Disclaimer: See previous chapters.


A Change of Plans: Chapter 7


Pale and still, Luke was asleep in a private room in the medcenter. Apparently, there was still a bit of fear of contagion, so they were keeping him isolated from the rest of the patients. Han had had to convince the droid on duty that he was both fully immunized and conscientious enough not to wake the young rebel in order to enter the room. Now, gazing at the kid's unconscious form, Han wondered why he'd even bothered to come. After all, Luke may have asked for him, but he was pretty much out of commission at the moment, so there wasn't much purpose in Han's being there. In addition, the kid's fever may have broken, but he still looked far too sick and weak to hold any sort of conversation, even if he'd been awake. Feeling stupid for being there, but somehow unable to leave, Han pulled up a chair and waited for some sign from the young rebel.

As he sat and gazed upon the sleeping kid, Han noted that he looked pretty worn. Dark circles rested beneath closed lids that fluttered furiously in some dream-filled sleep. His clothes had been replaced by a medcenter gown that seemed to accent the fact that he was far too thin, and his pale features only made it worse. Had the kid been eating and sleeping at all before getting sick? Han hadn't noticed anything before, but his appearance was far too altered to be solely the result of the illness. Granted, Corellian Influenza was nasty business, but the kid had only been sick for little more than a day. Surely it was impossible to lose as much weight as Luke appeared to have lost in so little time. And the kid hadn't been all that big to begin with. Han frowned at the thought. Just a short while earlier, he'd come to realize that the all-mighty Princess was not as impervious as he'd initially thought. Did perennially cheerful Luke have a hidden dark side as well?

Just then, as if in answer, the kid stirred in his sleep. A slight wheeze accompanied Luke's sharp intake of breath as he shifted, frowning as though in the grip of a nightmare.

"No, please," the kid moaned softly, beginning to tense. Han watched as Luke began to clench his fists, whispering, "Don't."

Han's own expression turned to a frown as he watched Luke in concern. Worried, he gently placed a finger on the kid's forehead, just to make sure that the fever wasn't returning. It wasn't, for the kid was cool, much cooler than he'd been aboard the Falcon a few hours ago. Yet, he continued to moan and toss in his sleep.

"No, don't," the kid continued to plead to someone or something in his nightmare. His head tossed back and forth on the pillow and his frown deepened, as though he was trying to shut out what he was seeing in his dream. "No," he groaned, louder this time, although his illness had turned his voice into more of a croak than a cry.

Han turned his glance toward the door, wondering if he should get the droid into the room, when Luke's sudden cry startled him.

"Uncle O-" Luke's panicked shout died on his lips the split second his eyes flew open, staring in wide-eyed panic at the ceiling. Han watched as Luke's face showed his mind's frantic search to get his bearings.

Han uncertainly placed a hand on Luke's shoulder in an attempt to help him reorient himself. At the touch, the kid flinched and his blue eyes jumped to Han.

Almost instantaneously, the kid relaxed, coughing a little as his breathing slowed at the familiar sight of the smuggler. "Han," the kid's broken voice spoke in relieved tones. "What are you doing here?"

Han's face warmed in self-conscious embarrassment at the kid's obvious delight at seeing him there. "Uh, you asked for me, kid," Han replied, not knowing what else to say.

Luke gave him a puzzled look. "I did?"

Han smirked, feeling a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "Well, that's what the medic said."

Luke shrugged. "Oh, I guess I forgot. Been a rough day, you know."

"You don't say," Han quipped. Satisfied with Luke's weak smile in response, he asked, "So how're ya' feelin'?"

Han watched as Luke seemed to be searching for the appropriate word. "Shredded," the kid finally replied. "That's the best I can do to describe it. But apparently I'm a lot better than I was."

Han smiled at his take on the whole thing. "Believe me, kid, you are." Images of the kid blue lipped and sweating on the Falcon's bunk flashed into his mind, and he added, "A whole lot better."

Luke grinned, his eyes fluttering in weariness and exhaustion.

"I should let you get some more sleep," Han suggested, noting Luke's struggle to keep his eyes open. "The droid out there didn't want you waking up, and I promised I'd let you sleep."

"But you didn't," the kid began before being interrupted by a yawn which turned into a weak cough, "wake me up."

"No, the nightmare did," Han suggested, wondering why he was bothering to get into this in the first place. Surely he didn't want the kid opening up to him! That would get the kid thinking that they were friends, which would only make it harder on him when Han finally left.

Finally? Where did that come from? He wasn't planning on staying around long enough for his departure to warrant a finally! Was he? And why did he care about Luke's feelings?

"It was nothing," Luke muttered dismissively. Han could have sworn the kid looked ashamed.

"You sure?" Han asked. Again, he was forced to question his motives in asking.

Instead of replying vocally, Luke nodded, swallowing back a cough as he did so. "I think I'm going to try to sleep some more, though," he finally managed.

Han nodded. The kid looked like he was losing his battle to stay awake anyway. "Rest easy, kid."

Luke smiled and let his eyes drift shut.

Han moved quietly to the door of the room, feeling more than a little bit protective of the kid, although he still wasn't sure why.

"Thanks, Han," Luke's sleepy voice drifted toward him.

Not sure what he was being thanked for, Han simply turned his head and replied, "You're welcome," before slipping out the door.

And backing into the second person who was complicating his life.

"Han?" the Princess asked in a stunned voice.

"Your Highness," Han politely replied. Best to try to start off on the right foot this time.

He stared at the diminutive princess as she vainly attempted to formulate a response to his unexpected presence in the medcenter. He wouldn't have thought it possible, but she looked even more worn and fatigued than she had earlier. He was sure her small emotional outburst earlier had something to do with it, but she was still trying to present the outward vision of a strong and capable leader. Glassy eyes and darkening patch of skin near the gash on her face which seemed to be blending into the dark circles above her pale cheeks seemed to contradict all her efforts. A frustrated scowl grew on her face as she continued to gaze at Han wearily, still unable to say anything. Feeling it best not to interrupt her search for words, he waited until she spoke.

"What are you-" she began. "I mean, why are you-uh, that is . . .." She frustratedly pushed back an errant strand of hair before finally stammering, "How is he?"

Han jerked a thumb behind him to indicate Luke's room. "Asleep right now. But he should be fine in a few days. Give it some time." He noted the almost miniscule slump of her shoulders in relief, and for the second time that day he worried that she was about to simply collapse in exhaustion. "You look like you could use some rest yourself, your Highness."

Her response was as expected. Drawing herself up, she bit out, "I'm fine, Captain."

Han sighed, his own frustrations and fatigue creeping back up on him. "You know, you're a real piece of work, your Worshipfulness!"

"Me?" Leia demanded.

"Yeah, you!" Han retorted. "You know, you break down earlier, you look practically dead on your feet, and when a guy conveys just a little bit of concern . . .."

"Well, I didn't realize you were being concerned," the Princess shot back. "Normally you are just being condescending. Sorry if I misinterpreted the eloquent words of the marvelous Han Solo!"

Resisting the urge to shoot another barb her way out of genuine regard for her fragile state, he simply replied, "Apology accepted, then, your Worship."

Leia blew out an angry breath and put her hand to her forehead. "Why are you so difficult?"

"Hey," Han countered, "you ain't exactly a stroll through a rose garden yourself, your Highnessness."

"Yeah, well at least I'm someone you can count on when the chips are down, instead of threatening to blast off at every turn."

Han smiled sarcastically. "I haven't left yet, have I?"

She dropped her hand and glared. "What's keeping you?"

"Your charming personality," he drawled.

"Ugh," she groaned. "I don't have time for this."

Han laughed bitterly. "Well, you sure as hell seem to make time every chance you get. Come on, admit it, you're going to miss arguing with me when I'm gone."
"I don't know," Leia shot back, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Leave and I'll send you my report!"

Han shook his head. "You know, I was never very good at doing what people told me to."

Leia continued to glare. "No kidding."

With that, Han took a step closer to her and glared right back. He had two choices, as he saw it. Cut her down right then and there, or try to help her get past this cranky, bitter, frustrated rut she'd gotten herself into. The first seemed most enjoyable, with an immediate payoff and potentially dynamic results. In any other set of circumstances, it would be the only course of action the typical Han Solo would take. However, in his own current state of frustration and pent-up anxieties, the second option looked nearly as promising. Granted, the Princess could be a horrendous pill to swallow; but one had to admit that she was unquestionably beautiful. If he could help her through all this mess that she had gotten herself into, that would put him in prime position as far as she was concerned. So what if the kid had his eye on her? He wasn't going to go after Her Worshipfulness seriously. Just enough to cheer her up and to get him out of this strange alternate reality he had somehow found himself in and become the old Han Solo again.

"You know what you need, Your Worship?" he asked, finally making up his mind.

"Do tell," she countered flatly.

He grabbed her good wrist and began pulling her along the corridor. "Come on, and I'll show ya'."

Ignoring her shouts and her vain attempts to free her arm from his grasp, he headed toward the Falcon.

*****************

"I like what you've done to her."

Han looked at the Princess coldly, trying to ignore her sarcastic remark about his ship, but losing his ability to do so. He still had her by the wrist and was dragging her toward the landing ramp, trying to avoid the dangling cables in the process.

"Han, would you please let me go now?" she hollered icily. "I really don't see what you are-"


Cutting her off, he put a finger to her lips. "Shhhh."

The responding look she gave clearly conveyed the fact that she thought he was utterly insane. However, she didn't say another word as he continued to pull her into the Falcon.

Han was certainly beginning to question his own sanity. It was just as well, for this had most definitely been the craziest day of his life. Tired after spending nine hours nursing a sick rebel, angry for getting into several arguments with his best friend and copilot, and frustrated after dealing with Her Royal Pain-in-the-Neck, he had just about reached his own breaking point. Moving solely on instinct and refusing to sort out the jumbled mass of confusing notions that was his brain at the moment, he headed for the galley. He reached into one of the recently restocked storage units and grabbed a bottle and two glasses by feel before heading over to the holochess table. With little ceremony, he pushed Leia into a seat.

"Sit," he ordered, after seeing her shocked expression and her slight motion to get up.

The Princess only stared at him in disbelief.

Setting the two shot glasses on the table, he quickly uncapped the bottle and poured.

The Princess took that moment to read the label. "Bethalian Whiskey?"

Without a glance at her, he took up his glass. "Yup. Best in the galaxy."

"Is this supposed to be some kind of Corellian seduction?" she intoned sarcastically. "Because I'm not impressed."

Han met her fiery gaze with one of his own, and replied, "Nope. That's what the brandy is for." He winked, explaining, "Just thought I could use a drink." Then he raised his glass in a parody of a toast. "And you could use one yourself, Your Highness," he added before swallowing the contents of his glass and pouring himself another.

The Princess just continued to stare. "You've got to be kidding, Solo."

Taking another shot of whiskey, he asked, "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

Instead of answering, the Princess looked down at her own glass of amber-colored liquid. To Han's utter amazement, she picked up the glass and shrugged her shoulders. Shifting her gaze to his own shocked stare, she toasted, "Cheers, then," and drank it off.

Han laughed in total awe as she shuddered only briefly before setting the empty glass back down on the table. "Whoa, Your Worship! That's pretty impressive."

Leia responded with a smug grin that impressed him even more. "Well, to be honest, Captain, I'm not overly fond of whiskey. I'm usually a wine-drinker, myself." She paused, helping herself to the bottle in order to refill her glass. "But, I'll be the first to admit that it's been a rather trying day."

Han smiled, the warmth of the whiskey in his chest putting him a little more at ease. "I'll say."

They each swallowed their drinks, and Han began to refill their glasses once more. They sat in silence, nursing their drinks for a while before he noticed that Leia was studying him.

"What?"

Leia favored him with a smile that was almost, but not quite, as big as the smiles she normally reserved for Luke. "Thank you," she said quietly.

Han cocked his head, unable to resist the urge to push her buttons, just a little bit. "Is that all I get after all I've gone through today?"

"Yes," laughed the young woman, obviously trying to fight the giddiness that was creeping up on her. "And don't push it, or I'll take even that small token back. Besides, didn't you say that it's the brandy that you use for your more romantic endeavors?"

Making a mental note to offer liquor to Her Worshipfulness more often, Han leaned in. "I think I have some stashed in the aft storage units."

Rolling her eyes, The Princess slapped her palm against his forehead and pushed him back. "Don't even try it, flyboy." Reaching for the glass once more, she emptied it for the third time.

"So, where'd you learn to drink like that?" Han asked, more than a little curious. After all, this was the eighteen year-old Princess of Alderaan here, not some random female he'd met in a bar. He was a little taken aback.

In response to his question, Leia's cheeks colored a bit, and she tried to hide her guilty laughter. "Slumber parties," she finally managed.

"Slumber parties?"

She nodded, her third shot visibly starting to take effect. Or was it only her second shot that was affecting her now? "Winter and I used to sneak into my father's cellar and do a little 'sampling' from time to time."

Han shook his head reproachfully, the action making him a little dizzy after his fourth shot of whiskey. "And here I thought you were dignified."

"I am dignified," Leia retorted, trying to appear as dignified as possible and not succeeding very well.

"You're drunk."

Leia nodded. "Well, that, too." Shaking her head, she added, "Boy, that stuff sure does work fast." She placed her elbows upon the table and leaned her chin on her fists, moving closer to Han as she did. "But that was your plan all along, wasn't it, Captain?"

Han grinned as he stared at her. Even in her current tired and disheveled state, she was still beautiful. Her ease gave her a radiance that he found amazingly attractive. In a girlish sort of way, Han had to remind himself. This was Princess Leia Organa, after all! Seduction was definitely not in the picture right now. Especially not with her in this state. Sure, he'd taken advantage of intoxicated females before . . .and on occasion he'd been taken advantage of as well. But it certainly wasn't in the cards right now. He silently reprimanded himself for even allowing his mind to take that route. Of course, he wouldn't be Han Solo if his thoughts hadn't drifted that way. Her glazed brown eyes bored into him, searching for an answer, and he struggled to word his response appropriately.

"Well, it wasn't to get you drunk," he explained, "but I did want to see you more relaxed. You were way too edgy back there."

"I was not edgy!" she snapped.

Han raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Frowning, she sat back in her seat and folded her arms across her chest. Shaking her head, she murmured, "You wouldn't understand, Solo."

He hadn't expected her to close off so suddenly. Han softened his expression as he moved closer to her. "Try me," he whispered.

Instead of replying, she reached for her glass once again. But Han placed his hand in front of hers, pushing the whiskey and the glasses out of her reach. Defeated, she sank back and shook her head.

"Come on," Han urged, suddenly anxious for her to open up to him, though he couldn't fathom why. "Talk to me."

Again, she shook her head. "No, not now," she answered softly, struggling to stand. She wavered a bit and Han was immediately at her side to steady her.

"Looks like you've had a bit too much to drink, Your Highness," he teased.

"I'm fine," she protested angrily, trying to disengage from his supportive grasp while remaining upright at the same time. "I have work to do."

"Not like this, you don't," Han remarked, refusing to let her go for fear she'd fall to the floor if he did.

"You just don't know when to quit, do you?" she growled.

"Quit what?" Han asked in confusion. "Now I'm sure you're drunk, 'cause you ain't makin' any sense."

Leia spun around to face him unexpectedly, and he quickly readjusted his grip on her shoulders as she lost her balance. "I want you to quit trying to get inside my head, Solo! I mean, it's bad enough having Luke wondering if I'm okay all the time! The last thing I need is a mercenary smuggler who's planning to up and leave at the first available moment trying to ease his conscience by playing the sympathetic ear!"

Han took a step back at her outburst while maintaining his hold on her. At a loss for words, he merely stared at the angry face of the young princess who'd been giggling only moments before. Well, you wanted her to open up, Solo, he told himself as he sought some response to her words.

"I'm sorry," was all he could say.