Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Star Wars or any of these characters. But thanks for letting me play with them, George.
Solo
We'd been in that miserable cell for a day and a half, and I was beginning to question the Imperials' motives. When we'd first been taken to the prison block, I'd been sent off to the torture room while Chewie was taken to our cell. Leia had been dragged back to our room to get changed back into her Hoth jump-suit.
Stupidly, I'd thought her and Chewie were safe. I was wrong. They came when we were asleep, four stormtroopers, all armed. Chewie, with his impossibly sensitive hearing and sense of smell, detected them first and woke us. For the second time, Leia was asleep in my arms- not bad, considering that two months ago we were flying at each other's throats. When they'd come in, two blocked Chewie from coming to our aid, then the other two took Leia out.
She went, but was resisting a cursing all the way. That's my girl.
I sent a few quiet prayers to whatever gods wanted to listen, hoping for Leia's safety. I don't know how long it took for them to bring her back, whether it was the four hours I timed or the eternity it seemed.
Once again, Chewie barked a warning, this time followed by a quiet whimper. Neither were words exactly, but I knew what he meant. Stormtroopers- and Leia. And something really bad had happened.
The door slid open, and two Imps shoved her through it. Leia let them, collapsing on the floor as the door was locked again. For a moment, there was silence only broken by her ragged breathing. Then I ran to her.
"What did they do to you?" I whispered, a hand on her shoulder.
Aside from a headshake which I took to mean, 'Not now,' she didn't reply. Tears ran tracks down her cheeks, which now I looked closely I could see were covered in new cuts and bruises. They hurt her.
Anger swept through me, though I couldn't have done anything anyway and I'd kind of suspected it even with my prayers to the gods. "Are you-"
I grimaced as she bent over and threw up the little in her stomach without any warning. One of my hands went automatically to hers; my other held her fringe back from her eyes. It was over quickly, but she still looked ill.
Her dark, sorrow filled eyes met mine, silently asking for help. My arms slipped easily around her, rocking her gently.
"It's okay, sweetheart. It's over." And it's never going to happen again.
"My stomach hurts," she said weakly, leaning her head on the shoulder I'd offered her.
"I know, sweetheart. I know."
Chewie growled softly, reminding me that we all needed our rest.
"Leia?" I asked her quietly, almost worried to speak too loud, "Can you get up?"
"Yeah," she nodded- ever the brave one- and got to her feet with my help.
We both sat down on my bunk, me still holding her, then I tenderly kissed her cheek. Her skin was feverish and seemed to burn with pain. My own actions surprised me. I mean, in all my life I've never cared for anyone. Oh sure, I've cared about people, but no one had ever had to rely on me for protection, I'd never had to look after someone.
What scared me was that I didn't just have to look after Leia, but that I had an overwhelming desire to do so anyway.
So I was more shocked than anyone when I felt my eyes suddenly flood with tears, though I didn't allow any to escape. Tears of anger that anyone, even the Dark Lord himself, would lay a finger on my baby, and pain because deep down, my soul still echoed Leia's agony and I knew well how she felt.
Exhausted, Leia fell to sleep right there with me holding her. Her limp body rested against mine, and not for the first time I worried about how light she is.
Almost too scared to do so, afraid that even the gentlest touch would break her- she felt so fragile in my arms, like a leaf- I lay her down on the bunk and got up to leave her to rest.
Chewie looked up from the corner and asked, 'How are we going to get out of this one?'
I shrugged absent-mindedly, still watching Leia. "I don't know. But we've got out of worse."
He was quiet for a moment, then said, 'She loves you, cub.'
I didn't look at him, or even reply.
I was afraid that if I did, he'd see the tears in my eyes.
