This piece is set between ANH and ESB, about four months after my piece Luke's First Diplomatic Mission. It builds on that one, but you don't need to have read it to understand this story. However, unlike my previous story, this one doesn't have a plot yet. It's just hurt/comfort Han & Leia style, which I am dubbing hurt/comfort/argue. AU.

This story is a work of fan-fiction. Star Wars and its related characters were conceived by George Lucas and are now owned by Disney. I don't own any of this.

My thanks to my son for beta-reading this for me. Any remaining mistakes are mine. If you see something that's wrong in canon or could be better explained using the EU, please drop me a line.

Thanks for reading!

"L-Leia?"

"Han?" Every fiber of her being went on high alert at the sound of his voice. She squinted at her comlink in the dark. It was always dark in her quarters on Hoth, but since Han's comm had woken her from a sound sleep, it had to be the middle of the night. "What's wrong? Where are you?"

He didn't respond at first and Leia could hear her heart thudding in her chest. "Falcon," he finally ground out with a wince. "Can you - "

"I'm coming over right now." Leia sprang out of bed, tugging her boots over her pajamas and grabbing her thick, fur-lined parka. "Leave the ramp of the ship down for me," she ordered.

Only emergency lighting illuminated the halls, but Leia had memorized the layout of Echo Base in the months that they'd been stationed there. She knew it would take her another five minutes to reach Han's ship and her mind used the time to flash through one disturbing scenario after another: Han covered in blood, the pirate trapped under something heavy, Darth Vader Force-choking him. As she hurried, her mind registered that Chewbacca was recovering in the med lab from minor surgery on his paw. Which meant that, whatever was wrong, Han was alone. She ran faster. Had he comm'ed her first? More than likely, he'd tried to reach Luke, but the farmboy was known to be a sound sleeper.

She skidded to a halt at the ramp of his ship and breathed a sigh of relief that he'd left it open for her. Whatever was wrong, he was able to follow directions and still mobile enough to execute them. Running up the ramp, she palmed it closed as soon as she was aboard the Falcon. "Han? Where are you?"

"'Fresher," he replied weakly, his voice hoarse. There was the unmistakable sound of retching.

She found Han in a heap on the floor of the refresher, barefoot and clad in a loose-fitting tan tunic and pants, pale and agitated. Her brain registered that she'd never seen him out of his typical space pirate garb before and the change was nice. Shaking the irrelevant thought away, she knelt before him and placed a palm against his sweaty forehead. No fever.

He grabbed her arm with an ice-cold hand. "Th-thank you for coming." Her heart stilled. If he was thanking her, something was very wrong.

Giving him a terse nod, she stood, all business. "Where's your medpack?"

Han looked at her blankly for a minute before answering. "Uh ... galley. By the ... by the fire extinguisher." He closed his eyes.

Leia hurried to the galley, scanned the shelves, and grabbed the medpack and a bottle of bactade. When she reentered the fresher, Han had managed to sit up.

She opened the bottle of bactade and thrust it into his hands. "Sip this." He made a face, but did as instructed.

Finding the medisensor, she sat by him and moved the wand in slow arcs over his entire body. Frowning at the results, she reset the scanner. "That can't be right." She began a second scan.

"What'd it say?" He looked at her with bleary eyes.

Leia frowned at the results again. "It says you have a migraine headache. Nothing else." As Han nodded, she felt her stomach twist in sympathy. "They make you this sick?"

"Sometimes." He leaned against her and closed his eyes. Without realizing what she was doing, Leia began to stroke his hair.

She thought back four months to Luke's first diplomatic mission, the one where he'd rushed Han to a medcenter for what turned out to be a migraine. She had thought Luke's reaction overkill at the time, but now she understood exactly how he must have felt. Normally, Han was so strong and independent. Seeing him like this brought out her fiercest protective instincts.

"Can you walk? I think we should get you to the med lab."

He shook his head, not bothering to open his eyes. "No med lab. Just sleep." He slumped further into her lap and she began to rub his back. Noting the tension in his muscles, she concentrated on the tightest ones near his neck. He started to relax under her fingers, breathing deeply.

Using her other hand, she checked the readout from the medisensor again. "Have you taken any pain medication?"

He shook his head. "Pain ... got ahead of me. Thought I could sleep it off ... without meds," he mumbled.

It occurred to Leia that if Chewie had been there, the big Wookiee wouldn't have let things get this far. He would have made Han take his medicine sooner. Leia shook her head. Just like a little boy, she thought, stroking his shoulders. She remembered then that Chewbacca had been absent during Luke's mission as well. Was there a correlation? If Han's headaches were treated early enough, could the severity be reduced? Just how often did he get these migraines anyway? Or did she and Luke somehow manage to be present for his last two?

She fumbled though the medpack, looking for anything relevant. In addition to over-the-counter painkiller, she found two small vials with the name Vyyk Draygo pasted on them. They had been dispensed four months ago at a medcenter in Capstone, Calito. Leia's eyebrows raised, remembering Han saying something about keeping his intake records out of the medcenter database during that mission. She mentally filed his alias away to research later. To her relief, she found both vials nearly full, implying that Han/Vyyk had been migraine-free since then. Cross-checking the dispensing instructions against the medisensor, she felt confident in handing him one tablet from each of the small bottles. Her relief was palpable when he swallowed them with a sip of bactade and managed to keep the medication down. She could follow up with over-the-counter painkiller in a few hours if needed.

"Thanks, sweetheart," he mumbled. It was the first time she could ever remember him using the endearment where it sounded endearing.

They stayed on the floor of the refresher for some time: Princess Leia cross-legged with Han's head resting in her lap as she rubbed his back; Han sprawled out on the floor beside her. When she felt reasonably certain that the medicine would stay down and he was no longer at risk of throwing it up, she nudged him.

"Han?"

"Mmm?" His hazel eyes fluttered but didn't open.

"Let's get you into bed." She eased him into a sitting position, noting that his limbs were heavy and limp from the effects of the medicine.

He blinked at her unsteadily. "Wha ... Why are you wearing your coat? Are you sick too?"

She laughed gently. "I forgot to take it off when I got here. Don't worry about me." Leia helped him to stand and guided him to the captain's quarters. After he had flopped down face first on the bed, she asked, "How are you feeling? Do you need anything else?"

Han spoke into the pillow. "Iced bacta'd be good."

By the time she had returned with two cold bacta patches, he appeared to be asleep. She placed one on the back of his neck, the other over his forehead. Then she turned down the lights in his quarters, intending to tiptoe down the hall to the lounge. Yawning, she glanced at the chrono on Han's nightstand. She'd best send a note to High Command that she'd be unavailable for work tomorrow. Maybe she'd check off Han's status on the duty roster as well.

"Good night, Han," she whispered.

His words were nearly inaudible. "Stay ... me."

"What?"

"Please ... don't leave. Need ... you," he mumbled.

Leia couldn't ever remember hearing the pirate use the word please. He'd already shocked her twice tonight by thanking her. She walked over to the side of his bed and ruffled his hair. "I'll be right back."

After sending two com-notes, Leia scrounged around the ship, searching for spare blankets and a pillow. Finally finding a slightly dusty set of linens, she crept back into Han's room and made herself a pallet on the floor. Wearily, she dropped onto the makeshift bed, slipped out of her parka, and used it as a blanket.