Author's Note: I'd like to thank my lovely Sara (princessofthescoundrels) who beta-read this for me! :D

And what do you think about the last line? ;D

I don't own Star Wars (SADLY) or any of its characters, and I don't own Indiana Jones (zee last line)

He's an idiot. The biggest one I've ever met, as a matter of fact. He's a complete and utter idiot. I ought to really hate him for it.

I should be dead. I deserve to be dead.

Curse that damn fool. It's not the first time that he's done something this stupid. It just seems to be part of his nature. I want to hate him, yet I can't.

I can't hate him because he saved my life.

Hating him would make things easier- I wouldn't be in such pain seeing him suffer. It's almost as if he's a part of me. It sounds crazy, I know, but it's as if I can feel everything he feels. Or at least that's what I imagine.

I wish that it was me who got shot in the shoulder.

He took the shot instead of me. Of course he did. It's such a typical thing of him to do. Han Solo, always trying to be so noble, so brave, and for what? Death?

Why does he always do things like this for me? It's as if he thinks that he's my bodyguard, my protector.

Well, guess what, Solo? I don't need one. I don't want one.

I don't know what to do. There are endless possibilities coming to mind. I want to scream at him. I want to grab his shoulders and shake him senseless. Do you know how painful it is to see you like this?

"Han, listen to me," I beg. The scene keeps on replaying in my mind. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion; the masked stranger appearing from literally out of nowhere as he aimed his blaster at my forehead. Before I knew it, he pulled the trigger, and Solo jumped in front of me and took the shot. He collapsed onto the ground, blood dripping onto the ground. His blood. I unholstered my blaster and shot the man, once in the forehead, another in the chest, and a last one right in the gonads.

The scene ends, and I'm back here, kneeling over Han's body. I grip his hand as tightly as I possibly can, scared that if I let go, I'll lose him. Do you even have the slightest idea of how terrifying that was for me? I brush his damp, scruffy hair back from his forehead. "You'll be fine, okay? We're right outside the Falcon…I'll help you walk and I'm going to get you there," He nods his head, his face contorted with pain. Impulsively, I lean down and kiss his sweaty cheek.

I wrap an arm around his shoulders, and the other around his waist. I slowly, carefully help him to his feet, while trying to ignore his grunts and groans of pain that make me want to murder anyone who brought this upon him. I did, of course, but that's beside the point. I murmur reassuring words of encouragement to him, hoping to somehow ease the pain.

He sits down on the cot in the small medical bay aboard the freighter. I gently lift his legs up onto the bed to help him into a lying position, while taking off his boots.

I sprint to the cockpit, punch in the coordinates for Cerea and I manage to make the fastest take off I've ever seen. I barely take notice of the starlines of hyperspace. Thank Gods Han taught me how to fly…

I rush to the 'fresher and fill up a small bowl with warm water. I dash back to Han, paranoid that if I leave him for a second too long, he'll die. I settle down next to him on the small bed, careful not to take up too much room.

"Take a deep breath, okay?" I begin to unbutton his shirt to inspect and clean the wound. He hisses in pain as I peel the blood-soaked material from his chest and shoulders. I dip a washcloth in the water and dab at his injury. "It'll be alright," I whisper, trying to focus on the wound and not on his muscular chest. I've seen him shirtless before, but I've never really taken notice of it before. "Does it sting?" I ask, not wanting to hurt him. Carefully, I wipe the dried blood off from his shoulder.

"It's fine," Solo winces, shifting uncomfortably on the cot. I nod sharply, only too aware of his pain, and reach for some antiseptic. He curses loudly as I apply it to his wound.

"Sorry," I mutter, biting my lip. I quickly apply some more, then put it back on the small table next to us. I grab the bottle of bacta gel and rub some onto his wound. I can tell that he already feels better, just judging by his breathing. I wrap some cloth around his shoulder to cover the gory mess. "You feel okay?"

"I guess so,"

"Want a painkiller?"

"Yeah, sure," He leans on his elbows. I look for a bottle of meds around the room. "I think there's some in the cabinet,"

"You're right," I smile at him, grabbing the bottle. I pop the cover off and dissolve two pills into a glass of water. I hand him the glass and sit next to him on the edge of the bed. I run my fingers through his shaggy hair as he chugs the water. "Just take it easy, okay?" I tell him, my voice quiet, my fingers still absentmindedly running through his hair, my eyes glued to the wall opposite us. "We'll reach Cerea in thirty-two hours. You have plenty of time to recuperate," I look down and meet Han's bright, hazel eyes. I reluctantly get off the bed.

He grabs my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine, preventing me from leaving. "Leia," He mumbles, his eyes boring into mine. "Stay with me. Please," He looks as if he's just a child- so innocent, sweet and vulnerable. I can't say no to that face.

"Fine," I sigh, lying down next to him. I barely notice that he's still holding my hand. Instinctively, I use his good shoulder as a pillow. "You have no idea how worried I was," I whisper after a few moments of silence. I crane my neck to look at his face. If I'd tilt my chin, our lips would touch…

He smirks, his cocky façade returning once more. "You care about me, eh, Princess?"

"Yes, of course," I blurt out. "After everything you've done-" He cuts me off by pressing his lips against mine. I should have expected it- hell, I even thought about doing it. I pull away, our lips almost touching. Why the hell did he just do that? "Why'd you take the shot?" I ask him the question that's been eating me alive for the past hour.

"Because I care about you," He admits, playing with a loose strand of my hair. I can't help but tilt my chin upwards to meet his lips again, more to assure myself than him, if anything. He's here, he's alright…he's alive.

I pull back a few moments later to look at his face. His eyes are closed, and his breathing is now slow, deep and even. I smile and lean up to kiss his cheek. "We never seem to get a break, do we, Solo?"