TW references to sexual violence. Another follow-up to Sweetheart, also somewhat related to Orbit C5: Out There.

Night Watch

"Is that my shirt?"

The first time it happened in front of him it was that first overnight mission after Yavin, a supply-run-cum-Intel situation, and coincidentally the first time the group of them had been really reunited for an extended period after their now well-known Death Star escapades. Him, Chewie, the kid and the princess, back on the Falcon, bickering and strategizing and goofing off, playing like old friends even though it'd been just a month, really, that they'd all known each other.

And because he had been in the cockpit contemplating all this, this weird new life of his, gazing out at the streaks of light streaming past them while everyone else slept, he was the last one there when it started – the princess, screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night.

He was quick, though – locking the navigational controls and flipping off his blaster's safety and racing to her cabin – his cabin, right, she was staying his cabin because Luke was in the crew's – where Chewie and Luke were already outside the door, Luke in his pajamas pounding on it and frantically calling her name. Sweet kid, really – taking the time to knock – say "Leia? Leia? What's happening, Leia, can you open the door?

And still that voice, screeching, words finally discernable: "Please no! PLEASE!"Gasping for breath, throat-scraping, voice-cracking: "DON'T! Please – I hate it, please––"

He overrode the lock and shoved in immediately, blaster drawn, Luke and Chewie crowding into the tiny cabin after him. In about two seconds it became clear that there was no threat: just the princess, thrashing in her bed – his bed – and slamming herself against the wall over and over and still crying out, now hoarse, tears streaming: "Please, I hate it, DON'T, please!"

He didn't know what made him jolt back as if stunned but he did, jerking backwards with wide eyes and almost crashing into Chewie as Luke rushed forward and knelt on the bed beside her: "Leia, Leia, you're dreaming! Wake up, wake up!" She was mostly unintelligible now, just crying, still slamming herself and when Luke tried to reach out for her shoulder to stir her or something she jerked away and then Luke was looking to Han and saying, "I think she's gonna hurt herself, help me!" and Han was staring back at him, still wide-eyed, likeI don't want to get involved with whatever the hell is happening here, but she kept thrashing and Luke said "Han, please!"

And then he was shoving Luke aside and kneeling on the bed and barking, "Hey, Your Highness, you're dreaming, you're safe, c'mon now, wake up for me, you're safe, c'mon," and he grabbed her shoulders and wrenched her to sitting position and held her there firmly, kept saying, "Wake up, princess, you're okay, wake up––"

And then just before he was considering getting water to pour on her or gods-forbid giving her a light slap, her eyes snapped open. Pupils enormous, gaze frantic, trembling, her hands went right up to his neck without hesitation, and then Chewie was roaring but he was saying "It's fine, it's fine, she's fine" because suddenly Han knew exactly what this was, and he put his hands over hers and very gently moved them from his neck into her lap.

She jolted back, still seeming stunned and out of it, and he watched her take in the three of them crowding into the tiny room before shoving back into the furthest corner of the bunk. She yanked the sheet up to her chin, her knuckles white, and yes, he thought as he scooted backwards on the bed to give her space, he knew exactly what this was.

"Chewie, go – take over on the controls – kid, just – go get her some water alright?" he barked out, then cringed as she cringed at the severity of his tone. "Just – everyone clear out, now," he finished, trying to make his voice a little softer. He kept his eyes trained on the princess, who was fidgeting in her corner, pupils still too dilated, chewing fiercely at her lip, as Luke and Chewie filed out. He struggled as he tried to to anticipate anything that might set her off – was everyone clear out too – "Leave the door open," he added gruffly, and something swept across her face briefly, he was sure of it – gratitude? Relief?

Leia let the blanket fall to her lap and wiped her eyes, fussed with her hair, looked away. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice low and quivering even as she attempted something like formality. "I didn't mean to cause a scene."

"Not a problem," he said, not moving from his spot a little ways beside her. "Could've given us a head's up though."

"A head's up?" she said, her trembling voice high and breathless.

"That you get nightmares like that. Thought someone was––" He changed tactics mid-sentence – "Thought you might've been in some real trouble."

"Well, now you know," she whispered. "It isn't – they're not always – it's often stress…"

"Right," he said, nodding curtly.

"It's only since––"

"Yeah I figured. Not a big deal, it happens."

"Yes," she agreed, but she was rapidly moving somewhere inside her head, he could tell, her eyes growing vacant and deadened…

"Hey," he interrupted quickly, before she slipped away, "is that my shirt?"

It took her a second to come out of herself. "… what?"

"You're wearing my – really princess, sleepin' in my bed, wearin' my shirt? Wouldn't want folks to get the wrong idea."

She didn't smile, didn't take the bait. "I wanted something with sleeves," she murmured. "The Alliance-issued is a camisole, and… I don't m-m-mind when alone, but – I'm sorry…"

"D'worry. Keep it, suits you. Can – keep it here, for when you're here," he said, trying to keep his voice relaxed and easy. Trying not to think about how the fuck was he doing this, who did he think he was that he could handle this sort of thing, since when was he the kind of person who coaxed princesses through – whatever that was – night-terror-rape-flashback? Given what she'd screamed plus that hissing comment never to be elaborated upon – "with stormtrooper semen in her hair before you call me sweetheart!" – holy fucking shit, he'd thought as she stormed away as quickly as she'd approached him, finding himself inspecting her gait for – what, exactly, he didn't know – and she never mentioned it again but – holy fucking shit––

Luke tapped lightly on the door and when she gave him an almost – desperate look, like she was begging for something – instantly he realized Luke didn't know anything about this. That she knew Luke didn't know, and that he did – who did he think he was that he could handle this sort of thing? And why him – why had she told him––

He stood up and walked over swiftly to take the cup. "Thanks, kid," he said gruffly, blocking the view of the still trembling, still pale princess wearing his shirt, pulling his sheet up over herself like armor. What had she screamed? Please no, please no – I hate it, please stop.Gods dammit, he couldn't get that voice out of his head. Something like that to that tiny – girl, she was just a girl, fuck––

"Can I – Leia, hey, are you okay?" Clearly Luke was wary of him taking the lead on this, he didn't begrudge him that, why him, her and Luke were practically chums, why––

"I'm okay!" she called out in a quivering high-pitched sing-song, like she was from somewhere else, like she really wanted him to think everything was alright but couldn't keep her voice under control enough. "I'm fine, Han is just – we're just having a good – a g-g-good talk."

"It's under control," Han said flatly. "Go on back to sleep."

"Han…" Luke said in a low voice. "Maybe I should…"

"It's really okay," she was calling, her voice that soprano still, "please go back to sleep, Luke, I'm so sorry to have woken you."

Luke sighed. "Alright. Please wake me up if you need anything, okay? Please?"

"I will," she called, her voice cracking.

"Leave the door open," Han said, and returned to sit beside her, handing her the cup of water. "Drink slow."

"Thank you," she said softly, and she did.

"Do you uh…" he said slowly, re-folding his hands over and over in his lap. Why him – what did he know – how could he possibly say the right – "Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head slowly, looking down. "I – can you just tell me what – can you tell me what I said?"

He looked at her carefully.

Her tone was professional but he could tell she was fighting back something like tears. "I need to know what I said. So I can – I don't want – I don't want word to – to spread, or anything…"

"Nothin' specific," he hedged. "Just – you know, 'no.' But that could be anything – you were – you were fucking tortured for information, princess, and people know that."

She nodded to herself. "Anything – anything else? Sometimes I – b-b-bargain?"

"You… bargain?"

"I say um – I've been told I say… – say just because he d-d-d-did doesn't mean you d-d-do – you don't have t-t-to – I won't t-t-tell and haven't you d-d-d-done enough, or––"

She was shaking in earnest, hands flying to her face, and he cut her off – "Understood – none of that, none of that. Nothing like that. Everyone was just worried 'cause of the screaming, that's all – no one is gonna think anything."

"Except you," she mumbled from behind her hands, rocking back and forth.

"'Cept me, and I don't think anything of it. Alright? Never said a thing to anyone, never going to, doesn't – change how I – see you or anything…" He was grasping desperately at cliches, he knew, his voice sounding stilted and performative and flat and still she was rocking and covering her face like a parody of – of shame, she looked so – ashamed, that broke him, what did she have to be ashamed of?

"Hey now," he said awkwardly, carefully moving closer to her like she was some wounded, wild thing. "Hey now, princess… c'mon now…"

"I'm sorry," she was whispering, "I'm so embarrassed, I'm so sorry––"

"Stop that, here, okay? S'alright if I––" He very, very slowly moved to put his arms around her and she melted against his chest instantly, moving to be tight up against him, and after a moment of hesitation he held her tight.

"Shh, now. Shh… you're alright, you're okay, don't be embarrassed. I got you, you're okay…" Words he'd never imagined would come out of his mouth, never mind directed towards a teenage princess in his arms, and yet they came so naturally it was uncanny – like he could tell what she needed – he liked to think he could tell what she needed…

"I'm s-s-s-so very sorry, I didn't m-mean to disturb everyone, I'm s-s-sorry, I didn't mean to make a s-s-scene…"

He found himself stroking her hair, rocking her back and forth gently. "No scene, didn't make a scene, you're alright. I got you, you're alright. Nobody's mad, nobody's bothered. You're okay." He could feel her snot and tears soaking the front of his shirt, could feel her trembling in his grasp – "I got you, Leia, you're okay."

She pulled back for a moment, her face red and bloated and tear-stained and streaked with snot – "You called me Leia," she whispered, her face breaking into a shaky smile.

"Yeah, well. Don't get used to it, I don't want to wear it out."

"If I'd known it took me screaming in the night…" she teased quietly, her voice trembling and hiccuping but the flow of tears seeming to slow.

He resisted the abrupt, startling urge to kiss her hair, instead petted her braid softly. "Like I said, don't get used to it."

She rested her head back against his chest for awhile, then murmured, so soft he almost missed it – "Could you stay? In case it – happens again, tonight?"

He tried to play it off as though it weren't breaking his heart, how small she sounded, how tired. "It is my cabin, princess."

"Even if you just – sat on the edge here? While I… I know it isn't the most comfortable, but…" He could see her face stinging with embarrassment at sounding so weak and it broke him again.

"Hey, beats Chewie's hammock," he said lightly, helping her to lie down like it was no big thing and settling into a decently comfortable position sitting on the space by her feet.

"Thank you," she whispered, shutting her eyes, and he shut his too, if nothing else to reassure her that he was comfortable.

Like hell he was going to sleep. In the morning he did his best to act otherwise, and anyway she'd brush him off as though nothing had happened so there was that, but the truth was he was up all night, keeping vigil, watching for any sign of distress. Didn't know why she'd told him, why she'd trusted him this way, him of all people, but strangely honored that she did. And determined not to make her regret it.