Not now, not after so long, not now she had found him.

"NO!" Leia screamed. "YOU WON'T DO THIS TO ME!"

With considerable force, and choking back her tears to help him, she pushed his head back and clamped her lips over his, holding his nose.

She breathed for him once, twice, and then settled herself over him. She pushed down over his sternum, fifteen times in rapid succession, the way she had been taught, and then bent to breathe for him once more.

Luke felt a sudden coldness wash over him as the light he had been protecting disappeared. Chewie was bolting toward the crates at the other end of the courtyard and he could just about see the top of Leia's head before she disappeared behind the crates again.

In two well placed leaps, he was there and he settled beside Leia as she pumped Han's heart again.

She bent to breathe for him again and could not stall her tears any longer. Then she tried pumping his heart again.

This didn't feel so bad. It was like swimming, or floating in zero-g. And it was warm. And he wasn't hurting any longer.

"Come on," she whispered, and then fastened her lips to his mouth to try again.

Twelve minutes had passed.

"One," she whispered and lowered her head again. "Two."

Then she got up on her knees. Luke put a hand on her shoulder but she shrugged it off.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen!"

Then back down. Chewie shook his head sadly.

"One…two!"

Then back up.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine-"

Han spluttered suddenly and brought up a throatful of blood with a gasp that sounded as though his lungs themselves were burning.

Leia caught him as his body convulsed and Chewbacca moved forward to take him from her. She wiped the blood off his face as she handed him over and Chewie stood, cradling the blanketed treasure he held as though it were his own, staring down at the thing that lay there with squishy mess where once arms and face had been.

They were going home. And she had what she'd come for.

The medic walked up to Leia and rested his hand on her shoulder.

"Your Highness, we have done our best for him. His heart failed once while we were operating but we managed to get him back. Would you like to see him?"

Leia turned her tear-streaked face toward him and nodded.

When she entered his room, Han was lying in a horizontal bacta tank, his body covered by bruises, cuts, gashes, scrapes and lacerations.

"We have reset his arms and they appear to be working. The fingernails that were missing from his right hand are growing back nicely and the fractures in his face are almost completely repaired. There is, however still a great deal of damage, Your Highness, and the scars, on his back at least, will be permanent."

Leia nodded as she watched the pale form of Han Solo try and move in the bacta, despite the fact that he was unconscious.

His feet and legs kicked weakly and his hands opened and clenched into fists, trying to escape some phantom assault.

She turned away, unable to stomach watching and she ran from the room and toward the nearest 'fresher.

Leia walked into the room.

Han was lying in his bed under a thin sheet, breathing hard and shallowly, an oxygen mask over his pallid face, his lips tinged pale blue. He had clean bandages to protect his wounds now. She pulled one of the chairs up to the side of his bed and settled herself in it. It was dark outside, but would not be for much longer.

She brushed a stray strand of hair from his forehead before resting a comforting hand on the muscle of his chest and sighed.

It had been two weeks since they had returned, three days since they had taken him from the bacta, and Han had not stirred, other than the movement that an occasionally excruciating breath caused him to make.

She watched the only other movement, the only constant movement, which was the irregular rise and fall of his chest as his body struggled fought to breathe.

"Come on, Solo," she whispered.

Everyone sat silently in the lounge.

Luke was staring into the floor.

Chewie was pacing silently.

Wedge was swilling his whiskey in the glass.

Mon Mothma, who had come at once at the news of Han's removal from the bacta, was staring at her steepled fingers.

No one spoke.

No one knew what to say.

No one dared say what they were thinking.

Things looked bad this time.

Leia stared at Han, trying not to think about her lover's condition.

The medic glanced at his chrono.

"Your highness?" he asked quietly.

Leia did not turn, but moved her head slightly in acknowledgement.

"Can I get you anything."

Leia shook her head and went back to watching Han.

"Very well," said the medic quietly, and left.

Leia watched as The medic checked Han's pulse, his breathing, his temperature, anything to provide any good news at all.

"Well?" asked Leia. "The transfusion helped, didn't it?"

"Yes," The medic replied, "and we're all grateful to Wedge for it, but it's just not enough."

"He's fighting though?"

The medic nodded very slightly.

"Unfortunately; a losing battle. I regret to be the one to say it, but...if he doesn't wake up soon then he...probably isn't going to."

Leia shrank a few inches. Her mind raced.

This was Han Solo. She had known him through chases, through explosions, through blaster wounds, through abductions, through imperials, and he was going to die because her?

"But...I mean...isn't there anything you can do?"

"No. I've done all I can. The rest is up to the Gods. There's nothing more I can do."

Leia shot him a glance of pure panic.

"What?" she asked incredulously.

"Even if he does wake up, he may not survive. He needs strength to overcome it, which is something he does not have."

Leia looked down at Han.

"There is nothing left to do now except pray. If his condition…changes...You'll be the first to know."

"I'm sure I will," she whispered, "because I'm not leaving."

Leia looked at Han and wondered if the medics had made the correct decision.

She would hate them forever even if they had, but perhaps it was unkind of her not to accept it.

They had informed her that because his heart had been weakened it could fail and, if it should do so, they would not resuscitate.

If she were here when it happened, then she most certainly would resuscitate!

But it would not be enough, and she knew it.

"Come on, Han, Please," she whispered. "Come back to us."

There was no cold any more, no pain, only a warm light surrounding everything, healing it all.

There was comfort beyond any he had ever felt before, security he had never experienced and a light, a strong white light through a nearby door that beckoned him.

He stepped toward it.

Leia looked up suddenly. Han's life signs had begun to fall.

She grabbed hold of his hand, the tears beginning again.

"Come on, Han, come back."

The lines dipped again and a shrill alarm rang out.

Han reached out to touch the door.

"Come on, Han, come back…"

That sound was a voice, and it was one he recognized but could no longer place. Beside him, the light grew, strong and warm, summoning him, drawing him, telling him to Come Home…

And he knew suddenly that he had a choice.

He could reach forward, step through this door, allow the wonderful warmth and the light to wash over him, to start a new existence, join the greater expanse, be one with the universe.

Or he could turn and go back the way he had come, back down the long black tunnel, away from the healing glow, to the voice that was small and insignificant to the universe that somehow knew his name.

Without any hesitation at all he made his choice:

He mock-saluted the door with a cocky grin, turned, and ran at top speed away from the light, back down the tunnel and toward the voice.

Toward his real home.

Han's eyes flickered open and he found he was staring at a white ceiling. He could hear gentle sobbing and feel the slight vibrations of a woman in distress.

He turned his head and saw Leia with her head buried in her arm next to him. Raising one hand he touched the top of her head with his fingers and smiled weakly.

"Hey, Princess," he managed.

Leia almost smiled and then she burst into tears once more and buried her head in his shoulder this time.

"That's not the usual reaction," he grinned.

She laughed while she cried and gradually quieted.

He stroked her face, never mind that it took all his strength.

"I was so worried Han, I thought you-"

She started to cry again.

"Easy, Princess," he said, his words muffled by the mask.

She laughed a little and nuzzled into his palm.

"Hey?"

She looked up at him.

"Give us a kiss?"

"Why?" she smiled, not really needing a reason.

" 'Cause I need it," he answered, raising a hand to swipe at the oxygen mask.

And she needed it, too.

She kissed him slowly, savoring him, knowing that this was what she wanted, only this.

"I was so afraid you were gonna leave me," she whispered when they finally broke apart.

Han, although he was a little out of breath, said something that puzzled her.

"Then let's make sure that never happens, huh, Princess?"

She frowned.

"What? How?"

He grinned, took her hand and pressed it to his lips.

"Easy," he whispered. "Marry me."

FIN

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So, whaddya think?

I'm working on a sequel and if anyone's interested in this then I'll post it when it's done.

Let me know, guys. I know you're out there!