Chapter Ten

Sorry it's late - I'm behind on my "new chapter Monday" promise. Anyway, a little mush, a little angst, a little sex, a little talk. I need to get a move on with the plot of this story, I know - I'm doing a little too much vamping here because I haven't had time to sit down and tease the whole plot out... Will get a move on, but reviews welcome and appreciated, as always!

Waiting for Han to resolve any potential itchbug infestations, Leia tossed their clothes in the room's autovalet and curled up on the absurdly oversized wooden bed, which had to be twice as large as any in the Winter Palace back home. Clearly, Wookiees were not good judges of the size and sleep movements of most sentient species. They did, however, have a keen sense of the aesthetic, as a large, open skylight above the bed provided an unobscured view of the Mitabi nebula. The soft wooshing of the wind in the top branches of the trees lulled her into a blessed sense of peacefulness as she closed her eyes and breathed in the cool night air.

"Are you debugged?" she smirked, hearing Han exiting the fresher.

"I think he was pulling my leg," Han replied. "But I am one hundred percent bug free."

She opened her eyes to see her husband standing next to their bed, a bath towel wrapped around his waist. Quite the impressive sight, she thought. From the looks of what was going on under that towel, he found the sight of her wrapped in the soft, cashkish throw blanket equally impressive.

He glanced at the holocube she'd left on the night table. Although he could think of many things they could do that would likely make the Princess a whole lot happier than whatever was on that holo, he also figured that thing would be worrying her until she did see it. Might as well bite the blaster and get it over with…

"Should we watch it?" Han gestured at the cube.

She shook her head. "Not tonight. It's much too beautiful and romantic here."

"You sure?" he looked at her skeptically.

She nodded a definitive yes. "I know it may be silly and childish, because I have to watch it, but part of me wants to toss it out into the forest, never to be seen again," she shrugged. "Let's watch it tomorrow while we're in hyperspace. I don't want to risk ruining my memories of a day as wonderful as today with whatever may be on that cube."

"Yeah, I get it," Han said as he climbed up onto the bed behind her and started kneading her shoulders. The knots still felt like rocks. "But you know whatever's on that cube changes nothing for me."

She leaned back into him, her hand stroking his thigh. "I know, Han. You're my only constant."

Han took that in, continuing to work on her back, feeling her jump as he hit particularly sore spots.

"I like that," he mused. "I like being your constant. Kest knows you've been mine for a real long time…even when it was the last thing I wanted."

Leia laughed. "Thank heavens even our stubbornness has its limits."

"Some things are impossible to resist," he replied, brushing her hair to the side and kissing the nape of her neck. She shivered at the touch of his lips, almost ready to stop talking and start doing, but, since Han had said she shouldn't hold her feelings back…

"Han," she said softly, "when I heard Chewie's speeder and I thought it might be…" She shook her head, tracing a figure on the silky bedspread.

Han heard the change in her voice and stopped working on her back. She didn't turn to him, so he flipped himself around until he was in front of her. He had a feeling she had something tough to say, and he didn't intend not to be able to read her face if she did.

"You were afraid they were Imps coming for us," he finished.

She nodded slowly. "I feel like I could jump out of my skin at the slightest provocation right now. Do you feel that way too?" She gave him a searching look.

"I'm kinda used to feeling that way," he admitted, a bit abashed. "I've been watching my back since I was a pretty little kid. Now I just watch two backs – well, three when Chewie's around – so the tiniest possibility of a threat always makes me ready to jump."

"Maybe I should be the one doling out massages," she replied, taking his hand and holding it close to her. "Do you worry that you'll feel that way for the rest of your life?"

Han felt a prickling of alarm, telling him to tread carefully. "I think I will; it's just a part of me at this point. Does that bother you?"

"No," she said. "Not if you don't feel burdened by it. I'm just feeling burdened by my own jumpiness – and wondering if I'll ever be able to acclimate to a life without war. You think I'm little battle-mad, Han?"

"No. I think you're a little battle-weary. I know it feels like it's been forever, but you've only been fighting for four years," Han said. "And I'm not sayin' it wasn't awful. But I'm saying that you can find your way back…" he hesitated, "…if that's the way the galaxy goes."

"You're not convinced."

"You married a skeptic."

She wanted to hear more of his thoughts, more about why he wasn't convinced, because she had niggling doubts too, but…not right now. She could only handle her feelings in small doses at the moment.

"Yes, I married a skeptic. I needed someone to balance my overwhelming idealism," she grinned.

"Truer words were never spoken," Han joked, seeing Leia's moment of introspection passing. He kissed her forehead as she nestled into his arms. "So, whadya think we should do here? Watch some old smashball replays on the Kashyyki holo?"

Leia looked up at him. "I seem to remember a certain promise you made this morning. Something about the second time we had married sex?"

"Yeah, maybe later," Han feigned a yawn. "So, smashball?"

She turned around and tackled him, laughing. "Troublemaker."

"Yeah, I am," he said, quickly shifting their positions so his lips could get at that sensitive spot beneath her ear, which caused her to gasp with pleasure, "But lucky for you, this troublemaker always keeps his promises."

XXXXXXXXXXX

Leia gently stroked the soft hair on Han's chest as she watched him sleep. He looked so much younger and more carefree in his sleep, like the young version of Han she used to imagine doing the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs just because he could. The more she'd learned about him, though, the more she realized that, despite the jibes she had thrown at him years ago about his aversion to responsibility, that Han had probably never existed, because his life had never been carefree.

She smiled as a small snore escaped his lips. Thankfully, he wasn't much of a snorer, although given a good pair of earbarriers, she could forgive him for even wall-shaking snoring. Whether he could forgive himself for falling asleep immediately after a passionate lovemaking session was another question. He'd again apologized for the job the carbonite poisoning had done on his 'Corellian stamina' before he'd given in to sleep.

As for Leia, she saw absolutely no reason for apologies, because she hadn't know that such intense pleasure was even possible. His expert hands – and tongue, she grinned sheepishly – had brought her to shuddering climax repeatedly, until she was almost embarrassed by her body's responsiveness to his touch. She'd bit her lip to try to stifle her moans, but before his mouth covered hers to prevent that, he'd whispered, "Don't. Your moans let me know I'm doin' good." And then he'd entered her and turned her into what she could only describe as liquid fire as she clung to him, gasping his name, until they both exhausted themselves and all she could do was lie in his arms like a ragdoll as she watched his eyes flutter closed.

'Good' didn't even begin to describe it…she thought.

A soft whimper from her husband brought her back to the present.

"Shh," she whispered. "I'm here. You're here." She'd heard him make that sound before; it usually presaged one of the hibernation-related night terrors that he'd struggled with since he'd been freed from the carbonite, a bout of thermal dysregulation, or both. Those symptoms had been constant in the days after they returned from Tatooine, leaving Leia unwilling to let Han be alone and Han getting grumpier by the day, unwilling to sleep until they eased off to recurring at irregular intervals like Too-Onebee had said they would until the last of the carbonite worked its way out of his system.

Hibernation sounded like such a peaceful experience, but as Leia had learned quickly from the medics in the days before she set off to find him, no human being could handle hibernating for long. She'd bitten her nails to the quick as the months passed and the danger that Han's hibernation cycle inside the carbonite would decay became more and more immediate.

Han whimpered again, a pitiful sound escaping his throat as he held his hands up to protect himself. She so wanted to wake him up, but the medics had warned her against it. Unlike her nightmares, where Han's shaking her awake before she started screaming was the best thing that could possibly happen, his brain had to work its own way to wakefulness in these dreams or she'd be harming the healing process of his cerebral cortex. Onebee had explained that his brain needed to work its way to a static understanding of the months of hibernation, and that process mostly happened when a person was asleep. The repeated dreams – they were always the same – was part of that process.

"Leia," he whispered, "I'm sorry…leaving you to Vader…oh, gods, I'm sorry…I love you…"

"I know," she whispered tears pooling in her eyes as she stroked his hair. Her father had done this to him. Her father, whom she had foolishly forgiven…

"Leia!" he cried out as he woke, sitting bolt upright in bed as he struggled to recognize his surroundings.

"It's alright," Leia whispered, pulling him close to her. "We're on Kashyyk."

He nodded, breathing heavily. "Yeah, I got it…that was a bad one."

"Yes," Leia agreed, although as she put her hand to his forehead, she realized that they weren't through this bout of sickness. His forehead was cold to her touch. As much as she didn't want to see him suffering anymore, she desperately hoped that Han was approaching what Onebee – the only Alliance medic who had carbonite poisoning stored in his experiential memory banks – had described as the last severe bouts of hibernation sickness as the body fought off the final residue of the poison in its system. Then Han could be free of at least the physical effects; he didn't talk about the emotional effects much, but neither Han nor Leia had fooled themselves into thinking that they didn't exist.

"Han, you're cold," Leia said quietly as she bundled the blankets around him.

"Not so cold," he said with a shiver. "I can handle it."

Leia frowned. He was doing that thing he liked to do when he was weak, injured, or ill: simultaneously minimizing it and shutting her out.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're as cold as Hoth," she snapped, although she didn't stop rubbing his arms to warm him.

He eyed her balefully, shivering. "I said I can handle it. I'll be fine."

Looking at him in his cocoon of blankets, Leia softened. He looked miserable. She could tell that he was starting to fight the nausea that accompanied thermal dysregulation. It was a battle he'd lose, thankfully, because that was the most effective way to get rid of carbonite toxicity, unpleasant though it was.

"Remember what you said to me yesterday?" She looked intently at her shivering husband. "Whatever you have to face, as long as I live, you're not going to have to face it alone – not ever?" She took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. "That works both ways."

He didn't respond, but he leaned into her warm body, silently accepting her continued attempts to keep him warm. The fact was, he wasn't sure if he could answer her without shedding a tear or two, and, on top of everything, he didn't want to start bawling like an infant. This wasn't how their wedding trip was supposed to start. He was supposed to be taking care of her. But he figured he'd give explaining himself a shot.

"No one's ever t-t-t-aken care of me until you, Leia," he said quietly, his teeth chattering as he became colder. He knew it would get worse before it got better. "C-C-Chewie, I guess. But we mostly leave each other alone when we're s-s-sick. So I'm not a v-v-very good patient."

"You're going to have to get used to it, General," she said wryly, but her eyes were full of compassion. "Besides, it's not every man who gets a Princess to take care of him. We're not known for our nursing skills."

"They seem p-p-pretty good to me," Han replied.

"Come on, let's get you into a hot shower like Onebee ordered—" She stood to help him up.

"Haven't been d-d-doing it," Han admitted.

"Not following someone else's orders? I'm shocked," she deadpanned, as she ducked under his arm to give him the support he needed. She hurried him into the fresher, noticing that it was one of those high end spa freshers she hadn't seen since Alderaan.

"Steam 130, Temp 110," she commanded. The room quickly filled with warm steam as she guided Han under the rainfall shower, quickly moving in front of him and placing her head against his cold chest so his chin could rest on her head. She rubbed his arms in the hot water and, after quite a while, she felt the cold staring to dissipate. Of course, that only meant that they were nearing the midway point of the bout of dysregulation.

"I'm sorry about this, Leia," Han murmured.

She shook her head. "Don't be. They warned you that you'd probably have a few really bad attacks at the very end. Maybe we're getting there early. Maybe this is a very good thing."'

"Still…" he said and trailed off, starting to feel the sharp needles of heat prickling his skin. He never could decide which was worse – the feeling that his organs were freezing up or the feeling that flaming needles were trying to poke their way up out of his skin. They both sucked bantha balls.

"Steam off, Water 65," Leia commanded immediately.

"How could you tell so quick?" He wondered aloud.

He was right, she realized. She'd order to change in water temperature before she could feel that his skin was starting to overheat.

"I've been able to sense your presence since we were in the Consulate," she admitted. "I guess I can sometimes sense physical discomfort too."

"I'm not complaining," Han said. The cold water seemed to be keeping the burning feeling manageable, so he stood silently, leaning on Leia for support as she tried not to shiver under the ice cold water.

After a few minutes, he sat down on the shower bench. "I'll sit here until it passes. You should get some sleep. Long flight tomorrow."

Leia's eyes narrowed. She hoped she could keep her teeth from chattering. If Han noticed that, he would most certainly toss her out of the fresher. "Nice try, flyboy. You think after everything we've been through I'm too squeamish to see a little vomit?"

"It's not a little vomit, sweetheart. It's a human biology-defying amount of upchuck." He groaned as his stomach turned over. Any second now, he'd be worshipping the porcelite throne. Now there was a sexy vision for his wife.

"And you're weak already, Han, so yes, you're going to have to vomit in my presence. You know, for a man so unabashed about swinging around on vines totally naked, you sure can be a prude about some things—"

He felt his stomach roll again and he wobbled to his feet, making it to the porcelite just in time to do what he assumed had to be in the top five unappealing things a husband could do in front of his new bride: retching out toxic garbage poisoning your system. Finally, after what seemed like an impossibly long time, Han stood upright.

"Kreff," he muttered, washing out his mouth in the sink and making his way over to duck under the cold shower one more time before Leia helped him down to the shower bench. "I didn't think it was possible to be that sick."

"It was pretty impressive," Leia agreed, shivering in the cold despite her best efforts. She hoped that the violence of this episode would cause some good news on the medsensor she intended to pull out of her bag and wrap around his arm as soon as they got back to the bedroom.

"Well," Han said tiredly, "The day before our wedding, we both think the other is dead. The night of our wedding, we both pass out from exhaustion. The night after our wedding, I get impressively sick. What can we do for an encore tomorrow?"

Leia smiled grimly. "Watch that holo, I think."

Han nodded tiredly. "Yeah. We're great at topping ourselves. But I think at least today's event is over." He put an arm around her. "You're shivering."

"If I said, 'I'm fine, I can handle it,' who would that sound like?"

He grinned weakly. "Like some gorgeous nerf-herder I know who throws up his guts in the most irresistibly sexy way. Dry cycle –"

Leia sat with him in silence, her head on his shoulder, as the dry cycle ran and the dryer bots made short work of drying their hair.

"How did you get so good at bringing me through one of these episodes?" he asked, suddenly curious.

"You don't remember the trip back from Tatooine and the few days after?"

He shook his head. "It's all a blur."

"Accidentally doing in Boba Fett?"

He shook his head. "All I really remember is that I finally found the courage to tell you I love you."

"In between bouts of dysregulation and vomiting," she added. "We spent so much time in the Falcon's fresher that I developed wrinkleskin on my hands and feet."

"You got naked with me months ago and I can't remember it? That's a damn shame." Try as he might, his memory of those days was a combination of confused and missing, except for the moments – two moments, he remembered – that he told Leia those words he'd promised himself he wouldn't hold back for one second longer.

"Not naked. I was wearing one of your old shirts. But given the way it stuck to me, I might as well have been naked."

Han sighed. "Maybe we could, you know, re-enact that whole you-in-a-wet-shirt-with-me-in-the-shower thing in the next week or two. Leaving out the fever, chills, and upchuck."

"That sounds like a plan," she grinned at him as the last of the drybots buzzed way from her hair and latched itself to the ceiling. "Now let's get you some rest. You need it."

He silently agreed; he didn't even protest when she supported him as they walked back to bed. He dropped himself down like a sack of beetroots, exhausted both by his physical weakness and the unnerving thoughts he was having about the nightmare that the months in carbonite had been, those mostly blank days afterwards, and the nightmares it left him with. He both wanted – and didn't want – to share those thoughts with Leia, who'd grabbed a medsensor from her bag and returned to bed to wrap it around his arm. It would take several minutes to come up with an accurate read-out, so she lay down next him and pulled him close, wrapping her small body around his and stroking his hair.

That feels so good…he thought. Not in a sexual way, really, I mean, that's always there but…He realized that he felt completely accepted and loved, even in his weakness. That was an entirely new feeling for him. It's now or never…

"Leia," he said softly. "I was really scared in there."

"In there?" She motioned quizzically to the fresher.

"No," he shook his head. "In the carbonite. I started to wake up in there."

She felt her blood run cold. She'd known they'd been racing against time, that since Han was a young, healthy, and strong human, the hibernation cycle would decay more quickly than average, causing more and more periods of consciousness that would – if they didn't get him out – inexorably lead to insanity once he reached a state of full consciousness and realized that he was trapped, perhaps forever, a disembodied consciousness never to live and never to die and be freed from the trap. But Han had never said anything to her – or, as far as she knew, to anyone – about having memories of his time in the carbonite.

"You were conscious?" she asked, still stroking his hair. She didn't want to think about the kind of psychic agony that must have accompanied the awareness of his circumstances.

"There were times…" he trailed off, trying to gather his thoughts. "Well, I guess I didn't have any perception of time. I don't know when it started happening. But I know I had times when my brain was awake. At first it seemed like seconds. Then minutes before I was gone again. Then longer. I don't know how long. But I was starting to be awake long enough to remember what happened and know that I could be that way for a very long time. Just existing. Trapped. And hoping that for the first time in my life someone cared enough to come after me, even though I didn't deserve it…even if just to realize that the best thing to do would be to find me and let me die right there."

"I would have looked for as long as it took," Leia said quietly. "Even if the 'you' I knew was gone and all that was left was…I knew there was a chance that we could find you too late – a year, or two years – and the most merciful thing that could happen was that you didn't survive the decarbonization. I didn't have any idea how I was going to be able to face th-" She swallowed hard and shook her head, willing herself to forget those awful feelings, those nights of tossing and turning with terror that they'd find him too late and wondering what her obligations to him were if she did. We are both here, she reminded herself. You are lying in bed with your husband, who is going to be fine, but he needs you right now. So get a grip and don't get lost in horrors of the past when he needs you NOW...

"What are you thinking?"

"You've been struggling with this – with these memories," she said, tears in her eyes.

He nodded.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered. "I wouldn't have let you deal with this alone." My father did this to you…

"At first I wasn't really sure what had happened in there. Then once I read all that stuff you gave me about carbonite poisoning and hibernation, and what's happened to people…I didn't want anybody to start thinkin' I was insane."

"You're not insane," she said, before gently kissing him. "At least no more insane than you were before the carbonite."

"At least you know my baseline," he smiled softly.

"How'd you manage to hold on, Han?" she asked. The medics' assumption, although they couldn't be completely certain, was that once consciousness reasserted itself, insanity came fairly soon afterwards. Somehow, he'd managed to keep it at bay long enough for his friends to rescue him.

"I had something I needed to tell you," he said. "Something that I needed to make right. I figured that eventually Jabba would let me out and try to finish me off. So I kept telling myself, if I held on, if I kept focusing on memories that I knew were real, I had a chance," he shrugged, then looked away. "But by the time you saved me…there were things…thoughts that had started to make no sense, even to me…I don't think I had much longer."

She thought back to that night, of how relieved she'd been when his first words - that he couldn't see, asking where he was, who she was - were rational and reasonable. How months of fear had disappeared with his questions. She'd never even thought to ask if he had memories from his time in the carbonite.

"I wish we'd found you more quickly," she said. "Before you had to suffer through that."

"I know what Jabba had planned for me, Leia," he replied. "I was just damn lucky that you came at all. The last thing you need to feel is regret."

Leia wasn't totally sure she was thrilled that Lando or Luke – probably Lando, she thought – had told Han how Jabba intended to deal with him. He'd planned to wait until Han was most certainly insane, then free him from the carbonite and lock him up in the dank basement cells of the palace, a cautionary tale of what happened to those who disappointed Jabba: they were tortured into insanity. She felt a momentary flush of satisfaction that she'd taken matters into her own hands. He could never do that to anyone again. Then she felt a twinge of guilt. Would a Jedi think that way?

The medsensor beeped, distracting them both from their difficult thoughts. Leia unwrapped it from Han's arm as he studied her face in the moonlight. He reached out to brush his hand through her hair while she studied the readout on the monitor. She doesn't even realize it. What she's just done for me tonight, and what we've just talked about, proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that all of the strength she thought was lost to re-opened old wounds is still there, right under the surface…

"You realize how strong you've been for me for the last hour, sweetheart?" he asked. "I know what you were doing a few minutes ago, when I asked you what you were thinking: you were telling yourself not to let the past get in the way of what you needed to do. Maybe you're not as broken as you think."

"You needed me," she shrugged. "That I can handle. Action keeps me safe from my thoughts. If I told you what I was thinking about those months, it would have been a very different story."

"Yeah, I get that," he said. "I guess you know now exactly how much I get it."

"Yes," she slid down under the covers next to him, "but I do have some good news."

She held up the medsensor, lighting up the readout. Han squinted to read the Aurabesh writing: CARBONITE METABOLITE LEVEL: LOW. He felt a rush of relief; the medsensor had never read anything less than "moderate" before.

"It's going away, Han," she said, kissing him. "Pretty soon, this will be over for you."

He gave her a slightly embarrassed lopsided grin. "Physically, at least."

"Well, we have two weeks to start to deal with the other stuff."

"No," he said. "These two weeks are about you."

"No," she replied, pressing her body up against his, feeling his warmth as she snuggled into his arms. "These two weeks are about us."

"But mostly you," he replied, unwilling to give her the last word.

"If you insist," Leia yawned. "So where are we going again?"

"Nice try, Princess," Han smiled as he started to fade off to sleep, breathing in the scent of her hair. "Very nice try."