"I am KeeHeen, mate of Atuarre, father of Pakka and brother of Algara. My family and I are forever in your Solo-General's debt."

Leia looked the Trianii up and down. A tall feline being, he was similar to his brother but not identical and his voice was deeper. The female was slightly smaller and her fur was of a different color altogether. The third Trianii was shorter than both but watched her with wide eyes.

"This," KeeHeen said gesturing to the female beside him, "is my mate, Atuarre. She assures me that Solo-General was a fine man, for I did not know him long. My son, Pakka, he is silent always. He has been mute since the Corporate Sector Authorities interrogated him as a cub. But he has always indicated that Solo-General's generosity and his mind were great. We are all terribly sorry for your loss."

"Th-Thank you," Leia managed in a strange monotone. "Your sympathy is greatly appreciated. It must seem terribly rude of me but I hope you'll excuse me. I need to lie down."

"Of course, Your Highness."

KeeHeen bowed. Leia nodded her own respect and left the room.

KeeHeen turned to Luke.

"I know also that you were very close to him," he said. "His loss is…"

Luke looked up when he stopped talking. KeeHeen was staring at him, puzzled.

"Are you unwell, Skywalker-Commander?"

Luke shook his head.

"No, I…I feel…like there should be something missing…"

"In time you will accept it."

"No, that's not what I mean. There should be a space in the force where Han used to be. Han's light is weak but it's still there."

Leia lay on her bed, their bed, in the Falcon and stroked Han's pillow with her fingertips. Beside the bed was an image of both of them taken during the celebrations on Endor. They were smiling, they were happy, they were together.

She picked it up and looked hard at it but soon it became a blurry mass of color and even Han's smile disappeared. She hugged his pillow close. She could still smell him on it, the musky scent of his skin that she had come to love, and even some of the aftershave he sometimes used.

She tried to recall his face, that winning smile, in some desperate attempt to find comfort. Something cold began to coil itself around her heart and squeeze and, to her utmost distress, she found that, as so often happens with the loss of someone close, she could no longer remember properly what he looked like. And it hurt her.

I love you...

Leia Organa, now never to be Leia Organa Solo, closed her eyes, buried her face and wept.

The light hurt his eyes. That was the first thing that registered. It was bright, it was white and it hurt. But there was no way he was dead. That was too much to hope for. No, there was too much pain for him to be dead.

He attempted to sit up but soon discovered that there were numerous straps crossing his body. He squinted and tried to turn his head but to no avail. He was paralyzed from the eyes down.

Where in hell was he? He felt so tired, his eyelids, so heavy. And whatever he was lying on was by no means soft but it was somewhere to lie nonetheless.

No! Stay awake, Solo!

He knew he had to think about this, about where he was and what had happened…

There had been a speech, Leia's speech, and there had been a crowd. They were all calm enough so what was wrong? Stormtroopers! There had been stormtroopers and…Ah, yes. He had taken that shot for her. Thank the Gods. And then she had escaped and he had lain on the ground on his back feeling the blood rise in his throat with the bile. And he had waited, waited for the growing cold to end the pain.

But he hadn't been allowed that privilege, obviously. He'd been kicked and then someone had called someone else to look at him. And then there was a voice, a voice he knew from long ago…

Krixt Vaux, said that little voice in his head, the one that had been laughing at him that night as he lay with Leia. You remember Krixt Vaux, don't you? General Krixt Vaux, the man you hated and who obviously felt the same about you? Of course you do. He was the one who made your life a misery. He was the one whose words cut the deepest. You remember Vaux. And, tough luck, Solo. He remembers you, too.

"Is he awake?"

Han's open eyes snapped shut. No, he's not awake, no, he's not awake, no, he's not awake!

"He wasn't the last time I checked."

"Well look in on him, will you? The sooner he's awake the sooner we can move him."

"His condition is stable. If you wanted to move him-"

"I want him to be awake. Did you give him the LV?"

"No, but I can if-"

"No. I want him awake for that, too. Lakaya ought to be notified that he's here. She'll have plans for him. She's been looking forward to this almost as much as I have."

Leia stared at that photograph as she lay curled up on their bed. Tears still streaming from her eyes, but silently now. She didn't have the strength to sob anymore.

She rolled over and looked at the clothes he had left draped over the back of the chair and felt her face begin to twist again.

She needed a shower. She was hot, sticky and her face stung. It took every ounce of determination not to just lie there and allow herself to waste away, but she did it, she knew she had to, and made her way to the 'fresher.

"I do not understand, Skywalker-Commander," KeeHeen insisted. "I am told that the Princess herself saw him die. I have, much to my regret, seen the surveillance recordings myself. He used himself to shield her and there was no time to go back for him."

"But there should be a space where his life was. And there isn't. I should feel that he's gone but I don't! We have to go back. We have to see if he's alive!"

KeeHeen glanced at his wife and son, and then at his brother. Then he nodded slowly.

"I will go with you to my brother's house. We will look for Solo-General. When we find him, we will bring him back. Whatever condition he is in."

A hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back.

"So glad you could Join us, Slick," said the man to whom the hand belonged.

"Vaux," Han whispered.

"Ah, you do remember me?"

Han snorted. He was minus his shirt to protect his skin and may have been beaten senseless already and chained to the wall by his wrists, but there was no failing to remember Krixt Vaux.

"How can anyone forget you? I still bring my dinner back occasionally if someone mentions your name."

It wasn't a clever retort, he knew that, and he knew that saying it would probably get him backhanded across the face – which it did – but it felt good to know that he could still get a rise out of Vaux, even after all this time.

"Dear, dear," said Vaux, shaking his head and his now stinging hand. "Still the same old Slick, I see."

"Do you mind?" Han asked, rebellious despite his position. " 'Slick' is a nickname. That means it's something my friends call me."

"Don't you consider me a friend, Slick?"

Han stared hard at the man but smiled almost manically.

"I never considered you more than a worthless slimebag who had more power than he deserved. Or, for that matter, knew how to handle."

"Now, now," said Vaux with a smile as he released Han's head and stalked about the cell. "I wouldn't speak like that to me, Slick."

"Oh? I don't serve under you anymore. In fact, mostly thanks to you, I don't serve under anyone anymore. Actually, I guess I do owe you for that one."

Vaux laughed.

"You will be of great use to us."

"Why?" asked Han. "What do you want? Ransom?"

Vaux laughed again.

"What use is money to us? No, no. We don't want ransom. We want to know something. And regardless that you no longer obey me, I will have what I need to know. Eventually…"

"Oh yeah?" Han scoffed. "And what's that?"

"I want to know," said Vaux with a sickening smirk, "just what information the princess is supposed to give Algara."

Han shook his head.

"That's Senator Algara. And Her Royal Highness is the only one the information was given to."

"And dear Mon Mothma would put her in so much danger?"

Han felt his blood boil. No! This man would not stir these feeling in him. Not again.

"Mon Mothma was actually minimizing the danger by telling only one person. But then I'm sure you knew that."

Vaux smiled and changed the subject.

"There's someone I'd like you to meet, Slick. She's dying to meet you."

Leia went into the cockpit with one of Han's shirts over her tiny frame. It was long enough to almost reach her knees and it was warm.

She had dried her hair after washing it – with Han's various soaps and cleansers – and it rested free and flowing on her shoulders. And it smelled like him.

She walked around to his chair and looked at it for a moment. There was now a permanent impression in it, roughly Han shaped. She curled up in the chair, not cold, but not warm either, and tucked her legs up underneath her, pulling the shirt right down over her knees until it covered her small feet again. Then she stared at the controls.

His hands would play across them with lightening speed, calculating and defending, and he would. It was here that some of their more heated conversations had transpired but she always loved watching him work.

Leia closed her eyes and imagined she could hear him. She began to cry again as she realized that she still could not call his face to mind. She curled up in his seat, closed her eyes and, after weeping herself into exhaustion, fell finally into dreams.

"She can't feel me at the moment," Luke said, quietly picking his way through the dead. "So she doesn't know I'm here."

"She would be angry if she did?" asked KeeHeen.

"Maybe."

"Why can you not contact her?"

"I'm not sure," Luke replied, "but when I tried to use our link it was kind of blurred, kind of fuzzy, kind of…numb."

"That is understandable."

"Yeah, but there's something going on here. Something isn't right. I mean, why is his light still there? The surveillance monitors cut out after she left; I think the troopers hit the power generator, but…I don't know. I can feel something."

Han stared at the tall dark haired woman Vaux had brought into his cell.

"And who in all seven hells is this?"

"Manners, Slick. I'm sure you've heard of the Ch'thorians?"

Han thought for a moment and came up with his answer. Ch'thorians were beings incredibly skilled in erotic arts and had hair that - uncut after puberty - was semi sentient and thereby capable of caressing, grasping, tickling and generally adding a whole new dimension to nocturnal
activities.

"Yeah, I heard of 'em. What do you want with her? The wife not satisfying?"

Vaux ignored the last comment.

"She requested that she be the one permitted to torture you. She was quite taken with you when she first saw your face on the holos. Lakaya is a Ch'thorian and an expert in her field. I will have that information from you, Solo."

He left the cell and closed the door behind him. Han looked at her. Her hair, deep purple, was flicking about in search of someone to caress. Her dark eyes were open wide. She smiled and held up a hypo. Han swallowed hard.

"Do you recognize this?" she asked.

There was an odd reddish liquid in the container that was attached to the hypo.

Han did not answer her.

"This is Lytisil Verithinine, a pain enhancing drug. I can put enough into your body so that you will pass out from the prick of a needle. But, of course, the beauty of Lytisil Verithinine is that it won't let you stay unconscious. I can make your agony last for years and you will be awake through it all. But only if you don't tell me what we want to know."

She looked up at him from beneath long lashes and began to stroke his bare shoulder.

"Will you tell me?"

Han scowled.

"Much as I'd like to, I don't know anything."

She smiled in return.

"Then I advise you keep still. This will hurt, General Solo. A great deal. You may even cry out. But then…"

She leant down close to his ear.

"…I've always wanted to make you scream."