Author's Note - sorry about the long delay. Family stuff, the computer ate most of my story a couple of weeks ago (the delete key got stuck as I was editing), and a whole bunch of other not-fun stuff. It's kind of long, but I do hope you enjoy (and yes, there's a lot more to come!)
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The Solos huddled together in the crowded sublevel shuttle pavilion, leaning against a stone pillar and holding hands, which was partly an affectionate gesture, and partly to keep ahold of one another as they were jostled and bumped by beings of every species who were out and about eagerly waiting to start their weekend. Despite their semi-celebrity status as heroes of the Rebellion and their high profile, galaxy-wide holovized wedding, neither of them worried much about being recognized; they were used to it when it happened, but mostly people didn't expect to see them in ordinary places doing ordinary things, especially outside the capitol. Besides, Han only needed to wear something other than his famous bloodstripes and vest/jacket combination to 'disguise' himself, and Leia, who'd been quite famous on Alderaan as the crown princess, was constantly being told that she looked different in person - much softer and prettier and smaller. She was grateful for that measure of anonymity so they could be just a normal couple doing normal things, like now.
Pressed closely against his side, Leia looked up at Han and smiled, observing the way he kept watch, eyes darting everywhere, one hand on the butt of his blaster he kept hidden under his shirt, just in case. She studied the angles and planes of his face in the underground lighting, noting how his brows framed his deep set eyes, the slight, off-center curve of his nose, the tilted slant of his mouth, and the scar on his chin. His rugged, masculine features and his confident self-possession were those of a man, not a boy, and had drawn her to him from the moment she'd first set eyes on him, much to her then-chagrin. Boyish good looks and charm had never held any womanly interest for her, not even as a teenaged princess and senator when her beloved aunts would try to pair her with the sons of other noble houses or statesmen. She was certain those young men had found her prickly, perhaps even haughty (ice princess was a term that had begun to be whispered behind her back), and she'd found them rather boring and bland, like dry toast or weak tea. Oh, they were nice enough, she supposed, but she had never found those qualities particularly attractive, had never found their rather chaste, awkward kisses thrilling (what very few she had allowed), had never yearned for some callow, insipid, pretty boy (she included Isolder in this category – once her political interest in him had been exposed and discarded, for all of his princely good-looks and charm, he simply lacked that essential manliness that comes from being one's own man and living life by one's own terms.) Hells, she had never yearned for anyone until a certain cocky Corellian devil had burst into her life. The fact that he'd been right about her preferences concerning nice men and scoundrels did not escape her. Han exuded a raw masculinity and a bold self-assuredness that made her feel alive with passion, secure and protected by his steadfast love, and gracefully feminine in a way no one else could. I'm all yours for the evening, he'd said, and he was, no matter how many heads turned to give him appreciative glances and surreptitious winks, she knew he was all hers forever. The thought made her squeeze his hand a little tighter, causing him to look down at her.
Gods, how did I get so lucky to have such an exceptional man as my husband? she thought as their eyes met, maybe we should have just stayed in the tub tonight . . .
Han flashed her a grin as a shuttle came to a stop on the track in front of them, and gripped her hand a little tighter, pulling her with him through the shoulder-to-shoulder mass of beings that began to swarm through the open doors of the car. There were metal poles in the center aisle, and handgrips hung down from the top. Seats, mostly filled, lined the sides of the car, and he was quick to snatch one before they were all taken, holding his pretty little wife on his lap like many of the couples around them. He smiled, watching the delight on Leia's face as she took in the excited chatter of old friends perhaps meeting for drinks, parents lightly scolding younglings to keep still as they possibly took them to a special event or the grandparents for the weekend, and lovers out on a date. It seemed the whole populous was out tonight, ready for the evening, and she was enraptured, her eyes shining, a pleased smile on her coral colored lips.
Probably because he knew what a burden of responsibility she carried on her small shoulders, and because he'd seen her weary, dejected, battle-worn, and stressed out too many times to count (today included), he found her lighter expressions of amusement or joy or wonder deeply endearing. Which was why he was always trying to get her to have fun more often. She filled him with such an elemental feeling of deep love, that he couldn't help himself. Leaning forward slightly, he nudged her ear with his nose and breathed, "You like watching me, princess?"
His low timbre of his voice seemed to reverberate through her whole body, along with the now-moving shuttle, and caused her to tuck her head toward her shoulder, trying to hide her bashful, yet sly smile. "Maybe," she said in a hushed voice that matched her smile.
"Maybe, huh?" he continued, his voice pleased, but still soft and intimate in her ear. "Playing shy with me? That's adorable. But I know you better than that. Do you have any idea what I want to do to you right now? I bet you do . . ." With beings packed in against them, Han proceeded to whisper secret desires to her all the way to their stop, in that low, spine-tingling tone, making her giggle and squirm on his lap.
When Greenboro Hanger was announced, Leia stood shakily and caught his hand again, managing to chide, "Let's go, naughty husband," as they disembarked with hundreds of other riders.
Lando's ship, The Smooth Operator, was docked half way down the lot. It was sleek and white and had a retro look to it that did indeed remind her of those Chiz Mordagon go-go spy flicks that Han liked. As if on cue, the hatch opened, and there stood Lando Calrissian himself, in all his suave, sophisticated glory.
"Well, well, well," he chanted, coming down the ramp to meet them. He was dressed impeccably in perfectly pleated black slacks, a dark red shirt, and a matching black cape with a red and gold design woven into the fabric, and Leia wondered, not for the first time, how only he seemed able to pull off the look without resembling a washed-up night club singer.
Completely ignoring Han, Lando looked Leia up and down approvingly in that slick way he had, clucking his tongue. Shaking his head in slow wonder, he marveled, "How this scruffy street urchin managed to win over such a fine, foxy beauty is beyond me." Then he bowed, took her hand and kissed it. "Come, Leia, let me show you my ship," he purred gallantly as he took her arm to lead her up the ramp.
Han followed, rolling his eyes and muttering things like, "Oh, for kriff's sake," and ". . . mustache and a cape, for gods' sakes . . ."
"What happened to The Dreamboat?" Leia asked, naming the ship he'd loaned them for their secret return to Coruscant from Dathomir. She threw a grin over her shoulder to Han, who was pretending to glower at them.
"Oh, I still own The Dreamboat. This ship is a prototype for my new venture. That's why I'm here on business; I'm designing and selling pleasure yachts for an exclusive clientele," Lando explained, leading her into the spacious lounge area. Along with the white shag rug, shiny chrome, and aqua colored furniture, there was something else that made her stop in her tracks.
"A dancing cage?!" She laughed in astonishment, "Han, you didn't tell me about this!" The ceiling-to-floor cage was placed next to one of the couches, across from the chrome and Formica bar. Leia went over to stand in it, touching the bars in wonder.
Han leaned on the bar counter, grinning at her. "You like it? We can always get one for the apartment," he offered, his voice dripping with suggestion. Now he had a new fantasy featuring his favorite princess to think about.
She gave him a dubious grin and shook her head.
Lando laughed, joining Han at the bar. "I have a couple of other designs, too. The Casanova features a sunken, round lounge pit with a circular fire place surrounded by couches, and The Rapscallion has a huge sauna pool in the lounge with a swim-up bar. Actually, I got the idea for this retro look from those old spy movies Han and I used to watch in our salad days on Nar Shaada," he explained, then pointedly looked at her. "That dancing cage truly suits you, Leia," he drawled exaggeratedly for Han's benefit.
"Alright, knock it off, Sleazy," Han admonished lightly, "and you, your Worship, I never thought I'd say this, but would you get out of that cage, please?"
"Relax, Flyboy," she laughed and joined him at the bar, putting an arm around him. To Lando, she said, "I don't know about the cage, but I like this design. I'm impressed."
"Why, thank you, Princess," he said, stroking his mustache. "I could always use more investors or buyers if you're interested. But tonight, you're my guests, so first things first. Chewie and Luke are on the bridge, ready to take off. When you called, we thought maybe it'd be fun for the five of us to head to the Western hemisphere to Mas Regas for the weekend, you know, maybe do a little gambling, maybe see some shows, dancing at a club. What do you say?"
The Solos exchanged looks. Having already taken the tour, Han knew Lando had stocked the ship with numerous items such as toothbrushes, soaps, and other such sundries, and the ship had an autovalet, so fresh clothes were no problem. Any other item they might need could always be purchased once they got there. And Leia had never been to Mas Regas. Han raised an eyebrow and cocked his head as if to say, 'What'd ya think?' and Leia smiled and shrugged 'Why not?'
"Sounds like fun," Han beamed, turning to his friend. "We're in."
Lando rubbed his hands together and grinned, "Good deal!" He reached over to a small control panel on the bar and pushed a button. "Chewie? Fire up the engines, we're going to Regas!" Then he took Leia's arm again. "All right! In less than thirty minutes, we'll be in Sin Sector Central! In the meantime, why don't I take you on a tour of the rest of the ship, Your Highness?"
Han loudly cleared his throat and affected a glaring frown.
"Oh, all right, you're invited, too, you bum," Lando teased, and led the couple around the ship to show them the black and white galley, the two bedrooms decorated in wood paneling and clean, solid colors, and the large bathroom, complete with two sinks in the vanity counter, gold starbursts on the tiled walls, and an enormous mirrored bathtub/shower enclosure which could easily fit four to six people. Like most pleasure ships, there was no need to strap into a seat during take-off because the gravitational components were modified and state-of-the-art for the passengers' comfort. Leia could hardly feel when the ship achieved lift off.
By the time they returned to the lounge, the autopilot had been engaged and Luke was at the bar, using a tiny, blue, plastic cocktail sword to pluck maraschino cherries from a jar. He smiled affably at his sister and brother-in-law, as Lando made his way around the counter to play bartender, and Leia went to sit by Chewie on one of the couches.
"Hey, guys. Glad you changed your minds," he said cheerfully as Lando mixed drinks and set bowls of peanuts out on the counter and coffee table.
"Hey, Luke," Han said next to him, gathering dirty martinis for himself and Leia.
Luke leaned towards him and sniffed. He tried to keep from laughing. "Vilantilia flowers? Nice. That your new aftershave?"
Han looked coolly back, and without missing a beat said, "Nope. It's your sister's bath water. Anything else you want to ask?"
"Nope, I'm good," Luke said quickly, his voice higher than usual, and looked away as Lando and Chewie began to chortle.
"You sure?" Han asked, his eyes starting to light with mischief.
"Boys!" Leia's voice cut in as she wedged herself between them, her hands on her slim hips. She gave them both an amused, but sour eye. Ever since the first Death Star, they were like brothers: willing to lay down their lives for each other, yes, but also, quick to poke and prod each other with good-natured insults and ribbing. Normally, she enjoyed their banter, but now she set her eyes on her husband. "Really? You had to mention my bath water?"
"Oh, I'm just messin' with him," Han assured her, giving her a sheepish grin. "And, besides, he started it."
"I just thought he smelled pretty," Luke muttered, causing them to snicker at each other over Leia's head.
Leia's eyes darted between them. "You are both disturbed," she giggled finally.
"That is what this weekend is all about!" Lando declared, leading them all back to the couches with drinks in their hands. "Just having fun, cutting loose, and forgetting about everything else!" Chewie roared in agreement.
Luke took a sip of his Cherry Lime Rickey and listened as Lando, Han and Chewie talked excitedly of all the things to do in Regas, like card games and casinos, slot machines, numerous cocktail lounges, the Dwayne Newson show, and Zigfeld and Troy's Magic Show. Like Leia, he'd never been to Mas Regas either. His obligations as commander in Rogue Squadron, as well as his Jedi training and studies kept him pretty busy, so he didn't have time to go out very often and enjoy the nightlife, and he'd never been a big drinker anyway. Or even a small drinker. Back on Tatooine, when he'd been a youth, Uncle Owen had kept him pretty busy on the moisture farm and there really wasn't that much else to do, even with Biggs and the rest of his friends, and the few times they'd snuck beer from Copper's dad's cache, they'd been sick as drawtles and had caught hell from their folks. Uncle Owen had grounded him for a month from going to Toshi station – too bad about those power converters, and forget about heading over to Beggar's Canyon to shoot womp rats. Gods, so much had happened since then. Too much. But that was long ago and he was grown up now, with other friends and other family (and who could've imagined having a princess for a sister?) And, also like his sister, sometimes he needed a chance to blow off some steam, to put the adult away for a while and let the kid out to play. Unfortunately, like the kid he'd been back on Tatooine, he still wasn't very good when it came to handling booze. And therein lay the problem. Well, at least it was a problem for his sister.
"I would love to see the Dwayne Newson show," Leia enthused, eliciting a hoot from Chewie, who was a huge fan of the singer, and loved to play his music during long trips on the Falcon, much to Han's aggravation. "What made you guys think of Regas?"
"Luke mentioned the Rogues went a few weeks ago," Lando said, tipping his glass of sweet vermouth on ice towards the tow-headed, young Jedi.
Feeling her eyes on him, Luke was quick to answer. "The Squad went when I was out on a mission. Sounded like fun."
"That figures," Leia uttered flatly, taking a sip of her drink.
Seeing her slight, smirking, why-am-I-not-surprised expression over the lip of his glass, he added, "What?"
"You know what."
"Leia," he began, but she cut him off.
"Last month Wedge came to my office to tell me he found you and Wes Jansen spooned together in his x-wing when you went out with the guys from Rogue Squadron," she explained, not without humor. "And I'm not sure I believe 'nothing happened.' I don't care what he says."
Luke folded his arms over the soft, gray, V-neck sweater he'd changed into earlier, and colored a bit as Han, Lando and Chewie began to sputtered laughter. "You're never going to let me live that one down, are you? And for the record, we were not 'spooned together', he wanted to show me the new modifications to the deflector shields and we just fell asleep. That's all. Sheesh."
"Oh, my gods," Leia groaned, "that's the oldest trick in the book. They get you drunk, then want to show you the deflector shields or the hyper drive. Han used to try that with me all the time. Even tried taking his shirt off to tempt me." She giggled, remembering.
Han narrowed his eyes at his wife. "Maybe it was hot that day," he protested unconvincingly.
Leia slowly turned her head to look at him. "On Hoth?!"
Chewie's warbling laugh was infectious. "Okay, but you can't blame me for trying," Han relented with a wink and lopsided grin for his wife. "Took a long time 'til you'd let me show you the hyper drive."
"That never works anyway," Lando added, with a knowing smile. "Nobody ever falls for that, no matter how drunk they are. Can you imagine?"
Luke averted his eyes and took a long sip from his straw. His momentary silence among their derisive laughter drew their attention and he felt his color rise again. "Well," he cleared his throat, "see, Wes spilled beer on his shirt and –"
"Oh, Luke, no," Leia groan again. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, as if pained.
"Kriff, maybe I went after the wrong Skywalker" Han murmured softly with a look of comical regret. For that remark, he received more laughter from Lando and Chewie, and an elbow to the ribs from Leia, who was doing her best to appear stern.
"It's not funny," she retorted, trying not to laugh, "those Rogues are wild hooligans when they go out. And you know Luke. They could take advantage of him."
"Oh, here we go, just like my Uncle Owen," Luke scoffed, rolling his eyes. Then he mimicked, "'Luke, what were you doing out 'til dawn with Biggs again?' 'Luke, you and Todd kept us up all night with all the racket you were making in your room.' 'Luke, those boys you hang out with are only after one thing –'" he paused to take a sip of his drink, before continuing, "'a good time!'" Now he looked at his sister who was sitting across from him. "They're good guys, and, yeah, maybe we get a little wild sometimes, but I don't go out much and I don't drink very often, maybe once a month if that, but you make me sound like a naïve fifteen year old alcoholic in some afterschool special – Luke's Terrible Secret."
"Well," Leia reasoned, "I'm just afraid that the Terrible Secret may be Wedge coming to tell me that you and Wes eloped in some drunken stupor and are now registered for china patterns and matching bath robes. Not that there's anything wrong with that."
By this time, Lando was all but doubled over, Chewie was holding his stomach, and Han held a hand over his mouth for fear of another of the princess' elbow jabs.
"Okay," Luke began slowly, "first of all, if I was going to elope with any of the Rogues, do you seriously think it'd be Wes Jansen? I mean, really? Have you seen him with his shirt off?" He made a face as if to say, 'duh!' causing a whimper of desperate laughter to escape from behind Han's hand. (Leia resisted giving him another poke to the ribs, but did manage a warning look, while biting the inside of her cheek to keep from cracking up with herself.) "Tycho, okay, even Hobbie, maybe, but Wes? Please. And second, uh, hello? I'm not attracted to, nor do I play for the home team, and I'm not about to elope with one of them, not even if I'm drunk. Not that there's anything wrong with that."
Leia actually liked that her brother got into some mischief now and again. He, like she, needed an outlet once in a while after all the serious business and difficult times they'd been through. But she was his sister, and she still worried. Pointing an olive speared on a toothpick at him, she said, "But that's my point: you lose control and weird things happen when, on the occasion, you do go out drinking - things you'd never do when you're sober."
"Like Wes Jansen?" Han couldn't help himself; it just slipped out. For several moments, the friends snorted and snickered helplessly. Leia tried to give him a look of dismay through her laughter, and Luke pelted him with a few well-aimed peanuts in retaliation.
Finally, Luke said, "I get it, Leia. But I'm an adult. Maybe I get a little out of hand when I go out with those guys, but I'll be fine – I promise." He loved his sister and appreciated her concern, but really, he was pretty sure Han had done worse than dirty-dance and twerk on a bar counter, or enter a wet t-shirt contest on a dare.
Han put an arm around her shoulders. "He'll be fine, sweetheart," Han soothed, mirth still lurking in his tone. "We won't let him near anybody's hyper drive, right Chewie?"
Chewie rumbled with soft laughter. Wookiees were notorious hard drinkers, brewing some of the most potent ale in the galaxy, but outside of Kashyyyk and outside of the Falcon, Chewie rarely got drunk, preferring to play the 'designated driver.' Besides, it would take an awful lot of Alderaanian ale or Corellian lager to even make him woozy. [That's right, Little Princess, I will make sure nobody spoons or forks the Farmboy.]
Luke joined in the teasing laughter, sat back and crossed his legs, and hissed, "All right, all right, very funny, Chewie," as he crunched ice from his drink.
Just then, the central computer, using a voice with a Highland brogue from the planet Brigadooine (like the actor who played the spy in those old movies), announced that The Smooth Operator was approaching Mas Regas. Drinks in hand, the merry little group of five gathered in the bridge to watch the approach from the huge viewing deck window.
"It's beautiful," Leia gasped at the scene before her. The city was lit up with billions of twinkling, colorful lights under the dark, starry night sky. She recognized the signs from The Dunes and Teaser's Palace, and billboards for shows featuring showgirls, trained and performing exotic animals, and past-their-prime singers. It all looked so exciting, like fun just waiting to be had. It seemed hard to believe just a short time earlier, she'd been looking forward to spending the evening alone in her bathtub with an old holovid and some Chiwanese food, and now, here she was with her husband, brother and friends, ready to take on the infamous Mas Regas strip.
Lando cleared his throat. "I think this calls for a toast." They held up their drinks in a circle. "To the five of us!" As the friends clinked glasses, he added, "And to an unforgettable evening!"
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Leia would never be sure exactly what had woken her. It might have been the pain and stiffness of her hip against the hard surface of the bathtub. It could have been the pounding headache that made the one she'd had at work yesterday seem like a mere papercut in comparison. Or it could have been the sound of Lando shrieking in her dream. As her eyes opened and she blinked blearily, she wondered what all the colorful ropes resting on Han's chest were. She moved a hand up to press against her pounding temple, registering the fact that she was, indeed, nestled next to Han and they were both fully clothed when the shrieking from her dream began again. Only she wasn't dreaming this time.
All at once, Han was instantly awake, having heard the same anguished sound. The couple spent a bewildered moment awkwardly trying to clamber out of the tub (how the hell had they ended up there?) and then they were off and running toward the screaming, Han in the lead. Motion-sensor courtesy lights lit up the hallways, making them both wince in pain at the brightness.
The sound led them to the door to one of the bedrooms, and Han, blaster in hand, slapped at the control panel, and the two of them spilled into the room, ready for battle if necessary. They found Lando, still dressed in his black pants and red shirt from the night before, standing in front of the dresser mirror with his hands over his mouth, wild-eyed and whimpering.
Han's head jerked around, looking for hidden culprits in every corner, while keeping Leia behind him with his free arm. "Are you okay? What's wrong?!" he demanded in a deep, groggy voice, eyes jumping, attempting to get a grasp on the situation.
"She's gone, Han! She's gone!" Lando moaned.
"Who's gone, buddy? What happened?" Han asked, still looked around, confused.
Leia peered cautiously around Han's side. She sensed no danger, but something was terribly wrong. And then all at once, she saw it. "What happened to your hair?!" she exclaimed.
Still staring in the mirror, Lando put one hand up to his head to feel the jheri curled hair that now adorned his head. "My hair?! My hair?!" he lamented, the other hand still covering his mouth, and turned to face them. "Who's talking about– my hair? What about your hair!" he gasped, eyes widening at the sight of the princess.
Leia's hands flew up to her own head as Han turned in confusion to stare at her, his mouth dropping open. She leapt toward the mirror, her heart in her mouth. "What the hell . . ." she muttered absently, turning her head this way and that. Instead of the simple, loose, chestnut braid she'd left the house with last night, her hair was now plaited in perhaps fifty long braids down her back, in dozens of deep colors – teal, fuchsia, marigold, emerald, cobalt, plum, ruby, and burnt orange to match her dress. "Oh, my stars!"
"What the kriff is going on here?!" Han demanded, not sure where to look – at Lando and his glossy, spiraled curls or Leia and her rainbow braids.
Leia continued to stare, fascinated, in the mirror. "And my face! Han, look at me! I look like Bozo the Drag Queen!" She turned frantically to her husband.
"Great skies, Leia!" he snorted, turning her face in his hand. It was true. Her eyes shimmered with gold eyeshadow, ringed with smoky kohl, fringed with thick, long false eyelashes, and her lips were full, lush, and tomato-red. Han rubbed at a rouged, contoured cheek to no avail; it seemed she'd been made up with semi-permanent cosmetics. "Okay. Okay. I'm sure I've got some solvent on the Falcon. Some oil or turpentine. It'll be okay. We'll dye your hair back." He hugged her. "It's okay, baby. You're okay."
"That's fine for her," Lando moaned, "but it's going to take more than turpentine to fix my problem!"
They both turned to him. A smile danced on Han's lips. "Now, Lando, if anyone can make the wet look work, it's you," he began, "but tell me something first. Is she a very kinky girl? The kind you don't take home to mother? Or is she a super freak? Super freak?"
"She's super freaky!" Leia finished as they both snickered.
"It's not funny!" he insisted, his voice muffled by his hand, then glared at Leia. "And you should talk, Rainbow Bright!"
"Okay, okay," Han said, "it's just hair, we're all in one piece, we're okay."
"No, Han, we're not. We're not all in one piece and we're not okay." Lando took a deep breath and dramatically removed his hand. "She's gone!"
They both gasped. Leia winced and quickly turned her head away, closing her eyes, as if to unsee what she'd just seen, and Han looked stricken, and instinctively put up a hand in front of his wife's face to shield her from the sight before them.
"Lando?" he whispered. "Is that really you?"
The space above Lando's lip, where once grew a silky, sexy mustache, was now a barren expanse of smooth-shaven upper lip.
"It's me, buddy. It's me." His voice was shaky with emotion.
Han nodded, thinking. "So. Okay. All right. We must've had quite a time last night. Uh, nobody has to know about this." He absently ran a hand through his hair. "We can, we can fix all this. Right?"
"Han?" Leia asked slowly, "did you get a haircut?" She peered up at him curiously.
Without a word, he looked up in the mirror, almost afraid at what he might find.
"Wow," was all he could say, as he moved his head about to get a better look at his new haircut.
Lando and Leia crowded in on either side of him.
Han's hair had been trimmed perfectly to accentuate the shape of his face, and highlighted with little golden streaks that brought out the green and gold in his hazel eyes. If anything, he looked even more handsome than ever.
"Wow," Leia echoed breathlessly, looking between Han and his image in the mirror, as if trying to decide who was better looking.
Lando frowned in the mirror. "I don't remember anything."
"Damn. Me, either," Han said, still admiring himself. "What did we do last night?"
Suddenly, Leia's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, my gods'! Luke!"
The two men looked at her reflection with growing alarm.
"You know how he gets! He's like a gremlin when he drinks – remember when we found him on the Falcon wearing a bra?!" she asserted, "So if we woke up like this -" she said, pointing at the three of them in the mirror, but before she could finish, Han cut her off.
"Then what about Luke?!"
They scrambled, Lando's mustache and Leia's colorful braids forgotten for the moment.
Han checked the galley and the bridge, while Lando checked the adjoining bathroom between the bedrooms. He found Chewie's slumbering form under a mound of blankets in the other bedroom, but that was all until they heard Leia call from the lounge.
The two men jogged up behind her, noting the wreckage – scattered drinks, half-eaten plates of food, cushions and pillows thrown all over the room, cards and cigar butts littering the table - and came to a complete stop on either side of the princess.
Before them, Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master, Commanding Officer for the Rebel Alliance and Rogue Squadron, destroyer of the first Death Star, and decorated war hero, lay sleeping, sprawled in the dancing cage, his hair messed and mashed against the bars, cocooned in some throw blankets and clutching a ventriloquist's dummy to his chest.
Lando only had to take one look at the dummy before he started to react. "What is that thing! Tell me it's not a puppet! Do not tell me it's a puppet!" he squealed and darted back to hide behind all five feet, one inch and ninety-five pounds of Princess Leia.
Leia peeked over her shoulder at the former General Calrissian cowering behind her, to give him a withering look, but did a double take instead. The sight of him sans mustache was totally unnerving, and surprised her all over again.
"Lando," Han sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose "dude, I think we've heard you scream enough for one day." Besides, his head was aching something fierce from one of the worst hangovers he could remember. Gingerly, he nudged Luke's foot with his own. "Hey, kid," he said gently so as not to startle him, because he most likely had his own headache to contend with.
Luke stirred, swiping one hand over his face and grunting softly as his eyes blinked slowly open. Oh, my aching head. I really tied one on this time. Leia is going to kill me, he thought as he sat up stiffly, pushing aside the confining blankets, and felt something solid and heavy drop into his lap. Puzzled, he lifted his head, aware that he was being watched. His eyes simply refused to believe what they saw and for a stunned, silent moment, he just sat there dazed and confused. The colored braids of Leia's hair! Han had highlights! And was that Lando?! No, it couldn't be, could it?! It was! Then, despite himself, he let out a chuckle. "What happened to you three?!"
Han, Leia, and even Lando exchanged mirthful glances, then looked down at him again.
"Um, what happened to you?" Han asked. Beside him, Leia turned away, leaned her head against his arm, and began to snicker, which set both him and Lando off.
"Me? What, uh, what?" Luke stammered, looking down at himself. Last night he'd been wearing a pair of dark, charcoal colored pants and a lighter gray sweater, but now he found himself decked out in what appeared to be a shiny, black, lycra-spandex uni-tard with something sparkly written on the top. He touched the sharp little rhinestones and then his hands settled on the hard bundle in the blanket on his lap.
"Don't -!" Lando tried to warn him, but it was too late.
Luke pulled the blanket away, took one look at the dummy and screamed. Lando screamed. They stopped, looked at each other and screamed again.
Han and Leia pressed their hands over their ears. "Stop hollering! It's just a dummy!" Han shouted. Oh, his head ached, and his ears hurt. What hell had they done?
"Okay, everybody, calm down," Leia said in a hushed, raspy voice, which seemed to reach both Luke and Lando (who was still behind her.) "Luke, it's a ventriloquist's dummy. It's – oh. Your hair. Something happened to your hair, too." She bit her lips.
Luke's hands flew to his head. Instead of finding his normal, soft, silky mop, it felt rough and fluffy. Curly. "Do I have a perm?!" he demanded, feeling it again, with rising alarm. "I do. I have a perm. I woke up holding a puppet. I'm wearing a spandex leotard. Dear gods. Uncle Owen was right. He warned me this would happen!"
"Now, Luke, I'm sure it's not so bad," Han said, voice on the verge of cracking up again, "let's just take it easy."
Blue eyes flashed scornfully at him. "Take it easy? Look who's talking! You look . . . fantastic! I don't think I've ever seen you look better! We look like circus folk! And I'm not entirely sure that's really Lando!" (At this, Lando uttered a small indignant gasp and clapped his hand over his mouth again.)
"Where's Chewie?" Leia asked, looking up at Han. Damn, Luke's right. He does look fantastic. Holy kriff!
"Chewie's sleeping it off in the other bedroom," Lando answered in a muffled voice. He'd taken a few steps back and had gotten himself under a measure of control.
"Okay, good. Let him sleep," Han said, thinking. "Come on. Let's see what we can do about . . . all this." He swirled a finger in the air indicating the hairy predicaments of the other three. Luke shoved the puppet from his lap, making Lando take another jumping step back, and the four of them trudged back to the large, spacious bathroom in which Han and Leia had fallen asleep.
They stood in front of the wall-length mirror above the sinks, each examining themselves with renewed surprise and alarm. Except, of course, for Han, who found himself even more exceptional than at first glance.
Lando rummaged in one of the drawers to find something – anything - an eyebrow pencil, perhaps - to fill in his missing mustache, but found nothing, and, except for lipstick, Leia had no cosmetics in her purse, either, so he ran to the bedroom to see if he could find anything else.
"'Shazam?'" Luke frowned dejectedly, reading the rhinestones on his tank top uni-tard. The Z was designed with a lightning bolt. He tried patting down his hair with water, but it only defined the tight curls even more. "Kriff," he swore at his reflection, looking over at his sister for sympathy. Surely somebody sporting such garishly colorful braids could understand his dilemma, would probably be staring in horrified fascination at her own reflection. But instead, he found Leia staring moony-eyed at Han.
With a huff, he sat on the vanity bench. "Oh, come on! You can put your eyes back in your head, Leia!"
"Huh?" she asked, blinking, turning to see her brother with his arms crossed, glaring at her.
"Look at us! I look like . . . some . . . deranged . . . Saturday morning . . . cartoon superhero, and you . . . look like . . . that girl, Skanki, from that Jerky Shore reality show . . . that I . . . totally never watch!" Luke sputtered impudently.
Leia touched her braids and considered his words. She would certainly never be recognized now. "You think I look like Skanki?" Skanki was a rough, nasty, loud-mouth girl. The idea intrigued her.
"Well, like that, anyway," he relented a little more softly. Then his eyes rested on his own reflection again. "It's not fair. Why does he (jerking a thumb at Han) get to look like that, and I look like . . . that weird kid . . . in that Lagoon movie?"
"Hey," Han smiled and said, more to his reflection, than Luke, "it's me." He winked at himself and turned his head to admire the highlights again.
Leia smiled approvingly at him and Luke rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh.
Lando came back with supplies: a wool hat, sunglasses, scarves, a thick, black magic marker, hair gel, mousse, a brush and a comb. He picked up the magic marker and regarded his upper lip in the mirror.
Leia moved behind her brother and picked up a tube of hair gel and began to work it into his hair. "He was pretty cute, if I remember," she mused, sharing a smile with Han in the mirror.
Not to be placated, Luke deadpanned, "Oh, yes, I'm absolutely adorable." His hair now sat in a mushroom shape on top of his head. "The girl in that movie would have taken one look at my hair, jumped in the ocean, and kept on swimming. The end!"
Leia laughed and picked up a comb. When she was done, Luke's hair stood on end in a furry mass, as if blown back and away from his face.
He gave his sister a flat stare. "I should be holding the frayed end of an extension cord and sitting in a bathtub."
She sighed and stepped back. "I tried. Dunk your head under the faucet. It looks better curly than frizzy."
While Luke wet his hair, at the other end of the counter, Lando, nudged Han with an elbow and snickered, "He looks like that guy in that movie – Napoleon Blastomite."
"That's pretty big talk coming from a guy who's drawing a magic marker mustache on his face," Luke retorted, twisting a towel on top of his head. "And, by the way, I have to ask - is she a very kinky girl? The kind you don't take home to mother? Or is she a super freak? Super freak?"
"She's super freaky!" Leia and Han said together, laughing.
Lando paused, magic marker in hand, and narrowed his eyes at his friends. "For your information, I think I look like that actor who's in every movie ever made, that Samuel L. Something, more than James Rick. And - uh," he hesitated, and squinted at Han, distracted by something glinting from his ear. "Han, is that an earring?"
Han looked puzzled, then peered into the mirror again. Sure enough, a small gold hoop hung from his left earlobe. "Huh."
Leia came over to investigate. "That looks like my earring," she said, and felt her earlobes, finding the right one missing. "You got your ear pierced," she said simply, reaching up to turn his face in her hand (Luke smiled expectantly behind her, waiting for Leia to let him have it.) "It looks . . . good." She smiled slowly, dazedly at him again. "Real good."
"Son of a kriff!" Luke scowled, pouting at them, arms crossed defiantly over his bedazzled Shazam tank top, his turban shaking a little. "Han gets highlights and a pierced ear and suddenly, he's Mr. GQ cover model! But not the rest of us! Poor Lando looks like a homeless funk singer from the Disco era! Leia looks like some psychedelic showgirl from the mean streets of Mos Eisley!" he ranted, "And I look like a cross between a fortunetelling gymnast and a second-rate skater from the Ice Capades!" He gestured towards his image in the mirror. "And – oh, my gods! Am I wearing eyeliner?!" he gasped in horror, leaning forward to get a better look.
"Okay," Han said, turning from the mirror, "okay, let's just calm down. Uh, look, things got really out of control last night, okay? Stuff happened. Weird stuff (he eyed his brother-in-law.) We don't seem to remember any of it. So, this is what we're going to do. Leia, my love," he picked up a green braid from her shoulder and gave it a gentle little tug, "you go and make some kaff. I'll find some aspirin and wake Chewie. And Samuel L.," he turned to Lando, "you take Kenny G. over there and see if you have any clothes he can wear. Then we're gonna sit down and figure out what happened and how to fix it. Okay?"
"Fine," Lando grumbled with a frown, then added in a lower voice, gesturing with his chin toward Luke, "but he's so mean."
"I know, I know, but look at the poor kid," Han whispered back.
"What was that?!" Luke snapped suspiciously, patting his hair dry with the towel.
"Nothing," Han flashed a big, fake smile. "I'm sure we'll all feel better after a nice, hot cup of kaff."
Just as Luke was following Lando out the door, he turned suddenly, putting his hands on his hips, making the rhinestones on his spandex Shazam tank top sparkle in the glare of the bathroom light, and narrowed his eyes at his brother in law. "Just so you know, I was going to call you 'Point Break' in return for that 'Kenny G.' crack, but since it's actually a compliment, I'm not gonna!" Then he stuck out his tongue and flounced out of there, his curly hair bouncing on his head.
The Solos stood there, simply staring at the empty doorway Luke had vacated, neither quite capable of speech for a moment.
Finally: "Your brother's strange."
"Yeah."
Han looked down at his technicolor wife, who continued to stare straight ahead. "You do know you're the normal, good twin, right?"
"I do, now."
X X X
While Leia made kaff in the galley, and Lando took Luke to find some clothes, Han foraged in the other bathroom to find some aspirin, then he went to wake the sleeping Wookiee.
Leia had just pressed the 'On' button on the kaff maker when Han's voice bellowed down the hallway.
"Lando!" His tone made them all come running. He looked from the form on the bed to Lando, confused and alarmed. "Uh, do you, by any chance, know Dwayne Newson?"
"No," Lando answered, bewildered. "Why?"
" 'Cuz that ain't Chewie," he insisted, pointing at the bed, then lifting the covers.
They gaped at the bloated, sleeping form of Dwayne Newson, dressed in white leather and sparkles.
"Holy kriff," Luke breathed in awe, turning to his sister, "we partied with Dwayne Newson!"
"Yeah, but I can't wake him up," Han growled. "Are you wearing a cape? Never mind. We need to wake him up and find Chewie."
Lando leaned over the lounge singing legend. "Hey!" he shouted, despite his still-raging headache. "Mr. Newson! Dwayne! All-you-can-eat-buffet!" He shook his head. "He's really out cold. Oh, gods, he's dead!" he wailed, "Dwayne Newson is dead on my yacht!"
"He's not dead," Luke said, stepping forward, and putting a hand on the man's chest.
"Look, here's a note," Leia said, picking up a slip of paper from the bedside. She read, "'Dear Luke, if you forget how to wake Sleeping Beauty, ask Chewie. Love, Luke.'"
Luke frowned. "Sleeping Beauty? Hmm. I must've used a Jedi Mind Trick on him."
"Why didn't you write down how to wake him up?" Han griped, irritated, head still pounding.
"Gee, Han," Luke sneered, deliberately looking down at himself, gesturing at his outfit, "I don't remember."
"Yeah, sorry," Han relented. "Okay. Well, let's find Chewie then so we can wake up Mr. Entertainment."
They scoured the ship, but the Wookiee was nowhere to be found, and he wasn't answering his 'com. Han even went to check outside to see if he'd passed out somewhere around the ship, but all he found was Dwayne Newson's wrecked repulsor chair, which he dragged back inside with him. He joined the others in the lounge.
"Chewie's missing," Han said desperately, running a panicked hand through his gorgeous hair. His best friend was out there, alone in the city, maybe hurt, or even in jail. Or even worse. "If something happened to him . . ."
Leia put her arms around him. "Nothing bad happened to him. He's okay, I can feel that much. We'll find him," she soothed.
He hugged her and she felt him relax a little.
"Leia's right. I don't know where he is, but he feels safe, if that helps," Luke offered.
"Maybe Dwayne Newson knows," Lando mused. "We just have to figure out how to wake him up."
The gathered again around Dwayne's bedside.
"We could, um, try to . . . kiss him?" Luke suggested. "You know. Sleeping Beauty?" He thought he heard Leia mutter, 'I knew it', but he couldn't be sure.
"Worth a shot," Lando said. And they stood there looking at each other, until three pairs of eyes rested on Leia.
"Me?! Why me?!" she protested.
"You're a girl," Luke offered weakly.
"I'm not the one who wrote the note. It says Chewie knows."
"Yeah, Chewie might have been there when I did the mind trick."
"Maybe it's you!" she contended, poking a finger in his chest.
"Maybe," Luke squirmed, "but one of us has to try first." His eyes pleaded with her.
She folded her arms angrily. "Fine! I'll go first. But if it doesn't work, you're going to have to do it, too."
"Hey," Han protested, "I'm not so sure about this. I don't want my wife kissing another . . . that."
Lando chuckled. "Relax, pirate. It won't mean anything. It'll be like kissing her brother," he assured his friend in blissful ignorance.
Han, Leia, and Luke looked uncomfortably at each other, then Leia said, "Honey, it's just a peck on the lips. If it wakes him up, we can find Chewie and get him out of here." She looked him in the eyes (oh, his beautiful hazel eyes!) until his jaw relaxed and he nodded.
Holding her breath, Leia hesitated above the big man.
"It's okay, Leia," Luke assured her from beside her shoulder, "he's more plastic than man."
She quickly touched her lips to Dwayne Newson's, and . . . nothing happened.
"Kriff," Luke groaned as Leia moved aside. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. So it's come down to this. "I would prefer if you'd all turn away," he said plaintively. He heard Lando's soft, muffled snicker as he dropped a tiny kiss on the sleeping man.
Instead of waking, Dwayne Newson just lay there like a slug. "Son of a bitch," Luke muttered, turning to face the other three. "Who's next?"
"No way," Lando said flatly.
"I don't care if he ever wakes up. I ain't kissin' a dude," Han said definitively.
"Not even for Chewie?" Luke wheedled as he once had, long ago, on the first Death Star. Only then it had been for the sake of a princess . . .
Han frowned. "Fine. But we must never talk of this. Ever! And, Leia? I think you should leave the room."
She closed her eyes with that pained look again, then went to stand just outside the door, while muttering, "Oh, for Chachi's sake . . ."
"And don't stop loving me!" he called.
"Kriff, Han, you're not going to French him! Just do it!" she cried.
So he did it. And nothing happened.
"There's really no point in my kissing him, is there?" Lando smiled, inching toward the door, but Leia blocked him, shaking her head.
"For Chewie," Luke repeated.
Lando relented. "For the Wook." He hesitated above Dwayne's unnaturally plump lips. "I don't think I can do it."
"It, uh, doesn't really count," Han stammered, "because you're mustache is missing."
Lando raised a skeptical eyebrow.
Han shrugged, "I don't know. I'm just trying to help."
"Okay. Here goes." His kiss also yielded no results.
The young Jedi Master thought for a moment. "Maybe it's something else. Maybe a word?" He looked down at Dwayne and shouted, "Shazam!" Nothing.
"May the Force be with you!" Nothing.
"Wake up." Nothing.
"Mas Regas." Nothing.
"Wes Jansen." Nothing.
"Sleeping Beauty." Nothing.
He shrugged at the others before trying one more time.
"Fat ass?" Nothing.
Then they all tried certain words and phrases, and even broke into a chorus of Super Freak before finally giving up.
"All right," Leia said, "why don't we go to the galley, grab some kaff, and come up with a plan, okay?"
They passed around the bottle of aspirin, sipped kaff, and ate toasted bagels and cream cheese at the small table in the galley.
"What's the last thing you remember?" Han asked.
"I remember we went to Teaser's Palace," Luke said.
"I remember that, too," Leia agreed, "and you and Lando were playing sabaac. I think you were winning."
"I remember the sabaac," Lando nodded, sipping kaff, "and I wasn't do so well, I think."
"Yeah, that's what I remember, too," Han sighed. "And after that, nothing, until I heard you screaming this morning."
"Well, obviously, somebody slipped us something, because this amnesia isn't just from drinking too much," Lando concluded. "And maybe we got a room at Teaser's. Maybe that's where Chewie is right now."
"Maybe, but if Luke mentioned him in that love note to himself," Leia said, shooting her brother another pained look, "does that mean Chewie was here with us and Dwayne Newson?"
"Not necessarily," Luke said. "I could have done the mind trick anywhere and we could have brought Big Boy here on that repulsor chair." He shrugged. "Or maybe there were other people here, too, and Chewie left with them."
"Or they took him," Han sighed, tossing his half-eaten bagel onto his plate.
Leia reached over and stroked his arm. "Honey, I don't think he's in any danger. Maybe he's still sleeping and when he wakes up, he'll contact us."
"Yeah, but maybe he's confused. Maybe he can't remember and he's helpless," Han persisted.
"Which is why we're going to find him," she promised. "We just need to retrace our night."
Han thought for a moment. "Okay, everybody check your pockets. Maybe there's some receipts or something, some clues."
Lando pulled out several ATM receipts and a bunch of loose cash. "Kriff, I'm out eight thousand credits!"
"I have a voucher from the casino," Han announced. "It says I won . . . a hundred thousand credits!" He and Leia whooped.
"Of course you did." Luke sipped his kaff sullenly. He had no pockets to search through, and it made him begin to wonder how long he'd been wandering around the city dressed like this, and had he been carrying around that creepy puppet all night long? He cringed at the thought.
In her purse, Leia found ticket stubs to the Dwayne Newson show, drink vouchers from Teaser's Palace and in one of the pockets on her jean jacket, she found a tooth.
"What the hell are you doing with a tooth?" Han said, instinctively poking a tongue around his mouth, like the rest of them, to feel for gaps. But it wasn't one of theirs.
"I don't know," she said in wonder, as if something was just on the edge of her memory that she couldn't quite grasp.
"Wish I had a tooth in my jacket. Wish I had cash vouchers in my pockets," Luke muttered across the table, pouting again.
Han turned to him. Poor kid, imagine waking up dressed like that. "Are you kidding? You have something better than vouchers or teeth in your pockets." He smiled and nodded encouragingly at Luke, who gave him a hesitant, distrusting frown and pushed his chair a little further from Han. "If you're coming on to me . . ."
As Lando began to snicker, Leia bit her lip, then said to Han, "Honey, you just-"
"I mean," Han said, glaring at them indignantly, "that wooden dummy."
"Is that what you call it?" Luke frowned. "Boy, it's always the pretty ones . . ."
"I'm talking about the ventriloquist's puppet!" Han shouted. "It belongs to someone, maybe in a show! Maybe they can tell us something! Sheesh!"
"You want us to bring that thing onto the Strip?" Luke moaned.
"Yeah," Han said, "we can put it in a satchel or something. I'm sure Lando has something around here."
"No, he doesn't," Luke glared now at Lando. "All his stuff is back in his room at the Capitol Hitz-Rilton. Except for about fifty capes, for the love of Chachi."
Lando held up his hands defensively. "I like having room service and having somebody else make my bed."
Leia stared uncomfortably at her brother. "So, you have no other clothing to wear . . . out there . . .?"
He shook his head, and she hastily added, "Well, I'll be walking around like this, so . . ."
"Maybe we can wrap the dummy in a cape, like Luke here, and, you know, carry it around like a child or something," Han offered.
"At least with Leia carrying it around, it won't look so suspicious," Luke shrugged.
"Wait a minute!" Leia snapped, "why should I carry it around?! It's your dummy!"
"Well . . . you're a –" Luke began to say.
Leia pointed a finger at him and squinted her eyes. "You better be very careful about what comes out of your mouth next, Luke Aloysius Skywalker! Because, so help me, if you say 'you're a girl,' I'm gonna slap the curls right off your head!"
"Okay, okay," Luke backtracked, "we'll draw straws."
"Oh, no, that's not how it works," Lando smirked, tucking stray curls behind an ear.
"Yeah, Junior," Han chuckled, "the rule goes, 'You sleep with it, you return it home.'"
Leia slowly turned her head and raised an eyebrow at him, making him squirm. "Or so I've heard." He swallowed nervously, and added, "Uh, from Lando." He offered Leia a helpless little shrug, making her roll her eyes again and murmur under her breath, "Nerfherder. If you weren't so beautiful, I swear . . ."
Finally, Lando stood and put his hands on the table. "Okay, enough of this. I think it's time for us to go and find Chewie. Come on."
Ten minutes later, the odd group of four (five if you counted the puppet Luke carried, now wrapped like an unusually large baby in one of Lando's many capes) made their way to the shuttle station which would take them from one of Regas' many public hangers, straight to the heart of Sin Sector Central itself.
I know you're out there somewhere, Chewie, Han thought, and we're comin' to find you!