Notes:

Surprise—today you all get two chapters instead of one! They're both pretty short and I feel like they go well together; plus, I've been impatient (and nervous) to share my take on a certain particular iconic scene. :)

Happy holidays dear readers! (And for those of you who are looking forward to it, happy Rise of Skywalker week!)

Chapter 20

Leia wasn't sure how long she'd been waiting, praying for it all to be over. It could have been one hour, or many; time seemed cruelly stretched out. Vaguely, she realized that Vader hadn't even tried to question them yet. So far, he had just made them suffer. She tried not to think about what might still be to come.

For now, at least, her strength was returning, and for that she was grateful. She would be better able to defend herself if… if anything else happened. She might also be able to run. She glanced surreptitiously at the collection of officers and stormtroopers guarding her, her whole body tense. They had seen what had happened to Orffa, and she knew they were unlikely to follow in his footsteps, but that certainly didn't mean she felt safe. At least the officers had the decency to turn away while she changed back into her jumpsuit. Only a few troopers watched, which felt dirty and unnerving, though she knew they had to make sure she didn't try anything.

All this felt like nothing, however, compared to what Han was going through. Across the barrier of windows that divided them, he gave another hoarse scream and went limp. Leia's breath caught. Was this the third time he had lost consciousness? She wasn't sure. She sent up a desperate plea to the Force, to the old gods, to whatever was out there. Please, let this be over. Don't let him die. She didn't know how much more of this a body could take.

This time, there was an answer. The stormtroopers, acting on some unseen order, returned the machine to its upright position and began unstrapping him. Han stirred, eyes fluttering. She nearly collapsed from relief.

They dragged him from the room. The highest ranking officer that remained in her room nodded to the others, and soon two troopers came up on either side of her and grabbed her arms. Several more surrounded her, and they escorted her out.

They stopped next to a door down the hall that looked much like the one they had thrown Chewie through earlier. Opening it, they gave her a rough push, and she stumbled in, still a little off-balance. Surprised, she realized it was, in fact, Chewie's room. Not only was he there, but so was Han, and a slightly-more-pieced-together Threepio. Relief flooded through her, followed by confusion. None of what the Empire was doing made any sense.

At least Chewie didn't look too worse for the wear. He was leaning over Han, who was lying on a low, metal bunk that extended from the wall. Her heart in her throat, Leia made her way over to them, kneeling beside Han and stroking his hair. He was warm, and he was alive, and he was looking at her. But he was so frail, and his eyes held the stunned horror of what he had been through. She fought back her returning tears.

"Why are they doing this?" she murmured.

"They never even asked me any questions," Han said weakly. Tenderly, she kissed his forehead, just like he'd done for her so many times, and she laid her head on his.

Suddenly, the door swept open again. Leia looked up to see what was going on before turning back to Han. "Lando," she announced. Gently, she helped him up to a sitting position, letting him rest against her.

«Betrayer!» Chewie trumpeted, anger in every note of his roar.

"Get outta here, Lando," Han snarled, "or I'll—"

"Shut up and listen!" said Lando. "Vader's agreed to turn Leia and Chewie over to me."

"Over to you?" repeated Han. Unlikely, thought Leia.

"They'll have to stay here, but at least they'll be safe."

"What about Han?" she asked.

"Vader's giving him to the bounty hunter."

"Vader wants us all dead," she said.

"He doesn't want you at all. He's after somebody called, uh, Skywalker."

All of a sudden, everything made sense. Horrible, sickening sense.

"Luke?" Han asked, shocked.

"Lord Vader has set a trap for him."

"And we're the bait," Leia finished.

"Yeah, well, he's on his way," said Lando grimly.

Leia felt like she'd been knifed in the stomach. Not Luke, too.

"Perfect," said Han, rising to his feet. "You fixed us up real good now, didn't you? My friend," he spat, and punched Lando square on the jaw.

Everything happened fast. Lando nearly crumpled with the force of the impact, but somehow he managed to stay on his feet. Han, however, fell to the ground, his balance giving out, as Lando's guards rushed up and started beating him with their batons. In a split second, Leia was by his side, leaning over to shield him.

"Stop!" Lando shouted to his guards, stopping their blows before they could do any more harm. Apparently he still had some shred of honor left. She looked up at him; he was gingerly putting on a fancy cape that had fallen off in the fray. "I've done all I can," he insisted. "I'm sorry I couldn't do better, but I've got my own problems." It sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

"Yeah, you're a real hero," Han growled.

Lando froze for a moment, conflicted. Then, he turned on his heel and marched from the room, his guards behind him. Chewie had been held at blasterpoint; now he rushed over, and the two of them helped Han sit up again. Han groaned in pain.

Leia shook her head. "You certainly have a way with people," she said fondly. She helped Chewie get Han back to the bunk, and he lay down again, letting out another groan.

"I could sleep for days," he muttered.

Leia looked him over, frowning. "Don't," she said. "Not yet. I want to check you for head injuries first."

Thankfully, nothing looked too bad—the torture injuries, she guessed, were mostly internal and non-threatening, and the blows hadn't hit his head. A deep weariness settled into her bones. Suddenly, his proposal to sleep for a few days didn't sound half bad.

Han gazed at her softly, concern in his eyes. "Leia? Are you okay?" he murmured. "Did they hurt you too?"

She looked at him for a moment, unable to answer. Then, without a word, she gently lay her head down on his chest. She wished her eyes would fill with tears again; her heart ached horribly with the tension of all that was uncried. But none came.

Han lay his hand on her head, stroking her cheek. Then, with some effort, he scooted over on the bunk and patted it. She lay down next to him. Chewbacca hovered over them still, clearly worried.

"You okay, Chewie?" she whispered.

«Yes,» he replied. «There was a painful sound for a time, but there was no long-lasting damage and I am not weakened.»

She nodded, thankful.

He let out a soft warble, inquiring if there was anything more he could do to help them. Leia shook her head. She could think of nothing more, and even if she could, she felt like she had no energy left even to speak. From the silence, it sounded like Han felt the same. Gently, Chewie reached down and stroked both their heads. Then he walked over to the bench and sat down to continue the slow, painstaking work of piecing together the droid.

Leia and Han grasped each other close, praying for sleep, trying to drown the pain in the warmth of each other's love.