AN : Showtime, folks.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Listen."

"To what?" he demanded. This was useless, he was - and had always been - a man of action. He needed to act. Now.

"Can you not feel it, Pilot?"

Han could feel nothing but cold panic. It started in his stomach, crept with increasing severity, cirling his heart and and coming to rest in an icy stillness behind his eyes; his head hurt, his lungs burned and his heart skipped. What had he done by doing nothing? He had always teased her about it, that he had saved her; all along knowing his was wrong - she had saved him. In every sense of the word. But perhaps, standing here in his nightmare, they had saved each other, his part an immediate and overwhelming task. Hers though, had always been a slow, seductive dance. She made him want to be more than what he was - even when he pretended to hate her. She shaped him into the man - the person - he had always wanted to become. Everyday. Even now.

"She needed you, they needed you. But you didn't understand. She still needs you, Pilot."

She turned to walk away from him; he grabbed hold of her hood, yanking it back.

"Help me! Where is she!" He demanded. The throne room was starting to fill. Jabba would be out soon.

"I warn you." Her voice broken and deep, eyes fixated on his face, although, not seeming to really look at him. She was looking beyond him. He knew that look. It gave him the creeps. "The woman you seek is not the woman you will find. Nar Shaddaa. That is where you must go to change things." She finished and glanced wildly around her, eyes still unfocused.

"She's alive?" Relief swept over him, tightening his chest, there was hope, then. How for how long, he didn't know. His legs ached, wishing to move.

"Hurry." She whispered, almost desperate and he let go of her cloak, pulling himself straighter, jaw set.

Change things. All a little late, wasn't it? Best he might be able to do was get Leia off whatever rock she was on. Then what? Float around with her forever? He would stake his life that she would have no idea who he was, and what was he supposed to do with her then? She'd likely be just as stubborn and selective. She wouldn't want to come with him - and he certainly didn't want to have to kidnap her again. The low vibrating hum of the hoversled rumbled distantly down the wide hallway to his right. Showtime. Imaginary Leia was right, he had no plan.

The dull, strangled hum of the sled was behind him now, grinding unhappily along, supporting the massive being resting lazily on it. He needed to turn or risk angering the enormous pile of slime. He nodded, holding her gaze until it focused back from where ever she had been a moment ago. Then, she was gone.

Han's body thrummed. Breathing low and shallow, as if lining up a difficult blaster shot from long range. He was wasting his time.

Teeth gritted against the rhythmic choking laugh, he smiled as best he could and nodded an acknowledgement at the crime lord, steadily avoiding the wretched creature tethered to his side. If he looked at her, he would need to save her. What was it with me and risking my neck to rescue random women, he wondered, waiting for the throng of well-wishers, grovelers and hangers-on to dissipate enough for him to approach the Hutt. Standing in the amphitheater, with familiar smell and taste of the place swirling across his brain – he launched back and forth between countless memories. All seemed – somehow – to involve Leia. Many didn't, most taking place long before they had met, but still, somehow she was there. A smile, a roll of her eyes, her chin tilting up in just that way.

The crowd thinned being by being, as the endless string of human and aliens moved to the outskirts of the large room. All avoided the grate, laying menacingly on the floor. Han had missed the excitement last time, and wasn't eager to witness it now, keeping a wary eye on the slow moving limbs attached to the large Hutt commanding the attention of so many. Luke had told him about it later, of course, over a beer in the hanger one evening while he tinkered with the Falcon. Repairing some of the scale damage she had taken in the Endor campaign at the hands of Lando.

Leia hadn't really spoken about her stint in the stinking Hutt-hole he once again found himself in. She had been happy to have him back, and he didn't push the issue. They also spoke very little about his absence – it ws too hard on the both of them. Han hadn't realized, not until much later, the toll it all had taken on her. Only after their time on Bakura, did she trust him with small admissions again. She let him into that part of her world. The shadowed part which wasn't always in control, wasn't always good and straight and honest. The part which made her leave the Rebellion, give up everything she had fought for, suffered for, bled for. Put it all aside. For him. He hadn't known, not even at her surprise in the briefing, that she wasn't told of his joining, his rank as General. But of course she hadn't. She had left – for him. And they had made her pay for that lack of propriety, her lack of responsibility. Kept in the dark and steered out of important issues for months, they had punished her for loving someone; him.

It had made him angry. They expected too much from her. They always had.

Jabba's booming voice cut through his thoughts and it was his turn for an audience.

Customary small talk was exchanged, that part hadn't changed a bit, and was still very much one sided as the Hutt only wanted to hear Han's thanks and gratitude for the night with the slave, the honour of his presence and so on. The words grated his throat, and he felt mildly sick again. Jabba waved off his thanks, and promised him more.

"No, Jabba. No more." The giant Hutt blinked at him. "I don't want money," Han corrected quickly. He calculated the idea of lying to the slug, but for everything Jabba was, he was not a fool. Nor was he entirely unreasonable. And, Han argued quickly again with his imaginary wife, he might be willing and able to lend him a hand. "I need help. I'm looking for someone. A woman."

Jabba laughed at this and pulled on the leash attached to the neck of the small girl resting unhappily beside him. "No," Han forced a smile, "Not like that. This is important."

The giant Hutt watched him for the span of several heartbeats - heartbeats Han counted, as he was sure after each one, his heart would simply stop - then gave a quick order. The hall buzzed and emptied quickly, leaving Han alone to face the creature who had tormented his dreams for so many years. "I may have found her. I have a lead on Nar Shaddaa." Han half explained.

Jabba countered him, mindless petting the young girl's hair as he spoke. "I know." Han had to agree. It was a long shot.

["Who is this woman?"]

"She's important." he hedged. Jabba asked a series of questions, large eyes moving and narrowing as he did so.

"She's," Han paused. Stag. He didn't know how old his was. What had Lando said? Twenty years since Alderaan. His gut wrenched. Twenty years, the twins would be eleven, and Anakin nearly ten. Gods. How? What could have possibly been more important than them, than Leia, than his life with them?! Abruptly, he remembered where he was, and who he was speaking too. Money. The answer was simple. That was what Vima had said. And again he hadn't listened to her. Money. Chewie had said that too, starring down at his paws and picking at an imaginary spot on the console. Money. Luke hadn't been able to pay him, cash upfront. So he had turned him away, and in doing so, had thrown the rest of his life away too. For money.

"She's in her late thirties. I need to find her. All I know, is that about twenty years ago, she was held prisoner by the Imps on the Death Star. I don't know what happened to her after that." The reality of what he had done, and who he had done it to fell upon his shoulders. His babies. His wife. His best friend. His whole life. He had killed them all by not even entertaining the possibly of something bigger than his own ambition, his greed and his selfish existence.

["Twenty years is a long time, Han my boy."] Jabba reasoned, closely watching his reaction.

"I know." But he had to try.

Jabba grunted and swiveled his sled towards the door, motioning for Han to follow. They had walked in silence for several meters when Jabba spoke again. "Leia," Han answered, all but whispering. "Her name is Leia."

["I have a connection on Nar Shaddaa. He is working to solve an… issue for me. I will ask for this too."] Han nodded.

[Who is this woman?"]

Han warred with himself. He couldn't, simply could not, bring himself to tell Jabba who she really was. And what would he say in any case? Oh, she's just the last surviving member of the Royal House of Alderaan. A princess I should have rescued, fallen in love with, married and had three amazing children with. Hardly.

"A ghost. I thought she was dead. But, maybe..." he trailed off. It wasn't exactly a lie and Jabba - for the meantime - let it slide.

["Go then. I'll call my connection. He will help look for this 'Leia'."]

"Thanks, Jabba. I owe you one." Wow, flashback. Imaginary Leia shook her head in warning, but he didn't have time to argue with his subconscious, he had his real Leia to find.

Jabba laughed heartily at this. "One more thing," Han turned back suddenly remembering his promise this morning. "The girl. I want her."

Jabba's eyes bulged and he laughed again, small arms flailing around erratically in mirth.

[The girl! You want her too. Of course you do! You had fun?"] Han forced another smile, slightly tight and lopsided. ["Ha!"] Jabba continued, motioning for him to go. ["Fine. I like you. Take her. She's been here a while anyway."] Han bowed this time, thanked the Hutt again and walked as fast as he dared towards the entrance to the palace. He had no commlink - of course you don't, why would you? imaginary Leia taunted him - so he couldn't even call ahead, let Chewie know to prep the Falcon. A high pitched cough came from behind him, and he turned slowly, lessening his stride. A pale twi'lek was ushering a small person quickly towards him, she was wrapped loosely in an ill-fitting cover and her feet had a fraying pair of boots covering them. Oh right. The girl. Stag. He really didn't have a plan. The twi'lek chuntered several fast sentences, all of which Han couldn't catch, and pushed his new charge into him and was off.

"Okay, come on." Han sighed. Women were going to be the death of him, he had already made his peace with that years ago when Jaina had been about a week old. But he would much prefer it to be one of his women. Not a random stranger. He'd make her Lando's problem as soon as he could. It was a good bet Lando owed him a few favours - and even if he didn't, Han couldn't quite care. He had enough on his plate without towing some poor bedraggled creature across the galaxy.

xXx

The Falcon was exactly where he left her; shut up tightly a couple hundred feet from the palace entrance. By the time he and Tateryna got to her, the ramp was lowering and a laughing could be heard over the gathering dust storm.

"Alright," Han strode on board, his newest problem trailing slowly behind him. "Take a seat," he pointed at the girl. "And don't touch anything. Chewie, hurry up! We're leaving." He stomped off quickly to the cockpit – a man on a mission.

What should I do?" The girl called out after him.

"Don't touch anything and sit down." He repeated loudly flopping down in the pilots chair with Lando and Chewie close on his heels.

"Who the hell is that?" Lando pointed to the closed door of the cockpit.

"That, is now your problem. Her name is Tateryna, she's from Borleias and she needs a job. An actual legit-ish job."

"My problem! My problem? Seems to me - she's really your problem. You brought her here, you deal with her." Lando stabbed an angry finger in his face.

"No. I have enough to worry about. I'm dropping you both off on Nal Hutta. Think of something. She's yours."

Chewie growled and started the takeoff sequence.

"No, We're going to Nar Shaddaa." His co-pilot said nothing, only exchanged a glance at Lando. "Because I'm the Captain and this is my ship. If I say we're going to Nar Shaddaa, then that's where we're going. Alright!?" Lando shrugged and stood – bracing himself against the back of Han's chair. It was something his friend hadn't done in years, and it unnerved him. That spot didn't belong to Lando. It didn't belong to anyone – it was Leia's, and it took everything in him not to tell him to move.

Chewie whined calmly as Han lifted the Falcon off the sandy hell hole he swore he would never come back to again.

"It's important Chewie. I need to go there."

The company was silent until they cleared atmosphere. Han keyed in the coordinates for the jumps to Nal Hutta and sat heavily back in his chair. Chewie barked, quieter this time, and waiting for the cockpit door to shut behind the retreating form of Lando.

"Because I have a really bad feeling about it."