For Leia, those few terrifying moments unfolded with excruciating slowness. She recognized the bounty hunter's intent a second too late, though she willed her hand to draw her weapon faster than she ever had before. Even as she moved her arm into position, she saw her opponent fire his blaster. An eerie calm settled upon her as she prepared for certain death. At least I made a contribution, she thought. At least I found love.
Determined to protect the object of her love, she focused on her target. Maybe she could get the shot off before she was hit. So intent was she that she never saw Han dive to shield her. Leia took aim, squeezed the trigger, and heard the sickening sound of an energy blast ravishing its victim. Pain tore through her body, though she felt strangely disconnected from it.
"Han!" she screamed, knowing instinctively that it was his pain that she experienced, not her own. She vaguely registered the sight of her assailant falling over the cliff, but her attention was quickly consumed by the seemingly lifeless form of Han Solo lying on the ground in front of her. She immediately dropped to her knees, desperate to save him.
Shifting into crisis mode, she temporarily banished the grief that threatened to overwhelm her. She grabbed the med kid from her pack and methodically began assessing Han's wounds. She administered a hypo of anti-shock medication and cursed the lack of useful medical supplies in the kit. She then covered his body with the thermals she had packed for them at the last minute.
Han opened his eyes for just a moment, looking at her with a mixture of sadness, relief, and love. His strength failing, he whispered, "I love you, Leia…forever."
Sensing that he was giving up, Leia's detached composure melted into an anguished stream of tears. She clung to his body, willing her strength into him. "I won't let you die, Han! I won't! I love you too much to let you go now."
Minutes turned into hours, and the inky gloom of night descended upon them. Leia barely noticed the darkness and its accompanying chill, though she dutifully switched on her light stick in order monitor Han. As he began to shiver from the cold, Leia snuggled up to him, desperately trying to infuse his body with warmth.
She could not think, she could not feel…she only existed to keep him alive. Every fibre of her being was focused on his health, her energy supply becoming the lifeblood of his existence. Yet, even as her strength seemed to stabilize his body's vital signs, the essence of Han seemed to slip farther and farther from her grasp.
"I won't let you go," became her mantra through those long hours, but the more she tried to control the situation, the worse it seemed to become. Only on the brink of physical and mental exhaustion did Leia begin to recognize her own needs. As the cold night air numbed her body and fatigue overcame her mind, Leia begged softly for assistance. Reaching out to Han with her mind, her heart and her soul, she pleaded, "Han, I need you. Please come back to me." She then thought no more, as sleep finally overtook her consciousness.
The all-encompassing darkness strained to hold onto its mastery of the universe. Yet, try as it might, it could not combat the assault of a million tiny pinpricks of light. Faced with defeat, the darkness chose to make an agreement with the light, begrudgingly sharing the space that it had once owned exclusively.
As the illumination intensified, Han Solo found himself floating freely through his favorite part of space, the Heclius sector. Like most spacers, Han had been entranced by its siren song, barely escaping Heclius' clutches on at least three separate occasions.
The sector was arguably the most beautiful part of the galaxy, yet certainly one of its most dangerous areas. Spacefaring captains were often mesmerized by its kaleidoscope of color, compelled to explore the phenomenon by some inexplicable force. Spurred on by the power of beauty and the intoxication of discovery, shipload after shipload of sentient beings were devoured by the toxic corrosion of Heclius' shifting gases.
Even now, Han Solo could not resist the attraction, willing himself to move, to feel the patterns before him. Something was different this time, however. At his touch, the patterns shifted and glowed, dancing at his command. He found that he could move freely through the sector, racing through the currents at breakneck speed or gliding in harmony with the forces around him. On a whim, he thought of Igotua and found himself hovering above the surface of the majestic planet.
Han had never felt more powerful, more connected, more in tune with the world around him. This was the complete freedom he had been searching for all his life. He had no worries and no fears--he controlled his destiny, his world, his universe.
Yet, as he sped through the galaxy, slaloming through asteroid fields and diving through suns, something pulled at his consciousness, begging him to remember. He heard the echoes of a voice, a song familiar, yet distant and unclear. As he strained to understand the lyrics, the refrain became more distinct. "I need you," called a sad, melodic voice. "Please come back to me."
"Come back to who?" he wondered. Then he saw her, a spirit brighter than any star in the universe. He could not remember her name, but Han knew he had a difficult decision to make—he must choose either complete freedom or absolute love.