So, I'm going to California this weekend, but I wanted to have something for you before I left. Y'all have been beyond patient about this update, and I really appreciate it! I'm nervous about this chapter, so please, please let me know what you think! And seriously, you rock. Your encouragement is so inspiring, and it means more than you'll ever know.

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Chapter Nineteen: Bespin

--

"You've been the only thing that's right; In all I've done; And I can barely look at you; But every single time I do; I know we'll make it anywhere; Away from here; Light up, light up; As if you have a choice; Even if you cannot hear my voice; I'll be right beside you, dear..."

Snow Patrol, "Run"

--

Perhaps, Leia mused, if this were any place else in the galaxy, or perhaps any other time in her life, she would have found Cloud City to be beautiful. They had arrived at sunset, and the city, kilometers above the earth, put them amidst the rich pinks and oranges, made them one with the beautiful panorama. She should have been awed, her breath should have left her at the sight, but instead she felt only cold fear as Han's friend, the Baron Administrator Lando Calrissian who was far too suave to be up to any good, led them through his gleaming city to their sparkling suite. Even after a month in the Falcon's cramped quarters, she could find no pleasure in the oversized beds and the large bathing pool in the master refresher that reminded her of luxury she hadn't enjoyed since Alderaan.

She glanced around the white suite numbly before her gaze fixated somewhere in the sunset beyond the large viewport, barely listening as Lando prattled on about the city's attractions and the time it would take to fix Han's beloved ship, and it had only been after the Baron Administrator had taken his leave and Chewbacca had gone to find himself something to eat that Leia realized she and Han were alone in the spacious apartment. He stood behind her at the viewport, his large hands coming to rest on her shoulders and deftly kneading at the tense muscles at the base of her neck. Han bent forward and kissed the crown of her head, her hair braided again in the very same style as it had been during their escape from Hoth, and hooked one finger around the collar of her thick white vest, sliding it down her arms until if fell to the floor, forgotten.

The sky had deepened to a regal purple as nightfall rapidly descended upon the city, and Leia caught Han's intent gaze in their reflection in the viewport. He was just as concerned as she, that much she knew, though he had done his very best to assuage both their worries during their last two days at sublight. That Han was apprehensive, too, eased Leia's mind somewhat. His fear was for her. She could feel it. And that inspired in her some tiny hope. What they had for the past month had been real, was still real, and maybe, though she did not dare dwell on the thought, it would be enough to keep him there with her.

"Your friend Lando is quite the charmer," she murmured, finally turning in his arms from the expansive window. Han's eyes were a dark green, a sign, she had learned, that he was troubled.

"You don't trust him."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Neither do you."

Han sighed and drew her into him, resting his chin atop her head.

"No. I don't."

"But we don't really have a choice," Leia supplied for him.

"No. We don't."

They stood together like that for a long moment, each silently considering possible escape routes and ways for them to stay together long after they made the jump from Bespin. Han's slow, rhythmic heartbeat thumped beneath her ear, hypnotizing her, and in that moment, Leia's unease melted away. She slipped her arms between his black jacket and the white fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer to her.

"I love you," she said quietly into his chest.

"I love you," he agreed.

His hands moved from her shoulders to rest low on her hips then, and she realized that he had begun to kiss her. Han's lips blazed a hot, lazy trail along her hairline, and he began to nibble at her ear, his teeth and breath sending an electric thrill throughout her body. She gripped at his white shirt in response, pulling him closer still and encouraging him to continue.

"Are you hungry?" he whispered against her ear, eliciting an involuntary moan from her.

"No," she gasped, tugging the tails of his shirt from the waist of his pants.

Han dragged his lips along her jaw, then captured her mouth with his. Enraptured, Leia took a step backwards and found her back pressed against the cool transparisteel of the viewport. He moved with her, bringing one hand from her hip to the collar of her snowsuit and slowly began to undo the front of the garment.

"Are you tired?" The words were mumbled over the smooth skin of her neck as Han traced his lips over her exposed collarbone.

"No," she breathed.

"It's gonna be okay, Leia," he said as he pushed the snowsuit off her shoulders and brought his lips to hers again. "We're going to be fine. Everything's going to be fine."

She opened her eyes to find him watching her, his gaze as serious as it had ever been.

"You don't know that, Han."

"Leia." Han drew back slightly and cupped her face in his hands, stroking the apples of her cheeks with his thumbs. "I know. Okay? I know. Do you trust me?"

She nodded, searching his intense eyes.

"I trust you."

That was apparently the exact response he wanted, because suddenly the gravity in his countenance had disappeared, had melted into that attractive crooked grin and bright, honeyed hazel eyes.

"Did you see the size of the bed in the master suite?" The mischief was alight in his face and Leia found his smile to be contagious. "I haven't seen a bed that big in at least three years. Probably even longer than that. Can you imagine all the fun we could have in there?"

Smirking, Leia cocked an eyebrow.

"I don't know. I can imagine quite a lot."

Struggling to hold in his laughter, Han feigned surprise and put on his best Threepio voice.

"Why, Your Highness! Wherever did you learn such crass behavior?"

Her retort was seductive and Han felt his heartbeat quicken.

"I've been spending too much time with scruffy scoundrels." She stretched up on her toes and snaked her arms around his neck, and he moved his hands to encircle her waist, drawing her close.

"Well that won't do," he whispered huskily, his lips near hers and his breath warm and sweet. "You should be in the company of nice men."

"I have a nice man."

"And here I thought I had you fooled-"

Any further verbal foreplay from Han was suddenly silenced by a hard tug on his neck and Leia's lips crushing against his. Pleasantly surprised, he returned her kiss with equal force, a fevered joining of lips and tongue that left them both gasping when they finally surfaced out of sheer need for air.

"Are you sure you don't want to eat first?" he panted. "It's been a while since we've had good food."

Leia nodded and took a step towards the suite, forcing him to step backwards in the same direction in an intimate dance that left no room for wonder about exactly what she wanted.

"I'm sure."

"Lando said there's a good Alderaani restaurant on the third level. They make the best nerfloin this side of the Anoat system."

"Shut up, Han," she interrupted, pushing him another step backwards.

Grinning, he obliged. He kissed her again and they made it three steps to the suite before Han tripped over Leia's discarded vest and they tumbled to the floor together.

They forgot all about the oversized bed.

--

Despite the comfort that Han's presence offered, Leia's sense of foreboding about Bespin only grew. She slept little that night. The oversized bed was a luxury she had not seen since the Tantive IV, and even its expanse was not enough to hold the thoughts that had seized her mind and refused to let go. Her skin tingled as though it were electric, as though it would shock Han every time he touched her. It was as if all of her senses were on high alert and her body was waiting, waiting, waiting for a monster to jump out of the shadows.

The morning was no better. She was uncomfortable with donning the deep crimson outfit Lando had sent over for her, but years of diplomatic training had taught her to respect her host and the local customs, so she bit her tongue. It was only when Chewie entered the suite with what remained of Threepio in a box that the flutter of unease that had been with her since before Bespin even loomed on the horizon settled like a heavy metal in the pit of her stomach. Something was wrong, she had told Han that something was wrong, and she knew that he felt the same sense of foreboding even as he tried to convince her everything was fine.

She almost laughed when she saw Vader at the far end of the too-pretty banquet room.

It would have been a bitter laugh, of course. Ironic. Because she had been right, because she had known, just known that they were walking into a trap, that the suave Lando Calrissian was up to no good. But she could have laughed, too, because it had been three years since she had stared Vader in the mask where his eyes might be. For three years, he had haunted her dreams and her waking nightmares. For three years, she had felt crushed under the weight of what he had done to her. And, finally, Han had saved her from Vader's clutches. Their time together had rescued her from the terror, the paralyzing fear that the Dark Lord inspired in her. Han had removed her prisoner's chip and cured her fear of needles, marks on her mind and body left there by Vader. She had been set free, and then, suddenly, he was there in front of her again.

It was as if Vader knew. As if the monster knew that she was no longer in his clutches, that she no longer entertained the thought of taking her own life so she would never have to remember Alderaan; as if he knew that the scars from her torture no longer burned when she touched them. He knew she had escaped his hold on her and now he was back, he had her, caught once again in his suffocating grip. And he would never, ever let go.

Leia was cognizant of little as they stepped into the banquet room, her mind clouded by ill-concealed panic, but she was aware of the pressure of Han's hand over hers. He was gripping her hand tightly, telling her without words that he was there, he would protect her, he refused to let harm come to her. I'm taking your place, Sweetheart, Han said, wordlessly with a squeeze of her fingers. He's not going to touch you while I'm here.

She focused all of herself on Han's presence beside her, on the only source of light and happiness, her only source of strength. Their fingers remained clutched, intertwined as they were forced down to the lower levels of Cloud City by a garrison of stormtroopers.

As they reached the crimson-walled lower levels, Leia began to slow her pace, the numbness of fear finally overtaking her body, and one of the guards hit her hard in the side with the butt of his blaster. Her tiny grunt of pain set off both Han and Chewie, and the raging Wookiee was quickly manacled in stun cuffs as a nearby guard shoved the butt of his blaster into Han's gut, knocking the wind out of the Corellian. She was by Han's side in a flash, ignoring the orders of the other troops and the pain in her side that most likely signaled a cracked rib. The scuffle continued for a moment, Chewie's shouts drowning out the orders from their guards, before Vader finally signaled that that was enough from everyone, not without, Leia noticed, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Suddenly, they were in front of a gray durasteel door, badly chipped, in desperate need of a paint job, and in stark contrast to the blood-colored corridor, and without another word, the stormtroopers surrounded the three Rebels and ushered them apart. Leia felt herself grow cold as Han's hand was ripped from her own, and she searched his eyes fearfully, desperately, unable to call out his name. Han nodded to her as he was pushed through the gray door in front of them and she was pulled down the corridor. He was willing her to be strong for him, willing her to make it through whatever was to come, and she gave him a slight nod in return, promising to fight with everything she had left.

Then he disappeared and the gray door slammed shut again with a sickening thud and she was forced down the hallway and through an identical gray door. She stumbled as she crossed the threshold, then stood quickly and surveyed her surroundings. She was in a stark room, again a foreboding crimson, and on the far wall was a large, rectangular viewport. Where it looked, she had no idea, as any light from the viewport was blocked by dark gray durasteel shutters. There was no furniture in the room, she noticed, and she wondered vaguely just how long this interrogation was going to last.

Leia realized that her guards had not left the cell, and, even more fearfully, that the all-too-familiar sounds of a respirator were filtering into her thoughts. Slowly, she turned to see Darth Vader standing behind her, blocking her path to the doorway, and though she could not see his eyes, she was certain he was looking straight into her soul.

For a long, tense moment, no one said a word, and the only sound in the room was the terrifying, rhythmic hiss of Vader's breathing echoing off the cold walls. At last, Leia could take the silence no longer. She drew herself to her full height and mentally steadied herself to face the object of her nightmares with as much calm strength as she could summon.

"Lord Vader," she began, allowing herself the venom that spilled through her words. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I would be cautious of such flippant behavior while you are here," the Sith Lord warned cooly, pointing a finger at her as he had when he first boarded her ship three years ago. "You are a wanted enemy of the Empire and insubordination will not help your case."

"I would be more concerned," Leia rejoined, "if the Imperial justice system weren't a farce. You are holding us without a shred of evidence to prove our guilt, and yet I'm confident that my trial will only end in swift execution."

"You are a traitor, Your Highness. You could only hope for a swift execution."

The threat made Leia's blood run cold, but her stony mask remained in place and she prayed that Vader could not hear the quickening of her pulse.

"I seem to recall your methods of persuasion getting you nowhere the last time I shared the pleasure of your company," she accused. If she was to be tortured, she had little interest in playing these mind games first. "I can assure you, now will be no different."

"I agree, Your Highness," Vader retorted levelly. "Your ability to withstand aggressive negotiations is...considerable. However, you should not believe for a moment that I intend to leave this place without what I'm seeking. I can assure you, Princess, you will give me what I want."

Leia raised an eyebrow.

"You should know by now that I won't break under your mind probes, and you already hold the esteemed honor of being the one who destroyed my home. You can't possibly have anything else to take from me."

Even as she said it, she knew it wasn't true, and she also knew that Vader was aware of as much. Han might not have been in the room, but his presence was painfully obvious and the Sith lord was not going to let her forget. If Vader had the capability to smirk, she imagined that he would be doing so at that moment.

"Why, Princess," he said, his sarcasm evident despite the respirator, "surely you haven't forgotten about your Corellian smuggler? He's fiercely protective of you, which is surprising for an unscrupulous criminal."

He was baiting her and she knew it, but she still fought to keep the angry tremor out of her voice.

"You know nothing of him."

"I know enough."

"Then you must know enough to realize he knows nothing about the Alliance. He's not aware of our base's location. We hire him to pilot and I only tell him where to go when we get to the system. You won't get anything useful out of him."

At that, Vader chuckled, but it was a dark, menacing, mechanical. If the monster had ever been human, any humor had been driven from his organic self long, long ago.

"Your desire to protect Captain Solo is admirable, but it will not help him."

"He has nothing to do with the Alliance," Leia protested, on the verge of panic for Han's safety. "Your quarrel is with me. Take him out of this."

"It's interesting, isn't it, Your Highness," Vader queried, knowing that he had hit his mark when Leia's breath caught in her throat, "that the people you love most seem to suffer for your mistakes. Perhaps if you hadn't been so zealous in your quest, Alderaan would still be here."

She wanted to cry then. Desperately. She felt her eyes fill with tears and the same painful, familiar heartbreak that she had struggled against for three years, a pain that Han had only recently helped erase. Alderaan had perished because of her, and now so would Han. She wanted to feel anger, to feel hatred towards the black monster in front of her, but she only felt trembling, desperate fear for Han's life, for their new love. She blinked her eyes twice, refusing to let the tears fall, but when she spoke again her voice was shaking.

"That's a lie" she accused, more to reassure herself than to attack Vader. "Tarkin had targeted Alderaan long before I was ever taken prisoner."

"Perhaps. It was a lovely planet. It's a pity that it met the fate it did."

"No!" Leia shouted, almost surprised at her outburst. "No! You will not say that. You have no right. You destroyed Alderaan and you have no right to mourn her."

Vader took a step towards her and she retreated one.

"I never lifted a finger to your planet, Princess. Tarkin gave the orders to fire and he was commander in charge of the Death Star. You will not accuse me of something in which I had no part."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Leia registered the irony of that statement. But she had no time for irony, for sick humor. The fear, grief, hatred were boiling inside of her and she was reaching her breaking point. Attempting to steel herself, she clenched her fists by her side until her knuckles ran white and her fingers threatened to shatter.

"You are no less guilty," she said quietly, dangerously. "You stood by and did nothing as billions of lives were ended."

"And you are no less guilty for the role you played in the destruction of the Death Star and the millions of Imperial soldiers stationed on board."

Vader was still relishing their verbal spar, but his voice had lost some of its ire. Instead, he had tilted his head to the side as she spoke her last retort, and was looking at her with what Leia could only believe to be curiosity. The thought made her nauseous, but she would not back down.

"I guess we're even then," she bit sarcastically.

He said nothing, only continued to study her with that same curiosity. The scrutiny was making her uneasy, so she took another step backwards. Still, the Dark Lord said nothing, and the only sounds in the room were the hiss of his respirator and the thundering of her own heartbeat in her ears. Even the stormtroopers still in the cell with them seemed to be perplexed by Vader's abrupt silence and were looking back and forth between the Princess and the Emperor's second in command.

And then, suddenly, the silence in the room was pierced by a sickening scream of pain. Someone nearby was being tortured, terribly tortured. The scream was primal, raw, and it tore through the cell and Leia's soul. She wanted to put her hands over her ears, block out the sound, but then there was a sudden yell that was all-too-familiar and made her blood run cold.

Han. Han was screaming. It was Han who was being tortured.

Leia's breath was coming in short gasps and her lungs could not take in enough air as her eyes darted around the room, searching for the direction of Han's pain and a way out to help him. Her movement seemed to draw Vader from his reverie, because suddenly he was nodding at the stormtrooper standing by the far wall. The soldier nodded back and pressed his gloved hand to a panel, and then the dark grey shutters slid up to look into another room, a cold, gray-walled cell.

There was a hand on her shoulder, but she barely registered the contact. She only saw what lay beyond the transparisteel. Han was on the scan grid, his bound hands clenched in white-knuckled fists, his handsome face skewed in unbearable pain. He was screaming with every spark, every electrical shock from the white-hot needles pressing into his chest. He was being tortured, tortured in front of her eyes, and there was nothing she could do to help him.

Vader's grip on her shoulder tightened, but it did not register. Leia was unaware of her own loss of control, her own screams, her own struggling, until she was across the room, slamming her fist against the transparisteel and screaming Han's name. She had fought her way out of the Dark Lord's grasp, ripping her dress in the process, and now her shoulder and left arm were exposed to the cold air of the cell. Leia slammed her fist against the viewport again, but Han only continued to cry out against the pain from the grid. One of the troopers in the cell made a motion to restrain her, but Vader held up a hand, stopping him, and stepped behind the distraught princess, the woman who had held steady as her world was destroyed now crumbling before him at her lover's pain.

"Your feelings for the smuggler run strong," he mused quietly.

Leia pressed her right hand and forehead against the transparisteel, her voice hoarse and trembling.

"Stop this. He doesn't deserve this. Let me take his place."

She was pleading, but seeing Han's pain had pushed her past the point of caring. She had to help him however she could. Vader had never been sympathetic to her defiance and she doubted he would be sympathetic to her entreaty, but perhaps he would let her take Han's place.

"You cannot take his pain," Vader replied, studying her again, though she took no notice. "You have your own."

Han shouted again and Leia squeezed her eyes shut. She ignored Vader beside her, ignored the wall between them, and focused on Han, willing him silently to be strong. She said a prayer to the goddess to ease Han's pain and imagined that she was holding him in her arms, that it was just the two of them far, far away from this torture.

Han, she thought, opening her eyes to look at him. Han, you have to be strong. I'm here. Be strong. We're going to get out of this.

On the scan grid, Han's head inclined slightly in her direction. His eyes were still shut and his hands were still clenched, but there was a flicker of recognition in him. He was feeling something beyond the pain.

"Leia," he breathed, then screamed again as a fresh wave of electricity hit him. She seized on his acknowledgement and pressed her hand harder against the transparisteel.

Han! Remember what you said last night? You said we're going to be fine. Okay? We're going to be fine. I'm going to get you out of this but you have to stay strong for me. Fight this, Han!

Nearly forgotten, Vader watched, awestruck, as Han unclenched his right hand in silent understanding of Leia. The princess was using the Force, albeit unknowingly, to connect with her lover, to speak in his mind and ease his pain. He could hear her as she spoke to the smuggler, and yet her presence was unremarkable, did not betray her to be a Force-sensitive.

How had he never noticed before? She had been so resistant to his mind probe, had never wavered once under even the most brutal torture aboard the Death Star. When Alderaan was destroyed, her pain and anger had been a beacon next to him, but then his mind was crowded with the final cries of billions of Alderaani and he had taken no notice. Still, he should have realized her ability on the Force. Her connection with the Corellian now was so strong, was unmistakable. For him to have never recognized her before meant that she was shielded, and powerfully.

The protective shields placed on the princess, however, did not extend to the child she carried within her. No, he radiated in the Force, he shone with the innocence and purity of the Light despite the fact that he could have been no more that a few days in existence. Vader doubted that even Leia realized she was pregnant, much less anyone else around her.

Leia's child, Vader realized, could be a powerful ally, as could the princess herself. His son was the strongest Force presence he had ever seen before, but he could be too determined to serve the Light to ever truly be turned. The princess, however, knew pain. She knew what it meant to be angry, what it meant to hate, and those emotions could fuel her turn to the Dark. And the son that she carried could be raised to know nothing but the ways of the Sith.

A high-pitched whine followed by a desperate cry from Leia tore Vader from his thoughts. He realized that Leia had again slammed her hand against the transparisteel and that Han lay motionless on the scan grid. The whine was emitting from his vitals sensor, and the medic in the room was working frantically to revive the smuggler.

Solo's heart failure incensed Vader. If he were to lead his son to Bespin, if he were to tempt Leia to the Dark Side, the smuggler's presence was vital. He could be a powerful lure. Leia had not been willing to sell the Alliance for Alderaan, but she might be willing to trade her soul for Han's.

Angrily, he pointed at the two troopers nearest Leia, gave them their orders, and stormed out towards Han's cell.

"Take her to change clothes and put her in the cell with the Wookiee. And do not hurt her."

--

It was a sudden pain. It came on quickly and tore through his chest, causing him to double over, gasping for breath.

"Are you all right?" Bail Organa asked worriedly, crossing the office to where Mace Windu crouched in front of the viewport. "Do we need to call a medic?"

Clenching his jaw, Mace shook his head shortly and straightened. He turned to see Bail's dark eyes studying him, concern etched into the viceroy's wearied and handsome features.

"I'm fine."

"What happened?" Bail motioned for the Jedi to sit in a nearby repulsor chair, but Mace declined and turned back to the viewport. He was silent for a long moment, seemingly hypnotized by the swirling star system in the distance. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and tense, and Bail was certain that Mace was not speaking to him.

"She's formed a link with him. I didn't expect that."

"What?"

Unseen and unheard by the Force-blind Organa, the ethereal forms of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn stood beside Mace, conversing with the still-living Jedi master.

"Vader can sense the link," Qui-Gon said softly.

"She's more powerful than even we suspected," Obi-Wan added. "How Vader never realized it on the Death Star is a miracle."

"She's shielded," Mace rejoined, frustrating Bail further by refusing to acknowledge the other man. "She was shielded then, too, but that was because she never formed a link."

"There are no shields on the child. If Vader can sense his grandson--"

Mace slammed a hand against the viewport, interrupting Qui-Gon and startling Bail.

"Vader cannot sense that she carries his grandson! He doesn't know that Leia is his child."

"Mace!" Bail demanded, bringing the Jedi from his conversation. They were discussing his daughter, and no longer could the viceroy stand by wondering Leia's fate. Windu finally turned his gaze back on Bail, his eyes a mixture of worry and exhaustion that filled Bail with fear. "Tell me what is happening to my daughter!"

"Leia has unconsciously formed a Force link with Captain Solo," Mace said with a sigh, finally collapsing into the repulsor chair. "Vader can sense the link, and he can sense that she is pregnant."

Bail felt a wave of nausea wash over him, terrified of what the old Jedi was going to say next. He knew, somehow, that his daughter was in pain at the hands of her birth father, and he was powerless to save her. As the man who raised her, who cared for her as his own and loved her with all his heart, the mere thought of Leia's pain was enough to send Bail over the edge.

"What's happening to her?" he asked weakly, leaning against the edge of his desk for support.

"Vader is torturing Solo and he's forcing Leia to watch. He knew it was the only way to get to her."

"Why?"

Mace clutched at his chest and grimaced.

"To get to Luke. Leia is sending her pain through the Force, and so is Han. I can feel it. Luke can feel it, and it's leading him to them."

Bail's eyes flicked to the viewport, then back to Mace.

"We have to do something. If Vader realizes that Leia is his daughter..." he trailed off, unable to complete his thought, but Mace was already shaking his head.

"We can't do anything. This is Luke's battle to fight alone."

"But you said he wasn't ready to confront Vader." The inability to help his daughter was weighing on Bail, and his concealed panic was beginning to show in his voice.

Mace closed his eyes and ducked his chin to his chest, defeated.

"He isn't."

--

By the time Leia had numbed herself to her terror, changed back into her snowsuit, and been shoved into the dark holding cell, Han had been revived and subjected to another round on the grid that nearly stopped his heart again. She had not expected him to be there when her guard pushed her roughly into the cell, but she felt his presence before her eyes had adjusted to the dark and was kneeling next to him in an instant, her tiny hands cold against his burning forehead. She was still terrified and perhaps in shock from seeing Han come so close to death, but for the moment she was content to be there next to him.

Of course, their quiet reunion was interrupted almost immediately by Lando and resulted in additional pain for Han, who was on the receiving end of several blows from the guards after he punched his former friend in the jaw. The baron administrator delivered the terrible news, that Han was to be handed over to Jabba, that Luke was on his way, then left them alone in the cell to contemplate their fate. As she and Chewie helped Han back to the hard bench on which he had been resting, Leia fought back the sick feeling in her stomach. She knew that Han had to leave her; they had even discussed it earlier that morning. But he had promised her he would come back. She had pressed to go accompany him to Tatooine and he had refused, confident that he would be able to handle the angry Hutt on his own. Being captured by the bounty hunter, however, changed the game for him, and deep down, Leia knew that it would not be so easy for Han to make it free from Jabba's clutches.

"Wait," Han said as she and Chewie lowered him towards the bench. He looked at the Wookiee with a pained smile that Chewie understood immediately, then turned his hazel eyes on Leia. With Chewie's help, he took a step towards the wall, then sank down to the floor. The Wookiee retreated to the shadows of the cell, and Han opened his arms for Leia. "C'mere, Princess," he whispered.

She tried to smile at his attempt at humor as she settled into the strength of his embrace, but she had lost the energy to do so. Instead, she leaned her head carefully against his chest and felt him brush his lips against her forehead.

"Leia-" he began, his voice thick with emotion.

She shut her eyes.

"Don't say it, Han."

"Leia," he said again, more determined this time. "Promise me you'll get out of here. Get back to the fleet. If I make it out of this-"

"No!" she exclaimed, looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes. "Don't talk that way!"

Gingerly, he brought a hand up and caressed her face.

"If I make it out of this, Sweetheart, I'll come back for you there. Do you hear me?" She nodded and he attempted another smile. "I worked too hard to get you to come around to give up now. I'm not letting you go."

A small smile danced across her own lips and she settled back against his chest.

"Stubborn," she whispered and felt him chuckle softly beneath her.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah I am."

Leia sighed and nuzzled closer to him, placing a hand over his chest so she could feel his even breathing and the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat.

"Good. Me too."

They fell silent for a long time, each cherishing the feel of the other and unable to say anything that would ease the pain of what was to come. Han's breathing grew quiet and shallow, and Leia closed her eyes, assuming that he, exhausted from his torture, had fallen asleep. She, too, was dancing around sleep, had nearly forgotten about their current plight, when he spoke again, his soothing baritone like a warm blanket over her body.

"I love you, Sweetheart."

Leia felt tears prick her eyes, and she squeezed them tighter, refusing to let them fall.

"I know."