It is now the week of the midterm exams for me, and last year, I had the idea for my "midterm marathon" which I shall continue this year. Basically, it means I will post a chapter each day of midterms. So, Day 1 of the Midterm Marathon – the famous ESB scene!

Chapter Eighteen

~ Han Solo ~
When I noticed that 3PO, Leia, and the Jedi were still watching me, I found that suddenly it was very irritating and annoying, so to get them off my back, I announced, "I'm going to shut down everything but the emergency power systems." At least, if they were in the know, they'd stop staring. Well, hopefully.

"Sir, I'm almost afraid to ask, but . . . does that include shutting me down, too?"
Of course not.

Chewie took one look at my face and barked an immediate "Yes!"

I considered Chewie's view. And yes, I was annoyed at the over-talkative protocol droid who was always in the way somehow. But . . .

"No," I decided regretfully. Shutting down the droid for good would have to wait until things were settled – well, at least for now. I was sure I'd get my opportunity later. "I need you to talk to the Falcon, find out what's wrong with the hyperdrive."

I heard a quiet, almost inaudible sigh, and looked round.

The Jedi was rubbing at her forehead, frowning, but her eyes were completely unfocused, and she had an almost dazed yet tense air around her. Her arms were crossed yet she was leaning against the cockpit with resignation.

I knew that kind of stance.

It was the kind I had, when there was something wrong elsewhere and here, so I was trying to figure out elsewhere so I could figure out here. Like when I'd gotten . . . tangled with the Imperials. I'd had that look trying to figure out both how to get rid of the incriminating spice and explain everything to Jabba. Sorta like trying to focus on two things at once without getting blown up in either. Not a fun experience, I had to admit.

But before I could think on it, the entire ship suddenly lurched.

Loose items went flying, Chewie howled, and the Jedi's eyes were suddenly focused and the look was so completely gone now I had trouble believing it had ever actually existed.

"Sir, it's quite possible this asteroid is not entirely stable," 3PO said nervously.

I stared. "Not entirely stable?" I repeated incredulously. ""I'm glad you're here to tell us these things."

Stars above, who programmed this bucket of circuits? Whoever it was, they seriously needed to upgrade that circuitry. Like, yesterday.

3PO seemed ready to retort, so I said quickly, "Chewie, take the professor in the back and plug him into the hyperdrive."

"Oh! Sometimes I just don'y understand human behavior. After all, I'm only trying to do my job in the most – "

Ah, blissful silence . . . at last, I grumbled to myself when the droid's rambling was cut off by the rather perfect timing of the door closing. At least now I wouldn't have to fight with my temptation to dismantle him bolt by bolt.

The Jedi straightened suddenly. "I'll see if I can help the droid," she said briefly before slipping out as well.

I blinked. Wow. That was fast. I had never seen anyone move so quickly. . .

And then the ship lurched again.

Something slammed into me so hard the breath got knocked out of me, and instinctively my arms snapped around it. If I had had a weapon, it'd be trained on the thing too, but I didn't – and besides, just then I had realized what the missile was: Leia. And I wasn't exactly complaining if I got to hold her because of this, solar plexus bruising or no. . .

But when the ship stopped rumbling, Leia seemed to notice that I wasn't part of the ship.

"Let go," she demanded.

"Sshh!" I said impatiently, listening for any more disturbances – and secretly seeing how long before I had to let go.

"Let go, please."

Red was creeping up her neck as she averted her eyes. Despite her words, her actions weren't matching it. In fact, she wasn't even pretending to struggle free. At all. Which, of course, said a lot more about her than any of her fancy words ever would. Besides, that blush was really giving her true feelings away. . .

So I told her, "Don't get excited."

And the blush went bye-bye.

"Captain, being held by you isn't quite enough to get me excited," she said, a trace of anger in her tone for the first time.

Whoops. Screwed up. Again.

Damage control time.

"Sorry, sweetheart. We haven't got time for anything else."

I flashed her a quick grin before turning to exit the door. As I did, though, I was able to catch sight of her reflection just before the door retreated entirely and I had to step out because lingering was out of the question, and the display of confusion on her face was just the icing on the cake.

So.

Perhaps I hadn't screwed up completely.

~ Leia Organa ~
For a moment, I could only stare when large, warm hands closed over my own and started to help me pull the lever, which was still refusing to budge even after I had welded it correctly, cooled it down, and thrown my entire body weight against it.

Then my brain kicked in.

"Hey, Your Worship, I'm only trying to help," Han said defensively after I'd pushed him.

"Would you please stop calling me that?" I asked, irritated and not in the mood for anymore verbal tête-à-têtes.

There was a pause, and I started crossing my fingers that he'd go away.

Then –

"Sure, Leia."

I fought the instinctive groan. "Oh, you make it so difficult sometimes," I muttered, wishing Chewie was here to stop him, or perhaps hit him on the head or something.

"I do, I really do," Han agreed, which startled me. But then he continued, "You could be a little nicer, though."

Great. Now he's lecturing me on the proper etiquette of behavior. As if I needed yet another thing to think about on top of Luke, the Alliance's rendezvous deadline and where we're going to put the new base, and Vader and the rest of the Empire on my tail because the stupid hyperdrive doesn't work. Just lovely.

Han's tone shifted suddenly. "Come on, admit it. Sometimes you think I'm all right."

I let go of the lever – it was a lost cause – and rubbed at my sore hand, thinking. He did kind of have a point. . . "Occasionally," I conceded reluctantly, "maybe . . . when you aren't acting like a scoundrel."

Han threw back his head and laughed. "Scoundrel? Scoundrel?" He shook his head, chuckling. "I like the sound of that."

It was only then, because of the sudden registering of warmth and comfort in my sore hands that had been delivered so subtly and gradually that I hadn't even realized anything was amiss until that point, that I noticed that Han had taken my hands in his own and were . . . he was . . . massaging them.

I tried to pull my hands away, confused. "Stop that," I told him.

Han didn't stop. "Stop what?"

I felt the flush creeping back over my face. How is he able to do that so easily? I was the youngest Senator in the Imperial Senate, able to keep cool in almost any crisis, able to withstand a Sith Lord and a torture droid without letting slip a single piece of information on the Alliance – and here, a low-class, nerf-herder, scoundrel convict got me to lose my cool twice in a single hour merely with a handful of words.

"Stop that! My hands are dirty," I said, trying once again to pull my hands away.

Han held on. "My hands are dirty, too," he pointed out matter-of-factly. "What are you afraid of?"

I blinked. "Afraid?"

Han gave me a sarcastic, searching look.

And held it.

And held it.

And suddenly, I found myself being drawn to him, physically and emotionally.

"You're trembling," Han said suddenly, softly.

Pride had an immediate retort tumbling out of my mouth. "I'm not trembling," I countered, shivering internally.

A glow of triumph lit Han's eyes suddenly; something clicked.

"You like me because I'm a scoundrel," he whispered, almost as though this was the most delicate subject matter ever to be breached in the history of the universe. "There aren't enough scoundrels in your life."

And that was when I knew that the situation was tumbling away from out-of-my-reach to unsalvageable.

Oh, this can't be good. . .
But I wanted it.

Somehow, someway, for some odd reason suddenly beyond my comprehension, I wanted it.

Badly.

Oh, this really can't be good.

Han suddenly seemed about ten times closer to me than before, and the pull towards him was a hundredfold stronger.

In fact, it took all my remaining strength to mumble out, in one last desperate attempt to try and save the already unsalvageable situation, "I happen to like nice men."

If he hadn't been so close to me, Han would've laughed; I could see it.

"I'm a nice man," he said calmly.

That woke me up a little. Now I laughed – well, more like choked. But I still was able to rightfully insist, "No, you're not. You're – "

And that's when Han kissed me.

Time stretched into eternity now. Every single thought was blown out of my mind, and suddenly I was hot and cold, falling and soaring, empty and full. I was everything. And I was shivering, although from what exactly I didn't know. But . . . it didn't matter. My brain was too stunned to figure out much of anything except that nothing else mattered. Han was kissing me, I was kissing him back, and . . . and that was it.

"Sir, sir! I've isolated the reverse power flux coupling."

We both jumped.

Han turned, very slowly, an icy look on his face, to face 3PO. "Thank you. Thank you very much," he said in the voice that told me he was about three seconds away from ripping the droid apart.

"Oh, you're perfectly welcome, sir," 3PO babbled.

I took the opportunity to rip myself away from Han and scram before 3PO said anything else.

But I had barely taken four steps away before I froze.

Kya was standing there.

Her arms were crossed, her sapphire eyes were narrowed, and she was staring straight in my direction. And I didn't doubt that she had seen everything – or, at least, enough to understand exactly what was going on between Han and I.

Oh, this is really not good. . .

"Leia," Kya said firmly. "We need to talk."