Author: Penknife
Recipient: Apathy
Rating: PG
Fandoms: Star Trek/Star Wars
Summary: It's always a beautiful day on Alderaan.
The children are playing on the broad terrace outside the long gallery. Leia stops in the shadow of one of the pillars to watch them; neither of them looks up, absorbed in their game, chasing each other with model starfighters and laughing. Her father puts a hand on her shoulder from behind.
"It's just a game to them," he says. "Let them play."
"I wasn't planning to stop them," she says. The galaxy is at peace, and has been for years. Their dreams of flight are innocent. She turns to smile up at her father. There are lines at the corners of his dark eyes, and his hair is going salt-and-pepper with time, but he's still as handsome as she remembers him from her childhood.
"Shall we have dinner served out on the terrace this evening?" Bail Organa looks out at the mountains in the distance; the sun is just lowering, streaking the sky with red and gold. It's beautiful, but then sunsets are always beautiful on Alderaan.
"I thought we'd go out to a party tonight," Leia says. "I feel like going out."
"Have fun," her father says. "I'll keep an eye on those two young scoundrels." He strides out onto the terrace, and she watches him sweep one of his grandchildren up in his arms.
Han is there beside her, then, dressed in the crisp uniform of a naval captain, with Luke behind him, all in white to match her own white gown. She smiles at Luke and leans in so Han can wrap an arm around her waist.
"Off we go, then," Han says, swinging her off toward the speeder, and Luke catches her other hand. Then they're at the party, the music threading its way through the hum of conversation. Han used to be awkward at these affairs, but he's grown relaxed over the years, and he steers her through the crowd with his hand warm on her hip.
She's always enjoyed parties like this; it's a chance to meet new people, not that she's not perfectly content most days to spend her time on the estate. With Han and Luke and her father for company, she's never bored, and there are always the children. But she still is a diplomat, and it's good to have a chance to talk to strangers, too.
At once, she notices the man sitting at a nearby table. He looks her father's age, or at least the age her father usually is, not aging gracefully but with a face that must have been very handsome not very long ago. He looks up at her and toasts her with his glass, his mouth twitching in an ironic smile.
She slips away from Han and Luke and goes over to the man's table. He waves her to a chair, and she sits down. "Welcome to Alderaan," she says.
He looks around. "Is that where this is? It's pretty."
She raises an eyebrow at him. "You don't even know what planet you're on?"
He smiles again. It's not really a happy expression. "Planets come and go." She looks away from his hazel eyes; there's something in them she doesn't want to look at too closely.
"I don't travel much," she says. "I have everything I need right here."
"Of course you do," he says. "Including me, apparently. I'm James T. Kirk. Or at least I'm close enough."
"Pleased to meet you," Leia says. There's a drink on the table in front of her, the hard liquor Han once told her she could try but wouldn't like. She sips at it, taking pleasure from its strength. "I suppose you're not Alderaanian."
"Not even close," Kirk says. "I don't suppose you've heard of Iowa."
She shakes her head. "One of the Rim planets?"
"Not really." He shakes his head. "I wonder how far this place has traveled. And how long. Iowa might be full of dinosaurs or part of the Klingon Empire, from your point of view. Although I hope not."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Leia says, and it's true because she wants it to be. "Do they dance on Iowa?"
"I expect I can pick it up as I go along," Kirk says.
He does, although not particularly well. After one dance she lets him lead her back to the table. Luke catches her eye from across the room and raises his eyebrows. She shrugs, and he nods acceptance and goes back to watching the musicians. He's always a little protective, and Han is always a little jealous. She likes it, as long as it's not more than a little.
She's hungry, and a waiter appears at once to set a plate of ripe fruit in front of her; Kirk seems to consider for a moment, and then the waiter sets something odd and triangular and dripping grease in front of him. "The pizza's good here," he says, with that same ironic smile, and attacks it with knife and fork.
"You're not ... from here," Leia says.
"I told you, I'm from Iowa," Kirk says. "Originally." He spears another bite of what is apparently pizza on his fork and points at her with it. "So, why am I here?"
"I like to meet people," Leia says.
"You can meet plenty of people here," Kirk says. "As many times as you like, and always for the first time. Or if you prefer reunions with old friends ..." He looks nostalgic for a moment, and then shakes his head. "So why are you talking to me?"
"I have no idea," Leia says. "You're the one who came."
"So I must be what you wanted. Or I must have something you want."
"Is that so?" She looks at him skeptically. He's not that handsome.
"A way out, maybe?"
"A way out of what? You can see that it's a beautiful planet. And I didn't say I never traveled. Sometimes we go away in the Falcon, just the three of us." She smiles with vicarious pride. "You must have heard of her. She's the best ship in the Alderaanian fleet."
"And you can go wherever you want in her?"
"Of course we can."
"Doesn't the Alderaanian fleet have ... work to do?"
"These are peaceful times," Leia says. "We all deserve some time for ourselves."
"Do you?" His words are quick, now, challenging. "What did you do?"
"We defeated the Empire," Leia says. "Years ago."
"How?"
"That doesn't matter now. It's all over."
"Is it?"
"Of course it is." Leia frowns at him. "I don't have to listen to you."
"No, you don't," he says. "I'm not much more real than the rest of this place is. I left here a long time ago. Or a long time from now." He shrugs. "It comes out to the same thing."
"This is real," she says. "Everything I want."
"And you've already done everything worth doing," he says. "You've already saved the world."
"Of course I have," she says. Across the room she can see Luke and Han laughing together. Han throws an arm around Luke's shoulders, and Luke smiles happily, no shadows in his eyes. "We're all done with all that."
"If that's true, then why am I still here? This is the Nexus. You don't have to listen to anyone who says things you don't want to hear. One advantage over the real world." He turns his glass around in his hands. In its depths, the light catches oddly, like a ring of fire expanding in the darkness of space.
It's hard to look away from both the glass and his eyes. "This is real," she says, but for the first time there's a question in the words. She tells herself she doesn't want to know, but she can't help looking up and meeting his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he says, and he sounds like he means it.
"For what?"
"That the world's not perfect."
"It is," she says, but she can feel a shadow falling over her, like the memory of grief.