Time seemed to stretch on forever. Time didn't exist anymore. Han had no idea how long he and the others had been crowded into the sick bay watching Charon's body floating in the bacta tank, unresponsive to the treatment, every minute, every second, was an eternity as he stood right by the glass, powerless, watching, waiting.

"Come on, Charon," if he was even aware he was saying it, he gave no sign as he watched through the glass and continually murmured under his breath almost in a mantra, "come on, Charon, wake up already, do something."

The only things Han Solo seemed to be aware of was his throat felt swollen like his heart had literally jumped up in it, and whether he talked or not, he felt his eyeteeth chattering together. At his side he heard Chewbacca howling mournfully. This couldn't be happening, it couldn't, it had to work, it had to, there was no other way. It couldn't end like this.

"Come on, Charon." Han knew very well the danger he was in of standing so close to the tank if what he expected to happen actually happened, but he didn't care, he couldn't move, he couldn't take a step back if he wanted to.

Kroob stood behind the Corellian, remembering their discussion in this very room from a couple days ago. He was the only one who dared breach the otherwise silence and asked, "What happens?"

Han raised his head at the sound of the kid's voice, but he didn't even have the strength to turn it and face him.

"What happens if she does?" he clarified.

Han wanted to laugh, but even that would take too much energy right now that he didn't possess. He focused solely on the woman suspended inside the tank and said lowly, "She'll tear this whole thing apart. That's what she'll do...that's what she has to do."

Charon was aware of a sensation of floating, also of a sensation of air bubbles escaping from her nose and mouth. She opened her eyes and found herself submerged in a tank, she looked up and realized something was wrong. She had no oxygen, there was no breathing apparatus attached to her, this wasn't bacta, the tank was filled with water, she was drowning!

She tried to see through the glass but it wasn't transparent, she tried beating on the glass with her fists but the water slowed her movements and lessened the blow. If anybody was out there, they couldn't hear her, they couldn't see her, she was going to die in here if she didn't get out. The liquid in the tank stood three feet taller than she was, but something was holding her down. She coiled her legs under her to spring up towards the top to try and open the hatch, after a couple tries it worked, she was able to feel the lid of the tank and beat on it with her fist to get it open and escape. She felt weak, she knew she was running out of oxygen and would be dead soon if she didn't bust out of here. She banged on the top of the tank as hard as she could and finally felt something give way. She sprang up to the top again and was about to push the lid off entirely when some ghastly beast appeared on the top of the tank and tried to slam the lid back down on her, trapping her in her watery grave.

Charon let out a yelp as she shot up in bed, it took a few seconds to process that she was in one of the beds in the sick bay, she was also alone. Letting out a startled sigh of relief, she fell back against the pillow and lay there for a minute, trying to gather her strength to get up, in the process she became aware of a couple things, her hair was damp, the skin on the back of her neck was soaked with sweat, and as she moved she felt nothing between her skin and the bed's sheets. She grabbed two fistfuls of the sheet covering her and looked under it.

"Alright," she said, feeling back to her smug, cynical self, and demanded to know, "Who stole my clothes?"

The sick bay doors opened and Han Solo entered the room. "You're awake."

"I might've known it was you," Charon said as she turned on her side, "up to your perverted games again I see." As the Corellian stepped over towards her bed she asked him in a more serious tone, "What happened?"

"Well, we won," Han offered. "We got 20 dead space pirates piled in the galley freeze until we can dump them on Hoth for an appropriate frozen burial."

"Any casualties on this side?" Charon asked, realizing her whole forehead ached excruciatingly every time she blinked her eyes.

"Some damage to the ship, but not a whole lot more than those droids did on the last trip," he told her.

"And me?" Charon asked.

"The bacta took care of most of it, the medic droid still had to put in a couple stitches."

Charon looked over to the tanks in question and asked, "How'd I get out?"

"Wasn't easy, you came back swinging and about took the whole thing apart trying to get out. Chewie had reach in and fish you out before you got yourself killed in the process."

"That would explain so much," Charon dryly commented as she closed her eyes, any renewed strength she'd previously felt already gone.

"Charon? Charon?"

When she woke up again Charon knew it was later in the day, even though through the windows it was permanently night. She woke up and was met with the sight of Han Solo's back to her as he stared out one of the windows.

"I hate the water."

It was a strange thing to open with, but it wasn't something Han didn't already know. He didn't turn to face her, and just listened at what came next, despite the several hours' rest her voice still sounded weak.

"I've always hated the water. My first memory was of drowning," Charon recalled, "the water was so pitch black you couldn't see an inch over or under the surface...to this day I don't have any idea who it was that pulled me out."

Han glanced down towards the floor as he slowly turned around and told her, "This planet you came from..."

"Styx," Charon said.

"Styx, yeah...sounds like one hell of a place," Han said as he sat down on the foot of her bed.

"It was...to get the hell out of," she replied.

He nodded in understanding. Corellia would always be his home, but there were several reasons why he'd never taken her back to show her his stomping ground.

"You know something, cowboy?" Charon asked tiredly.

"What?"

Charon's eyes were only half open again as she looked at him and said, "I'm starting to remember just why we never worked out together, we're just too much alike, and that makes it too dangerous."

Han said nothing. He didn't have to think about it, he remembered every day. He still remembered the night it all went to hell, just like it was yesterday.

The first thing they'd done with the money Han had found at the cantina was buy a sofa, so they had some place other than the bed to sit on or stretch out on. It helped create the illusion their 3-room home was bigger, a 4-room place, with some credits and some more furniture, it could happen. Han had been down to the dealers to check out the ships available to buy, but the selection on Tarfooth left something to be desired and none of them met his expectations. He didn't care, he'd know the right one when he saw it and when he saw it, he would buy it, he could afford the ship of his dreams now.

It had been a week since they'd come into the money. They were in bed asleep that night, wrapped in each other's arms, happy, in love, content, finally turning things for the better...and then the door was busted down.

The two of them jumped out of bed and saw five intruders all of different species' storm into the house. Han tried to reach his blaster but he was cut off by two of the aliens, Charon ran halfway across the room but was caught by two more.

The apparent leader of the pack, though Han wouldn't realize it for several years, bore an uncanny resemblance to Greedo, stalked over to them and demanded to know, "Where are the credits?"

"What credits?" Han asked, and got his arm twisted so hard it nearly popped out of his socket and he was doubled over in pain.

"Don't play dumb with me," the leader said as he walked right up to the Corellian and practically stepped on Han's chest.

Han groaned in agony and replied, "Who's playing?", all it got him was his arm twisted even harder and he threw his head back screaming, but he wouldn't tell them what they wanted to know.

"So, maybe you won't save yourself," the green alien hissed in his face, and he turned and looked at Charon, "but maybe you'll save your friend."

Han tried to break loose but was pinned on his knees as he watched the leader go over to Charon, roughly grip the back of her skull with one hand and when she opened her mouth to scream, rammed the barrel of his blaster in her mouth and forced her down on her knees as she choked around the metal barrel as it was forced deeper down her throat.

"Alright, alright!" Han screamed, "you win, you'll get the credits. After you let her go."

"We'll let her go after we get the money," he replied.

Han shook his head, "Forget it, pal, if you kill her you'll never see a single credit."

"You're in no position to negotiate, Solo," the alien pointed out.

"Who's negotiating?" Han replied. "It's a simple fact, I can't get the money without her." She pointed over to the wall, "It's in that wall vault behind that panel, it's blast-proof, you'd never be able to get it open, and she's the only one who has the combination."

The alien pushed the barrel down a few more centimeters before jerking it out of Charon's mouth completely, and she doubled over on the floor choking and gasping.

"Very well, get it open," he said as he lowered his blaster but didn't holster it.

"Alright," Han got to his feet, and feeling wobbly on his feet, made his way over to the wall, "I remember the first part of it." He punched some keys on the control board. "T...H...X...Charon, what's the rest of the combination?"

He turned and saw Charon was still doubled over flat against the floor coughing and gasping.

"Charon."

She turned and looked at him and pulled herself up on her knees.

"What's the rest of the combination?" Han asked.

She looked at him, and glanced at the intruders, and told him, "1-8-7!"

Charon threw herself flat against the floor as Han pulled his blaster out of the hidden panel he'd put in the wall, turned on his heel and fired from the hip, taking out the ring leader and catching the others off guard. Charon slid across the floor to the sofa and took out her blaster from the hidden compartment Han had put in it, flipped herself over to a sitting position and fired and fried two more. Between the two of them they got off a dozen shots before anybody could return fire, and then it was over, the bodies sizzling, the smell of charred flesh and scales filled the air along with the smoke.

Once Han realized nobody was getting up, he dove over to Charon on the floor and hugged her. "Charon, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I think so," she answered shakily.

He held tight to her for a minute and tried to think.

"We gotta get out of here," he told her. "I don't know who they were, but whoever sent them won't be far behind. We need to get off this planet and get somewhere they can't find us."

It took a couple minutes for them to actually get to their feet. They made quick work grabbing anything they owned they could carry, there wasn't much, a couple changes of clothes, some hygienic and medical supplies and their blasters. Han knocked the mattress off the bed and revealed the credits hidden underneath. He just about gathered them all up when reality hit. Whoever had this money originally had been willing to kill to get 37,000 credits back, and they might feel inclined to search the galaxy to get it back. He grabbed 6,500 credits and left the rest. People weren't usually petty enough to kill over that amount when they could still recover 30,000. It'd be enough for them to run on until they could land somewhere else and start again, it'd last long enough for him to come up with a plan.

"You ready?" he crossed the room and headed back to Charon, who stood by the door.

She turned and looked at him, an almost blank expression on her face, but her eyes were readable enough to know what it was she wasn't saying.

"I know, I know," he sighed. This was supposed to be their home, it was their home, this was the place they were finally going to put down roots and stop running. And now it was all gone.

"Come on," he said, not enjoying what they had to do whatsoever, "We need to find a ship heading out."

"Let's try the ferry," Charon said determinedly.

They ran through the docking bay and just made it up the boarding ramp in time before the ferry was filled to maximum capacity. They paid their fares and had to take their place among two hundred other people of all assorted species. Han hated ferries, they moved too slow for his liking and there were never enough seats, they were stuck in the standing room only section and braced themselves against the wall as they felt the ship leaving the ground.

Late night flights were usually quiet, everybody minded their own business, nobody talked to anybody else, everybody just wanted to get where they were going, and knowing they were in for the long haul, settled down and tried to rest. Han and Charon slid down against the wall and onto the floor as the adrenaline started to leave them. He put an arm around Charon and pulled her against him and quietly murmured so they weren't overheard, "I'm sorry, Charon."

It was a rare day for the galaxy. In all his life Han Solo had never been too big on taking responsibility for when he screwed up, why should he do that when there was always someone else he could blame? But this time it was all on him. If he hadn't taken the money, none of this would've happened. He had to have known that many credits would've brought people looking for it, he did know, but as much traffic came in and out of the cantina, he never would've guessed anybody could've tied it back to him. That much money, in one place, just ripe for the taking, that was more temptation than a Corellian scammer who'd grown up with just the clothes on his back could resist. And it had nearly gotten both of them killed.

If he'd never found the money, or if he'd just left it where it was, they'd still have a home and they wouldn't be running for their lives. Home. What a sick joke. For once in his life he'd finally found a place he thought settling down on would be a possibility, have a permanent place to stay, all the time he and Charon had spent there, scraping together enough credits to fix the place up bit by bit, and now it was all gone. The only steady home either of them ever had was gone, forever. They could never take a chance of returning, and being hunted down for stealing the money. He had to think, he needed a plan, where would they go now? What were they going to do?

If Charon blamed him for what happened, and he didn't see any way she couldn't, he also couldn't blame her if she did, she didn't say anything. She just clung to him, kissed him and pressed her forehead against his. He generally liked to avoid emotional scenes with women, but he would've preferred it if she'd screamed and hit him for blowing their chances, it would be less guilt to live with.

The night dragged on, hours passed, the ship traveled at a steady rate. Everybody around them had fallen asleep, Charon slumped against Han and her whole upper body draped over his lap. Mentally he was exhausted but he couldn't sleep, he sat there and stayed awake, trying to figure out a new plan. Unfortunately none were coming to him. No matter where they went, their resources were limited, their abilities were also limited, partly due to their severe lack of resources. Anywhere they ended up it would be the same thing, him running scams and fixed card games, Charon picking people's pockets for spare credits, or worse, getting a legitimate low paying job to drudge for 16 hours a day and minimal money.

Every bone in his body felt like a wobbling gel mold, every time he closed his eyes he saw Charon on the floor with the blaster shoved in her mouth, and his mind drew the natural conclusion of what would've happened if they hadn't gotten out of there when they did. They'd had close calls before but never anything this bad. Usually it'd be some mark who found out they were working together, if Han got caught trying to cheat someone, Charon would come up, act like she was busting his afterburners about it all the while secretly removing the money from the mark's pockets, and they'd take off. Sometimes the marks caught on and chased them. Sometimes they had to fight their way out, but again, never anything this bad, things seldom got worse than a common bar brawl. It was never life or death. It had never been kill or be killed. But now that it had happened once, what would stop it from happening again? And what if next time they weren't able to shoot first?

Han felt like he was sick. All the ideas that were suddenly coming to him, none of them had a good ending for either of them.