January Thaw
A StarWars Fan Fiction
Author's Preface: I know that Hoth never had a thaw, and I'm reasonably sure our concept of the twelve months isn't followed in our favorite galaxy far, far, away, but readers from the cooler climates (of the Northern hemisphere) are most likely familiar with the January Thaw.
For those of you who are not: During most winters, there comes a time, usually in the middle of January, when the temperatures creep above freezing, the accumulated snow and ice disappear, and for a few blissful days, boots and long underwear are cast aside—in short, it feels like spring is on the way. This meteorological blip is especially precious since we all know that it's just a brief respite before the snow and cold returns—we take it for what it is—a promise of things to come.
####
"You know," Luke called out, "it's really not so bad out here. At least when the sun is out."
Standing just inside the heavy shield doors, Leia looked at her friend in disbelief. She shivered.
"Come on," he encouraged her, a huge smile spread across his face, "Janson and some of the others are going to build a fort."
Leia smiled diplomatically and shook her head in the negative. "I have a meeting I have to go to," she called back to him. She moved aside as Hobbie and Chewbacca barreled past her and out into the blinding whiteness that was afternoon on Hoth.
"Aw, c'mon, Leia, it'll be fun!"
The princess smiled and nodded as her mother had taught her; a queenly acknowledgement with absolutely no acquiescence. She shivered again, and turned to walk back into the somewhat warmer environs of Echo base. She hurried past the parked x-wings and still non-functioning snow speeders, intent on grabbing a cup of kaf before she returned to the Command Center.
"Your Worship! Don't you want to go outside and play in the snow with the other kiddies?" Han Solo drawled. Leia felt her blood pressure rise at the sound of his voice.
She located the smuggler perched on top of the Millennium Falcon's port-side mandible, a hydro-spanner in one hand—one black-booted foot swinging lazily in mid-air. He slanted a cocky, off-center grin in her direction.
"Captain Solo," Leia inclined her head in his direction. "I don't have time to play," she informed him coolly, "I have a meeting I need to get to." She continued toward the tunnel leading to the base mess
Han jumped down off the ship, directly into the princess's path. "No you don't," he disagreed.
Leia skidded to a halt on the icy floor. "No I don't what?" she asked him. How, she wondered, did he always manage to make her feel like a child?
"You don't have a meeting to go to. They cancelled it until all the scouts get back to base. I know Wedge and Tycho are still out." He inclined his head in the direction of the open shield doors. "That's why half the base is out there building snow forts."
How did he know about the meeting already? Leia had only just found out about the cancellation herself. She scowled, hoping to hide the discomfiture Han Solo always seemed to cause her. "I'm trying to win a war; I don't have time for anything else," she replied haughtily. She stepped to the side, trying to get around the Corellian, only to have one foot slip out from underneath her.
Han reached out a hand to steady the princess, grasping her arm. Leia pulled it free with an angry jerk.
"I don't need your help!" She unconsciously rubbed at her sleeve, as if that could wipe away the warm tingle his touch had caused.
"Sorry, your Highness," he growled, all traces of his good humor vanished. "I was just trying to keep you from falling on your royal—" Han stopped short at the sound of excited voices coming in through the hangar entrance.
A group of snow-covered pilots and soldiers hurried in, accompanying Chewie, who was carrying a very unhappy looking Luke Skywalker in his arms.
"What happened?" Leia called out as she and Han hurried over to the group.
"Apparently our desert-raised commander here isn't too good in the snow," Janson explained good-naturedly. The group halted, milling around and laughing, offering varied descriptions of Luke's clumsiness, much to the young man's chagrin. "He slipped and wrenched his ankle," Janson continued. His tone grew serious. "I hope he didn't break it, he really went down hard."
"It's nothing," Luke objected. "C'mon Chewie, put me down." Embarrassment mixed with obvious pain on the young man's face, as he struggled half-heartedly against the Wookiee's strong grip.
Chewie growled a pleasant, but firm, negative. He continued toward the access tunnel.
"Hang on a minute, Chewie." Han held up a hand. He looked closely at Luke's leg. The boot was stretched tight over a rapidly swelling ankle. "That boot has got to come off." He looked at the small group surrounding them. "Somebody get me something to cut this with," he ordered.
"Han! Shouldn't we just take him to the medcenter?" Leia countered, though she sounded unsure in face of the Corellian's authority.
Han reached out a hand and touched Luke where the top of the boot was pressing into the badly swollen leg. The younger man flinched and let out a sharp gasp of pain. "Can you feel your toes?" Han asked him, his face serious.
Luke shook his head. "No, but it's because of the cold."
"No, you're not getting any blood to your foot because of the swelling," Han retorted sharply. "Do you want to lose some of those toes?" He looked at the crowd of faces surrounding them. "Somebody get me something to cut this boot off!"
"Han, here." Leia stepped forward with a sturdy pair of snips she'd tracked down in a nearby tool chest. With a distracted nod of thanks he took the implement and inspected Luke's boot. After a few careful cuts, the boot fell away. Luke groaned in pain as blood flowed back into the injured foot and ankle. With the boot gone it was obvious that the leg was broken.
"Well, get going!" Han waved in the direction of the medcenter; he tossed the snips back into the tool chest. The resulting clang echoed through the hangar.
Silently, Janson and Hobbie accompanied Chewie as he hurried off to the medcenter. Leia started off after them, then paused and turned back.
"Thank you, Han," she said. She hurried off after Chewbacca.
Han watched her disappear into the tunnel.
"You're welcome," he said, when he was sure she could no longer hear him.
####
Han paused in the narrow hallway that led to Rogue squadron's crew quarters. He listened for a moment to the upraised voice he could hear coming from the open doorway of Luke's small room.
"But I don't fly standing up!" he heard his young friend say. Apparently, they'd grounded him until the bones in his newly repaired ankle had a chance to knit together completely. That would take another couple of days; Han smiled in understanding sympathy.
The smile was quickly exchanged for his more familiar mask of swaggering self-assurance when he heard the other voice coming from the room.
"It will only be for a few days," Leia was reassuring Luke. There was a little bite hidden in her patient tone. Han guessed she'd said the same thing to Luke more than a few times already.
"But—"
"Give it up, kid," Han strode into the room, pulled out the lone chair from the workstation, and quickly flipped it backwards. With a grin, he straddled the seat, and draped his arms over the back. "When her Worship says something's going to be a certain way, it's certainly going to be that way." He smirked at Luke, who lounged on his bunk with his injured leg propped up on a cushion. Leia had one trim hip perched on the edge of the workstation.
She aimed an exasperated look impartially at both men as she addressed Luke. "Two-onebee says that it takes several days for the treatment to be complete. If you don't follow instructions, and you put too much stress on it, you risk more serious damage—and being grounded for more than two days. You're just going to have to wait."
"You know, I hate to agree with her, kid," Han shot the princess an impudent smile, "but you're probably better off waiting. I've flown with broken bones; it ain't fun."
"Really?" Luke's eyes brightened with anticipation at the possibility of hearing about another of Han's adventures. "What happened?"
Han shifted uncomfortably on his seat, rubbing his hand across his mouth. The grin disappeared. "Ah, you don't want to hear about it, junior." He may have said it to Luke, but his eyes were on the Princess's face.
"Sure we do, don't we, Leia?" Luke said.
No, she didn't. The stories that Han told were inevitably colorful and self-aggrandizing, dealing with drinking, smuggling, and other unsavory escapades
"I'm sure it's nothing that we need to hear about, Captain," Leia proclaimed haughtily. "We've all heard your stories."
The chair screeched on the cold metal floor as Han sprang to his feet, his eyes hot with anger. "Now, listen, sister—"
Leia straightened and clasped her arms tightly across her chest. Luke pulled himself upright.
"Hey, commander! I understand you had a little accident." Grinning, Wedge Antilles sailed into the small room, still clad in his flight suit. The teasing smile on his face slowly faded as he regarded the tense tableau. "Uh," he stuttered to a stop. "Am I interrupting something?"
"Nothing at all," Han barked. "Take care of that leg, kid." He stormed from the room, leaving the other three in stunned silence.
"What was that about?" Wedge asked finally.
"I have no idea," Leia said.
They both looked at the empty doorway.
####
Watching over Luke's shoulder, Leia could see that he was going to lose this hand of sabacc, just like he'd lost every other hand he'd been dealt. Obviously they didn't play sabbac very often at Tosche Station on Tatooine. Luke was hopeless at it; the exact opposite of Han Solo, who rarely lost a game.
Han hadn't shown up for the game in Zev and Hobbie's quarters. That wasn't like him; he was usually the first one there and the last one to leave. In fact, Leia hadn't seen him since he'd stormed from Luke's quarters hours ago. But that was his problem, not hers. If he was going to be as ill-tempered as a krayt dragon…
"And I win again," Wedge smiled in satisfaction as he raked the pot toward himself. "I'd like to thank you all for your kind donations." The losing players whined and complained good-naturedly. The pot was a mixed bag of credits, IOU's, promises of duty-watches traded, and a few miscellaneous trinkets. The reality was there wasn't much need for money on Hoth; there was nothing to spend it on.
"Another hand?" Dak asked eagerly, sounding ridiculously young.
"Aren't you tapped out, kid?" Wedge responded. "I really don't want take everything you've got."
Leia's head snapped around to look at the pilot; he'd sounded an awful lot like Han just then. Well, that was because they were both Corellians, she told herself. And why in hells was she thinking about Han Solo?
"I'm in!" Janson called out.
"Me, too!"
Leia rolled her eyes at the sound Luke's voice. He was just going to lose again. "Hey, Leia?" he continued. "Do you want to play a hand?"
Leia shook her head. She did play sabacc, probably not as well as Wedge, but certainly better than Luke—but then anyone could play better than Luke. Mostly she played the game just to pass the time. The last mission she'd been on with Luke and Han, the three of them, along with Chewie, had played together on the Falcon while the ship traveled through hyperspace. She and Han had been fierce competitors; and she'd enjoyed that game more than she'd ever thought she would.
"I'm going to grab some kaf," she told Luke, "then I'm going to head back to my quarters. I have some reports I need to work on."
" 'Night, Leia," Luke said abstractedly, staring at his cards. Several of the other players muttered farewells before they started the next hand.
Walking toward the mess, Leia's mind wandered. She had a feeling that Luke and Dak were going to lose their shirts tonight—just figuratively, she hoped. She couldn't understand how Luke could be such a dreadful sabacc player when he normally showed remarkable instincts for reading people. Like earlier today, for instance.
After Han's precipitous departure from Luke's quarters, Wedge had made his own exit as quickly as he could, leaving Luke and Leia alone in an uncomfortable silence.
"Do you think maybe you should go find out if Han's okay?" Luke had asked her, rather tentatively.
"Captain Solo is a grown man, he doesn't need anyone to check up on him." Leia's eyebrows drew together. "He's made it perfectly clear that he doesn't need anyone other than himself."
"I don't think I've ever seen him so worked up before," Luke observed.
Leia had been thinking the same thing. "I'm sure he's fine," was her response. "He had no reason to get so angry."
"There's a lot of stuff we don't know about Han," Luke replied. "Stuff that happened to him when he was young. Chewie says that some of it was bad."
Somehow, Leia had never thought about Han being anything other than being a pilot, a ship's captain, a smuggler. The thought of his even having a past, a childhood, was a new concept for her.
"I don't know," Luke continued, "maybe we should try to be a little nicer to him."
We, meaning me, Leia thought, piqued. "I'm sure he's just fine," she had insisted vehemently.
But Luke had planted the seeds in her mind. Leia found herself heading for the hangar instead of the commissary. Maybe she'd see if she could find the elusive Captain Solo. Just to quiet that irritating voice inside her head. Yes, that was the only reason…