I'm in the process of rewriting this fic, having accidentally filled it with crap. Most of what I'm fixing is grammar and style, however I'm making enough changes to make it worth re-reading, if you've already read it. I added piles more description, Leia's not so weak and vascillating anymore, and the Luke/Wedge plotline is going to actually go somewhere. I've got the whole plot worked out in outline now, too! *happydance*

Disclaimer: All of it belongs to George characters, the ships, the planets, the sweeping epic storyline... all of it, except the stuff I made up. (You can have that if you want it though, George. ^_~) Please do not archive this anywhere without my permission. Thanks.

Blood, Love & Rhetoric, Chapter 1:

Love, Vengeance, and the Mass Media

"How the hell could he make a dirty joke about Kloo Horns?" Leia wondered, as she shut off the holomessage from the Bith ambassador and dropped it in a drawer. It had been an appalling joke, too. True, in lighter and less sober moments, she'd occasionally found the word 'instrument' hilarious, but Han's humor was just too shocking... and entirely innapropriate for an ice-breaker on a tour of Klackdor VII, the galaxy's main exporter of Kloo Horns and other quality musical equipment.

Privately, she'd thought the joke amusing.. but that wasn't what she'd told the ambassador. The indignant Bith had demanded an official apology before he'd even release Han from prison, and she'd had to promise Klackdor VII another seat on the Senate to stop him from threatening to pull the Bith homeworlds out of the republic. By the time the ambassador signed off, she'd been ready to shoot a blaster bolt between his glassy eyes.

Leia sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair. Time to relax, she thought, as she pushed aside the paperwork on her desk. Hidden under the stacks of datapads was her favorite guilty pleasure- the Interplanetary Enquirer. The trashiest magazine in the galaxy, it featured the sordid stories of holostars, planetary governors, and the Coruscant elite.

Today's issue looked particularly juicy, and to Leia, more than a little ominous. The cover featured a picture of her husband, Han Solo, and a headline that blazed, "Sex Secrets of the New Rebublic!" She flipped directly to the story, and nearly dropped the magazine in shock. Spread over two pages was a color photo of Han and Chewbacca, lips locked in a passionate kiss.

She gasped in shock. She'd never had any reason to suspect, or so she'd thought up until now. Thinking about it, however, it seemed almost plausible. How often had Han and Chewie gone on diplomatic missions and returned weeks later than expected, with wild tales of bounty hunters and Dark Jedi? She hadn't believed a word of their stories, but in the past she'd held her peace, thinking that they'd spent the extra time playing Sabbaac and catching up with old buddies. But now the truth was here, emblazoned in lurid color on the pages of the Enquirer... and her husband and his Wookiee friend were off offending Bith and doing Force knows what else on Klackdor VII, four long and lonely hyperspace days away.

Leia gritted her teeth in rage. How could she have been so blind? All these years, and she'd never noticed that her husband was a devious, cheating bastard. Well, she'd show him. When she was done with him, he'd wish he'd never looked at that hairy homewrecker. As she left her office, she tore the picture from the magazine, then crumpled the rest and threw it in the nearest garbage chute. "Screw you, Han." she muttered under her breath. "I'm smart and good looking... rich and powerful, too. I could do so much better than a rat like you." Leia stalked furiously down the hallway, biting back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

--------

Either the air in my office was drier than usual, or I'm allergic to Fey'lya. thought Ackbar, as he unfastened his tunic. The pool in his quarters was warm and inviting, and he looked forward to slipping into the water and letting the day's stress flow away with the current. Letting his uniform drop to the floor, Ackbar sat on the pool's edge, his webbed feet touching the surface of the water. Blissful... Suddenly, his peaceful reverie was interrupted by the chime of his doorbell. Ackbar stood up, hastily donned a white bathrobe, and left a trail of wet footprints behind him as he went to open the door.

"Senator Organa?"

"You're not on duty," the senator smiled gently. "I think you can call me Leia."

"Is everything all right... Leia?"

Leia smiled again, but her eyes looked sad. "It's nothing, Admiral."

Ackbar laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm not on duty. I think you can call me Ackbar."

She laughed as he echoed her former words, but there was little humor in her voice. Looking closer at her face, Ackbar realized that she'd been crying. Oh, Leia... in all these years, since I first saw you across that Endor briefing room, you've never cried. They say you didn't cry when your homeworld was destroyed, not even when you learned Darth Vader was your father. What could possibly be so terrible now?

Ackbar swallowed, suddenly uncertain. He wanted so badly to help her, to comfort her, to hold her and kiss her problems away... but as soon as they appeared, he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. Now was not the time.

"Leia... what's the matter?"

Wordlessly, she held out a page from a magazine... a photo of two lovers embracing. Ackbar's jaw dropped in shock as he realized who the two figures in the picture were. No wonder she'd been crying, the man she'd loved since Hoth had turned out to be a slithering freshwater eel. She deserves better, he thought. She deserves...

Again, Ackbar stopped himself. Leia needed a friend now, and that's what he would be. "It can't be true," he said, steering her towards his ocean blue couch and sitting down. "Han loves you more than anything in the galaxy."

"But not more than he loves Chewie!" Leia sniffled. She sat down next to him, then flung her arms around him and buried her face in his uniform. Be a friend, Ackbar, he reminded himself, trying to ignore the gentle pressure of her body against his... trying to ignore her fingers trailing slowly down his chest... oh, bloody hell.

Ackbar slowly encircled her body with his arms, and as they fell back onto the wide couch, he noticed that she didn't really look like she'd been crying at all.

--------

Han pounded a fist on the instrument panel, cursing the fates and the broken navicom that had dropped the Millenium Falcon out of hyperspace in the middle Coruscant's orbital garbage dump. With a quick jerk of the controls, he turned the Falcon just in time to avoid an oncoming sofa, as a nearby explosion and a triumphant roar from the gun turret told him that Chewie had destroyed another piece of junk. Seeing a path clearing ahead, Han gunned the sublight engines, and the ship shot between the rusted hulks of two wrecked freighters, seconds before they crashed together. Shards of burning metal bounced off the rear shields, but the worst was finally behind them. Relieved, Han turned his attention to the navicom- or rather, the stack of newspapers that hid the navicom from view. With a sweep of his arm, the papers fluttered to the floor. One in particular caught Han's eye.

"The Enquirer? Who bought this piece of sh... What the hell?" Han looked at the picture, not believing what he was seeing. "Chewbacca!"

Chewbacca ran into the cockpit, but stopped short and rolled his eyes, barking a laugh when he saw the ridiculous newspaper Han held.

"Laugh while you can, Chewie," Han smiled grimly, then flipped to the centerfold.

Chewie's laughter turned to a horrified groan.

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"Grrawr!"

"I know it never happened! But what are we going to do about it?"

Chewie thought for a while, then raised his hands in the air and screamed a spine-chilling Wookiee war cry.

"Good idea!" Han took his blaster out of it's holster and pointed it threateningly at the surface of Coruscant. "Let's go!'

--------

Luke Skywalker sat cross legged on the floor of his dimly lit apartment in the Imperial Palace. A twelve inch tall holographic image of Han Solo stood in front of him, shouting and brandishing a torn and crumpled piece of paper. Luke sighed. "Han, I've told you, a Jedi does not take revenge."

Han took a deep breath. "We could use you, Luke. You're good to have around in a fight, and besides, it's a Jedi's duty to keep peace and order. This-" Han's voice became louder and angrier as he waved the picture at Luke. "This is not peace and order!"

"It's just a picture..."

"What about yours, then?" Han wore the beginnings of a very evil smile.

Luke blinked in confusion. "My what?"

"Hold on." Han disappeared for a moment, then returned with another issue of the Enquirer, this one much older. "Skywalker and Antilles- X-Schwing!" read the headline.

"Han, that newspaper is over ten years old."

Han's evil smile became smug in the extreme. "Exactly. This information has been out there for ten years, festering in the public imagination. For ten years, in the collective consciousness of the galaxy, you and Wedge have been at it like Womp Rats in springtime."

Luke drew back in shock. Was the general public really that gullible? With a sinking feeling in his heart, Luke realized he knew the answer. Han grinned and dropped the magazine. "Still not taking revenge?" he asked.

"Not revenge." replied Luke, his normal serenity now replaced with a sense of grim purpose. "I'll be repairing my good name."

"Sure you are." agreed Han. "I'll swing by the spaceport with the Falcon at fifteen hundred."

--------

Wedge looked up from the X-wing engine he'd been working on. That's funny... there's not supposed to be any ships arriving now... When the familiar shape of the Millenium Falcon pulled into the docking bay, Wedge chuckled to himself. Han Solo had never been one to follow docking regulations...

After the Falcon touched down, Wedge climbed down from his fighter to greet Han. "What brings you to the Palace?"

"Revenge." answered Han. "Where's Luke?"

Wedge looked worried. "Why? What are you going to do to him?"

"Not revenge on him." Han handed Wedge the clippings from the magazines. "We have a new enemy- the malicious mudslinging mynocks that write for this infernal rag."

Wedge examined the picture of Han and Chewie, then the article about Luke and himself. "What about it? Don't worry about it too much." At Han's horrified expression, Wedge explained, "It's not as if anyone believes what they write in the Enquirer. I mean, look at this. 'Darth Vader alive, well, and seen getting funky in a Bespin Discotheque'? It's not supposed to be serious. I hope." He shuddered at the mental picture. Vader's lack of rythym and grace had been famous.

"Yeah, well I suppose it's all very well for you." replied Han, smiling lazily. "You've probably gotten this all your life. I mean, a kid with a name like Wedge... " he laughed. "I bet you got a lot worse abuse than this."

Wedge raised his hands, fending off the new topic. "Hey. Let's not talk about my traumatic junior high years. I still have the physical and emotional scars. But maybe you're right. I mean, you have got a wife and kids to think about." Anyway, your article isn't... true... and neither is mine. Luke is my friend, that's all. And even if I did want him, which I don't... I still wouldn't do that with him. Even though I want to.

Squelching the traitorous thought and hoping that Han didn't notice the slight blush that rose to his cheeks, Wedge looked up from the newspaper he held. "You're right. Maybe I should strike some fear, too." he said, turning towards Han. "Can you wait a few minutes while I power up my X-wing?"

--------

Ackbar awoke early the next morning. His back ached; He'd spent the whole night on the couch, holding Leia close. She still slept, and as Ackbar gently stroked her silken hair, he thought that she'd never looked more beautiful. After being absolutely sure she would not soon awaken, he bent down his head and kissed her softly on the lips. Ackbar closed his eyes. Despite the stiffness of his back, the pins and needles in his legs, and the sofa's pattern transferred onto his left arm, this had been the happiest night of his life.

With a sigh, he looked out the window at the brilliant Coruscant dawn. I'd better get her home, he thought. It wouldn't do for her to wake up here, and besides...

"Ackbar."

He turned his head, and there she was- a radiant vision of beauty. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders, and the sunrise painted her white dress pink and gold. Ackbar's heart lept to his throat, and words failed him.

Leia smiled gently and stepped closer to the Mon Calimari, putting one hand on his. "I should thank you, Ackbar. Not every man would have let me stay like that."

Ackbar blushed olive, and barely managed to stammer in protest, "Princess, please, it was no trouble." He hadn't meant to use her old title, but the formality seemed the only thing that could save him from... Don't even think it, Ackbar.

Leia pressed his hand between both of hers, then leaned into him and kissed him softly on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist in a quick embrace. Before Ackbar could react, she'd released him and left in a flurry of long hair and flowing skirts, leaving him to wonder if any of it had been real.

--------

"Luke! Open up already!" Han yelled, pounding at the door to Luke Skywalker's apartments. "Come on! Do you want revenge, or not? I'm not waiting any longer! I'm serious! Open the door!" He raised his hand to bang on the door once more, halting his swing too late as the doors slid open. Luke ducked as Han's fist sliced the air where his head used to be.

"Hello, Han." He said in his customary peaceful manner. "Sorry I took so long to answer. I was... meditating."

Han looked at Luke's disheveled clothing, at his hair in disarray, at the still-ignited lightsaber he held in his hand, at the blaster thrown in a corner, at the burn marks on the walls and the shredded curtains. "Sure you were. What happened in there?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. It was ...like this when I moved in. Let's go."

As Luke keyed the lock code into his door, Han pulled Chewbacca aside, out of Luke's hearing. "What do you suppose he did to his quarters?"

"Grawr." Chewie nodded with absolute certainty.

"A moth? Really?" Han grinned broadly as he stated his own theory. "I think that he saw the paper and got frustrated... because it's all true."

"Rarh?" Chewbacca barked questioningly, cocking his head.

"Yes, everything." Smiling smugly, Han and Chewie followed behind Luke as he strode purposefully towards the docking platforms.

--------

Wedge popped open the canopy of his X-wing and waved a greeting as Han walked into the docking bay, a frazzled and dazed Luke trailing behind him. "Hey Han, Luke." he greeted them brightly. "Ready to strike fear into the hearts of... What happened to you?"

Han rolled his eyes and said sarcastically, "He was meditating." Luke glared daggers at Han, but said nothing.

"Seriously."

Reluctantly, Luke muttered, "There was a moth. It interrupted my Trance. It had to die."

Wedge didn't believe a word. "You don't look well. Are you sure you should be flying?"

"I'm fine, Wedge. Never been better. Can we get going?"

"All right," shrugged Wedge, sealing his X-wing's cockpit over himself. Once in the privacy of its enveloping bubble, he grumbled, "I save your life countless times, and you can't even tell me why you went ballistic? Sithspit, I wonder why I bother."

But you know why you bother, don't you? whispered an insidious voice.

"Shut up." Wedge hissed out loud.

Come on, admit it. The Enquirer was right.

"No, they weren't. Be quiet."

So you're denying it? Hilarious...

"Damn it, Shut up!" Wedge yelled in frustration.

"Wedge?"

"Han?!?" Wedge sounded slightly panicked, as if it hadn't occured to him that anyone would hear him shouting alone inside his cockpit with the comm open.

"Who were you talking to?"

"Um... my astromech. It can really be a bastard sometimes." Behind him, the little droid twittered with smug amusement, and Wedge's hand briefly hovered over the button labelled 'eject astromech.'

"Whatever you say," said Han, his disbelieving smirk evident in his voice.

--------

Leia jerked awake as her computer console beeped in her ear. Poodoo! She thought, sitting up with a jerk. I should to call Han and see how it went with the Bith... Then she remembered the article. That bastard. I bet he didn't even talk to the Bith. He probably never arrived on Klackdor VII. He's on one of those pleasure planets with that homewrecking slut of a Wookie, more likely. What an absoulute...

The console beeped again. The display indicated that the message came from the Millenium Falcon, and Leia angrily hit the keypad. A tiny projection of Han Solo appeared before her, and she squelched the urge to drop something heavy on the holographic image.

"Leia?"

"Hello, Han." the princess replied icily. "Having fun?"

Han looked confused. "Fun?" he repeated blankly

"On your... diplomatic mission.."

"Well, actually, I'm not..." Han started. Leia smiled triumphantly.

He knows. He knows I know about him and Chewie. I can tell from his shifty-eyed expression, from his fidgeting. He's turning bright red. It's no use, Han darling. You can't hide it from me. Sorry you got caught, aren't you? I'll let you stew in your guilt for a while. Then I'll... Leia was shocked out of her revenge fantasy by Han's next, completely unexpected, words.

"And Chewie and I are going to kill those bastards at the Enquirer for that damn article."

Leia gritted her teeth. How stupid could Han be, to think that would help? "Enquirer? The Interplanetary Enquirer? Han, how can you be so irresponsible! Who's going to keep Klackdor VII in the republic now? You're supposed to be grovelling to the Bith- are you trying to tell me you're not skanking around the galaxy with Chewbacca?"

Han smiled that easy grin that used to make her knees weak. Now, she saw it as smug and patronizing, and it turned her stomach. "Chewie?" Han said, spreading his arms in the innocent shrug she'd seen him use while lying to other smugglers. "Leia, you know you're the only one for me."

"Of course, love." Leia's voice was as gentle as frost, and her smile as sweet as arsenic. "I never doubted you for an instant."

--------

The journey to the other side of Coruscant took much less time than expected, as the slow-moving landspeeders and skyhoppers on the planet's highways wisely made way for the speeding Falcon whenever she loomed large in a frightened driver's sensors. Han expertly steered her through the cityscape, circling the obisidian Enquirer tower and landing in her docking bay.

Ten seconds later, he stood in front of the reception desk, holding the article and asking to speak to the reporter. Three seconds after that, he was shouting belligerently.

"What do you mean, he doesn't have an office here?!?" roared Han.

Behind the front desk, the poor receptionist pulled her head partially into her shell and raised her dorsal spines in terror. "I'm sorry, sir" she whimpered. "He's been sent to our Corellian branch on assignment. You'll have to go there if you want to speak to him."

"Go there? For the love of the Sith, what's wrong with the fucking Holonet?" Han's face reddened in anger, and his fingers tightened on the edge of the desk.

The receptionist drew her head completely into her shell. "Sir, he's working on a story. His holonet access is strictly limited to matters relevent to..." She broke off suddenly. The belligerent human was gone, leaving the doors swinging behind him. Two other humans in New Republic flight suits stood in front of the desk, looking much less adversarial than the first. "May I help you?" the receptionist asked, her voice still quavering with fear.

"What can you tell us about the writer of this article?" asked the dark- haired one politely, handing her a frayed and yellowed issue from several years back. Circled in red marker was a column with the headline, "Skywalker and Antillies- X-Schwing!"

The receptionist looked up at the two men, doing a double take as she realized who they were. Trying not to laugh, she entered the headline and issue number into the computer terminal. When the information appeared on her screen she sighed in discouragement, hoping these two wouldn't make a scene. "It's like I told the man ahead of you, sirs. He's been transfered to Corellia for a story. Please don't hurt me."

The human she recognised as Skywalker stepped closer to the desk. "Can you tell us where we might find him there?"

Glancing at the computer screen, she elaborated, "He's in the Altec City area, sir, working on a story about..." she faltered, gulping nervously. "About Commander Antilles. Sir."

"Altec City. Thank you." said Skywalker, as Antillies gaped at her in shock. As they left the Enquirer's lobby, the receptionist thought happily, I hope the cameras picked that up... I could get a raise for this.

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End chapter 1.

*Ominous music. On the darkened bridge of the Star Destroyer, the black- helmeted Sith Lord turns to face you. His breath hissing evilly though his mask he waves a menacing, black gloved finger in your face, then points down to the white boxer shorts he is wearing above his padded leather armor. In large letters across the front, they read 'To be continued!'*