Leia's head was lowered, her fingers absently drumming lightly on Han's head in her lap. She was looking without seeing. Her active mind had left Luke back there, in the sand, on his vigil, and she was forecasting ahead, making a mental list. Morning would come quickly. They would bring the freed slaves to the space port, and the others from Jabba's palace would also be there. She needed to contact Carlist Rieekan as soon as possible and arrange a shuttle. The beings would need food and drink; Leia would need credits.

It occurred to her the small drama of what happened at Jabba's palace was a little like the civil war she was also fighting, though on a much smaller scale. Jabba was a minor Emperor, one individual seizing control and making others conform to their own conceit. Wherever Jabba's crime syndicate reached, it had caused death, injury, and bondage to hundreds of beings. Now his reign of terror was ended, and a whole new set of problems had been created. What to do with the injured, the enslaved? The issues stretched on. There would need to be physical rehabilitation programs, mental health assessments and continuing counseling for the horrors the victims had seen. If the victims wished to return to their homeworlds there was the issue of transporting them and providing housing. If not, they would need job assistance and skills training. Leia sighed. They had freed perhaps less than a hundred at the palace. Providing for them was going to be quite costly, and the programs were not in place yet to divert funds. Carlist Rieekan was not going to be too happy.

And yet, the Hutt's crime world was defeated. Maybe, Leia emended. Her gaze pulled out of the uncertainty of the future and back to Han, real and present. He had mentioned someone would move in; perhaps Jabba's clansmen, and the seedy underworld would rise again, almost without missing a beat. She would like to settle it for good. It was something she would have to ruminate on.

Chewie moved the repulsor cart into the Falcon's cargo lift and she had a new viewpoint of the ship from the wide cart. Thick, insulating rubber encasing wires stretched the length of the ship; large pipes, of whose purpose Leia had no clue, ran along the floor. Chewie made to lift Han and he moaned and tightened his hold on Leia.

"Come on, Han," Chewie rumbled softly. "Back to medbay with you." He had to tug on Han, who resisted by clinging to Leia, and he was afraid of hurting him. "I think he'd rather stay with you," he told Leia.

Leia smiled. "Time to let go, Han," she told him. Gently she pried his wrist from around her hip. "You can hug me later." His grip loosened a little and she took the opportunity to slide her legs out from under his head.

"Hey," he protested weakly.

"I'll get the needles," Leia told Chewie. The repulsor cart was stored below where crew lived and operated the Falcon. Even using the service lift it was a fairly long walk and Leia was amazed Maranya had been able to help keep him standing for so long.

She returned to the medbay where Chewie was applying new bandages on Han's chest. He appeared to be asleep. In the brighter light she noticed his face was very pale. She looked around the small room. "Where's the medic?" she asked, puzzled.

Chewie didn't look up from his task. "In a storage bay."

"Don't we have everything here now? What's he looking for?"

Chewie grunted. "Freedom, probably."

Leia raised her eyebrows. "Freedom?"

"He's locked in."

"Chewie! Whatever for?"

"His spirit does not climb on its own."

Leia tried to work the Wookiee adage out. "You mean, he needs something to boost his mind?"

"Spice. He's a spice addict."

Leia let out a groan of dismay.

"Yes. And I let him work on Han. Just what we need, trembling hands trying to find a vein. He's locked in the storage bay to detox."

Leia closed her eyes and clenched her hands. Silently she added a new social ill to the list she compiled earlier. Drug reform.

"There's no way he's coming near anyone," Chewie declared grimly.

"How long does it take to detox? Should we bring him to the medcenter too? Another patient?" This is going to cost a fortune. "Is there anything they give to spice addicts to help with withdrawal? I really don't know much about it." I've led a very sheltered life. Seeing the former slaves, obviously malnourished and many deformed, had opened her eyes to just how cruel life could be. It gave her a sense of incompleteness as Senator, as if she barely scratched the surface of an issue, and it gave her an appreciation for her family, rooted in love and safety.

Chewie eyed her thoughtfully. "There is. A manufactured drug. It fools the body, without the high or addictive properties."

"Maybe we can get some of that for him."

"It isn't cheap."

"Nothing is, is it?" Leia sighed in frustration.

"Here." Chewie tossed her the tattered vest Han had been wearing at Jabba's. "Check the pockets."

She'd noticed weight in the pockets before, when she clutched dully at his vest in their first efforts at treating him. She'd thought it was sand. She reached in, her eyes brightening at Chewie when she realized what it was. "Credits!"

"You know Han, always thinking money. I noticed he was cleaning out the dead in the palace."

Use it to finance your Rebellion. He had said as much in one of her dreams. She shook her head in amazement, wondering how much more of her dreams would return when she was awake. She moved to Han, and unwrapped the sterile packaging of needles. "I can do this," she told Chewie. "Even just a few hours will help until we get him to the medcenter." Han's breathing still sounded odd; loud, raspy; finishing with a hiss. She wondered about the gravity of the injury. The medic had called it a laceration, she recalled. She went through synonyms and medical conditions as she tried to steady herself to insert the needle. Puncture, tear, perforation, pierce, stab...stop. But her mind continued to drift. She compared the noise of Han's struggled aspirations to Vader's regulated breaths. Vader would probably be dead long ago if it weren't for his mechanical lungs. She did not wish for permanent damage to Han. She did not want to be reminded of Vader.

She rubbed his inner arm, trying to bring up a vein. "Did the medic disable the tracker?" she asked conversationally.

"I believe so."

"Good." She closed his fist, squeezing his fingers. His hands were so much larger than hers. She opened his fist, just to see, and even with his fingers curled in a relaxed state her fingers only reached his second knuckle.

The vein was ready. She took a deep breath and without taking her eyes off his arm told Chewie, "Let's hope I get this first try. I haven't done it in a while."

In just a moment she saw she was successful. She capped off the drip line, creating the vacuum and stopping the flow of blood. "Chewie, could you please hook up the bags? I'm going to use C-3PO. I need to contact base."

Chewie had finished wrapping Han and was looking gravely into his face. He nodded, and spoke. "Princess, in the morning, I am going to do something."

"What, Chewie?" Leia asked in alarm. Chewie was so serious, almost hesitant. She thought fleetingly you can't leave.

"I'm going to take the skiff back to Jabba's. A Wookiee plunders. It brings the greatest shame to the defeated."

She stared at him, remembering the holos of Wookiee lifestyle in his locker. Chewie's companions all wore something around their necks, while Chewie's was bare. Spoils of war, she realized. "What will you take?" she asked.

"Whatever is found. Don't worry, I won't maim the dead or fight anymore. Unless it's in defense."

Leia had an inspiration. "Wait right here. I have something for you." She ran to her quarters, searching through her things. She grabbed a jacket that bore the insignia of the Rebel Alliance and went to the tool box to cut it off with a sharp blade. She brought it back to Chewie.

"Here," she proffered the insignia to him. "I want you to claim the palace, and all interests Jabba held, in the name of the Rebel Alliance. This is for you. Strike territory for us. I have a bigger one we can make into a flag. As a member of the High Council, I appoint you acting general of former Hutt territory. Take charge, General Chewbacca."

They saluted each other with broad grins, reveling in their forged bond as co-conspirators and victors.

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Leia dreamed she could see her reflection in the shiny, impersonal floors of the Death Star. They turned a corner and a wide expanse of sand spread before them, glittering and white. Gentle rolls of dunes were to either side. There was sunshine, warm and glowing.

Han sat down on it and immediately lay on his back, arms over his head in a languid stretch. He sighed with pleasure. "Alderaan again, huh?" he asked her, eyes playful.

She smiled and nodded, tears forming in her own eyes.

Han pulled her down beside him. "It gets bigger and bigger," he commented. He wiped a tear from her cheek. "Soon it will be bigger than this space station."

"Do you think so? I would think for Alderaan to be remembered, what destroyed it would be remembered too."

"Yeah, but this is just a weapon. Alderaan was a whole lot more." Han began to scoop the warm sand into a mound.

"Just a weapon," she repeated, trying to see if speaking the words made it smaller.

"Just a weapon, Sweetheart. I didn't go to Alderaan much – not enough crime."

Leia smiled. "Thank you," she said.

"Sure, take it as a compliment. But I know Alderaanian ale. And nerf steaks. Delicious, right? And those kinds of weaving, with the stories and the animals in the forest -"

"Tapestries." As he spoke, an image of each item floated above his head, as if he were delivering a presentation. Leia watched them float idly in the air until they disappeared.

"Right, those. At the Academy they danced the waltzes all the time. Classics. I have puzzle gems in the Falcon's hold -"

She swatted his arm, openly crying. "Alright, I get it."

He patted the little mound of sand he'd created. "So let's make a sand castle. I'll get some water."

"Hey guys," Luke appeared. "Whatcha doing? Nice sand castle."

Leia looked at it, marveling at her creation, and she hadn't even been aware she built it. But she had; it had the mark of Organa all over it. It had tall spires, and fabric flags flapped in the breeze, making it hard to see the Rebel insignia.

"I disabled the garbage masher," Luke announced.

"That's great, Luke!" She gave him a hug.

"So now we'll be able to leave finally," he added.

Leia looked out over the expanse of sand, beautiful like a tiara, and once again was overcome with a mournful desire. She thought they'd been escaping all this time but it had been comforting to discover Alderaan in unexpected places. "Don't you want to stay here forever?" she asked them wistfully.

"Well, we'd be dead," Han said matter-of-fact, still working on the sand castle. "But if that's what you want."

Dead? Something niggled at her, bringing her to wakefulness. "Dead?"

Leia woke with a gasp. Please don't be dead. She had fallen asleep in the medbay, sitting on a stool, her body slumped forward to rest her head uncomfortably on Han's forearm. Her temple and cheek that had rested on him was sweaty. Tentatively, scared of what she might see, she risked looking at his face. Then she checked the medscan. She thought her dream might be a warning. "Han?" she called softly, trying to wake him. She repeated it several times, bending his arm at the elbow, bringing his hand to her cheek.

Chewie poked his head in. "Is he alright? Anything happen?"

"No, I…," Leia felt a little sheepish. "I had a dream. He said he would be dead in it, and it woke me up. It...I know it's foolish. But it scared me."

"One sun is risen. Yoda and I have eaten." Chewie moved into the small room and placed his huge hand on Han's head. "He's seeing to the freed ones now." Chewie lowered his mouth to Han's ear and rumbled, deeply and softly. The sound filled the room and Leia couldn't say that it issued from Chewie's mouth.

"How are you doing that?" Leia asked.

Chew pointed to his throat. "Wookiee song. We vibrate the second larynx. It's for soothing, and sleep. It reaches when normal speech can't."

Leia saw with relief that Chewie had indeed reached Han. Though his eyes were still closed, his brows had knit and his mouth pouted.

Chewie made the noise again, the note higher, and now his eyelids were blinking rapidly.

"Is Luke back?" Leia asked suddenly.

"Yes, he returned a few hours ago. He's getting some sleep."

Leia felt guilty she hadn't been around when Luke returned. Quickly she kissed Han's forehead. "I'll get ready for the skiff trip."

"Skiff," Han stirred. "Luke has…," his voice started to trail off, but Leia shook her head in humored disbelief. She could have sworn she heard the committed spacer mumble "nice planet." Luke had never had anything good to say about Tatooine.

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Luke ventured out to the lounge, feeling bleary. It had been a long night. Vader's suit was in his quarters, brought back in the still of the night cycle of the ship when everyone was asleep.

He felt fine, if anyone bothered to ask, but he felt like he'd been through an other-worldly experience that no one could begin to understand.

Chewie had been dozing in the cockpit, Leia with Han in the medbay. Luke had checked the monitors on Han and let them be. Yoda was on the gaming couch. Now, as he stumbled out of his own cabin, there was the smell of caf and Yoda sat upright, his ever-present walking stick held erect in his hands. Leia was across from him, her hands cupping a mug and a faraway look in her eye. She broke out of her reverie when she saw him and rose to greet him swiftly.

"Luke," she said softly, squeezing him in a powerful hug.

"Hi, Leia," he told her.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't with you -"

"No, it's okay." He pushed her gently out of their embrace. "We had one who needed help dying and one who needed help living, and that was your job." He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but didn't feel very cheerful. "I checked on you two when I got back; vitals weren't bad."

"Are you coming into town with us?"

"Yeah. But I want to talk with the freed slaves. Are there any from Tatooine, do you know? I know the desert; I can take them home if they want to go."

Yoda made a noise. Brother and sister looked at him expectantly. "Chewbacca asked me, how with the desert I was," Yoda said. "Now, the answer I have. A deplorable place, it is. Envy you I do not," he proclaimed to Luke, "over this sand to journey."

"But it's a wonderful idea," Leia said. She appraised him, sensing Luke needed a homecoming as much as a freed slave. She switched gears. "I comm'd Rieekan. A shuttle should arrive in two days. I'm going to arrange for physicals for them, and lodging."

Luke nodded. "Good." Then he absorbed the weight of all she said. "Do we have credits for that?"

Leia smiled. "Yes. Our mercenary pilot was going through the pockets of corpses back in the palace."

Luke grinned back. "Always thinking with his wallet."

"Or blaster," she retorted quickly.

"Or – no, I'm not going to say it," Luke said jokingly, and Leia whacked him lightly on the arm. Back with the vibrant and living, Luke began to feel like he was re-entering a world he had left behind.

"I've been busy planning our new government," Leia told Luke. "We haven't had too much focus on what happens post-victory. But I see now one department that needs to be set up immediately. How to help all the oppressed. Palpatine fostered such a pervasive culture of prejudice. We need to start combating it even now, before the war is over. I'm going to set up a trust with these funds, and some I hold."

Luke was impressed. "You're so positive."

"I am," she said frankly. "I've learned, since you introduced the Force to me, to not ignore anything it tries to tell me. "

"Me, too." He smiled at her, enjoying their bond. He'd been thinking of the future too, along similar lines, but as Leia was the seasoned politician, Luke wanted some more time alone with his thoughts and Master Yoda's before he tested them out loud.

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When next Han awoke he was disappointed to not be looking at the ceiling of the Falcon's medbay. He found Luke peering down at him. Damn, he thought. I died? Weird looking afterlife. The last thing Han remembered was Luke and Vader, lightsabers swinging. Vader got Luke, too. Luke looked awfully cheery, considering he had been defeated.

"Hi, Han," Luke said happily.

Han blinked. "What are you so happy 'bout?"

"I'm glad to see you alive."

"Thought I was dead." Han looked around some more. It was quite possible he was in a medcenter. He could breathe now, and there was no pain, but he felt groggy, drugged.

"Why do you think you're dead?"

"'Cause. You. Fightin' Vader."

Luke gave a forgiving smile. "And you were sure I'd lose? Actually I was winning until you came along and ruined everything," he said affectionately.

Han's eyes got a little wider. "You beat him?" Talking took a lot of energy and he decided to try to speak more economically.

"Leia did, actually."

Luke watched Han's attempt to grasp the concept. "How?"

"I'll tell you later. I don't think you're up to hearing the whole story."

"Try me."

"No, you're not ready yet. But, you could say she was just being herself."

Han shook his head once and closed his eyes. He was confused, and wasn't sure if Luke were talking in puzzles or he was just too drugged. "Can we go?" he asked.

"You just woke up! I think they want to see you eat and get out of bed by yourself before they let you go."

"You learned to use the Force?"

"I've been in training, yeah." Luke pulled the chair he was sitting in closer to Han's bed. "I'll tell you more of that story later, too."

"You can levitate me outta here," Han suggested, the corner of his mouth up just the slightest.

Luke smiled openly. "No, that would be cheating."

"I'm OK with cheating."

"Sometimes you are, Han. Sometimes not." Luke wore a serious expression on his face. Even absent from them for months, Luke had learned something about his friend. "Did you really tell Leia Tatooine was nice?"

"Huh?" Han looked into Luke's eyes, saw only earnest curiosity. Han felt so far behind, like Luke and Leia had raced ahead without him, and when they turned around to come back for him, they were wrong about being able to pick up where they had left off.

"Leia thought she heard you mutter that I had a nice planet."

Han tried to wave his hand but found a needle taped to the back of his hand and let it drop. "Delirium," he said. "But," he trailed off.

"Yeah…," Luke prompted

"There's a lot of color," Han tried to explain.

"It's pretty much just yellow," Luke told him. "Yellow sand, sky, suns."

"All sorts of yellow," Han sighed. "Pretty."

"Right," Luke said sarcastically. He had heard the Tusken Raiders had numerous terms for the color yellow in their language. For Luke, things had been the yellow of the sand, the yellow of the suns. That was about it.

Luke didn't get it, Han thought. "My cell was black. Couldn't see my hand. Not up or down." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It would always be more than a memory. It would be a sensation; a sensation of futility and vulnerability he would hate the rest of his life. "Outside...so many ways to show one color."

For some reason his last sentence brought Luke back to his childhood. Maybe it was from all the stories he'd told Vader. He hadn't told him this one. He was perhaps a boy of five, lying on his stomach, legs bent at the knees, crossed ankles swinging above the floor. He was drawing with colored wax sticks. His picture was of an enormous Krayt Dragon, and down at the bottom of the page was a teeny stick figure with a sword. Luke saw it as clearly as if it were in front of him. He had been counting how many different colors of green were in the box, and complaining to Aunt Beru. There was no need, he'd insisted, and he could still hear his little-boy voice, for all those different colors of green. Green was green. Beru had told him he just didn't know green and that it must exist somewhere or else they wouldn't have made it. He'd left the sticks in the courtyard of their home and the suns melted them the next day. The colors had pooled together and Uncle Owen said he wouldn't buy another box until Luke took better care of things.

Luke sighed. He had spent his youth so eager to leave, to see other parts of the galaxy, that he had completely discounted what had been in front of his eyes the whole time. Culture of prejudice, he heard Leia's knowledgeable voice say.

"Where's everyone?" Han whispered. His eyes were closed and he seemed near sleep.

"Chewie's at Jabba's," Luke answered. "He said he's plundering." He smiled as he saw Han's mouth quirk up again. "Leia's here. She's taking care of the refugees. Get some sleep, Han." Luke clasped Han's wrist briefly. "I'll bring her by later."

Luke waited a few moments until he was sure Han was truly asleep. Then he slipped out of the room quietly. He was looking forward to the speeder ride out to the desert. He was going to take some former slaves home, but he was going home, too. And he was going to look at all the colors for yellow.