Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

This takes place after Chewie's death, and before Han left Leia in the NJO

AU

Leia Organa-Solo put her back against the wall and slowly slid down to a seated position, listening as her husband banged loudly and repeatedly on the bedroom door. She heard something crash to the floor, and listened as he let loose with a string of Corellian curse words, many of which were directed at her.

"You can't keep me locked up forever," he finally shouted through the thick door.

"I can keep you locked up for a long time, though," she replied back, turning his blaster over in her hand, and fighting down her doubts. This wasn't a spur-of-the moment decision. She'd carefully removed all weapons from the master bedroom, and anything else he could use to either escape or possibly inflict harm to himself. Even the mirrors had been removed in both the bedroom and attached master bathroom. "Maybe long enough for you to come to your senses."

"So you've decided to starve me to death instead of nag me to death?" Han shot back, his voice brittle with sarcasm.

"I've stocked the room with water and rations. There is enough to last several months."

"MONTHS!?"

"If that's what it takes, Han," Leia replied wearily. "I love you too much to let you leave."

"Really? And locking me up is the way you demonstrate that supposed love?"

"I recall you once kidnapped me to stop me from making a huge mistake."

He was silent for only a short moment before responding, "Kidnapping you was my big mistake, Princess. I should've let you marry your true love, and we'd both be a lot happier."

Leia swallowed hard. "You don't mean that."

The ex-smuggler gave a harsh laugh. "I mean it. Chewie would still be alive if I'd had enough sense to walk away when you wanted to go to Hapes."

"You can't possibly know that," Leia snapped out, anger competing with hurt. "A million things might have happened in the past twenty years that could have caused either Chewie's death... or your own."

"I'll figure out a way to get out of here, Leia."

"Maybe. But I doubt it. I had Ghent and Wedge help me with this project." Leia could sense Han's growing concern through the wall. "I'll talk to you later, Han," Leia said as she stood up and walked down the corridor, determinedly ignoring his renewed curses.

Five days later...

After two days, Han's outbursts of pounding and swearing suddenly ceased. Grateful for the peace and quiet, Leia went about her business, always making certain one of her Noghri bodyguards were in the apartment when she left. But now, three days of complete silence later, Leia was getting annoyed all over again.

"Han? HAN? I know you can hear me," Leia said, her shoulder leaning against the doorframe. "I know you're awake." More silence. "Tomorrow, I'm having a psychiatrist come over and have a session with you."

That remark finally stirred a reaction. "I'll tell him you're holding me against my will. This is illegal."

Leia actually laughed. "Since when do you care about legalities?"

"I've had a hang-over for the past five days."

"Good. You need to get all that alcohol poison out of your system. It's clouding your mind and your judgment."

"Has it occurred to you that I want my mind clouded?"

"It's not fair to Anakin," Leia said quietly. "Your behavior is hurting him above the pain he's already feeling for Chewie. It's not fair to him, Han. It's not fair to any of us." She could sense his discomfort, and hoped that somehow she was finally getting through to him.

"I ain't talking to a head doctor."

"I'll make a deal with you."

"What kind of deal?" Han asked, sounding suspicious.

"You talk to this doctor... and I mean actually talk to him once a day for an hour, for one week, and I'll let you out of this room."

A long silence followed as Han mentally debated this offer. "What if he doesn't like what I have to say?"

"As long as you stay focused, and the discussion is about Chewie or Anakin or me... or your lousy childhood, I don't care what the doctor tells me after that. A deal is a deal. How about it?"

"Fine," Han grumbled.

Leia smiled.

A week later

Leia pressed the keypad and nervously watched as the bedroom door opened. She remembered the doctor telling her that Han had been sullen and uncooperative during the first three sessions, and that he hadn't shaved or put clean clothes on for the visits. Then, during the last two sessions, Han had washed up and spoke at length about his friendship with Chewbacca, and his guilt over the Wookiee's death. Leia wasn't certain if this happened because Han finally wanted to talk about his feelings, or that he was afraid she would extend his lock-up if he didn't 'pretend' to open up.

Han was standing at the doorway, dressed in clean clothes and his face freshly shaven. Other than looking somewhat pale, he looked like himself. They both regarded each other for a moment without speaking.

"I should be mad at you," Han finally said.

"Are you?"

"When I kidnapped you and took you to Dathomir, you were mad at me," he pointed out.

Leia gave a small grin. "Only on the outside. Inside, I was relieved."

"I guess that's how I feel, too. Relief that you didn't give up on me. Relief that you cared enough to stop me from leaving you, which would've been the biggest mistake of my life." He held out his arms, and Leia melted into his embrace. "Thank you, Princess," he whispered into her hair. "I love you."

"I know you do," she answered, her face buried in his shirt. "And that's why I kidnapped you."

"You know," Han mused thoughtfully. "When I kidnapped you, I cooked nice meals for you. All you gave me for two weeks was water and dry ration bars."

The Princess drew back in shock and looked up at her husband. "Cook? Me? Han, I only wanted to kidnap you... not torture you!"

They both laughed, and despite his new freedom, Han willingly spent the rest of the day with Leia, locked up in their bedroom.

THE END