I dreamed up (if you'll pardon the pun) this fic while dozing in bed one morning. I had wanted to write a 'force-sensitive Han' piece but I think this works far better.

I don't own the rights to Star Wars or any of Mr Lucas' wonderful characters so please don't sue.

Fear

It was dark.

Nothing else more needed to be added to describe the vast nothingness stretching out in front of Han Solo. Han shivered a little from the cold. He could hear his breath, it was steady. There where more terrible things to be afraid of than the dark and the cold. The distant sounds of footsteps began to approach, two feet. Suddenly a red flash of a blaster bolt zipped past Han's ear. Han reached down for his weapon, ready to return fire only to find his lightsaber (lightsaber?). It somehow felt familiar in his hands as he raised it up and activated it. The blade was a humming glow of orange in the dark.

More blaster bolts sped towards Han. Hadn't he seen Luke do it a hundred times before? Bringing the lightsaber diagonally across his chest ready, he reflected the blasts back, one after the other. A female cry signalled the halt of fire. The voice was too familiar. Han ran into the darkness, the lightsaber in his hand illuminating very little of the vast expanse of nothingness.

"Leia!" his voice said of its own accord. Han found himself kneeling by her side, taking her hand. The scars of blaster bolts were dotted across her chest. Her eyes where wide, her cheeks stained with wet tears. Han bent low and kissed the hand he was holding, tears in his own eyes, only to draw back in horror as the flesh from her hand peeled back and melted into nothing, her delicate bones disintegrating into black dust.

A clatter sounded nearby. The sound of glassine on permacrete, that rang out in the shadows. Han stood, eyes blinded by tears. He blinked at the scattered gallinorian rainbow gems that littered the floor. They shone eerily, their own light melding with the orange of the lightsaber. As he watched the gems began to grow, reform, darken into the unmistakable form of Mandalorian armour. They began to march towards Han, weapons raised. Run, you fool! Han's feet didn't seem to want to obey as he staggered away, feet like lead.

Several red flashes sped past Han as he ran. His feet pounded on the permacrete. Lightsaber still in hand he could barely see mere feet in front of him. He was almost too late to see the gaping chasm ahead of him. Han skidded to a halt, breathless. The march of warriors was still approaching. Han held his lightsaber ready. Several salvos of bolts shot towards him. He tried desperately to deflect them. The world seemed in slow-motion as he moved, deflected, dodged.

"Chewie! Where are you?!" Han's voice called out into the darkness. A friendly growl reached Han though the gloom. Somehow, the darkness parted, only to reveal Han's friend bound in chains, shuffling along with thousands of other, nameless, Wookiees.

"Chewie!" Han called in anguish as the warriors turned from Han and began to fire mercilessly at the chain gang of Wookiees.

One Mandalorian turned back to face Han. The warrior raised a hand, pointing across the raven behind Han. The warrior raised his gun. Han switched off the lightsaber and with it still in hand; he took a running leap towards the other side of the chasm he couldn't see. For seconds Han's legs moved in air and darkness until he felt his knees, legs, chest meet with solid permacrete. Han clawed at the edge of the raven with his free hand, clinging on for dear life. Han looked down as he heard the clatter of his lightsaber slip from his fingers and off down into the darkness.

Pulling himself up, Han ran blindly into the nothingness ahead. Only to collide, seconds later, with the form of an old friend.

"Luke! Luke what's going on?"

"I strip you of your rank, Lieutenant Solo." Luke said simply. Han looked down, realising he was in his old dress uniform from the Imperial Navy. Luke held up the lightsaber Han had just dropped. The Jedi held it level with its owner's eyes then broke it across his knee. Luke moved around him, ripping off insignias and medals of merit. Finally Luke stepped back for a second.

"I strip you of your rank, General Solo." Luke said, moving to Han's side. In a swift motion of the left hand, Luke ripped off first Han's yellow Correllian bloodstripe second class, then the red, first class stripe from the other leg.

Luke raised a hand out slightly, level with Han's face. Han opened his mouth to speak, only to find his airway restricted. Han watched in horror as Luke's hand became clad in a black glove that moved down his arm like a parasite, metamorphosing Luke's clothes, stature and face that twisted into a rasping mask. Red spots formed in front of Han's eyes as he gasped for breath, hearing the measured rasps of the man (is he?) in front of him. The black figure released Han, throwing him to the floor.

"I love you!" A voice called to him in the dark.

"I know." Han's voice replied, his mind screaming I love you too, I love you too, I…

There are no things more terrible than the cold and darkness.

Please review. All comments are critiques welcomed gladly. I thought it best to leave it hanging.

In case you're wondering, the reason I made Han's lightsaber orange is because the Star Wars wiki says that Correllia has caves that give orange saber crystals.