I appreciate all the R&R.
Sooo...what does Graphis have up his sleeve?
Well...he's a bit more emotional than you think.
Read it!
Chapter Seven: Jabba Said
"You, come here,"
I jerk awake next to a stirring Leia on a hard, cold slab of metal that is supposed to serve as a bed. One of the stony faced officers is standing in the doorway, and he strides over to her and grabs her harshly by the wrist. She winces and I immediately flare up in anger. She gives my hand a quick squeeze and a nod of reassurance before she is dragged out of the room. The door shuts with a finality that makes my stomach churn. I stagger over to the hole in the middle of the floor and retch into it what little remains of my last meal there is.
"Are you okay?" Luke steps out of the shadows on silent feet and I glare at him with anger that I know shouldn't be directed at him.
"Does it look like I'm okay?" I spit into the drain and trip back to the metal slab, leaning against the wall.
There is a hard silence as I sit back on the 'bed' and we all wait for what seems eternity.
My energy is draining. This is obvious.
The drugs have long since worn off and stars explode in my skull with every step I take. When they finally direct me to a seat, I collapse into it and shut my eyes tightly. They feel that I don't really need to be restrained, and they're right, I don't.
When Graphis walks into the room and speaks a smooth 'hello', my brain can barely register the words and they bounce around meaninglessly in my head for a moment. I force my eyes open and I stare at him glassily. I realize there is a concerned look on his face.
I try to sit up straight.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
"I..." breathe, and I can feel nausea that I'm pretty sure isn't just from the illness rise up. "I have medications in the ship."
"Would you like to get it?"
"I...can't, too tired," I manage to lock my gaze on him, and I realize that this is a good time to test him. "My husband...knows where it is."
He hesitates for a split second and for a moment I wonder what his motives are to keep me alive. He could take whatever information he needed and dispose of me without a mess. He suddenly seems to jump to a decision and leaps to his feet striding rapidly out of the room.
I'm left alone, panting like a fish out of water, but I have some time to contemplate his odd behavior. I really thought I saw some foreign...caring?-in those cold gray eyes. Could it really be...?
Nonsense. He's just playing with me, drawing out my life so he can get more painful interrogation done.
But I know those eyes didn't lie...
Han dashes into the room, a pill bottle rattling in his hand as he skids to a stop and sends a cascade of pills into my palm.
"I only need one, Han," I murmur, and he stuffs one in my mouth. Choking slightly, I swallow and immediately start to feel a bit better. I open my eyes to see a very worried Han hovering over me. As soon as he sees my eyes he smothers me with a long kiss.
"H-H-Han!" I gasp for air. He stares at me for a moment. "You're going to kill me as is!"
"You okay?"
"I have a feeling I'm going to be asked this a lot," I say, then quickly add an answer so he won't become more agitated. "And I'm fine, yes."
"All right," Graphis declares sharply. "That's enough." Guards take Han's arms again and lead him out.
"See you later," I call, and he gives me a worried smile.
"Better now?" Graphis sits down on a seat opposite of me and I nod, studying his face carefully and even trying to use the Force like Luke taught me to. He seems aware of what I'm doing and covers up his sheepishness by taking a wineglass from a nearby table. Sipping delicately, he looks away from my stare.
"Thank you." I say, my voice turning diplomatic. He nods. I wait for a few more slow seconds until he places his glass down and turns to talk to me.
"I have got a few questions for you," he says, apparently having regained his bearing.
"As I do."
We both play the game of civil talk, neither taking eyes off of the other.
"What is your business here?" he cuts to the chase and I stall for time by taking another sip of the wine. It's sweet and smooth and almost bubbly, like champagne. I shake my head inwardly, and wonder if I should really tell. Well, I'm too tired and too overwhelmed to think up of any stories or lies. He probably knows anyways.
"Don't you know?" I say in a light conversational tone. He watches me for a second before nodding slowly. "How do you?"
"I have my sources." he says shortly. I can only help but wonder about the doctors from the hospital. The generous, curious couple. The old woman.
"Why haven't you handed us over or gotten information from us or just killed us yet?" I prod, but he gives me a cryptic smile.
"I believe I'm the one who's interrogating." he swills his wine in his glass and shoots me a contemplative look.
"Of course."
There is a silent battle of the wills.
"I heard you are ill."
"Yes."
Does he know more than this? I think he'd be a bit less casual if he did know. I wonder if he knows about my pregnancy, either.
"There is a cure?"
Why would he ask this?
I only stare at him with dark, foreboding eyes. He returns the gaze with his own impassive gray ones.
"I hope you enjoy your time here, Princess Leia Organa," he says after a quiet moment. "Because you are staying here forever."
I keep my eyes locked on his as guards escort me out of the lavish room. Just as I am about to be pushed out of the door, I throw one last remark over my shoulder.
"That's what Jabba said."
Leia is pushed into our cell and the door locks shut again. Luke and Chewie immediately come out into the light of the skylight and they watch her with silent, sober faces.
"What did he do? Are you okay?" I take her by the arms and guide her gently back to the bench. She looks at me with an odd expression.
"He knows that I'm ill," she states slowly. "But probably doesn't know about the terminally-ill part or the baby."
"He didn't make you say anything about the New Republic?" Luke asks softly.
"No. Nothing on those terms."
Chewie barks in confusion and I nod in agreement.
"What did he say?" Leia asks, frowning.
"That we've got a dangerous man on our hands."
I dragged a little through that one.
Oh well.
I know this isn't mine, but it gets to me every time.
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