Han had just taken the first sip of his nightcap glass of brandy when the screaming started. He exchanged a quick glance with Chewie, grabbed his blaster and raced down the Falcon's corridor to the princess's bunk. He stopped short when he saw her. She was viciously pulling at the bedsheets and yelling incoherently. Chewbacca plowed into Han from behind, then muttered an apology.
"Aw, it's just a nightmare." Relieved, Han lowered his blaster. "Why don't you go to sleep? I'll take care of this."
Chewie considered the writhing princess for a moment before turning to go. Han sat on the bed next to Leia and tried to shake her awake. She swatted his hands away and kicked at him.
"Drop the flowers! Run!"
She's dreaming about killer flowers? Han would have laughed if she didn't look so terrified. "Leia, hey, c'mon. Leia! Wake up!" Since talking at her seemed to be having no effect, Han threw himself across the bed, embraced her and lifted her up. Leia jerked away. Her head slammed into the wall.
That woke her up. She looked at Han confusedly. "Whoa, Princess," he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. "It's okay. Just a bad dream." He tentatively stroked the length of her arm, and took her hand in his. He wasn't used to being tender towards her; it felt awkward.
She responded, though, as Leia normally did—with disdain. Turning away from him and dropping his hand, she said formally, "Thank you, Captain. You may go now."
Han rolled his eyes. Impossible woman. "Oh, I'm dismissed? Thank you ever so much, Your Majesty." He jumped up in a huff. That brandy was still waiting for him, a much more receptive companion than this arrogant aristocrat.
"Han!" He ignored her call, and kept walking. She added quietly, "I'm sorry."
There was something about her simple tone that made him stop and turn. She actually sounded contrite. And when he sauntered back to her side, he realized that tears were running silently down her cheeks. Suddenly he felt like an idiot.
"You promised you'd stop calling me that," Leia chided gently, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Yeah, well, I thought you weren't going to treat me like a serf anymore." Han sat back down on the edge of the bed.
Leia nodded. "It's just…I just…didn't want you to see me cry." She looked straight at him. "I'm sorry," she repeated.
Unable to recall a time when those words had ever come out of her mouth—or his, for that matter—Han decided it was time to call a he pulled her down onto the bunk, her back against his front. He wrapped his arms around her and breathed into her hair. One of her braids had unraveled and was tickling his nose.
They lay like that, not speaking, for a while. Finally, Han asked her quietly, "You wanna tell me about your dream?"
Why is he being so nice to me? Leia thought. And why am I letting him? "My home in Aldera had a formal flower garden," she began. "You know, manicured grass, fountains, statues, neat little rows of flowers…." She trailed off. Thinking about Alderaan always made her throat hurt.
"Sounds nice," Han said encouragingly.
"It was. My mother and I used to pick flowers together when I was little. Anyway, in my dream, I was with my mother in that garden. She had a basket. Yellow flowers. I was relaxed, happy to be back home. And then Vader was there. His armor was so black against the green grass…it looked so out of place…and I knew he was there to arrest me. I couldn't hear the avians singing anymore, because his breath mask was drowning out everything. I looked at my mother, tried to tell her to run. But I froze. Vader switched on his lightsaber. The red looked so luminous against the colors of the flowers, and I just stared at that red light and couldn't say anything. Vader raised his saber, aimed it at my mother, so I yelled that the rebel base was on Dantooine, which was a lie, but I was desperate to save her. And Vader looked at me and then just…killed her. Cut off her head."
"Did any of that actually happen?" Han asked carefully.
"He did kill my mother. Just not like that." Leia sighed. "I get a lot of nightmares when I'm being chased by Imps."
"Well, listen. They're not going to get us. We'll get to Bespin, fix the damned hyperdrive, and be back safe at the new base before Vader knows what's going on."
Leia shook her head. "No, he's going to find us. I can feel it." She didn't know how she knew, but sometimes she just knew what was going to happen. She could feel the darkness approaching, like a storm cloud. Like an ocean wave. Like a black swirling cape.
Han sat up on an elbow and looked down at her. "No, he's not going to get us. Look, I promise, okay? I don't make promises very often, but I've never, ever broken one. I promise you, you're going to be fine. He won't find us. Everything will be all right."
Leia graced him with a smile before settling back into her pillow. "Maybe," she said tentatively, "you could stay here until I fall asleep? If you want," she added.
Han went back to his spooning position behind her. "Sure," he said, trying for a nonchalant tone.
Leia was better rested than she had been since…well, since before Alderaan. She hadn't had any other nightmares, though the nagging sense of dread was still there, deep in her belly. She and Han still bickered all day long, yet she kept coming back to his quarters at night, knocking softly, like an unwanted Kobarian swamp dog seeking refuge. And even if he'd been furious with her during the day, he always let her in. She just slept so much better wrapped up in a Han Solo-shaped blanket, tucked under his arm or sprawled across his chest.
Four days into their new routine, Leia arrived at his quarters, still upset from the spat they'd had about the dinner dishes. "I still think," she said before he'd even completely opened the door, "we should just divide the responsib—"
Han held up a finger. "Stop. I have a new rule."
She lifted an eyebrow. "You don't get to make the rules."
"Fine, we'll form a committee to examine the possibility of the approval of a new rule."
"I am still not a committee."
Han smiled crookedly at her. He really did enjoy their repartee, and he was pretty sure she did too. He thought for a moment. "I have…a proposal for you, then. If you agree."
Placated, Leia's face assumed the attentive expression of a senator prepared for negotiation. "Fire away."
"When you cross this door," Han indicated the entrance to his quarters, "we stop fighting. We forget every stupid thing we said that day, put all our arguments on hold and just play nice with each other."
Leia considered for a moment. "I don't say 'stupid things.' You do sometimes, pretty often, actually, but—"
"You're arguing."
"I am not!"
"Yes, you're being argumentative."
"No, I'm not."
Han crossed his arms and stared at her until she looked away, grinning. "Okay, hotshot, I second the motion. Your bill has passed."
"Great." Han stepped forward and began removing the pins from her plaits. "Could you maybe wear your hair down to bed?"
Leia shrugged. "It gets tangled if it's loose."
"I don't mind."
"And it goes against protocol."
Han lifted his eyebrows. "Protocol?" he echoed.
"Alderaanian ladies never appear in public with their hair down. Especially, uh, royalty."
"Come on, I'm hardly 'the public.' And isn't there something in that protocol manual about princesses sleeping next to smugglers?"
Leia bit her lower lip to hide her smile. "Yeah, that's a good point," she said, surveying the cramped quarters. "My aunts would go supernova if they saw me here with you. So would my mother. So would…well, pretty much the entire court, actually." She stared at him.
Her hair came down.