I told you this one would be faster as a consolation for the last one being so short! Head's up: there's some brief talk of sexual harassment and other yucky things. Skip to the end if you want to avoid. It won't come up again – just here.

7

Someone who loves you. The minute she said it the feelings surged through her in a flood, and she heard faintly his "Leia!" before she was kissing him hard, his hands running over her looking for purchase and, she figured, because he couldn't see. She threaded her fingers through his slick hair, her heart racing – Han Han Han – and then a sharp feeling of wanting to keep his hands from her lack of waist, exhaling when they settled in a tight grip on her forearms. His hands, those hands, his face, she just wanted to hold him forever. Every damp inch of his skin. Her mind racing back to his cries as he was tortured. Gods he was still weak, but at least he could hold her tight, he was getting his strength back enough to walk… they needed to go, now…

"I've got to get you out of here," she breathed, struggling to her feet. She was still so out of breath, the black spots in her vision returning from hunger… they would need to be quick, and they still had to get Chewie, but maybe once they had Chewie he could support Han primarily. But until then, the two of them – they would have to… limp, really, and crawl if they had to – but they would do it, they could––

She struggled to help Han to his feet, unable to stop herself from gasping as he put most of his weight on her.

He sputtered out another cough. "Y'alright, princess?"

"I'm fine, it's you I'm worried about," she breathed, eyes darting around. She slung her arm around his waist tightly, squinting to see in the dark. "We need to go – sh-sh, I have you…"

He groaned again as they limped forward – and then, of course, she heard that laugh, and her blood went cold and like a perfect, brilliant glimmer he was gone again.

XX.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with all this hair?"

"Is there time to cut it?"

"No way, you cut Ryla's and it was awful––"

"And then she was whipped for that––"

"Whatever, she could stand to be whipped. What? She looks like she could take it."

Leia inhaled deeply, sitting up straighter and staring straight ahead, grimacing and jerking when something poked her in the eye. "It's just mascara," the girl, one of the harem girls – slave girls, she corrected herself, trying to keep her thoughts very even and collected – said, gripping Leia's chin and putting the dirty, gloopy wand forward again. "Blink."

Leia did her best to stare ahead and not blink, setting her jaw.

"You. Whoever you are. Blink."

"The hair, guys, seriously, help me out here…"

"You're running out of time!" The youngest voice, the one that caused Leia to bite down hard on her lip whenever she heard it – how old could a girl holding that voice be? She could only barely see glimpses of their features in the ruddy mirror before her. She kept her features rigid and said nothing.

"Just – here," the girl with the wand was saying, exasperated. "I'd let you do it yourself but you're cuffed, alright, do you think I want to be your makeup girl? Just blink otherwise we're both fucked. You can take a beating but I can't, alright? Not today. Blink."

Leia blinked. Luke, she thought. And Han, please hydrate. And Luke. Luke.

"That's a girl. Now the other. Blink. Ti, just put it so it's yankable. Like a long cord or something? So you could pull it?"

"Good call." The woman on her hair, "Ti," began yanking a comb through it roughly, causing her eyes to water, but she pressed her lips together and said nothing.

"Pout for me?" The girl with the wand again. "Or – sorry, if that's too much for you, just – whatever, don't move, see if I care." Leia watched the woman grab her face again, hard, and carefully fill in her lips. Her hands were thin and trembling, the veins protruding and bony, and Leia inhaled through her nose.

"She's scared, it isn't her fault…" The one who'd offered to cut her hair, her voice sympathetic but mild.

"I don't care whose fault it is, I'm not getting beaten because of her pride."

"You haven't even asked her her name. What's your name?"

Leia watched the blush go on her face next but said nothing.

"Huh? What's your name, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart. She grimaced at the emotion that flooded her. Han Han Han. Luke would get them out of there, he would. She looked down and said nothing.

"S'okay, we'll get it out of you eventually. Finish this up, alright? I'm going back to sleep."

"What, you don't want to see her strip, Dy?" The girl on her makeup, her voice cutting and sarcastic, and Dy made a disgusted sound in response.

See her. Strip. See her strip. Leia steadied herself again. She could do this. This was easy. Han was ill, deathly ill, probably in a prison cell, she could handle stripping and some light touching if it came to that, hells she could handle anything. She knew the particular dangers of being a woman in combat. As long as she avoided injury, she would be fine. Emotionally she'd be perfectly fine. Luke was coming and she would be fine.

She did have powerful friends, it wasn't a lie. It was just – she felt so faint, and she'd seen exactly what these girls were used for, and they all looked so emaciated and filthy and and and––

"Wait, before you – how's that look?" the one named Ti again. "Wait, pass me the – mhm, huh?" she added, and the suddenly Leia felt a violent tug on her scalp as Ti yanked the high twisted braid her hair had been broken into. She hadn't let out a peep even when they undid her hair, even though she'd shown it to no one, ever, since puberty, and there were not only these women but male guards, she hadn't said anything then, but now––

"Ow!" Leia cried out as her head jerked back, her eyes watering more now. She shut them tightly.

"Sorry, sorry," Ti said, stroking the side of her face absently, almost robotically. "Dy? Yes? No?"

"It looks fine. It'll be fine. Good – kink factor, whatever."

"Good," Ti said, satisfied. "Sweet dreams."

"I love you!" the youngest one called after her, and the one with the makeup pinched Leia's cheek.

"She's a baby so she says that to everyone," she explained, forcing her to squint with some more eyeliner again. "Daddy issues. And spice."

Yes, well, she sounds like she's an enslaved sixteen-year-old prostitute, Leia thought, her stomach churning, but she nodded faintly.

"You have realized she's pregnant, right?" Dy, the older one on her way out, her voice weary and tired.

"The fuck?" The one on her makeup.

"Are you really?" The baby one, suddenly in her face – yes, she was a baby, her eyelids painted electric blue, some kind of ugly brand on the side of her face. "Are you really going to have a baby?"

"Good night," Dy said again, and the girl from her hair, Ti, forced her to her feet.

Now she was facing them, her hands cuffed in front of her, made up and doing her best to stare straight ahead without expression.

"Strip," Ti said.

Leia didn't move.

"I don't care if you're pregnant or not, you have to strip."

Leia held up her cuffed hands and quirked one eyebrow. How exactly am I supposed to do that?

"Hey – hey you over there, yeah." Ti, then, to the guards, her eyes narrowed with disdain. She spoke like she was talking to idiots, and Leia almost admired her for it. "If you want us to dress her? You have to make us able to take her clothes off? Understand?"

The guard sort of grunted, and Ti continued, flat, "You get to see her strip. Okay? Uncuff her. Now."

The guards came and uncuffed her and Leia flicked her eyes to the ceiling, thankful for the bulkiness of the suit, even if it would, apparently, be fleeting.

"Go back over there," Ti said authoritatively, before turning to the girl who'd done her makeup. "This is bullshit, it's the middle of the night."

"I know."

"Breaking in new ones is…"

"I know."

"Don't worry," the baby was saying to Leia, her voice all high-pitched posturing, her eyelashes too long and batting in a way that made Leia want to vomit. "No one will break you at all. Also – if you're having a baby then you're not a virgin, and so it'll be so much easier then."

"Ignore her, she's never been a virgin," the makeup one said drily.

"Yeah but if you are pregnant," Ti said contemplatively, "they won't beat you hard because he'll want to sell your young, so."

"That's true!" the baby said brightly. "Dy's had like a billion babies – she just pops 'em out and they just – fwoosh! Take 'em off––"

For some reason that's what did it. Leia bent over, inhaling heavily – hyperventilating almost, gasping. Where was she, where – she couldn't – she couldn't – no, no, no––

"Hey," the makeup one was saying. "Hey, alright, hey, calm down, calm down…" Her rough hand on Leia's back. Her voice lowered. "Listen, alright? You're gonna strip back to the guards – for whatever reason, Gamorreans don't really get off on ass – and we'll get something on you really fast, okay? Clean you up with a rag or something. Okay? You're going to be fine."

The woman went to pull off Leia's jacket and shirt and she finally yanked away, putting her hands up defensively and barking out "No."

She saw the guards stiffen to attention but held her ground. "No! No. Do not touch me."

"Trust me, you don't want to cross these people, lady, alright?" the woman said to her, voice still low.

"I'll change," Leia said flatly, her voice low and tight and tense. "But I will change myself."

"Whatever you want," the woman said, putting her hands up.

"No touching."

"Fine, have it your way. Here," she said, motioning for Leia to hold out her hands and placing in them something heavy. Metal? Was it – some kind of metal – get-up, something? With a skirt – purple something, but mostly metal…

The baby made a horrified face. "That one? That one pinches so much, it's heavy––"

"It was requested," the woman said flatly.

"If she's big it won't fit," Ti noted mildly.

"No, it sits under. It'll fit."

She stopped listening thereafter, instead squatting down to hide as much of her skin as possible and very methodically began to peel off her disguise. Thinking about Han, and skin, and her body. The way he made her body feel, the expanse of it, trailing his fingers leisurely up and down her sides. Happy to look at her, smiling when he got to. She'd be demanding what are you looking at? And he'd say, smoldering and low, you, beautiful. You, sexy. You, gorgeous. You, sweetheart.

Don't you ever get bored of looking at me, then? she'd murmured.

Never, he'd growled.

She peeled and peeled and then there was skin and she found herself squatting low, staring at the stretched skin of her abdomen. Han, Han, Han. It was just skin. It had meant something when he'd looked at it because it was him. But it was just skin. She would get them the hell out of there and she would be okay. She took the awful metal contraption and put it on.

Who are you?

Someone who loves you.

Leia!

Slipping her pants off, determined and angry – Leia, still.

And Leia, still: chained by her neck and nearly nude, unable and unwilling to hide the protrusion of her stomach, her back straight and eyebrows raised mildly – Leia with her shoulders back, assessing Han's condition expertly and silently: how quickly he was breathing, how much he was limping, the sweat on his brow, adjusting her plans for his recovery and recalculating his medical needs in her head. Still Leia, smirking a little at Han's flat "Good, I hate long waits" and feeling a flood of emotion as he squinted and twisted, attempting to be subtle as he was clearly attempting to find her – "Where the hell is Leia? Leia?!" he'd demanded frantically when they'd brought him in and she'd said she was here and she was Leia, how good it felt to know that, even with every nerve in her body alert and on edge and almost blacking out from hunger. Dignified and purposeful and full of adrenaline, suddenly able to see everything with perfect clarity.

Leia on the barge with her hands folded neatly over her stomach even when she had no slack on the chain on her neck. Leia with her eyes narrowed, watching Luke meticulously. Keeping herself together as they dangled precariously, every muscle taut and prepared – she was a rebel, she could do this, she could––

YES, definitely Leia choking the hell out of her captor, even though her hands were bleeding and her chest ached from the effort – she was getting perilously close to blacking out from exertion now and yet –

Delirious but –Leia getting cut out of her chain and bolting – grabbing the gunner and shooting – part of the plan, integral, back in the action and then there was Luke, beside her – the hot sun, the sand – the dry dry heat on her exposed skin – Luke! Dressed in dark clothes, so calm, but now so recognizable as he grabbed her forearms, searching her face anxiously.

"Hey-hey-hey," he was saying as she put a few fingers to her forehead and shut her eyes. "Hey, Leia, you alright? Are you with me?"

"Mmmm…" she murmured, nodding a bit. "Mm, mhm, I'm a little faint…"

"Hold real tight, alright? I'll hold tight––"

"Oh, a reprisal of our first adventure, mm?"

"Looks like it. You ready? You got a grip?"

She struggled to open her eyes again but did so, squinting, and managed to cling with her bloodied hands to Luke. "Yes, let's – yes, go!"

His arm was tight around her, stronger than she remembered and then they were soared across the sand, her hands hurting terribly, explosions ringing her ears – Jedi Luke, holding her tight, she couldn't deny that she was very impressed, sort of in a proud mother or big sister way – she couldn't help but grin at the sound of each explosion…

The girls, she thought for a fleeting moment. The girls – they'll figure it out, right? They'll figure it out, they'll all get out of the palace, they will, they must… they––

But then her thoughts were caught off because suddenly her feet were on the ground of the skiff, speeding away––

"Are you alright?" Luke was asking her, his hands on her shoulders as she doubled over, gasping for breath. "Leia? Leia, are you––"

"Yes, yes," she gasped out, nodding and shutting her eyes to ward off dizziness. Her hands were bloodying her knees but there was nothing to do about that now. She could feel Luke taking in the ridiculous costume and grimaced slightly.

"Are you really? Is the – housegu––?"

"Still kickin'," she said, her voice still managing to be all dry irony despite how hard she was breathing. "I just – water, or to sit for a moment but – Han, where is – where's Han?" Leia forced herself to stand up fully and shielded her eyes – there was sad everywhere and they were speeding so fast it was making her sick, but she could see him, there, on the other edge of the skiff, Chewie supporting him. Han! "Oh thank gods," she exhaled, still wheezing a bit. "He needs to be – lying down, or… Chewie!" she called over the roar of the wind. "He needs to – we need to get him some water, or––!"

She'd assumed Han himself would be too weak to hear her – he'd pushed through in the adrenaline of the moment but surely he'd all but collapsed by now – and yet suddenly he was stumbling blindly towards her, Chewie roaring and Lando calling after him and walking swiftly – she too walked swiftly towards him, practically ran as best as she could, he needed to stop and sit down before he hurt himself.

"Hey, slow down buddy, slow down," Lando said, attempting to put his arm around the other man, but he lurched forward, squinting and searching.

"Leia?" he croaked out in her general direction.

"Han," she said, trying to keep her voice firm as she moved closer and wiping her bloody hands on her thighs so she could hold him more easily. "You need to sit down, please – you're still very ill, and––" She reached out and put her hand carefully on his upper arm – it was cold and clammy.

"Leia," he said again, his face screwed up and his expression unreadable. He shook her off her hand aggressively. Instead, he reached out, still with that strange expression, and moved his hands roughly over her bare sides––

"Han––" she started, her eyes wide and confused.

And then moving them over, as if for confirmation, the swell of her abdomen, his face going even paler – she felt pale, too – how had he known, to even – how––?

"S'true," she thought she heard him mutter, his rough hands tracing the curve again, his voice low.

She was absolutely frozen. Who told him? Everyone was silently staring at them, she could feel their eyes, and instead she looked at him intently, swallowing. His touch was so strange – not rubbing or anything like that, but like he was trying to excavate something – blindly determining the shape of her body. "Han, you're very ill still, you need to––"

"Lei," he interrupted, ignoring her, and then he clasped her hands together and held them tightly in his before dropping in a sloppy stumble to his knees. "Marry me, alright?" His voice was gasping, his breathing hard, his hold on her hands a bit too tight, like he was trying not to show that she was keeping him upright. He squinted up at her, and she stared down at him, wide-eyed. "You gotta – just – listen, sweetheart, okay––"

"Han," she interrupted, sinking down to her knees as she watched him grow paler and begin to sway. She flashed help me eyes to the others, who moved to assist. "Han, just sit beside me here, okay? Rest up here – please, you can't over-exert yourself…"

He shook his head and shook them off, insistent and delirious and clearly very annoyed with her. "No, you got' listen for a sec – hells, just listen––" he said, his broken-up voice still frustrated – and his finger, too, coming up to point at her––

The exertion from which led instead to him leaning over her knees and promptly vomiting, while she looked on in shock, beside her.

#

! Your reviews mean everything! Action isn't my strong suit, but – we're in new territory now, yay! So – tell me what you think?