A/N: Something that just came to my mind the other day when I was listening to "Accidentally in Love."
Command/ open new sheet
Princess-- I'm getting outta here and I figured the only way you'd let me say good bye was like this so here's a letter. See? I can write. I'm not as unsofisisticated (how the kriff do you spell this word?!) as you pretend, so there, your Highnessness. Um. Yeah.
I shoulda left a long time ago. I shoulda just taken my money after saving Luke's ass and gotten the hell outta there. I don't know why I didn't. Ok, that's a lie. I do know why I stayed, but whatever. I'm goin' now, Princess.
I mean, at first I said it was 'cuz somebody's gotta look after the kid. He's so naïve, they woulda eaten him in a second! And then parts of the Falcon kept needin' repairs or kept blowin' up in my face. And then, well, at least I got a free place to park my ship and my rear in exchange for the occasional lending of the talents of said ship and rear (well, more the ship). But really, if I'd really wanted to, Chewie and me coulda lifted off at any time.
But we're leaving for real this time, Princess, just as soon's we get her fixed up because—because we are. Because I've gone and made a huge mistake and if I don't get outta here now, I don't know what I'm gunna do. I mean, it wasn't my fault, but I really shoulda seen it coming.
And it isn't all my fault! You're partially to blame, Princess. If you weren't so gorram loud, if you didn't have so many custom-made insults, if you didn't always know what to say, if there weren't those times when—when, I don't know, you accidentally act all human, and if you weren't so pretty and intelligent and strong and tough and devoted to the stupid rebellion. And plus, if your smile wasn't so nice and if your laugh wasn't so, I dunno, cute when you do laugh which isn't often. If you weren't such a challenge to get out of your shell and get mad or amused—and I can't not accept a challenge.
So if you weren't you, I wouldn't hafta leave. Got that? It's your fault.
I mean, you're the ex-Senator from a dead planet and people still call you Princess because they respect you even though the people you would've ruled are gone. You're leading a rebellion alongside a bunch of people twice your age. You withstood serious Imperial torture and still didn't give the base away. You give motivating speeches and look great in commando gear and they love you and would follow you anywhere. You would die for this stuff.
And what am I, anyway?
Just some arrogant space-bum who used to smuggle spice for a buncha overgrown slugs. And, it seems, who has trouble crushing stupid delusions of grandeur.
I've been just solo for so long, telling myself that no one else matters unless they're paying me well. Just me and Chewie, livin' on the Falcon and smuggling spice and making money. If I stay around you much longer, I'll never be able to learn to ignore my conscience again, I'll never be able to go back to being freelance—just me and space, ties with no one and nobody.
Hell, Leia, I'm a scoundrel, you're a Princess. Doesn't that about sum in up? We both know that'd never go anywhere, even if you were remotely interested. But you usually seem to hate me (or at least, you're an amazing actress if you don't). I'm leaving before anything stupid can happen.
Or at least, anything stupider than me forgetting what I learned last time: no one's worth the crap they make you go through when you realize it. She left. You're probably gunna die fighting the Empire.
That's it, Princess. I made a mistake by staying this long, so I'm getting outta here.
I fell in love with you on accident. I didn't mean to and the only way to make it stop is to leave. You don't care and I'd just get in the way if someone you did like came along. Like the kid, I know you think he's nice. You don't need me.
And I got used to not having what I need a long time ago.
I'll be gone by the time you read this. No hard feelings, ok? Good luck and all that. And, well, may the Force be with you, Leia.
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