a demure, insipid, little—“

“Never thought such a thing. ‘Sides, I like my women spirited.”

He was teasing, but she reacted as if he’d seriously propositioned her.

“I may have signed my name, but know this, flyboy: I have no intention of being your wife in anything other than name.”

“Whoa,” Han said, holding up his hand. “You and I both know that it takes two to make a marriage. And, sweetheart, you’re not my type.”

He was facing away from her, but he heard her shift her weight.

“Then what—why—“

Han shrugged, a little uncomfortable. “I thought, maybe, you’d rather not stick around this dump waiting to be sold for real. There’s plenty of places a smart girl could go. I suspect you already have a plan.”

He waited her out. She finally set her bag down. “How did you know?”

He turned to face her. “Because, darling, you’re too good for them. And you know it.”

She flushed again.

He rose, casually. “You just tell me where you want to go, and I’ll drop you off. No one the wiser.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re gonna take me anywhere I want, and then you’ll just leave? That’s it? What’s in it for you?”

“Well, I’m hoping you’ll help me with some of the repairs en route, but mostly I just felt sorry for Giaou, having to deal with the likes of you.”

It wasn’t an answer, and he suspected Leia didn’t buy it. But she didn’t say anything, just nodded.

He jerked his head toward the rear of the ship. “I cleared out the second bunk for you. Why don’t you get settled?”

She nodded again and moved off.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*