Luke, wearing Storm Trooper armor, burst in his cell door. "I'm Luke Skywalker," he said, all excitement and urgency. "I'm here to rescue you."

"Great," Han answered. He stood up eagerly. "Can you take these off?" Han indicated the shackles attached at his wrists and ankles.

"That's all right, just pick them up," Luke said and turned to leave.

Han stared after Luke's back, disappointed he was going to have to do this all himself. He started to gather up the chains. They were ridiculously long, and just as he had most of one gathered and stooped to gather the ends of the next, the first one would spill out and he would have to start all over again. The links were large and heavy, and the whole thing was extremely bulky in his arms. It was a good thing there were no guards about, or he'd never be able to leave the cell.

He followed Luke, gathering chains, spilling them, stopping to gather them, dragging the others in the sand, losing sight of Luke. Han was stooped over, exasperated, and when they finally entered the throne room it seemed like days and days had passed. Chewie was sitting on Jabba's throne.

"I'm General Chewbacca," he informed Han in perfect Basic. "I understand you wish to sign up."

"Uh, yeah," said Han, and his shackles spilled out of his arms again. He tried to answer in Shyriiwook but couldn't get his throat to make the sounds.

"Just sign here," General Chewbacca told him.

"OK, just a sec," Han said, struggling with his chains. "Hey, Luke, can you help me?" Han turned, but Luke was over at a feast table with Rogue Squadron. There were table decorations placed at regular intervals, little spires with the rebel insignia attached at the points.

Han was so busy managing the shackles that his attention wasn't completely on what General Chewbacca was saying. He looked in dismay at the chains at his feet. They extended all they way back through the corridor he had come out of. He would have to go all the way back. His eyes traced the endless coils of chains, link after link, until they disappeared in the darkness.

Han started walking back to the corridor, trying to rein in the chains without spilling the others. He bumped his elbow on the threshold and the shackles spilled out. "Damn," he swore angrily. "I'm never getting out of here."

"May I help you?" someone asked.

Han turned around. "Leia!" It was Leia, but it wasn't Leia. She didn't seem to know who he was. She was like a clerk in a fancy boutique; friendly, helpful, yet distant. Despite that, he felt a happiness and knew he was grinning. "Can you get these off?"

"I'll be glad to help you," she smiled. Leia unclasped a lightsaber at her belt and swiftly cut through the metal near his skin. For a split second he was fearful of the blade, but as soon as he was free he was amazed at her efficiency.

"Thanks," he said in relief.

"Customer Service is our priority," she told him. She stepped close to him, as tall as he, and caressed his face.

The dawn of the first sun was just breaking when Leia heard Han say something in his sleep. She burrowed out of the blanket and took in her surroundings. They had spent the whole night on top of the Falcon. The sky was a deep amber, the chill quickly giving away to heat. She remembered waking up just once, when something howled. It was a lonely sound. She reflected on what it could be, and why it sounded so sad, but Han had pulled her more tightly to him and she let the howling lull her back to sleep.

Now she looked at Han. She could tell he was dreaming. There was movement of his eyes under his lids and his hands twitched. His arms were folded protectively at his chest and he was curled in a ball. She thought he might be in pain and wondered if he had missed a dose of his medication last night. He didn't look to be having a good dream. She caressed his face.

Han's eyes snapped open and he looked at her wildly, as if he had no idea how she happened to be next to him. Then he blinked. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," she told him with a smile. "I think you were dreaming."

"Somethin' about..." Han scratched his neck and stretched his legs under the blanket, thinking of the exaggerated length of the shackles. "Oh. Yeah. I was having a dream."

"What about?" He just needed to shake off the dream. She of all people should understand that.

Han took a deep breath, feeling the images of the dream begin to slip from something concrete to feelings, leaving just a mood. "I was at Jabba's. Chewie was on his throne. And I -" he shook his head. "It was a weird dream. Must be the pain meds. I usually don't remember dreams."

Leia put a hand to his forehead. "Are you feeling alright?" There was no fever.

"Yeah, fine. What are you doing today?"

She sighed, rolling on to her back. "Oh, I have a meeting. The members of the Committee for the Displaced have all been appointed and this is our first time together. We're going to knock out mission statement and policies. I'll be at that conference center." She turned her head to look at Han. "You should rest, huh? Get your strength back."

Han shrugged. "We'll see. I might go with Chewie. A skiff ride isn't so demanding." He had a desire to see the palace. A part of him wanted to see if his dream was correct about some of the changes. He wouldn't be surprised to see Rebel table decorations, or Rogue Squadron sharing their inane conversations and playing games at a table, just like the last time he saw them, on Hoth. He wanted to take care of Chewie too, make sure he still had a chance to serve the Rebellion.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Han palmed open the next bay. Systematically, methodically, he would go through each bay, one by one. It was a way to reconnect with his ship, to take back what once was his. He didn't really mind how comfortable Luke and Leia were on his ship; in fact it was kind of nice; but every time he saw the extra toothbrushes, or the way Luke sat in his captain's chair, or how familiar Leia seemed to be in the galley, there was an uncomfortable squirming inside him. His ship had always been unequivocally his. Now it seemed she had opened her arms and heart to others. He knew it was irrational, but he felt spare, extra.

Han stepped into the bay and was surprised to see a mess. His pressed his lips together in irritation. Desert sand traced out the large print of a Wookiee foot on the flooring. Crate lids were haphazardly thrown to the side, shrink wrap and paper packaging littered the bay. It all looked carelessly and hurriedly done.

"Ready to go, Han?"

Han jumped. He'd been lost in thought and hadn't heard Luke approach.

Luke laughed at having startled Han, but he noticed Han had reacted as if to draw from his holster. "Good thing you aren't armed," he said mildly. "You might have shot me."

"I didn't hear you," Han said darkly. He stabbed a finger at the refrigeration unit. Somebody had scrawled, in tidy handwriting with a black marker 'plasma.' "Isn't this the stuff from our last supply run?" Han looked at the activation date for the thermostat. "What month is it?" he asked Luke. "Never mind – the unit's off."

"It's tenth month," Luke informed him.

Han glanced back down at the unit's date. It had been activated months ago. Months. He scowled at Luke. "It's ruined. What happened in here?"

"This," Luke gestured to the bay, "is a desperate attempt to keep you alive. That's what you're looking at."

Han, subdued, took another look around. In addition to plasma, numerous packages had been opened. He bent carefully, still sore, and picked up a case of antiseptic cleansing towels. The shrink wrap cover was discarded to the side, a streak of red on it. Several of the cleansers were crumpled and dried out, stained pink. Blood, he realized. Somebody was cleaning blood. His eyes, reflecting the slate blue of the bay, met Luke's.

Luke nodded, as if answering all of Han's questions. "It was intense, Han. It's not something we're going to forget soon." A chill went up him, remembering Leia fraught, himself so wretched. "Did you need something in here?" Luke asked, suddenly worried. "Are you having a setback?"

Han shook his head, irritated. "No. Will you stop treating me like I'm sick?"

"Sorry," Luke said insincerely. "But you were sick. Worse than sick."

"Well, I'm a lot better." Han changed the subject. "Is it just us going?"

"And Chewie. Yoda went with Leia. Doc Brack and Maranya will stay here with C-3PO."

"OK. Let's go then." Han palmed the bay door shut and hollered out to C-3PO. "Goldenrod! We're leaving!"

The droid appeared from the cockpit corridor. "Thank you for taking the time to inform me, Captain Solo," he said. "I shall maintain my post as lookout and be sure to -," C-3PO stopped, seeing he had no audience. From the top of the ramp he could see Captain Solo and Master Luke trail after Chewbacca in the sand. Master Luke was gesturing. "I shall close the hatch," the droid informed no one. The last thing he saw before the ramp shut him inside was Solo turning around at the noise of the closure, making sure his freighter was in good working order.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Han and Luke sat side by side on the skiff while Chewie set the autopilot. Han looked up, hearing an odd howling noise from the breeze. The shade awning was developing a hole. Bits of frayed fabric wiggled in the wind.

"Have you been with the General," Han gestured with his head at Chewie, "to the palace?"

"No, it's my first time," Luke told him.

"Chewie says Rogue Squadron has been docking there."

"I know. I can't wait to see them," Luke said. He felt happy saying it; it was the truth.

"Maybe Chewie found my blaster while he plundered," Han mentioned hopefully. "Jabba took it."

"He took a lot of things, didn't he?" Luke commented.

Han regarded Luke a moment, and then his features twisted in a sneer. "You aren't going to talk like Yoda all the time, are you now?"

Luke was genuinely puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Han fluttered his wrist upwards. "These mysterious half-truths. Am I supposed to be impressed that he acts like he knows everything but says nothing?"

"You're cranky today," Luke said. But he took Han's words to heart. He remembered, faintly, like it was long ago, that he once had the same thoughts about Yoda. "I guess it's the Force." He could see it now, all the time, the tendrils and strands and threads, leading from one to another, out and out, ever expanding. "You see so much. It makes you talk in short cuts."

"Anyway, it's your fault," Han said grumpily.

Luke raised his brows. "What's my fault?"

"Why I'm cranky. I had a dream and you were no help in it."

"Oh," Luke laughed. "I know what you mean. My aunt called them Frustration Dreams. I used to have a recurring one where I had to sweep the house for my chores, and I could never leave one room because more sand would always appear."

Han was lost in thought. "Leia was the only one who was helpful."

"Did you guys have a nice night last night?" Luke asked playfully.

"None of your business," Han automatically retorted. Then he squinted at Luke thoughtfully. "Why is Leia so…" he searched for a delicate way to put it, "affectionate now?"

Luke pretended to be uncomfortable. "Do I want to know this?"

"I fell asleep," Han admitted. "But she… she's… well, she's just affectionate," he shrugged. "It's different. She hasn't yelled at me once."

Luke nodded soberly. "She loves you, Han."

"But," Han sputtered. "Where did that come from? Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, but….I guess I'm not used to it. She used to try and convince herself she hated me."

"Try," Luke said sagely. "That's the operative word. When she was fighting you, she was really fighting herself."

Han twisted his torso around to face Luke and winced. He shifted his hips. "What happened, though? What made it change? I'm around, she hates me; when I come back after I'm gone she loves me?"

"I thought you weren't complaining."

Han smiled. "I'm not. It just doesn't make sense. I don't want her to love some mistaken memory of who I am."

"She doesn't," Luke assured him. "Maybe it's that quality of the Force you find so irritating in Yoda. And now me. It...shows you things. Points out things you should be aware of. She was aware of missing you, and it grew from there," Luke finished with a shrug. He looked inward, finding the Force linking Han and Leia stronger than a tendril. It was several plied together, twisting around and around, infinite.

Han straightened himself on the bench again and both men lapsed into silence. The sand undulated around them and Luke studied Han's profile. There was a lot of history on his face, from the scar on his chin to the tiny laugh lines forming at the corners of his eyes. Luke smiled, remembering his first impression of Han. It had not been exactly favorable. He closed his eyes, searching the memory now in the Force, and there they were, the fragile wisps thinner than the smoke of a death stick, undeniably connecting Han to Luke as much as Luke to Ben.

Luke still had questions about the Force. He saw the tendrils, but had Ben put them there, in choosing to hire Han and Chewie? Had they beckoned Ben? Had they always been there, a mark of destiny?

Luke had been young but aged; Han old and young at the same time. From the outset Han had been simultaneously dismissive, respectful and generous towards Luke. But he had come to care, and quickly, too; the events in the garbage masher had shown that to Luke. It wasn't a quality most others attributed to Han. It wasn't a quality Han attributed to himself.

Luke chuckled inwardly. The Rebel leaders didn't assign Han tasks because he cared; it was because he was a good pilot, a good shot. But Leia and Luke always picked Han and their reason was always because he cared. That's why he's always grumbling at us, Luke decided. We're ruining his reputation. He smiled again. It amused him.

Sitting side by side the Force was still a prominent presence between them. It occurred to Luke he didn't notice it when he was around Maranya, or Doc Brack. Something, some destiny, still linked Han with Luke. It wasn't just Han's connection to Leia. More was ahead for them. Luke was glad for it.

"You know," Han spoke, following his own thoughts, "I heard her before I saw her."

"Oh?" He didn't need to ask Han who he was talking about.

"Yeah, remember? When you went to get her out of the cell, Chewie and I got pushed back to you and I said we were cut off?"

Luke smiled. "Yeah." It was an adventure to think about it now, but at the time he had been fairly certain he was going to die. He was glad to see Han was able to shake off the bad mood that seemed to want to swallow him up earlier.

"And she said something bitchy about us not having a plan. My first impression was her voice, and what she was saying. For such a little person she has a really big voice. And she acted like she'd have done so much better if the shoe was on the other foot. In my head I had this image of a woman, super tall and strong. And when I went to look at her -"

"As I remember, you were yelling back at her."

Han dismissed Luke with a wave of his hand. "What can I say? I resented her. -when I went to look at her, she was short. And young. And pretty." Han thought back fondly to the detention cell corridor. Leia's voice….it was all personality, character, spirit. She was a powerhouse. "So I think I loved her the second I heard her."

Pretty….Luke remembered commenting to C-3PO when R2D2 let the holomessage of Leia slip that she was beautiful. The most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. It showed how inexperienced he was. Leia was nineteen, the same age as he. He'd seen a lot of women since then; women on base and women in cantinas. Some attractive merely because they were women in a man's world, some so spectacular even seasoned Han took notice. Luke wanted to laugh. Leia was his sister and Han fell in love with a voice.