YOU DON'T HAVE TO TELL ME EVERYTHING

(Takes place on the Falcon, three weeks into the voyage to Bespin)

"You know what I'm gonna do once we leave Bespin?" Han asked Leia. The two were spooned together in Han's small utilitarian bunk. They'd spent a while lying together quietly after a prolonged session of lovemaking before Han finally spoke.

"Take us back to the fleet?" Leia guessed.

"Well, yeah, but I was thinking once we got back, I'd get us a larger bunk. Sheets are a little threadbare, too."

"Han, my love, I think these were threadbare when you got your beloved ship." Both laughed.

"Comfortable sleeping spaces were not my priority when I acquired the old girl."

"That much is obvious," Leia teased. "We do need to make it back to the fleet." The though clenched her stomach. She had so quickly become attached to Han, realized how much they'd grown close.

"I know, I know." Han felt a lump growing in his throat, strangling him. He felt as if he was to leave Leia, he might still be breathing, but he wouldn't be alive. He had to stop thinking about it. Maybe he could avoid Jabba for a while longer...like forever...

He had to find a way to be with Leia, forever. If he could avoid running into any more bounty hunters, all would be well. There had to be a way. Had to.

He'd have to find a way to figure it out. In the meantime, he was feeling so comfortable. Being with Leia was so natural, so easy. He learned that when she felt relaxed, she had an acerbic, twisted wit not unlike his own. She had a laugh that she hated but he found it incredibly sexy and was hearing a lot more of it.

Leia had learned that Han had the heart of a warrior, not unlike her own. He and she both had caustic exchanges, but it was for laughs, not for drawing blood. He was amazingly kind and gentle, and that he could actually be very soft spoken in private.

The two drifted gently to sleep. They'd have to give Chewie a break soon enough.

01123581321345589144233377610987

Han felt slightly chilly. He was groggy but he realized that Leia was no longer there. That jolted him wide awake, the way he'd come to life when an attack was in progress or there were engine problems.

Chewie hadn't made any sounds, and the ion engines hummed quietly. Han listened carefully. He was sure he heard the sound from the med bay, and he was certain that Leia was crying.

He crept quietly the short distance to the med bay. Leia was on the narrow bunk, her knees drawn to her chin, her face pushed into her knees. She was sobbing. Han went over to her, draping an arm over her shoulder and drawing her to his chest.

"Alderaan?" he asked quietly.

"I was trying not to wake you," she gulped.

"Why not? We're partners, remember? Partners don't let their partners cry alone."

"But you were sleeping."

"So? I'll sleep again." Han held her tightly against him. "And so will you. Feel like talking about it?"

Leia shook her head in the negative. "It was just a dream."

"A pretty bad one, from the looks of it."

"I'm okay now. Maybe we should relieve Chewie."

"Chewie needs a lot less sleep than princesses and scoundrels. You sure you want to get up?"

"Yes."

"Okay then. Wish I could help you more," Han said, kissing her.

"You're here. That's what I need most."

Leia didn't want Han to know that the dream had been about him; that he was taken from her. As to how it occurred was a bit fuzzy, but there'd been no doubt in her mind that something awful had happened to Han and she was helpless to do anything about it.

It's just a dream, she told herself. Wartime is doing a number on my brain. Yet she'd been feeling so relaxed the last few weeks on the Falcon. She and Han laughed, joked, kidded around, and made wild passionate love as often as they could. She'd been the happiest she could ever remember being. Even the dreams of Alderaan had been at bay during the trip; they'd kept a comfortable distance.

But now, there was a whole new set of anxieties as to what the future held, and they'd been punctuated by tonight's dream.

She crept back to the captain's quarters, where Han was getting dressed in his standard issue spacer outfit. Leia learned that Han had 28 outfits with a few variations on a theme.

"I have a hard time getting my laundry done while I'm being chased by Imperials and bounty hunters," he'd explained, a lopsided, wry grin on his face.

"And, I can get dressed in the dark." Leia had cracked up laughing. It was one of those moments they'd exchanged that both enjoyed. Leia had no extra clothes, another fact that they laughed about. She'd taken to wearing some of Han's more threadbare shirts to bed and she loved them; they were soft and smelled of him. They laughed over Leia's having to run her clothes through the mini valet every day. Han learned to braid Leia's hair and she returned the favor by mussing up his.

It was the little things that were drawing them together.

The two returned to the cockpit and took over for Chewie, who asked Leia gently if she was all right. She didn't understand Shyriiwook very well, but she could tell from his tone that he was concerned.

"I'm fine, Chewie, thanks for asking," Leia said. He patted her gently and headed for his own sleeping space, a hammock in the aft hold.

Han looked at her with concern. "Anything you wanna talk about?" he asked softly.

"I don't know that I can," Leia said. "Not now."

Han nodded sympathetically. "If you ever are, you know where I am."