One event, three points of view. Each chapter stands as an individual story. Sometimes these ideas just get in my head and won't go away!

Shine on Me

If he was going to die, this was a stupid way to go.

Of all the ways Han Solo had pictured himself blasting out of life—flying the Falcon into a supernova, being blown out of space by an Imp cruiser, being disintegrated by a bounty hunter, even losing a cantina fight—any of those would be better than slowly freezing to death in a rickety survival shelter with nothing for company but a delirious kid and a dead tauntaun!

It was embarrassing.

Han checked the power supply on his blaster; it was only half depleted. That was good to know. Shielding his eyes against the flare, he aimed it at the piece of rock he'd uncovered earlier and fired. With the blaster set on half power he could heat the rock up enough to provide a little warmth to the shelter. The power cell on the survival heater had given out an hour ago. At least that's how long ago he'd thought it'd been. The tiny chrono had frozen about that time, too.

Look on the bright side, Solo, at least the tautaun doesn't stink now that it's frozen!

Luke moaned feebly and his body twitched a little. He wasn't thrashing around anymore, which Han knew was a bad sign; the kid's body was shutting down. He shoved the boy as close to the faintly glowing fleckrock as he dared and tented the shiny thermal blanket covering Luke's body so that the warmth from the stone reflected back on his injured friend. Han thought that it would have been nice if the survival kit had been designed to accommodate more than one individual, but he supposed its creator had never dreamed that there would be two people stupid enough to get stuck outside overnight on Hoth.

Taking off one glove, Han reached over to check the boy's pulse. It was slow, too slow, and very weak. He rubbed Luke's arms, hoping to stimulate his circulation

"C'mon, Luke," he scolded in a conversational tone. "You can't die, you know. The Rebellion needs you. Besides, you don't want to give her Worshipfulness any more reason to hate my guts than she already has, do you?" Han's cold face cracked into a wry, lopsided smile. Knowing how Luke felt about the Princess, the kid would probably love to give Leia another reason to detest Han Solo!

Leia, the princess, her Worship—why did he keep thinking about her? Struggling to get his glove back on over fingers that were stiff with cold, Han formed a picture of the petite woman in his head. In his mind's eye, he envisioned her from earlier today, nose to nose with him in the icy corridor—which was actually sounding pretty warm to him right now—with her dark eyes cold, her face set in angry, unyielding lines. Gods, you'd think she had ice in her very veins!

Han shifted a little on the icy floor of the shelter, hoping that would provide some relief to his freezing posterior. It didn't help, of course. Why he thought that it would escaped him. He shivered a little, then realized he hadn't been shivering very much. Kriff! That wasn't good; if he weren't careful, he might freeze to death right along with Luke. He wondered if that might bother Leia. If he froze to death, would she even notice?

Nearly everyone called her the Ice Princess. Han knew why. It was because everything Leia Organa did was for the Alliance—for the Rebellion. She suppressed all normal emotions: joy, sorrow, fear, grief; in order to focus on defeating the Empire. He supposed he couldn't blame her, she had watched her entire world get blown to space dust. That certainly was a good reason to shut down your emotions. But if she didn't start feeling something, anything, she might end up actually becoming the ice princess everyone accused her of being!

Leaning over to check on Luke, Han noted that the kid's lips were blue, his face as white as the snow outside their semi-useless shelter. With a shaky sigh, Han fired at the fleckrock again, holding the trigger down a little longer than before. The stone took on a brighter glow, just as his blaster chirped once, signaling that its power cell was down to one-quarter strength. Sith! Han pulled his knees tight up against his chest, trying to conserve body heat, but he had a very bad feeling that neither one of them had much chance of lasting through the night.

Leia would miss the kid, and mourn him, if he died. She loved Luke as well as she loved anyone. Who knows, her Worshipfulness might even miss him if he died along with Luke. She might even mourn him.

There were times Han was sure there was something between him and Leia—he just wasn't sure what that something might be. Sometimes it was subtle; a look from her that was soft instead of businesslike, or caring instead of angry. There were times when it seemed like she might actually like him—as a person, not as a fighter in her rebellion. But then there were the other times, when she looked at him—usually when they were arguing—and it felt like he'd been hit by an ion cannon set at full power. Did Leia love him? Sometimes he thought it was possible.

And did he love her? No, of course not! And he was on his way out of here; they were both clear on that count.

A loud snap brought Han's head up off his knees. What was that? His heavy lidded eyes surveyed the small shelter. He watched as the wind shook the strong, thin fabric of the shelter's roof; that was where the noise had come from.

It was just the wind.

Han held the emergency lamp over Luke. The kid was in bad shape; he was barely breathing.

"Luke!" Han shook the young man's shoulder, none too gently. Luke's head lolled from side to side, but there was no hint of a response. The dried blood on his face had frozen into crazy patterns on the white cheek.

"C'mon kid," Han cajoled, "you've got to hang on till morning. They'll find us as soon as it's light."

There was no response, but Han hadn't really expected any. It was starting to look like when the searchers found them in the morning, it would be too late.

His face set in resignation, Han aimed and fired at the fleckrock. He held the trigger down until he heard two chirps. The power cell was down to ten percent.

With a sputter and a pop the small lamp went dark.

Han pulled his knees back up against his chest, his drained blaster still hanging loosely from his hand. He shook his head and blinked his eyes in the dark. What he wouldn't give for a hot cup of kaf right now!

He wasn't sure what it was that woke him, the soft light of dawn hitting his face, or the heavenly smell of kaf. Han streteched his arms over his head, then crossed his hands behind his head. The only sound he heard was that of his naked skin rubbing against silky sheets as he moved. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this good. He didn't want to open his eyes, for fear the feeling of absolute bliss would disappear.

"Come on, sleepyhead! I know you're awake." A soft, sultry voice whispered in his ear, the speaker so close, warm breath tickled his ear.

Han's eyes shot open as he raised himself to his elbows. Leia knelt on the wide bed next to him, surrounded by crumpled sheets, a cup of kaf in her hand. There was another cup on the chest next to the bed. He squeezed his eyes shut to clear them, then opened them again. The scene hadn't changed. The princess was clad only in the veil of her long, silky hair, which hung down her back past her buttocks, and flowed across her naked breasts down to her pubis. It was bewitchingly tousled. To Han, it looked like she'd just woken up after a night of really good sex. A quick look down at his own naked torso revealed that he, too, had apparently just woken up after a night he really wished he could remember!

"What are you looking at?" Leia asked him. "After last night, I don't expect there's anything for you to see that you aren't already familiar with."

Han felt a slow smile lift the corner of his mouth. "Sorry, princess," he said, "but you are a sight that needs to be taken in slowly."

"I hope that's a good thing."

"It definitely is," he assured her. He reached a gentle, tentative hand up through the tangled mass of Leia's hair to cup the back of her head, pulling her down for a kiss. She didn't resist. Instead she put her mug down on the night stand and leaned over him, into the kiss. It was long and deep as their breath mingled and their tongues probed.

Leia withdrew gently, shifting herself so she could sit next to Han on the bed. She handed him a mug of the fragrant kaf, and reclaimed her own.

"You better drink that," Leia recommended. "We're going to have to get going."

Han only nodded and took a sip of the kaf. It was at least a million times better than the swill they served in the base commissary.

The princess leaned familiarly against him. Every millimeter of her soft skin that touched his seemed to tingle with electricity.

"I'm going to hate to leave here," Leia sighed as she drank from her mug. "I can't believe how perfect this has been."

"Me neither," Han managed to choke out.

"But duty calls, Flyboy," she continued. Leia put her mug back down on the chest and started to rise. "It's time we got back to reality."

"Wait!" Han caught one delicate wrist in his hand, halting her progress. It couldn't just end, Han thought desperately, not when he'd just discovered this warm, loving, part of her.

Leia didn't struggle, or try to pull away. "Haven't you had enough yet?" she asked him, eyebrows raised.

"I can't get enough of you," he said. He couldn't let her slip away, not now. Now that he knew how she felt about him, and how he felt about her.

She said nothing, only smiled in invitation.

"Come here, your Worship." Han reached his other hand around her waist and pulled her down on top of him. He shut his eyes, the better to feel her, smell her, taste her. He knew, this was where he wanted to be.

When light once again penetrated his closed eyes it was a cold, sharp white.

Cold!

Han jerked his head up and blinked his sticky eyes open. The walls of the emergency shelter swam into view. He could see his breath in the frigid air. Gods! How long had he been out?

"Luke!"

Han crawled stiffly over to the prone form of his friend. For one horrible moment, he was afraid the young man had slipped away while Han had slept; then he saw Luke's chest rise and fall.

"Hang on, kid. It's daylight. Someone will be here any time.

As if on cue, Han heard the comm crackle with static. He grabbed it and turned up the gain.

"…Commander Skywalker, do you copy?"

"Good morning! Nice of you guys to drop by."

Han felt a weight lift from his chest at the sound of an engine approaching. He crawled out of the shelter and into the blinding white dawn of Hoth, waving his arms at the T-47 heading toward him.

As he waited for Zev to come in for his landing, Han thought about his dream. Had it been a dream, or a vision of the future?

He snorted. Obviously, he'd been hanging around the kid too long; of course it was only a dream! But he'd never had any dream feel so real before. He didn't buy into any of this Force stuff Luke was always spouting off about, but it wouldn't hurt to hang around a little while longer, just in case dreams might come true.