A/N: Don't own it. Disney does and George used to. And I thank them both

Remember- Comments make baby Wookiees smile

Timeline: Star Wars rebellion era. pre-ESB Hoth

Grasping Perception

Chapter Ten

Gasping with adrenaline, relief and shocked, amused outrage, Leia flopped back onto the ice once more. Beside her, Han rubbed at his shoulder, smirking and "ahh"-ing at the strained muscles there.

All they'd done is had a drink. That was it.

And, as always, all hell broke loose when they found some down-time.

Kriff . It wasn't fair. To be able to go a mere ten minutes without some conflict, Jedi-ness or disaster would be nice. Just once.

And where is my comm, anyway? The realization chilled Leia further.

Leia sighed, defeated for the moment. She cocked an ear to listen, though the continuing sound of sliding and settling ice intruded. No. No klaxons sounded from the base nor its entrances. Leia intensified her attention. The collapse had not been overly damaging apparently. An exterior shedding event. Common, but still dangerous. The glacial ice mass was in constant motion. Inexorably slow as it ground its way across Hoth's mountainscape. The irregular, but expected shifts and occasional collapses were factored into the Rebel base's layout and construction.

Once she'd gathered her wits about her, she'd be down there as quick as possible, doing any necessary damage control.

In the skies above, Hoth's geomagnetic was storm tapering off. The lancing, multi-hued eruptions in the upper atmosphere receded into distant wisps of light over the dark silhouettes of the northern mountain range. It remained beautiful, eerie and awe-inspiring, but subdued. No longer did it mesmerize her utterly – rendering her spellbound, distracted – lost? Maybe. No – just… displaced. Leia had felt out of body there. Wrapped in some familiar humming energy. It had been unreal, in that it was almost too real. Her friend Luke would argue it was the Force.

Whatever that was, what she'd seen – no – dreamed? It was all twisted and jumbled with her real memory. It was difficult to separate fact from fiction in what she'd experienced. And so much of it was on a parallel.

And it seemed so material, haptic, emotional and real.

But it wasn't, Leia informed herself firmly. The other images were indistinct, hazy. Like a dream, slipping away as she woke. Details faded, features blurred, and yet it stirred some awareness in her. A door that was opened, yet not entirely. A crack, just enough to glimpse the light and shadows within. From those shadows though, something inky and familiar had clawed out. And Leia remembered lashing out violently and blindly.

Presently Leia felt she had regained a measure of control. She was bone tired, mentally exhausted—drained even. But finally in command of her own actions.

The plume of ice and snow from the collapse of the overhanging ridge was settling. A dusting of pulverized crystal coated them, the dark fabric of Han's parka and trousers were thickly encrusted with it.

Pushing partially onto his side, Han propped his head on his hand and silently observed Leia's profile. Leia's eyes remained fixed skyward, noting the feathered edges of the receding curtains of auroral light. They could still hear the rumbling of the collapsed ice-face as it echoed off of the stone of the surrounding mountains.

Their gazes did not meet. The relief of Han's earlier levity drew out into a cautious, pensive mood.

"I'm not sure what happened there." Leia finally admitted in a whisper, as the last of the distant sounds tapered off.

Han grunted, "Something happened." He looked around, searching the ice surface around them. "Something in the whiskey?" He pressed his palm to his eye-socket and sighed. "My kriffin' head hurts."

"Must be," quipped Leia. "Because we were drinking rum."

Han rolled onto his back once more, groaning his correction, "Right. Rum." He wiggled his fingers on the hand that held the piton. His fingers tensed and curled, a dark slick oozed out between. Leia noted it with some concern.

"It's not safe up here. Especially since you're bleeding. Those carnivores might catch the scent."

"What?" The smuggler looked a bit dazed too, Leia noted. Concussion, probably.

"You're bleeding," repeated Leia. She gestured to his hand and head. Blood trickled from Han's temple down along his cheekbone. He touched his fingers there and winced.

"S'oh, yeah. Got hit there. S'not bad." Han's fingers came away dark and sticky. When Leia fussed and made to object, Han rose to a seated position and warded her arms away. Leia clucked at him with maternal frustration. Han made a juvenile face at her in reply.

Leia snorted at it. Even when she worried about him, or was fit to kill him, he could still make her laugh. Her finest political stoicism crumbled when he was around. He had a talent for that.

Testing the rest of his limbs, checking himself over for injury, Han further explained, "Don't worry. Wampas are usually diurnal. Plus, we've pushed them pretty far back into the outer territory. It'll take a bit to get here, if they're even awake." Then, noticing Leia's withering expression, Han said petulantly, "Hey, 'said I was okay!"

More or less reassured that no five-meter tall top-tier carnivores were on the way, Leia rotated upright on her hip and gathered her feet under her. Scooting closer to Solo, Leia reached to carefully lift the frozen strands of blood-encrusted hair from his temple. Her fingers trailed along the rest of the dark bronze locks around the curve of his ear. His scalp was so warm against her fingertips. "Is that from the ice collapse?" asked Leia gently.

Thinking for a time, Han rotated his head at her curiously. He appeared to edge away. A dark tone coated his words, "Not that, no." A beat passed, then, "You all right?"

Leia nodded stiffly, "Maybe a few bumps, otherwise just fine."

Han's temple and brow were visibly swelling. Leia made motions to press some snow to it. Once more the smuggler shied away. "We have to get you back inside," insisted Leia. She looked Solo over, "You look—"

Interrupting, Han groused, "Hell, Princess. I look and feel like hell. Can you just–, just wait for a minute. My equilibrium s'a bit kriffed." Han rested for a few long breaths, gathering his senses.

Leia was stunned into silence, her retort held back in light of Han Solo's ragged tone. Sure, they both could fight like lothcats and hounds. Han had no problem standing toe to toe with the Princess in an argument – in fact, she rather respected him for it – especially considering the Corellian smuggler's vast life experience, military and leadership skills. And though he might vacillate from a madly grinning daredevil to an outright grouch, of all his emotions the one Han Solo seldom expressed was weakness.

Leia placed her palm on the center of Han's back, "Okay Hotshot. Just this once."

A few beats passed, while Han hung his head with his eyes shut. His jaw twitched while he rubbed and tested his neck. Brows furrowed, Han took several deep, centering breaths. Leia remained patient, watching him carefully.

What had happened?

"Sorry," Han mumbled, interrupting Leia's quiet observation. "Kinda dizzy. Jus' tryin' to work through it." Voice softening apologetically, he peered up at her from underneath the long strand of hair that fell into his eyes. "Didn't mean to bark at you like that, just then. I should've given you a better answer." He paused, gathering his senses. "Are you okay, Sweetheart?"

Not mocking, not derisive, nor belittling, this form of "Sweetheart." Only "Leia," was better. Though Leia's heart did do a little skip at his softer tone.

"Yes. And you already asked me that."

Han's lips quirked. "Yeah...What did happen there? Was that more than just mechanical erosion? Some blast go off in the base?"

"No," Leia allowed. "I don't know what that was."

Han grunted, half-listening, half disbelieving. "Not a pressure crack. Not an explosion. Wasn't sonic."

Leia studied the tips of her fingers, "Luke might–" She stopped at Han's incredulous gawp. Redirecting, she muttered, "Not sure I'm able to explain it." Was that skin under her nails? Was that blood?

Han snorted, "Right. Forcey stuff." He dismissed it all with a tired wave. This was where Han retired from the conversation entirely, or would sit back and sneer at anyone who broached the topic further.

Abruptly Leia became cold; in and out. Why was he always such an inconsiderate, offensive dick? Especially when they were on the cusp of… of… an understanding?

Forcey stuff. Indeed. Leia gave a mental snort of derision.

The Princess glared at Han, "Then, tell me. Tell me what happened."

Han's brows contracted, "I asked you!"

Some small but exasperated voice in Leia's mind wryly commented, Here we go.

Choosing not to listen to her cynical conscious's smart-assed warning; Leia leaned in. No way she'd give in now, not even a nanometre. "Tell me what you saw! I fell asleep. You were awake."

As per his nature, Han wasn't having any. Typical.

"Fine. Look, then I guess I didn't see nothin'. Nothing, 'cept you, me, a bottle of the Captain's best, and some upper atmosphere charged particle light show." Han dismissed it all like it was an everyday event.

Oooooh, Leia fumed, "That's it?"

"Well there is the whole endless amounts of ice and snow running to the horizon thing. It's kinda obvious and everywhere," he blithely replied.

"Poetic," grumbled Leia, rolling her eyes. What was the point? One minute, he was ready to open up. Show some sensitivity or insight. And the next, he was in lockdown – the cagey, embittered smuggler returning. The one where no one got in or out, and any info came with a price.

Exasperated, Han shrugged at her, "What did ya want to hear? You got magical Force powers now too? C'mon. Gimme a break. I mighta dozed off for a bit too" Here, his finger jabbed at Leia. "You dozed too, Sweetheart."

Cheeks heating, Leia nodded reluctantly. The replay of her own distorted memories was fading in the light of her wakefulness. But there were those other dreams. The dreams of another child. Young, so awfully young, and so nearly broken. Leia hadn't experienced that kind of unrelenting hunger, the bitter flavour of the uncertainty of the streets, not knowing when, if or where you would sleep – either now or in the foreseeable future, or the knowledge that there was no respite from either or the oncoming cold. Where safety was a memory for some and a dream for all.

Since Alderaan's destruction, to a lesser extreme, faceted differently– maybe that child was a bit like her.

At least a teeny, tiny bit. Unsettled, unsafe, unlo–

No…

But the apathy and disregard for the beings of those streets, by the more set– the more fortunate; that hurt. The utter disgust, looking at the unsettled beings like they were worse than trash. Refuse could be cleared up, the vermin and people came back. Even slaves had value. The lost of the streets did not, they were only a cost in the urban accounting of society. Not wanted by any, not family, not friends, not society, not even as a slave. The lingering sting of that would mark a being for life. Forever.

When she looked back at him, Han was contemplating the freshly collapsed ice precipice they'd narrowly escaped from.

I had Alderaan, I had family, a home, a life. What has he lost?

It was a question she already knew the answer to.

When she'd joined Han up on the glacier surface, Han's boot tips had toed the edge of the precipice. He had seemed unfazed by the height.

He never had anything to lose.

It was an unsettling truth. A critical piece of the puzzle.

Han bunched up a ball of snow and pressed it to his cheek and temple alternately. He sighed in relief. Leia clucked and shook her head at him, she'd just tried to do that for him.

"Tough Guy," admonished Leia. She tucked a strand of hair behind his ear on that side. Han shied briefly, then relaxed, defeated by Leia's care.

"Gotta be around you."

Leia chortled in agreement.

She stroked at his temple. Her fingertips trailing down his cheek to rest at the ridge of his jaw. He was–, so–

Han's eyes flicked up to meet Leia's at the contact. Even in the dim illumination of the aurora and background starlight – all reflected once again, by the vast expanse of white snow – Han's eyes glittered. The hazel tones were lost to the night, but whatever it was...Han's personality, or humour, or some biological quirk that gave his eyes that irrepressible gleam. That was all-present.

Then he winked.

Handsome. He's so very, very handsome. Leia smirked at the Corellian.

Impulsively, Leia arched her neck and placed a featherlight kiss near the rising bruise on Han's temple. The smuggler hummed and bowed at its reception. He rubbed at the spot wonderingly, his expression humbled.

"Thanks, Leia," and like his demeanour, his voice softened too. And he'd said her name again–Leia.

Lightly tousling his hair, Leia smiled, "Don't let it get to your head, Hotshot."

"Nah, I won't. I'll just never be able to wash that spot again. Maybe get a tattoo of your-"

Leia pointed a warning finger in his face, "Better think real hard about what's about to come out of that big mouth."

Han's unwounded hand fluttered innocently at his chest, "You're accusing me of-"

"Thinking?! Oh, I didn't mean to go so far as that. But you really ought to try it sometime."

Han's finger raised to challenge hers. He opened and closed his mouth three times, and came up empty. Instead, he began to chuckle silently.

"Point for you then. I got nothin'. And I'm too tired to care."

"Good. I didn't want to fight. But I'll take the win." Leia took a breath, "Why are we like this Han?"

"Because we're all kriffed up." Han waved an arm to indicate...well, everything. "All of us. Some way or another." He nudged Leia with his shoulder, "An' you 'n me; we got totally opposite experiences and perspectives. We come from different worlds. All that is an asteroid field of trouble we gotta navigate if we want to be friends."

Leia compressed her lips, then licked them nervously. "Are we– We're just… friends," she emphasized distinctly. "Right?"

Leia had been associated with Han long enough to read when he became uncomfortable with a subject. Long enough to know when he might provide something more than a terse, one or two-word answer.

"Han?"

"Yeah, friends. Right." Han gritted reluctantly.

Leia's heart sank like a stone. If Han could barely admit to being a friend to her...

How could he ever come to care? Or even...even...

She was beginning to like Han. Respect him, enjoy his company. Leia blinked rapidly. She suddenly felt alone.

"As for that Force stuff. Y'know, I don't believe that bantha-shit. Even Luke'd say what happened with the glacier was natural." Han grumbled. He perched on his elbow and stared her down. Then a horrified comprehension dawned on him. "What-. Oh! Oh, man. Whatever you're thinking, your Worship. I'm sorry. Whatever you think I meant, it's not- "

Grateful, Leia leaned in, her hand cupped his cheek. "Are you trying to think again?"

"I think I had too much to drink on the calving edge of a glacier," he confessed timidly.

Leia had to agree, "Sure." She patted his knee in consolation, "I'm certain the spice in your rum has addled your senses too."

"-which was shared with the noblest of company." Han went on. He looked at her earnestly.

Pressing her lips together, Leia saw the direction where he was headed, "Han, there was something in that drink. I've–, it's never affected me like that before."

Han shrugged, "S'cause you're a lightweight." He touched his temple. "Except when you're the angry gyre-falcon."

Leia brushed at the hair there, "I did that."

Han winced. "Yeah. I think so."

Leia's hand paused at his jaw, "Han-"

"I'll take it as the cost of dealing with an angry princess. Y'know, being flogged like a peasant. That sort a thi-"

Leia playfully smacked Han in the chest. His hand went to his heart, a comical look of hurt on his face.

"Getting whipped by royal-" He flicked a bit of snow into Leia's direction.

"Gods! Han!" Laughing, Leia pushed him onto his back again. A great wheeze escaped him, as she shoved him down onto the glacier's packed surface. They locked eyes until they grew uncomfortable, Han lost the staring contest this time and he averted his eyes to where he flexed his hand and winced, looking at it accusingly. Leia slid her hand down to his with the piton. She gingerly pried open his hand. Han hissed and cringed. His fingers were stiff with cold and crusted with blood. "When will you stop?" Leia shook her head at him. Han let off a noise like a ruptured steam valve as Leia eased the metal rings off his fingers.

"Ah Sith! That hurtssss."

"Men are such babies," clucked Leia, wiggling the piton out from the ridge on his knuckle. When Han jumped and squirmed, Leia pursed her lips and adjusted her arm to wrap around his, clamping it steady between her elbow and hip. "Sssh. Don't move. It's almost off."

"Not a babeee–" Han's denial stretched out until he pounded the ice surface near his hip with the heel of his other fist. "Ah. Ah. Owww."

Moving another knuckle down, Leia winced sympathetically as Han tossed his head and cursed.

"Man up," admonished Leia, "You've made less racket with two broken ribs and a blaster burn." With a triumphant, "Hah!" Leia wriggled the metal rings from Han's fingers. When she turned over his hand by the wrist to inspect it, there were deep cuts where the piton edges bit into the flesh of his knuckles' pads. "Oh," Leia felt a pang of guilt, "You should go to medical."

Snatching his hand back, Han stuffed a grease-stained rag that seemingly materialized out of nowhere into the cusp of his injured hand. He grimaced as his fingers curled around it. The edges began to rim with crimson.

"Got stuff on the 'Falcon." Han rotated up and began to gather his feet under him.

Leia rolled her eyes at him, Men. She pointed at the rag, disgusted. "Captain, I'd be surprised if that doesn't give you some form of blood poisoning or sepsis. You are authorized to go to medical."

"Yeah, yeah." Han briskly rubbed the crusts of ice from his parka, spraying Leia with a fine dusting of freezing powder. In near stunned disbelief, she pawed at the crystals coating her now and blinked at him like the blundering doofus he was.

He blinked back. Then smirked. Rather...shyly.

"Oops?"

But Han Solo was not yet at the point where he could let a tender moment last.

"I figured you haven't been wearing enough white lately."

Outraged, Leia reacted by hurling a double handful of loose snow in his face and widely grinning mouth. Han sputtered, lips and tongue spitting out snow. Just as his eyes opened, lashes thickly coated with rime; Leia let loose a small warcry and rose to her knees, scooping another load into Han's face.

"Gah!" Han slapped a portion of the snowy ammunition back at Leia, which she dodged effortlessly.

"Not enough white? You! Are such a–" the princess snarled.

"Gorgeous guy? Sweetheart, you got tha—" Again, Han held out an arm to partially deflect the incoming attack. "Ack! In the face?! That's cold, man!

"–such a nerfherder!" Leia finished. She yanked on his ankle and shoved him to the ice surface once more. It was time to get serious. "Listen Hotshot. You will be grounded, unless you report to medical." Leia pointed a stern finger in his face, imitating all the hundred arguments where he had done the same to her.

Expectedly, Han laughed at her.

"I will make sure of it, personally."

He laughed harder, thumbed his chest, and reminded her smugly, " Ain't part of your army, princess. You got no say in what I do." Leia took this as her cue to go in for blood.

"I'll tell your co-pilot." Leia prodded his knee.

Features darkening, Han muttered, "You wouldn't dare."

"Han Solo," Leia admonished, "If there's one person fully qualified to keep you in line, it's your terrifying copilot."

Han raised his chin, defiant, "Chewie'll never—"

"Who do you think got your concussed brain looked at after Cymoon? Hmm?"

Han made to argue, until his brain belatedly got the message. He paused, finger ready and raised to object. He pursed his lips, confused.

"I don't remember that."

Leia groaned and rolled her eyes, illustrating her point.

Han cocked his head and waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Leia, "Hey, don't worry, Sweetheart. It'll be fine. Tell ya what, if it pleases her Highnessness I'll get it looked after."

Leia smiled at him. Maybe he was beginning to understand.

Then Han held up the fingers of his other hand. Moving them in a way that made Leia's cheeks heat. Did he honestly just–

"In the meantime, I still got all these other fingers to please with."

Leia responded by stuffing a wad of loose snow in Han's face.