Warming Up
The night had been one of the worse of Leia Organa's life.
She had been not only completely unable to sleep, but also to remain calm. The moment the heavy doors had closed on the fate of her friends, the restlessness had taken possession of her limbs. She had first paced the hangar, back and forth, and then she had directed her steps to the command center.
There she had hovered over the sensor's screen, blanked by the storm that had arrived less than an hour after Han's departure. The technician in charge of the station had squirmed uncomfortable under her insistent questioning, repeating over and over different combinations of words, all with the same meaning. "I'm sorry, your Highness, there's nothing else we can do."
Rieekan approached her and threw a comforting arm over her shoulders, guiding her to the exit. "Princess, go get some rest," he kindly but firmly suggested. "I'll call you if something comes up."
But of course she could not do that. Instead, she went again to the hangar and looked for the chief mechanic in charge of the speeders conversion.
"Give me something to do," she asked.
The sergeant lifted her eyes from the datapad she was studying.
"Please," the Princess added.
The mechanic nodded and passed her a power-wrench.
The job was finished when dawn was still more than two hours away. The storm had died a while before but still everybody knew, without discussing it, that it was useless to search for their lost comrades in the dark. The men and women that had been working on the speeders all night – techs and pilots alike – slowly retired, leaving the cavernous space suddenly empty and quiet.
"That's all we can do for tonight, Princess," Wedge Antilles said as he passed by her. Leia Organa cursed the bolt that was refusing to get properly tightened but did not raise her eyes to the young pilot. "We'll go out at 0545hs," he added as he retired.
A slim hand brushed his arm, stopping him. "Thank you, Wedge," she simply said.
The last screw in place, Leia could not but accept that there was really nothing else to do for the night. Before she noticed, her feet carried her to the Millenium Falcon and halfway up its ramp. She could hear the Wookiee inside cursing one recalcitrant component or other. No, she thought, suddenly frozen in place. I can't face Chewie right now.
There was nowhere else to go for her than her solitary quarters. There she lay on her cot and threw the blankets over her head. "Luke, Han, don't give up," she whispered in the dark, fighting back the tears.
Zev voice cracked through the comm system. "...Repeat, I found them."
The fifty-seven rebels cramped in and around the command center held their breaths.
"I have comm contact with Captain Solo," Zev kept transmitting. "He requests medical assistance for Commander Skywalker..."
The room exploded in cheering. They were alive! Both of them!
Chewbacca crushed the Princess in a tight Wookiee-embrace while howling triumphal. Which was good because Leia's knees had given up almost in the same instant.
Half an hour later everybody that was not on duty - and some that were too- gathered in the hangar to wait for the snowspeeder carrying Skywalker and Solo.
The vehicle landed and a dozen people surrounded it, pushing ladders against the fuselage and motioning for the repulsor-stretcher to move closer.
Leia closed the distance between her and the ship, but from her position below the cockpit she only could see the limp body of Luke Skywalker being taken out of it while Han's voice kept barking orders. The blond pilot was laid over the stretcher and she approached it, gasping at the sight of the blood staining his parka.
Two-Onebee was already assessing his patient and he soon gave the order to proceed into the med-center. The Princess followed the procession, shouting questions to the med-droid.
A firm hand on her shoulder stopped her. "Let the droid do his work," General Rieekan admonished when her indignant eyes turned to him.
The howling of the Wookiee made them turn their attention again to the speeder. Chewbacca was at the top of a ladder, shouting into the opened cockpit.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," they heard Han drowsily say. Soon enough he was emerging and climbing down slowly from the ship. His copilot helped him all along.
"I'm fine, Chewie!" Solo insisted. The Wookiee threw a thermal-blanket over his shoulders.
Carlist Rieekan approached the pair. "Good to see you in one piece, Solo," he smiled, patting his shoulder.
"Thank you, General," the Corellian answered from below the hood. Other people that had not followed Luke to the med-center moved closer to greet him, but seeing that he was all right, they soon parted again.
Han Solo suddenly noticed the small white figure standing a couple of meters away and saluted her with a silent nod. Quietly as well, she stepped forward.
"Chewie, go get me some hot caf, will ya?"
The Wookiee eyed his Captain and then the Princess, but went away anyway, cursing under his breath.
The Princess stepped forward again.
He peeled his heavy gloves off clumsily and then tried unsuccessfully to unfasten the face cover with numb fingers.
"Here, let me," Leia asked, reaching up to help him. His tired eyes fixed in hers as he lowered his arms in acceptance.
She finished the unfastening and, stretching on her toes, pulled the stiff hood back. Solo bent a little to help her.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"Are you ok?" she asked, her warm breath almost brushing his cheek.
The smuggler shrugged.
The Princess suddenly threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly for a brief moment.
"Go get warm," she said, cheeks ablaze, before turning around and walking away in the general direction of the med-center.
Han Solo watched her go.
"I already am," he spoke softly.