A/N; Sorry it's been such a long wait.
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prisoner; chapter iii
—the corridor
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Gotta get away… Han looked dazedly around, there was a fine mist thick enough so that he couldn't see more than five feet in front of him, but thin enough around him so it didn't feel like moisture. He could here it back there, the thumping of its gargantuan feet.
He moved faster through the rebel base on Hoth.
When he got close enough to the walls, the sights would make any one sick. There were rebels scattered along the ground. Some were hanging on the wall; around their necks were… ropes. The nooses cut sharply into the dead flesh. The ropes had been severed about a foot away from the noose, and they had been tacked up cruelly, like dolls. The cloying, revolting scent of the dead filled his nostrils. The twisting corridors seemed to go on forever—twisting and turning this way and that.
Running blindly through the unfamiliar corridors, the thick fog didn't part until he ran smack into dead body, hanging in the dead end. With a horrified expression, he clambered to his feet, trying to see the face of the poor soul.
He looked up into the very large and very lifeless eyes of himself.
Screaming, he frantically searched for another hall, anywhere away from the sight before him and that thing that was chasing him. Seeing what could have been a corridor he blindly headed down it. He could hear it behind him, getting closer even as he ran faster. He stopped, crouching down to catch his breath; he suddenly felt a cold sensation come over him.
Slowly he stood, not wanting to turn, but his eyes started to move against his will. Ever so slowly his head started to turn…
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Luke was sitting next to the prone figure of his unconscious friend. He was lost in thought, thinking about the connections between Vader, these bounty hunters and Jabba. So lost in thought was he that the first time Han moved, in what seemed like hours, he didn't catch it.
The second time though, snapping back into reality, Luke caught the movement. Storing the thoughts in the back of his mind, he focused his attention on Han.
Han was moving in his sleep, groaning and had labored breathing. Luke knew that it was not a fevered sleep, so he did not worry too much, everyone had bad dreams. But when a piercing scream echoed through the quiet of the cell, Luke jumped. Turning and seeing Han tossing and turning, he gently tried to shake him awake. Getting no response, he was going to use the force to probe Han's mind but, seeing that his friend had settled down, stopped.
Suddenly, a scream like no other escaped Han's lips as he jerked awake. Groaning from the pain in his ribs, Han wearily sat, propped against the wall.
• • •
Mandala paced the cell restlessly. This was harder than he originally thought. Jabba had promised 9,000 credits for the delivery of Han, and Vader had promised to match that plus some for the information on the location of the Rebel Alliance. But they hadn't planned that Luke would put up any kind of fight, let alone manage to kill is fellow bounty hunter. Lord Vader had forewarned him that Luke could use the force, but obviously they didn't know how much Kenobi had taught him.
This, he decided, would cost some extra credits. Making his decision, he ordered a guard to turn on the computer console and contact Lord Vader.
"Yes." The visage of the dreaded Lord Vader appeared on the monitor. Mandala, who could usually stare down an angry rancor, felt his insides turn to jelly.
"Ahghem. Yes, Lord Vader, I have successfully captured Skywalker and Solo. There is only one problem in the process of taking them, my friend was killed, and I will need compensation."
"Compensation."
"Yes, my Lord."
"I see, you do not think that I am paying you enough?"
"No, the pay is fine." Mandala answered, fearful of making this… man… angry.
"Then I do not see the problem."
"I'm sorry that I have disturbed you, my Lord, I will report to you as soon as I find out the location of the Rebels."
"Good."
The imposing image of Vader flickered off the vid screen, Mandala sighed in relief that he managed to get out of the situation without Vader using his infamous force-choke on him.
No luck in the credits department though. Well, not yet, maybe Jabba could help him with that.
A half-hour, and one call to a Hutt lord on a small useless Outer Rim planet, later Mandala felt well since he had secured an extra 2,000 credits for the death of his partner.
• • •
Han half-lay half sat against the wall. Watching in fascination as Luke attempted to heal his foot using the force. Although Han was not a force sensitive Luke said that it should work.
Why is this not working? Luke thought. Since he isn't a force sensitive it won't start erasing it miraculously, but it should start a healing process. Why am I not seeing any of that?
Luke sat back on the floor, trying to think of why nothing was happening. Luke noticed something strange, when trying to heal another using the force; one would normally feel it flow through them like water through a gate. But that was not happening.
Suddenly, Luke felt a terrible, piercing chill stab up his spine. He shivered, leaning against the filthy wall. He tried to center his breathing.
"Are you all right, buddy?"
Luke didn't answer for a moment. He felt the blood rush from his head. "I think you're the one that's… not all right, Han," he breathed. His fingers trailed to his neck, feeling around his clammy skin. He was not fine. "I'm fine. I think—we should focus—on getting out of here. They're not going to stop torturing us until we tell them whatever they want. We have a better chance if we just… try to escape."