A/N Here is my second story. Again, it will be basically an adventure, hurt/comfort story – with poor Han being the one who mostly gets hurt. It is set within six months after the Rebellion blew up the first death star – so somewhere between A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back.

The story premise is this: Han, Luke and Leia have been captured during a mission and imprisoned on an out of the way "backwater" planet, as Han refers to it, called Avaya. The Avayans are a somewhat primitive humanoid people, who are in the process of rebuilding their major city, after a recent natural disaster too place . The planet had previously been discovered by the Empire, who have taken it over, and are now "assisting" the Avayans in their building projects. The captives are being held in an underground facility, where their job is to quarry rock from beneath the surface to the building sites above ground, under heavy guard. Han was injured in the fight where they were taken captive and the story begins 3 - 4 days after they were captured.

As with my last story, it is very relationally driven, and will explore the developing dynamics between the main characters – especially Han , Leia and Luke. The story will also feature Chewbacca and Wedge Antilles and probably a few other characters in the later chapters.

I don't own anything Star Wars, except the evil characters that lurk in my brain. I hope you enjoy this story!

I'll try to post a chapter often. Reviews will obviously make me write faster!

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Going Solo

Chapter One

Solo woke up to blinding pain in his left arm. "Uhh," he groaned, not really aware of where he was or what was going on. "Wher' 'm I?" he managed to gasp out, finally getting his eyes open. He saw Leia hovering over him anxiously, but before she could respond, a rough voice answered for her. "Shut up Solo, where you are don't concern you none. What's gonna happen next, now that's what ya' oughter' be concerned about." The man behind the voice obviously thought that what he'd had to say was funny. His harsh laughter got through the fog in Solo's head enough to give him a hint of what was going on.

In a flash, he remembered the recent past. They, Luke, Leia & him, were in a prison. He'd been injured during the fight that had happened when they were first captured. Someone had shoved a knife through his arm. In fact, he was pretty sure it was the guard who'd spoken a moment earlier. What was his name? Weins. That was it. He had a score to settle with him—not only had he sliced his arm open from below his elbow almost to his wrist, but he'd pushed the tip of the knife all the way through his arm, before yanking it free. Han wasn't sure, but he thought maybe part of the knife had broken off inside. The whole thing was a little fuzzy; all he knew for sure was that he'd passed out as the knife was being pulled free. He also knew Weins had been the guard who had hassled them the most, delighting in kicking and punching Han, or the others, whenever one of them didn't respond quickly enough to any of their captor's command.

Solo remembered hurting worse every day of the three or four days they'd been here, and he knew his arm was infected. Though the days had taken on an unreal quality, and sort of all ran together for him, he thought he could remember waking up (this morning?), and trying to meet the daily quota of rocks they were being forced to haul. But he wasn't quite sure what had come next. Everything was blurry at best. However, as the seconds went by, things came into focus more and more sharply. He tried to sit up, realizing he was flat on his back on a hard concrete floor, but felt his vision dim as he moved his arm in the attempt. Next he knew, he heard Luke's voice, admonishing him to stay still. That seemed a good plan; at least for the moment and he let his head fall back, closing his eyes against the sudden nausea that was now vying for his attention.

As he was waiting, he felt something cool pressed against his neck and heard the hiss of an infuser discharging something into his veins. It didn't take him long to recognize what it was. Han Solo remembered the feeling of the stimulants the Imperials used against prisoners all too well. Snarling, he opened his eyes and glared at the nearest guard. "What'd the hell you do that for?" His eyes, vision crystal clear now, shifted away from the grinning visage of the guard, over to Luke and Leia, who seemed startled at the sudden change in their pilot friend. Han realized they had probably never felt an Imperial stimulant before, and was glad for them. Even if you weren't already injured, it wasn't a pleasant sensation, causing nausea and often vomiting, a severe headache, and heightened sensory perception, as well as keeping the victim awake for 48 – 72 hours, depending on the dosage. If you were already hurt, it was pure hell.

"Well, Solo," Weins drawled, "we're about to treat that arm, and we wanted to be sure you were awake to enjoy it." Before he could respond, Han was jerked upright. His right arm was grabbed and pulled behind his back, while his left was yanked forward, and laid on a bench in front of him. Solo gulped back the cry of pain, and clamped his teeth shut, knowing that there was nothing he could do at this point to stop what was coming. He raised hate-filled eyes toward their captors and glared, but refrained from saying anything, instead lifting his head a little higher, determined not to give them the satisfaction of hearing him suffer if he could possibly avoid it.

Leia was staring at him with tears in her lovely eyes, but she had enough sense not to say anything, knowing there was nothing she could do to forestall the inevitable. Luke, however, was outraged at the treatment his friend and sometimes hero was receiving and took two quick steps forward, grabbing at Weins' who was holding Han's injured limb in place. "No, Luke!" Han managed to get out, "Forget it." The guard snarled, lunged to his feet and slugged Luke across the face, knocking the young Jedi off his feet, where he collapsed in a corner. Han shook his head and just muttered "Stupid kid." The guard returned to Solo, grabbing his arm all the harder. "Solo," he growled, you'd better try and keep your little friends under control or I won't be responsible fer treatin' you nice and kind like we'd planned."

Weins laughed at his own joke and motioned toward the cell door. It opened and a man with a doctor's bag entered. Leia looked up hopefully, wanting to believe Han was finally going to get the medical help he needed so desperately, but when she looked into the doctor's eyes, she knew differently. Glancing back at Han, she could read dread in his expression. However, Han just sighed and motioned toward Luke with his head.

Leia offered him a tremulous smile and moved to Luke who was slowly sitting up and shaking his head, trying to clear it. She helped him to his feet, but shook her head and placed a restraining hand on his arm when he caught sight of Han, and again tried to go to the rescue. "No Luke, it won't help," she murmured. Luke looked around, trying to see anything that he might use to go to Solo's aid, but finally slumped against the wall in defeat, as he noted that the four guards, plus the "doctor" were all heavily armed.

"Solo," Weins sneered. "This here is our prison, ah, 'doc' shall we say. He's going to take care of that arm for you. When you passed out today, we realized you needed his attention. Obviously, if yer too sick to stay on your feet, yer no good to us, so Doc Simms here will fix you right up. Oh, you might want to be aware that his wife and son were on the Death Star, and he holds you all personally responsible for its destruction; but I'm sure he won't let that influence his treatment of you." With another shout of laughter, Weins pressed Han's arm tightly to the bench and said, "He's all yer's doc."