"Mark of a Rebel"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks to the reviewers!

Chapter 4

Han woke up again to blackness, but this time he felt considerably warmer. He felt himself sitting on something that, while soft, also contained the stiffness of bones beneath it; his head rested on what felt like a large, fluffy blanket. It wasn't until he felt his "pillow" gently rising and falling beneath his head that he remembered where he was, which returned the twist to his stomach.

Jabba's dungeon...he had been sleeping in Chewie's lap for an undetermined amount of time. He inhaled loudly to assure himself that he was still alive, though he wasn't sure how long that would still be true for him.

Feeling better, cub? Chewie growled softly.

"A little..." muttered Han, after which he felt the copilot's large paw stroking his face. "So Chewie...any idea what Jabba's gonna do with us?"

Don't worry about that, Han, Chewie responded.

"Yeah, well it'd be nice to know what kinda torture we're up against if we're gonna think of escapin'."

I told you - Luke's going to rescue us.

"Whatever," Han sighed. "Look, forgive me if I'm less than optimistic, but you ain't the one who's sick to your stomach, head, and all other body parts and you ain't the one who can't see."

I understand, cub, said Chewie, but Luke and Zora are coming.

Han flinched. "Do me a favor and don't mention Zora, will ya?"

She knows about you and Leia, cub - don't worry about it.

That latest bit of information didn't make Han feel any better - if anything, it made him feel worse. Zora already knew that during her absence Han had been claimed by someone else - and it was too late for Han to explain himself away. He suddenly hoped that he would still be blind when he met up with her again so he wouldn't have to see the look on her face.

Then he reminded himself that he'd be lucky if he lived long enough to meet with her again.

Chewie began stroking his head once again. Go back to sleep, Han.

"That ain't so easy when we're bein' held in a cold, damp dungeon awaitin' our deaths - or possibly something worse," muttered Han, although his eyes began closing again.

We'll be all right, cub.

"I'm a bit sick of you sayin' that," grumbled Han, digging his still-dizzy head further into Chewie's fur as his mind once more wandered to Leia. Perhaps he should consider himself lucky that he was only in a dungeon instead of in her place...but he couldn't do so. Not because it was hard to consider himself lucky when he was blind and trapped in Jabba's dungeon, but because he couldn't remove his mind from what Leia might be suffering. Jabba's male prisoners were usually executed swiftly, but his female prisoners suffered great humiliation and possibly horrible pain for an indefinite amount of time. His dry throat swallowed several times, though it burned to do so. Whatever she was suffering now, he was the reason for it. No matter how he looked at the recent events (or were they really recent?), he saw himself as the one responsible for them. It was his idea to go to Bespin - his idea. If by some miracle they did manage to get out of this alive, she would never forgive him.

No...an internal voice suddenly told him...she would. Whatever she was going through, she was going through it willingly. For her, it was only an obstacle she would have to overcome on her quest to rescue him. She was enduring her turmoil for him.

The real question was if he ever forgive himself for forcing her through this.

Despite the conditions, Han soon forgot to worry about any of this and once more felt himself sinking into unawareness, but his trail to sleep was blocked by the sound of footsteps splashing in the wet floor. Almost before he had comprehended that sound, a pair of rough hands grabbed his shoulders and yanked him to his feet, which made the lightheadedness return. The sound of Chewie roaring ferociously told Han that he had been taken as well. He felt his wrists being forced into cold binders behind his back, followed by hands grabbing his upper arms. He couldn't tell if he was being dragged away by one person or two - he only knew that he was likely being taken to his doom.