COLD

Cold. Never in his life had Han been this cold. He glanced over at his young friend worriedly, the dim light from the small heater allowing him a bit of vision in the otherwise inky darkness, then reluctantly removed his gloves, exposing his already numb fingers to the bitter air. Carefully, he rubbed Luke's exposed face, trying to keep the blood circulating, then checked the kid's pulse. It was weak, but steady, and that gave Han some comfort.

The Corellian fumbled with his gloves, pulling them back over his hands. He flexed his digits, wincing at the stabbing pinpricks of pain. Han leaned closer to the tent's outer covering, straining to hear something besides the howling wind, hoping for the distant roar of the speeders while knowing full well they would not be arriving before dawn, which still was five timeparts away. It would be the longest five timeparts he could recall as he kept checking on Luke's life-signs, fighting off the desire to drift into what would surely be a fatal sleep.

What had possessed him to come charging outside in a blizzard, playing the hero once again? His friendship with Luke? As the kid groaned, Han knew that was only half the reason. The other half was a certain dark-haired, snippy Princess. If Luke died, he wasn't sure he would have been able to face her, not without giving his best shot at saving the kid - even at the expense of his own life. Luke was Leia's other half, and the pang of jealousy that followed that thought hurt worse than he wanted to admit. Deep down, Han knew he had somehow fallen in love with the Princess. But it would never work. Not with a guy like him.

If I die out here, would Leia miss me, even a little? Han wondered.

He's a fool, and this just proves it, Leia thought for the hundredth time as she paced her small, ice-carved cabin. There was no chance Solo would be able to locate Luke out in those endless snowdrifts. He shouldn't have gone out... but by doing so, he'd given her hope, given all the Rebels hope that Luke Skywalker, hero of the Rebellion, would return alive. The Princess shut her eyes, determined not to cry.

She placed her bare hand against the icy wall, feeling the cold creep into her palm and down her wrist. Eventually, the burning sensation forced her to pull her hand away, and Leia wondered if that was how they'd both die, the sensation the two men she'd come to love would experience in their final moments. Angry at herself for thinking such negative thoughts, she tried focusing on the possibility, however slim, that somehow the Corellian would defy the odds yet again.

Startled, Leia glanced up at her reflection in the small mirror. Did she just mentally admit she loved Han? Luke... she could understand. With Luke, she felt comfortable - at peace. But not that Corellian - he never gave her a moment's peace. Leia put her finger against her lips, wondering what it would have been like to kiss him. Just once. She'd kissed Luke in the past, but there was never any emotion behind those kisses. Kissing Luke had always left her ... cold. Maybe she was really an ice-princess, incapable of true passion. Sighing, she knew that wasn't exactly the truth. When she was near Han all she felt was a jumble of intense emotions. Did that mean she hated Han... or just the opposite?

I wonder if Han's thinking about me, even a little? Leia mused.

The Princess stood next to Chewbacca as the speeders brought in the two men. She moved forward as Luke was carried out on a hover-stretcher, and Chewie quickly went to embrace his exhausted Captain as he climbed out of the vehicle.

Her heart dropped as she saw how injured and bloodied Luke's face was, and Leia grasped his still-gloved hand. "Luke, I was so worried about you," she said softly as the young man's eyes fluttered open. "Hang on. Everything is going to be fine."

"I know..." Luke whispered. "Thanks to Han."

"Yes." Leia looked up at the tall Corellian. "Thanks to Han."

The medics quickly moved the young man away as they headed toward the medical facility. Chewie gave Han another pat before heading back to the Falcon, leaving Han and Leia alone to face each other. The Princess felt awkward in the ensuing silence, then she opened her mouth to tell him how worried she'd been, how glad she was he was back and safe, but Han spoke first.

Han cleared his throat. "Not a bad bit of rescuing, if I do say so myself."

Instead of telling him how relieved and happy she was, Leia heard herself saying, "I see the cold didn't damage your ego."

"My ego survived the last three years being blasted by your iciness, so last night was positively toasty warm by comparison," the Corellian shot back quickly, hurt that the Princess didn't appear to have been in the least bit concerned over his welfare. He had no intentions of showing the Princess that he was hurt, however. "I hope Chewie didn't rip my ship apart last night. I'm outta here, your Worshipfulness."

"Not a second too soon," Leia retorted, then spun around and hurried away before her face betrayed her true feelings. She felt like an idiot for wondering if Han had spent the night thinking about her, when all he'd really been thinking about was leaving.

As Han watched her leave, he spoke in a sad and quiet voice so no one could hear his words, "I guess if I'd died out there, you wouldn't have missed me, not even a little."

END