Notes:

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains depictions of torture (potentially triggering for those with medical trauma) and sexual assault. The assault is not graphic.

I thought long and hard about how to write this chapter. I do not tackle these topics lightly, nor do I believe anyone should. But as a survivor of both medical trauma and sexual assault, I found that writing about these things was a source of incredible catharsis. Moreover, this turn of events made the most sense to me logically for the story, given what we see in the movie.

This was a really hard, intense chapter, but I'm proud of it. I hope it brings a similar catharsis to some of you, and a sense that what you experienced was valid. I hope that it's empowering to you, as it has been for me.

Chapter 19

Dinner was nonexistent. No sooner had the doors slammed shut than another squad of troopers came through the side door, surrounding them and cuffing their wrists. Quickly, they patted them down and stripped them of their remaining weapons, including the small, spare blaster Leia kept hidden near her ankle.

Han and Leia's eyes met again and held there. Then, they turned to face the enemy together.

"So," Darth Vader said, disdain echoing clearly through his vocoder, "I see you have continued to… associate with lowlife, Your Highness."

She trembled, fury finally overtaking her at the insult to Han, but she didn't respond. She grasped Han's hand tightly, trying to draw from his strength.

"Take them to the lower levels," Vader ordered. "I will personally oversee their questioning."

Questioning.

Her heart pounded as that last word, horrible and inevitable, echoed in her mind. Armored hands like claws gripped her, and she was wrenched towards the door.

Their turbolift plunged down, far into the depths of the city. When it came to a stop, Han, Leia and Chewie were pushed out into a dark, angular corridor, entirely devoid of the natural lighting and organic architecture of the upper levels. It reminded Leia a little of the Death Star, except that it was painted red. She shivered.

They stopped next to a door into what seemed to be a holding cell, and the stormtroopers surrounding Chewie pushed him towards it. The Wookiee struggled, roaring obscenities. In a daze, Leia watched as several other troopers raised their blasters.

"Chewie, no!" Han yelled. "Don't let them shoot you!" The Wookiee hesitated, which gave the troopers enough of a respite to push him through and hit the door controls. "Chewie!" Han yelled again. The doors and walls weren't thick enough to block out Chewie's muffled wail. Han's face was lined with distress.

Suddenly, everything became crystal clear. The haze faded away, and Leia knew what she had to do: protect the Rebellion, and protect Han and Chewie. She caught Han's eyes, and in one moment she tried to convey it all. Stay strong. We'll be okay. We'll find a way out.

She found it much easier not to give into the looming panic of remembered torment when she was focused on him.

Han seemed caught off guard by her expression. Then he straightened and nodded, his lips once more set in a firm line. She let out a breath. We'll find a way. Even if we're tortured, we'll find a way.

They were being herded down the hallway and into another one. She glanced around as they went, searching for an escape route or anything that might allow them a chance to break free. She barely had a chance to look. One more turn, and there was Vader, striding down the hallway to meet them. Lando followed behind, looking worried, and Boba Fett brought up the rear.

Vader was always taller than she remembered. The troopers jerked them to a halt in front of him, and he loomed over them. She glared into his mask defiantly. For a moment, he stared back at her, regarding her with…anger? Amusement? She could almost guess his eyebrow would be raised if it weren't set in plastoid. That raised her hackles even more. She spat at him.

Vader raised a hand and wiped it off, as if it were nothing. He turned to the troopers, motioning towards a door on her right. "Take Solo to that cell and hook him up to the interrogation device," he ordered. "I will deal with the Princess and then return."

Interrogation device? Leia's insides constricted. She caught Han's gaze again. Fear and sorrow haunted his eyes, but piercing through it all was so much love, she could almost hear him saying the words to her again. She opened her mouth, trying to think of something, anything, that might give him courage or ease his pain—but there was no time; he was already being pushed away. The cell door shut with a hiss.

"You have proved resistant to interrogation in the past, Princess," Vader said coldly. "But perhaps you will respond differently when you see firsthand the suffering of someone you care for." He stepped towards a door to the right of Han's cell and pressed the controls to open it.

Leia froze, new horror flooding through her at his words.

Vader entered the room, and the troopers followed, jerking her inside. Quickly, she appraised her new surroundings. There was another squad of stormtroopers inside, along with several officers. The room itself was long and narrow. Along one wall of the room was a door; along the other was a row of windows—one-way, she guessed, by their shadowy veneer. Her eyes were drawn, almost against her will, to what lay beyond them.

They were strapping Han to a machine. She didn't have experience with this one; it must have been some new method of the Empire's for inflicting pain. She couldn't decide if that made her feel worse or better. One side of the machine held him upright at an awkward angle; the other side was bristling with needles, electrical coils, and other nasty-looking implements.

Worse, she decided. It made her feel much worse.

Darth Vader's voice wrenched her eyes away.

"You will watch," he commanded her. "They"—he gestured to the room full of Imperials—"will make sure of it. If you attempt to escape…" he paused menacingly, and for the first time, Leia noticed an interrogation droid floating in the air near the door. She tensed. "…Solo will not survive."

Fury filled Leia again, followed by a familiar prickle of guilt. Of course Vader had seen what was between them; of course he would use it against them. She hated him for being sick and twisted enough to do it. She hated herself just as much for letting it happen. She had chosen Han, and now? Now he was going to pay the price.

Vader turned to the head officer, a smug man drenched in Imperial arrogance. "Captain Orffa, you will administer a small initial dose to weaken her resolve. Then you will stand by and wait for my orders." The officer nodded curtly. Vader turned on his heel and left the room, his cape billowing behind him.

The captain stared at her for a moment with pure loathing, and she met his gaze, holding her head up high despite the fear clawing at her insides. He flicked his hand, beckoning, and a familiar hum crept up behind her. She trembled.

No.

You can get through this, said the other part of her mind. You made it through before.

She closed her eyes and steeled herself, hands forming into fists. Breathe.

She felt a slight prick on the back of her neck. Then all was pain: it coursed through her, slowly setting every vein on fire. It crawled its way up her throat, out to her hands and feet, in towards her heart. She gasped, falling to her knees. The bitterness on her tongue nearly made her retch. It took everything within her not to cry out as each wave of pain washed over her. Then abruptly, it let go of its grasp, fading almost as quickly as it had come. She was left reeling. The room spun, and her limbs felt weak.

She got up.

She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of forcing her up themselves. She felt shaky, and like she was standing on pins and needles, but she could stand. The officer grabbed her arms and held her in place.

Her eyes flickered, once more, to the room on the other side of the windows. Vader was in there now, stalking around the figure on the machine. With a sinking feeling, she realized that Han didn't know she was watching; otherwise he would have tried to act stronger for her sake. He seemed almost childlike in his fear as he looked around the room, desperate and vulnerable.

Leia's stomach turned with dread. Why couldn't it have been me instead?

Then Han's eyes turned to Vader, and they narrowed, filling with anger. There, that was the defiance she knew so well.

Don't give in. Breathe. It will be over soon. She sent the words like a prayer, hoping he could hear them, somehow.

Slowly, the machine lowered him towards the torture panel. Then it abruptly crackled with a blaze of electricity, arcing between the raised coils and his body. Han screamed; the sound of it reverberated through the observation room, ragged and muffled, but loud. Tongues of lightning leapt out again, and again. His screams continued, each one more agonized than the last.

Leia closed her eyes against the horror, but she couldn't get rid of the sound. She felt like she was going out of her head. Stand tall, she told herself. Don't let the Imperials see what this is doing to you. With a great effort of will, she straightened and opened her eyes again.

Another particularly wretched scream, and she flinched despite herself. The officer's hands tightened on her arms, his breath ruffling against her ear. "It hurts, doesn't it?" he whispered. "Seeing him in such pain?" She tried to shoulder him away and failed. He laughed.

Han screamed again, a long, drawn-out sound that wrecked Leia to her core. On the other side of the window, she could see him writhing against his bonds. He was alone now, save for a few stormtroopers. She glanced desperately towards the door that led back out into the hall, out towards him—the squadron of troopers stared back at her, and Vader's threat rang in her ears: Solo will not survive.

She needed to stand tall, she reminded herself; that's how she could save him now. Stand tall, fall apart later. It's what you've always done.

She turned back to the window. The shocks continued to jump between the machine and Han, relentless, but this time she couldn't look away. She could almost feel his pain as if it were her own, carving into her skin and bones, vivid and excruciating. She heard a whimper and realized, too late, that it was her own.

Her captor laughed. "It seems Lord Vader was onto something with you," he said. "Even the strong have their vulnerable spots, and I do believe he's yours." The sadistic glee in the officer's voice kindled her anger, but she felt like all the breath had been drawn out of her. For once, she had no words for the fight. His voice lowered again so only she could hear it. "Was he a lover, perhaps? Is that why this hurts so much?"

Han let out a loud scream again, and she clenched her teeth to prevent herself from joining him. Her whole body trembled, knees nearly buckling.

The officer—Captain Orffa, she vaguely recalled—chuckled softly in her ear. "I could make you hurt even more," he murmured. "I could make you forget you were ever with him. Give you something to replace those memories."

Leia felt a cold chill creep down her back.

Orffa's grip on her arms intensified. "It's what you deserve, you Rebel scum."

"Monster," she spat out.

His response was sudden; he yanked her towards the door behind them, and she nearly stumbled. "I'm going to teach this one a lesson," he announced to the room. "Anyone who wishes may wait their turn."

He pushed her, and she fell into what was clearly a control room, equipment of various sorts lining the walls. She was still too off-balance from the droid's drugs to recover quickly, and she had barely risen again before he was upon her. Bringing her cuffed hands up, she punched him in the face and then kneed him in the groin—only she missed his face, and the groin jab was off-target enough that it failed to inflict the expected result. Fear shot through her as she realized the true extent of her limitations. Damn those drugs, she thought bitterly.

Growling, Orffa lunged for her, catching her attached wrists and yanking them forward, throwing her off-balance again. Her feet scrambled for purchase and missed, and she found herself face-down on the floor. Rough hands jolted her, rolling her over. Letting out a frustrated snarl, she kicked out with her legs, hoping to trip him. It didn't work. The officer grabbed a handful of her tunic and ripped it, causing a ragged tear down the front. Heart pounding, she fought desperately to block his hands. He grinned wickedly, angling instead for the bottom of her tunic.

And then, something inside Leia snapped.

NO.

She felt a rush of adrenaline and fear and power and bright, red-hot anger, crashing down on her like a wave. Closing her eyes, she screamed.

Suddenly, there was a sickening thud, and all was still. Breathing heavily, she opened her eyes. Orffa lay against a console on the other side of the room, his neck at an odd angle.

Vader stood in the doorway.

He stared at her silently. Strangely. Han's screams still echoed out behind him. Vader made no move. "You…" he finally muttered, but his voice trailed off, swallowed once again by the sharp sound of his mechanical breathing.

Her momentary confusion dissolved. Vader was an unlikely savior, but he was still the one to blame for all this pain. Shaking, her throat constricting with rage, she pulled the ripped edges of her tunic closed over her chest as best she could with her bound hands and stood up to face him.

And then she crumpled once more, too light-headed and weak to stand. Pain and humiliation stung her eyes.

Vader turned to the officers and troopers that had filed into the room after him. "She arrived in something more utilitarian, I presume. Retrieve it from her quarters. And…" his voice grew darkly ominous. "See that no one else makes the same mistake as Captain Orffa."

For a moment she sensed his rage boiling beneath the surface; burning, burning like her own. And then, once more, he was gone.

She felt as if she'd been drained of all strength. All she could do was sit there blinking, trying to breathe, as she waited for a change of clothes, the drugs to wear off, and an end to the screams.