The red liquid seemed to glow like rubies in the dim light of the room as Leia watched him float. The slight currents caused by the circulation made his coppery hair swirl and shine as if, inside the tank, he had been relieved of the burden of gravity. His skin shone almost white in the strange illumination. And for once, she knew he wouldn't ruin the moment by making an inappropriate comment because he couldn't, he was still unconscious. It had been nearly three days since they had returned to the Rebel base on Hoth and not once had Han opened his eyes for even a second.

Leia shivered and drew her coat more tightly around herself. It was nearly midnight, but she hadn't been able to sleep. She'd never realized how much she would miss Han if he were gone. Sure, he was loud, obnoxious, and annoying, but he could also be sweet, comforting, and understanding when he wanted to be and he was the only person she knew who treated her like a normal human being. Yes, his abuse of her title got fairly irritating but, and she would never admit this to anyone, it was refreshing and rather endearing as well. It was also better than the generic 'Princess' that almost everyone seemed to be calling her these days. Why couldn't she just be 'Leia' and not be reminded every time someone spoke to her of her responsibility to her now lost planet of Alderaan?

Sometimes she wondered if she could cry for Alderaan then some of the pain inside of her might ebb at least a little, but she couldn't cry. The tears wouldn't come; it was like they were trapped inside of Leia and the longer they were trapped the more they ate away at her bit by bit.

She pressed one palm flat against the warm glass of the bacta tank as Han's limp right hand drifted nearer to her then gently rested her forehead against the glass as well. Wake up, Han… wake up! Please!

Leia jumped, stumbling back from the glass in surprise as what felt like a bolt of raw energy ripped and jolted violently through her body. Rather shakily, she pushed herself off of the ground. What was that? Electricity malfunction? That's what it had certainly felt like, but if that was the case how had she felt the shock – it wasn't as though glass conducted electricity – and why hadn't the monitors started beeping and screaming because Han's heart had stopped beating? A shock of that force should have killed him! For that matter, it should have killed her, too.

Miserably, Leia rested her forehead against the wall of Solo's glass prison again and rubbed her eyes.

This is all your fault, Han, as usual. Not only am I now sleep deprived and worried sick, I'm starting to feel things that couldn't possibly have happened. It was probably a mild static shock that my mind magnified. If you don't wake up soon and set me straight, I'll be as barking mad as Wes Janson and the rest of the Rouge Squadron, outside of Luke because he's still too naïve to have let them completely corrupt him yet. I'm already talking in my head to you as though you can hear me which must be a sign of lunacy. Oh, please wake up…

This time it wasn't a shock so much as a warm tingling, almost humming, throughout Leia's entire body which wasn't wholly unpleasant. Unconsciously, Leia pressed both of her palms and stared up into Han's face which was why she saw what happened next.

-o-o-o-

Millisian started at the ceiling of the Millennium Falcon's spare cabin and let out a small sigh, then rolled onto her side and hugged her knees against her chest. The teenager glanced unhappily at her watch; it was midnight on the dot and so far that night she hadn't slept a wink. It wasn't that she wasn't exhausted, or that she didn't need the sleep – it was Han and… the nightmares. There were two variations of the nightmares that were plaguing her. The first type involved Han being shot, unconscious, or dieing, or a combination there of. And the others… The others were the ones she'd been having since she was five and were the reason she had told Leia she thought her parents had been murdered.

Those dreams were always the same but they left a knot of fear in Millis's stomach every time even though she already knew what would happen. The dream would start out well enough. She'd be sitting in the middle of a wide round carpet playing with a doll in a cream colored dress. Fifteen year old Han would be sitting across from her, a pencil stuck behind his right ear and homework and text books spread out in front of him. Everything would be fine until a pair of man's feet stopped in front of Han who would then guiltily pull out a calculator and tuck the non-school related doodle of a spaceship he'd been working on into his back pants' pocket. Millis could never see more of the man whom she assumed was her father than his feet and legs up until a little past his knees and could never quite make out what the gruff voice was saying. Then there would be a woman's voice, also unintelligible but the panic in it didn't need words to be expressed, and running footsteps from the same direction. Han would start hurriedly closing textbooks and shoving papers away, out of sight. Outside of the house, Millis could hear the measured marching trudging towards the house. Her brother would dart across the floor and grab her, lifting her easily off the ground as the booming knocks on the front door rang through the house and the desperate voice of one of her parents – she never knew which – saying in a hoarse, urgent whisper, "Get her out of here!"

Han would start to rum for what she assumed was the back of the house but he never got out of the room in time for her to miss seeing the two unclear images of their parents open a panel on the wall which she hadn't noticed before and remove two cylindrical, silver objects. Then Han would be in the hall and sprinting as she heard the front door crack and splinter as the stormtroopers broke it down. Han would be whispering to her, pleading with her to stay quiet and she would realize that there were tears streaming down her face in salty rivulets as Han struggled with the stuck back door. The blaster fire would start and suddenly just over the noise Millis would hear a faint, throbbing hum and as she watched the hall outside of the room they had just run out of would been bathed in an eerie, unnatural blue-green light. Then Han would fling the door open and they'd be flying down the back steps towards freedom, escape, and she wouldn't be able to stop sobbing into her older brother's shirt sleeve.

Millis closed her eyes as a tear trickled down her cheek. She'd already lost her parents and now she might lose Han as well.

For no apparent reason, Millisian suddenly sat bolt upright gasping, pressing one hand against her chest. She stared down at her hand; it was shaking. Well, that was weird. It had felt almost like an electric shock. Gently massaging her temples, Millis lay back down again. I really need some sleep. I'm starting to lose my mind here!

-o-o-o-

Han wasn't sure what he was expecting to see when he opened his eyes but he had a strong feeling it would probably be Chewie standing over him, reading him the riot act about taking safety precautions or maybe it would be Leia. It might be better if it was Chewie because he might actually survive the wookie's lecture. If it was her Highnessness, Han highly doubted this would be the case. However, a sea of out-of-focus pinkish red never even crossed his mind. He squinted, trying to make out the figure standing in front of him, but he couldn't get his eyes to focus properly. Reaching out one hand towards the figure, his fingers bumped into some sort of barrier just as he realized who the figure was. It was Leia.

What was she doing here? What was he doing here? For that matter, where was here? What was going on? Han unsuccessfully tried to remember what had happened before he'd blacked out as other blurry, undistinguishable figures joined Leia. And then the fluid around him was draining away along with the gentle warmth which had been surrounding him to be replaced by cold and confusion and a stabbing pain in his side. Han ignored the pain, curling into a ball at the bottom of the bacta tank in an attempt to fend of the icy cold and the noise.

A/N: Review, review, review! It is your reviews upon which I thrive and am inspired to write more!