Another long story. My last long story went over pretty well, so I'm starting up a new one now that I'm alive on here again. x)
Presenting the multi-chapter:
Invisible Threats
By Cinquain
Chapter One: A Hutt After A Glut
Never have I been this tired in my life.
I stumble into my quarters, the door shutting behind me as I collapse on the couch. My legs ache, my arms ache, my head aches. Heck, my whole body aches. Wisps of escaped hair from my braids tickle my cheeks as I settle down on the couch. I can hear someone knocking around in the kitchen and sure enough, Han pokes his head in through the doorway. He wears a lopsided stained apron we dug up somewhere in the drawers, and he has his signature smile with a touch of warmth to it. Usually a sight like this would liven me up a little bit, but for some reason I am as listless as a Hutt after a glut.
"Hey, sweetheart," he chirps, but his attitude quickly changes to one of concern. He strides over to me, tossing the ragged apron over a chair and kneeling down next to me. "You okay?"
"Oh, yeah," I say confidently. Or, at least, I try. It comes out more like a whisper, which only makes the look on Han's face darker. Sithspit. I clear my throat in a futile effort. "I'm fine."
"Uh, no," he imitates my weak murmur, half exasperated. "You're not. I told you not to go to work this morning."
"I'm telling you, I'm fine." I respond with exasperation. I really get annoyed when he's overprotective. I'm not a child, I think to myself irritably as I sit up. The simple movement makes my head spin and I automatically grab at Han. As the fireworks clear from my eyes I can see my husband's reproachful gaze. "Happens all the time." I comment defiantly. And it does.
"And that's not normal," he presses gently, though I can sense a bit of frustration and a hint of admiration. "Come on."
"Han, I've got work to do-"
"I'll bring your datapad to the bed."
"I've got to eat-"
"In bed."
"I can't just sleep in my robes-"
"I'll take care of it." His voice has the tone that means that the argument is over. I give up fighting and he carries me to the bed. I'll get out soon enough anyways.
(How wrong I was.)
It has been only two weeks since we've been married, three days since the end of our honeymoon. He's already taking over my life in bad ways (and good, I have to shamefully admit). He sets me down on the made bed.
"You cleaned up. I'm impressed," I say dryly, literally, as my throat is rough as sandpaper. "I thought nerfherders left messes to their wives."
"Oh, Princess," he remarks. "I would kiss you if you weren't such a biohazard." And I prove his point as he just manages to dodge an explosive cough.
"Sorry," I croak.
He helps me undress into a comfortable t-shirt and pajama pants and tucks me in carefully.
"I'll be back with your dinner. Good thing I made soup instead of bantha ribs." He leaves me with a peck on the kiss. I sit back, alone, thinking about how maybe this sick patient pampering may not be so bad after all.
He soon returns with a tray laden with soup and crackers and a mug of hot chocolate. There is also a plate of my favorite Alderaanian pears, and I kiss him on the neck gratefully. I just about realize how much I love him as he crumbles the crackers for me and watches me eat with almost dreamy eyes. Guess we're still both newly-wedded-young-couple lovestruck.
"Leia?" he tucks his feet under the covers beside me and pulls a pillow up to his back.
"Hmm?" I mumble through a mouthful of hearty Corellian soup and crackers.
"Are you overworking yourself again?"
"No," I say after gulping the food down. "Yes, I stay on schedule, yes, I eat my lunch, and yes, I did take a break today." His worried look seems more intense than usual, however, and I frown, spoon suspended halfway to my mouth. "What?"
"You just don't look well," he shakes his head, avoiding my gaze. "Keep eating, sweetheart." He taps the tray and I shrug, too tired and too lazy and enjoying myself too much to try and figure out his odd behavior at this moment.
"It's good that you didn't make the spicy Corellian soup tonight," I say lightly, trying to brighten his mood. "This is delicious, thank you honey." But he only smiles halfheartedly and rearranges the pears on their platter.
For the rest of the day he is like this; quiet, but very concerned and quick to help me out at anything that I may have the slightest difficulty with. But I let him, because I know for one, it would drive him crazy if he couldn't, and two, I know that his mood is a ticking bomb of mystery. I don't want to let it go while I'm still incapable (and unwilling) to settle him down again. And anyways, who wants their first major married fight only three days after the honeymoon?
I stay in bed, working on my datapad while Han goes about and finishes cleaning the apartment. By the time he's done night has fallen and it's about 2000 hours [8 pm]. He comes in and undresses before he lies down next to me, watching me as I shut the electronic down.
"Careful," I say as he takes me into his arms. "I'm infectious."
His first smile of the day lights his face and it immediately heals a part of me.
"What, you've always been infectious, Your Worship." Han tosses back.
"Well!" I say in mock offense, but can't keep the smile off my own face. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, nothing," he says airily before leaning in for a lip-to-lip kiss. I jerk back, giving him an apologetic grin.
"Sorry. No kisses while I'm down for maintenance." I respond gleefully at the sight of his disgruntled expression.
"Hum." he mutters, but kisses me anyways on the forehead. We both drift off to sleep quickly.
The next morning Han is awake up and early, helping me into some clothes. Despite the plentiful rest and good warm meal he has made me, I only feel worse. It is him who suggests visiting the doctors office, and though at first I vehemently protest he eventually drags me down the hallway and to the elevator and into the speeder.
"Han!" I hiss as he buckles me in. He's in a rush and doesn't even pause to look at me as he says it.
"What, is it a kiss that you want?" He gives me a quick peck on the lips before backing out of the passenger seat and shutting the door. He leaps into the driver's seat and starts the engine. "There you go."
"Han!"
He drives furiously, shouting his usual insults at unruly drivers and receiving insults for his unruly driving (as usual).
"Han, this isn't the Falcon," I gasp in terror, clutching the roof handle and reminding myself to never, ever let Han Solo drive a speeder in an urgent situation. Heck, this isn't even urgent. "There are a thousand other craft on this route-"
"Just the asteroid field all over again, huh sweetheart," he says hurriedly, and I think I know why he is driving so recklessly. For the past two weeks he's been restricted to a lumbering, slow tourist ship instead of the Falcon because of much needed (professional, to his disgust) repair to the (yup, you guessed it) hyperdrive. "Scootch it, old man!"
"Han!" I pant for the third time, but he only floors the pedal. Up ahead a long (very very very long) train of produce trucks is approaching straight across our hospital route and my heart skips a beat. A word dies in my throat as Han leans forwards on the gas and our speeder groans and zips at an unimaginable rate. Just at the last moment he tips the speeder and slices through into the main hospital parking lot.
"Han!" I rage as soon as I find my voice. He shuts me up with a long, passionate kiss, and I find myself leaning into the embrace before gaining sense and pushing him away.
"You're going to catch my cold!" I start, but he jumps out the car and opens my door. I look up at him in a part despairing, part admiring, and part exasperated shake of my head. Taking my hand, we take off to the shuttle station.
Since the East Corucsant Hospital is so big, they use shuttles to transport patients to different wings of the place. A shuttle stops at the station and we step in. There is a child with a bandage around his forearm, a man clutching his leg, and an elderly woman that seems rather sprightly and not in the need of medical attention. All eyes turn to Han and I and I blush before sneezing into my sleeve.
"Is the Princess in need of some cold medication?" the voice is from the elderly woman, who smiles warmly. We sit down across from her and Han lays a protective hand on my knee. She begins to rummage about in her small purse but I stop her.
"Oh, no, I'm fine, thank you," I say politely, and she relents, still a shade of a smile on her face as she looks beyond us, out the window.
Soon the woman is dropped off at the Elderbeing's Wellness Center, and we are next to exit at the Minor Disease and Injury Department. Han ushers me into the building and we check in before waiting in the packed waiting room. The chairs are taken by countless different beings with all sorts of injuries and problems. Some have burns, bandages, bacta pads, casts, and others are coughing or sneezing or wheezing or moaning. There is not a single seat left but as soon as we step in a young human man and who seems to be his wife stand up quickly.
"Please take our seats," they say with gracious smiles, and I am surprised at the kindness of the people we have met so far. But Han seems rather weary, and shakes his head impassively. Slightly embarrassed at his reaction, I smile at them.
"Oh, it's all right. It seems you may need the seat more than we do." I respond, and they do. The husband has a makeshift bacta pad and bandage on his left leg. They sit back down and I lean towards Han.
"Talk about impolite," I scold quietly. "What's the matter with you today?" He only puts his arm around me, hand firm on my waist as we wait.
After a long wait and almost complete silence between the two of us we are called in. I sit down on the adjusting chair/bed, my tired legs grateful for the break. Han stands next to me, holding my hand and fidgeting with my fingers until I pull away, amused.
"Is it you about to be checked up or me?" I comment wryly.
"I'm really worried about you, Leia," Han started suddenly, taking my hand again and looking me in the eye. The door opened before he could continue, however, and he gave a quick, troubled kiss before sitting back on his own chair.
I really couldn't figure out where to stop this chapter before it turned into the whole story, so sorry about the awkward stop.
Reviews always make the next chapter happen. Sometimes it makes it better, too. :)