Not A Nice Man

by SoloFalcon

Han lets his own life experiences help Leia and Luke deal with the losses in their lives. Set shortly after the battle of Yavin, between A New Hope and Empire.

May we all walk in the Light…with the Force as our Ally.

Not A Nice Man

By SoloFalcon

"You like me because I'm a scoundrel. There aren't enough scoundrels in your life."

"I happen to like nice men…"

"I'm a nice man."

-- Han & Leia, ESB

"Well, Chewie, if we're lucky we'll be able to head outta here in the next couple'a days."

Han Solo's voice rang with satisfaction as he walked with sure strides toward the entrance that led from the hanger deck into the depths of the Massassi temple on Yavin 4. His eyes never rested as he continually scanned the immediate area for any sign of threat, his well-honed sense of caution unrelenting although he was supposedly among allies.

The sky outside the hanger was darkening quickly as Yavin slipped below the moon's horizon, its radiant glow fading as it marked yet another day ending for the beleaguered Rebel Alliance. Han sighed. Another day closer to the final evacuation of Yavin and, he glanced around the hanger that was scurrying with motion, the Rebels were still attempting to scrounge together enough functional ships to off-load their precious base.

He shook his head, thinking of the organizational meeting he'd slipped into with quiet stealth only a day ago. His presence going unnoticed in the back of the room, he'd listened as the bureaucrats had debated endlessly over just how the evacuation should be handled. He'd watched with silent disbelief as argument after argument was presented, dismissed, and was re-presented.

He smiled slightly as he remembered the bewildered blue eyes that had unerringly met his from across the room. The kid had a lot to learn, but he'd gotten a crash course on how things didn't get done when they were discussed in committee.

His smile edged into a smirk as he replayed the shocked and outraged glowers he'd received when he, Han Solo, a no-account smuggler and hero-by-default, had rudely broken into the meeting with just that pithy observation. Luke had hidden a grin behind a suddenly raised hand while, from another part of the room, a pair of dark brown eyes had pinned him. Shooting him a stare that was at first narrowed in irritation, the Princess had pressed her lips together hard to stifle her own threatening smile, her eyes darting away to hide the amusement glinting in them.

He grinned as he recalled the way she had quickly buried the laughter dancing in her gaze and had taken advantage of the distraction and uproar his unwanted opinion had created. With quiet but unyielding firmness, she had gained the attention of the people in the room who were not screaming bloody murder about his snide comment. These few, Mon Mothma and Crix Madine among others, were the ones who truly realized the danger the Alliance was in and who wanted to make a swift decision.

As the upstart Corellian was unceremoniously escorted from the council room, he'd caught a glimpse of Princess Leia's face as she turned for a brief moment, her eyes catching his. The wink he gave her was unsurprisingly cocky but, knowing that his interjection into the meeting had given her the opening she'd needed, Leia didn't object to the gesture.

Instead, she'd surprised the smuggler by flashing him a quick smile and a wink of acknowledgement in return. She was beautiful when she let herself react naturally instead of playing the part of the Senator Princess, Han let the thought drift across his mind briefly before he quickly relegated it to the depths of his subconscious. He ignored the nagging little voice that whispered quietly into his mind. Who are you kidding, Solo…she's beautiful…period.

Next to him, Chewbacca watched the play of emotions that flitted across Han's face. They would never have betrayed the pilot's thoughts to someone who didn't know him well, but to Chewbacca, they were only too easy to read. His teeth flashed in a Wookiee grin as he recognized the faraway glint in the pilot's eyes.

That glint, coupled with Han's unconscious grin, afforded Chewbacca with much amusement. The knowledge that Han Solo would be highly embarrassed, totally outraged, and even more defensive if he knew that his thoughts were being telegraphed so loudly to his Wookiee sidekick sent a spurt of devilish glee through the pilot's friend. Chewie briefly considered letting Han know but then shook his head. The subtle hunt is the one most enjoyable, the Wookiee proverb sprang to mind.

Hiding his smile at the thought, Chewie decided to have a bit of fun at his partner's expense. His blue eyes suddenly pinned his friend with a deliberately suspicious stare. He was careful to erase any laughter from his expression as he lowed a wry observation that was sure to pry beneath Han's shielding and get a reaction from him.

"Yeah, yeah. I know." Chewie's hidden hilarity raised a notch as Han's gaze suddenly went into evasive maneuvers. "I just wanna make sure we've got everything running without a hitch on the Falcon before we jet outta here."

A loud crash from across the hanger echoed deafeningly, overpowering the knowing chuckle from the Wookiee as he matched his friend and partner stride for stride. Although his friend's amusement went unheard, the laughter dancing in the seven-foot tall anthropoid's gentle blue eyes earned him a glare and a sneer from Han.

"Look, furball, I dunno what you think is so funny…"

Chewbacca bared his teeth and snorted a few words. Han Solo stopped in his tracks, rising temper bringing gold-flecked sparks to his hazel eyes as he rounded on his friend. "I am not stalling!" he yelped indignantly, planting his hands on his hips and leaning back so that he could glare up into his partner's face. "Why in the nine hells would I wanna stall? You think a rundown Massassi temple on this backwater planet is where I want to be?"

The knowing smirk on Chewie's face raised Han's temper another notch but, before he could open his mouth to continue, Chewie let out a groaning chuckle and elaborated at length. The barks, yowls, growls and grumbles were incomprehensible to most humans, but to Han Solo, they were as clear as plas-steel…and as unwelcome as a Mynock infestation.

His eyes narrowed with temper, Han took a step nearer the tall Wookiee and jabbed an accusatory finger under his snout. "I am not stalling. And I sure as hell'm not sticking around because…" He broke off abruptly, fumed a moment, and then re-entered the fray, taking a different tack. "We got our reward, and the supply clerk said they got the parts we need…so as soon as we get'em on the Falcon…we're outta here!"

Chewie stifled a snort as he recognized the typical Solo maneuver. When the enemy gets too close to home, feint sideways and attack from a different angle. He carefully pasted a disbelieving look on his face and gave a grunt that brought an impatient huff from Solo.

"Awww…just pipe down, ya furry oaf."

"Ah-hem, excuse me…" The request came from Han's left, the quiet firmness of the feminine voice breaking into Han's determined glower at his partner.

Han blinked twice and turned his head slowly, his hazel glare meeting a steady gaze directed at him. Irritation with the Wookiee rapidly found a new target. His voice was rude and belligerent as he snapped, "What?" His eyes dared Leia to take up the proffered gauntlet of antagonism.

He wasn't disappointed. Her slight frame stiffened, her shoulders going back as cool disdain filled her voice. "You're blocking the entryway, flyboy."

Han glanced to either side of himself, noting with a carefully schooled expression of false surprise the less than half-a-meter space around him and his Wookiee co-pilot. So intent was he on attempting to irritate the haughty bit of aristocracy standing in front of him, he didn't notice the curious tilt of Chewbacca's head as his friend carefully studied the expression on Leia's face. Instead, he turned a sardonic smile on the young woman who was standing expectantly nearby, folded his arms in an obstinate gesture, and widened his stance in a deliberate effort to take up even more space.

With a snide tone of revelation, he drawled, "Well, by the suns, Your Worshipfulness, looks like you're right." Han's hazel eyes sparked with irritation and gleeful satisfaction, knowing that he would be blasted by a scathing retort and welcoming the diversion.

Chewbacca's comment that he was sticking around the Rebels for two very specific reasons had scored a direct hit earlier, but he wasn't about to let the big lug count coup on the accusation's accuracy. A battle royale with the Rebellion's warrior Princess was just the distraction he needed to divert Chewie's attention. And, Han admitted with a twinge of unease as the thought crept in uninvited, it also might just be enough to keep you from thinking too deeply about the real reasons you haven't lifted ship already.

Han blinked, refocusing his gaze on Leia's upturned face. Waiting expectantly for the stinging set-down he knew would be forthcoming, he frowned as the woman before him sighed heavily and closed her eyes in an expression of weary resignation. His frown grew darker as she re-opened them, the brown depths shadowed as they focused blankly on his face. Then, with a shake of her head, she raised one hand, opened her mouth to speak, thought twice about it, and closed it again, her lips compressing into a thin line.

Puzzled, Han blinked in bemused surprise as he realized that he was now staring at a blank expanse of wall that had been behind the Princess. He turned his head in time to see her slip into the narrow space between his left side and the wall of the temple, her slender form making only the slightest contact with his arm as she edged past him.

His frown was replaced by a scowl as he realized he'd been summarily dismissed and ignored. His arms dropped from across his chest and he planted his fists on his hips. "Hey!" His indignant yelp brought no response from the figure that was steadily making her way across the hanger deck, heading toward the open bay doors.

Something in the set of her shoulders, a tenseness that didn't quite hide the defeated slope of them, erased the scowl of injured pride on Han's face. Confusion, and then concern, took its place. His brows knitted in befuddlement as he spoke in a low mutter to the Wookiee at his side, "Something ain't right here, Chewie…"

Chewbacca gave a non-committal lowing moan as he watched Leia's progress across the hanger. Concern laced his own voice when he finally replied to his partner's comment. His blue eyes left the Princess, dropping to find the pilot staring after the woman with genuine worry on his face.

"Yeah…you're right. She should'a lemme have it with both blasters…"

As Leia stepped around the edge of the massive hanger bay doors and disappeared into the moon-shrouded night beyond, Solo's expression firmed, his chin jutting with stubborn determination. Impulsive to the last, Solo left Chewbacca's side in a rush.

Two strides away, he half-turned to call back to his partner, "Go on and get the parts from Supply. I'll meet you back at the Falcon and we can work on her tonight."

Chewbacca yowled an affirmative after his friend. Solo raised a hand in acknowledgment, spun on his heel without breaking stride, and rapidly made his way across the hanger. Chewbacca watched until Han also disappeared into the night, then snorted softly. Shaking his furry head, he turned back toward the hall that led deeper into the base, his hunter's stride silent on the stone floor.

A young technician, hurrying through the hall as he headed toward the hanger, paused in startlement as he rounded a corner and came face to face with the giant Wookiee. Nervously, the youth nodded as the hirsute creature gave him a toothy smile and growled some indecipherable comment almost as if to itself. As the Wookiee gave what could only be interpreted as a resounding chuckle, the surprisingly intelligent blue eyes filled with glinting mirth, the young man flashed him a faint answering smile, then hurried on his way.

---

With the unthinking caution of a trained combat veteran, Han Solo stepped immediately to his left as he exited the hanger, disappearing into the darkness next to the brightly lit doorway. Even as he scanned the deepening shadows outside the hanger, he took several more careful steps, three swift strides forward. He changed his direction abruptly, taking a step that angled back to his right, in a move designed to foil any attack that might come at him out of the darkness if an enemy tried to predict his position by his last known trajectory.

The faintly reflective glow of one of Yavin's secondary moons did little to relieve the blackness beyond the circle of light that was the illumination from within the Alliance base. Han stopped moving, standing silent and still. His eyes never paused, checking out each slight movement in the jungle undergrowth. He tipped his head, listening, trying to pinpoint Leia in the darkness.

Jungle noises, twitterings, churrups, squeaks, and rustlings emitted from the jungle to his left. The same noises came from the far side of the temple, slightly less noticeable, but still loud enough to hear. Only directly ahead was the jungle quieter than it should be, the native denizens silent and wary of the being that had passed close by them.

Having pinpointed the direction she had taken, Han stepped forward to the edge of the clearing. Pausing just outside the tree line, he frowned into the depths of the undergrowth, listening again. Faintly, the sound of footsteps reached his ears, heading away from him. Nodding, Han stepped forward, sure that he had located his quarry.

He paused, glancing back once before he entered the darker depths of the jungle. His brows drew down into a fierce scowl as he easily marked and noted the individuals that walked, talked, joked, and worked within the perceived safety of the hanger. Sighting down a mental blaster, he quickly picked off ten different people, targeted easily from the safety of the darkness.

"Fools." His mutter held disgust and he shook his head. As he turned away again, he made a mental note to find and impress upon the deck officer the folly of leaving a lighted hanger bay open to make sitting gral'lks out of his troops.

An evil grin creased his face as he dismissed the verbal dressing-down that had first crossed his mind, deciding that a more…direct…reprimand might make an indelible impression. With one part of his mind planning his attack, Han disappeared into the jungle, the rest of his concentration focused again on finding one lone, small female whose footsteps were rapidly disappearing into the distance.

His distraction cost him. Deep enough into the jungle that the glow from the hanger no longer reached him, Han scowled as he realized that there were no longer any telltale footsteps to lead him further. He paused, his own quiet progress through the leaf litter suddenly sounding way too loud in his ears.

Cursing under his breath, Han restrained the urge to stomp loudly through the underbrush and bellow at the top of his lungs for his short but irritating nemesis. With a frown, he eased forward on the cushion of decaying vegetation. A sudden thought, that Her Highnessness had maybe slipped outside to meet with someone, crossed Solo's mind and he paused again.

Han was unaware that his expression had darkened into a fierce glower at the unwelcome thought. "Great…" His mutter was almost inaudible as he ruthlessly channeled an unnamable, unwelcome emotion into irritation with the diminutive Princess and frustration at his own stupidity for following her. "You're a fool, Solo. A gods-be-damned idiot…you should have your head examined…"

Despite his grumbling, Han continued to ease through the jungle foliage. His movements were no less cautious than before, but his mind was no longer fixed in unwavering concentration on the task at hand. A sound, off to his left, suddenly set alarm klaxon's jangling in his head and, with the quickness of a thought, his blaster appeared in his fist.

His eyes narrowed as he strained his ears, trying to identify the short cry he had heard. Easing forward carefully, he glanced skyward as the second and third of Yavin's moons crept higher into the sky, their light casting strange, multi-edged shadows. Worry reappeared in his expression as the cry was repeated, and he angled toward the sound.

His footsteps remained silent as he approached an opening in the jungle canopy. The reflective light of the three moons above bathed the little clearing with an opalescent glow and Han's brow knitted in confusion as he searched the area with a sweeping gaze and found nothing more than knee high vegetation surrounding a large boulder near the center of the clearing.

Scanning the edges of the jungle with a wary gaze, Han stepped forward into the pale moonlight. Sudden motion in the tall, broad-leaved plants next to the boulder froze him mid-step and the muzzle of his blaster swiveled unerringly to cover the area. Narrowing his eyes, he took one more cautious step forward.

The flash of movement came again as a small fist rose and struck the unyielding boulder once more. The faint shimmer of a white-clad arm in the moonlight was what had drawn his gaze. Recognizing the small form crumpled next to the rock, Han holstered his weapon and took several swift steps forward, concerned that the Princess might have stumbled and injured herself in the darkness. As he began to cross the distance separating them, the strange cry that had drawn him to the clearing was repeated.

"Why?" The word was a heart-broken, wavering wail. Han stopped abruptly.

Totally unaware of the pilot's presence behind her, Leia Organa pounded her fist against the boulder repeatedly. Her small form almost totally hidden by the lush plant-life around her, Leia sat on the ground, her forehead pressed against her upraised knees. She kept her left arm wrapped around them while her right hand rained blows upon the uncaring rock next to her.

Han opened his mouth, intending to call out, but then hesitated. He glanced away, pulling in a deep breath before raising his eyes again. His brow furrowed and his mouth pulled down as he debated whether or not to intrude. A low, muffled sobbing made up his mind for him.

"Hey," he kept his voice soft as he took the final steps to close the distance between them, "Princess."

Han stopped, the toes of his boots just millimeters away from the soft, white material of her robes. "Hey?" He tried again, not wanting to startle her. She remained unaware of his approach, oblivious to his presence as she continued to choke on her tears, curled protectively into herself.

Han stared down at her, his jaw tightening as he realized that, even here, in the depths of the sheltering jungle, in the perceived security of solitude, the Princess was attempting to keep her grief under strict control. The wrenching sobs that escaped her did so without permission. Painfully, they wrested free of the iron-willed control that had kept the young woman functioning throughout a botched…but brilliantly conceived, Han reassured himself…rescue.

Follow that with a harrowing escape, a nerve-wracking wait to see if she and the planet she was standing on would be blown into oblivion, and a pompous ceremony to bolster the morale of the troops. Top it all off with a stress-filled meeting with a bunch of brain-dead paper-pushers, Han thought to himself, and you have a seething mass of emotion, tamped down by willpower alone.

Han was neither blind nor naive…his less-than-ideal upbringing and the following years of roaming the galaxy's seamier side had taken care of those traits in a hurry. He knew that the young woman at his feet had been functioning on sheer adrenaline for entirely too long.

He knew. He'd been there. Ruthlessly, Han shoved a skinny, dark-haired boy back into the dark recesses of memory and clamped the airlock door to his subconscious more tightly shut.

From a spot near his knees, another low moan, followed by a choked sob, pulled his attention back down to the Princess. He crouched, reaching a hand to the shoulder nearest him, then paused, unsure of his welcome.

Lost in her misery, Leia still did not notice him. She remained huddled into herself, trying to fight back her tears. Only her right hand, fisted against the rock next to her, escaped her tight control. Blindly, she repeatedly pounded the basalt outcropping, her blows as ineffectual against the hard stone as they were against the enemies and memories haunting her mind.

A faint smudge of wet darkness, smeared across the rock's pale surface as Leia lifted her fist for another blow, caught his eye, and Han's uncertainty disappeared. He was intimately familiar with the emotions that were claiming her, understood the anger and desperation that could inflict unknowing self-injury. Reaching around her back, he caught the delicate bones of her wrist in his right hand to keep the next blow from falling.

He felt the wrenching shudders that ripped through her slight form as she continued to try to repress her sobs. The narrow expanse of her shoulders trembled beneath his arm as he drew her hand away from the boulder. Blindly, she resisted, trying to pull her arm away from his grip. He kept a gentle, firm hold on her, and then obeyed the sudden, inexplicable rush of tenderness that raced through him.

Refusing to examine the emotion very closely, Han used his encircling arm to pull her closer while he slipped his left arm beneath her upraised knees. Swiftly, before her dazed mind could register just who was picking her up, he lifted her off the damp ground. Pivoting with a spacer's agility, he smoothly turned while still crouching and sat in the same spot she had occupied.

Propping his back against the boulder she had been attacking blindly, he settled her in his lap and transferred his grip on her wrist into his left hand. As he did, he felt the tensing of the young Alderaani's muscles at the sudden realization that her solitude had been invaded. He felt her suck in a shocked breath and hold it as she fought to stifle her tears and force her raging emotions back under rigid control.

"Oh no you don't, sweetheart," Han's low murmur was as determined as his grip as he enfolded Leia within a cocoon of his arms. Wrapping his left arm around her, he gently forced her to lean into him while his right hand moved to caress the back of her head.

For a moment, her posture stiffened, resisting the offered solace. Then, as his fingers found the rigidly painful muscles in the back of her neck, cupping and encircling it with comforting warmth, her resistance crumpled. With a strangled moan, she turned blindly and buried her face in his white shirt.

Han swallowed hard, staring down at the top of her head. He felt her trembling and, as tearing sobs ripped through her, he released his hold on her wrist and pulled her closer. As he wrapped her in his arms, offering her the only comfort he could, her hand crept forward, rested lightly on his chest for a moment, then clenched into a fist, grabbing a handful of his black vest.

"All gone…" The tear-choked voice was muffled, but the despair in it rang clearly in the quiet of the clearing.

"I know, sweetheart…" Han's soft reply revealed none of the swirling vortex of memory that was attempting to choke his own voice. "I know."

"Why?"

Even in all his years traveling the galaxy, Han realized, he had never found the answer to that question-a question that was so often asked from the wailing depths of mind-numbing grief. Knowing that he still had no answer for it, the pilot shook his head. Narrowing his eyes, Han gazed skyward into the canopy of stars that, for so many years, had been the only solace for a lost and forlorn Corellian boy.

Convulsive sobbing shook the slight form he cradled on his lap as the Princess finally released the reins of grief, fear, and loss. Pulling her closer, Han swallowed hard. Unconsciously, he allowed one of his own carefully constructed barriers to drop as he began a comforting rhythmic movement, rocking her gently.

Murmuring soothingly to the woman in his arms, Han was unaware that, as he spoke the low-voiced words, he lapsed into the almost forgotten speech patterns of his earliest years. The flowing tones of High Corelli slipped easily from him, mixing with the sound of uncontrolled weeping.

---

"Hey! Chewbacca!"

Chewbacca glanced up from the ionic inductor he was examining. Turning slightly, he caught sight of Luke Skywalker outside the door to the supply room. Tossing his head, the Wookiee gave the youth a bark of greeting and a wave before turning back to the supply officer.

Picking up the inductor, Chewbacca growled a thank you to the man who waved a laconic hand in reply, already turning to the next pilot leaning against the counter. Chewie turned, noting as he did that the young Tatooine man had slipped into the supply room.

He fixed the youth with a curious stare, tipping his head in inquiry as he read frowning worry on the human's face. Lowing questioningly, Chewbacca stepped aside to get out of the way of another pilot and then moved forward to stand next the Rebellion's newest recruit.

Luke's brows knitted in a frown, his eyes anxious as he glanced quickly around the room, trying to find the tall, dark-haired smuggler that almost always could be located within arm's reach of his shaggy co-pilot. Not seeing him, Luke turned his direct blue gaze to meet Chewbacca's matching one.

"Where's Han?"

Chewbacca blinked, and then relayed the whereabouts of his friend in a string of hoots and yowls. Luke shook his head, smiling wryly at his own inability to understand the Wookiee language.

"I'm sorry, Chewie. I can't understand you." He sighed.

Rumbling a chuckle at the young human's obvious frustration, Chewbacca rested a hand on Luke's shoulder, gently turning him and giving him a slight push toward the doorway.

"I probably should have waited for Threepio…at least then you'd be able to tell me where to find Han." As he walked, Luke angled a glance up at the tall form following behind him.

Chewbacca tipped his head again, trying with body language to express himself as he grumbled a soft question. This time, Luke managed to catch the meaning behind the untranslated words.

"Why do I need to find Han?" When the Wookiee nodded, confirming Luke's tentative guess, the young man continued, suddenly looking uncomfortable, "Actually, I'm looking for Princess Leia."

Chewbacca angled a glance down at the youth, attempting without success to hide the amused twitch of his mouth. Luke, not adept at reading Wookiee body language, luckily missed the telltale curl of Chewbacca's lip. Still, color ran high in the young man's face as he admitted, "Threepio said she left the meeting with the Rebel leaders…abruptly. I'm…uh…he…uh…we're both a bit worried about her."

Chewie stifled a snort of glee. He kept a hand on Luke's shoulder, steering the young man toward the hanger bay. Swiftly calculating the elapsed time, the Wookiee decided that, by the time Luke found them, Han would have had enough opportunity to infuriate the young Alderaanian woman, if he hadn't already managed it.

With gestures and pantomime, Chewbacca explained to Luke that Han was outside the protective walls of the base, in the jungle. He was gratified to see the concern that flashed across the young man's face at the news.

"Han went outside?" Luke frowned, eyeing the blackness beyond the open door. "Why?"

Again, Chewbacca fell back on his ability to act out events, expansively gesturing to get his meaning across as he told Luke that Han had followed the Princess because she had seemed upset about something. He groaned loudly in frustration as Luke turned a surprised and concerned stare up to him when he finished.

"Han said something that upset the Princess and she ran out there? And he followed?" Luke's tone was more perplexed than before. "But…why would…"

Chewbacca tossed his hands in the air, resolving right then to spend more time with the Tatooine youth. If, as he suspected from Han's behavior, he and his partner were going to be spending more time with the Rebels, then he was going to have to teach Luke to understand Wookian. With an exasperated huff, he firmly turned the young man toward the open door and gave him a gentle shove to get him going.

Luke stumbled, glanced back over his shoulder and saw Chewbacca giving him shooing motions, obviously urging him to follow the pilot and the Princess. Luke nodded back at the Wookiee to show his understanding before turning and trotting toward the night beyond the base entrance.

---

Han could tell the exact moment that Leia became fully aware of where she was and whose arms were embracing her. She stiffened. With a wry twist to his mouth, Han began counting down. Ten, nine… A ragged indrawn breath shuddered through the Princess' body. Eight, seven… Ever so slightly, she began to ease away from him, her movement cautious as she attempted to pull the shredded remnants of her dignity around her.

Six, five… Shifting further away from the chest that she had unabashedly sobbed upon, the young Senator raised her hand to her face and, head still bowed, scrubbed the tear tracks from her cheeks, unaware of the smears of blood that were left behind by the abraded skin of her hand. Four, three… Han could feel her gather herself to rise.

He eased the pressure of his arm around her shoulder, subtly allowing her the freedom he knew she was going to seek. Two, one… On cue, Leia surged to her feet, her movement graceful despite her haste. She took two quick steps away from him, and then paused.

"I…" She cleared her throat, keeping her back to him as she raised her hand again to wipe away tears. Embarrassment and chagrin were evident in her tone as she spoke almost too softly for her voice to carry. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't've… I mean…"

With an agile economy of motion, Han silently stood. Understanding her unease with her emotional outburst didn't make it any easier for him to banish the unexpected tenderness he still felt for the brave young woman who was attempting to hide again behind royal dignity.

His own unease with the unwanted emotion quickly translated into a typical Solo move. He resorted to sarcasm. "Hey…don't worry 'bout it, Your Highnessness. Any port in a storm, right? I guess even us commoners can be useful sometimes…" As soon as the words left his mouth, Han regretted them.

Leia turned her head long enough to shoot him an irritated glower. The affront in her voice was plain when she spoke. "I think I'll return to the base, now, Captain Solo." The haughty Princess was back, the young Alderaani's tone coolly dismissive as she began to walk away.

Han's eyes narrowed in anger that was, for once, aimed at himself. Reaching out instinctively, he snagged Leia's upper arm, halting her. "Wait a minute." Han wrestled with conflicting desires. Half of him wanted to release her as soon as he stopped her--let her run from him. The other half, his less sane half, he thought snidely to himself, wanted this encounter to end on a less antagonistic note.

Leia turned, trying to wrench her arm out of his grip as she did so. He kept his hold on her easily and her eyes flashed in sudden anger as she lifted them to his face. The light from the three moons did nothing to hide the ravages of her earlier bout of sobbing. Tear tracks were still easily seen and the spiky wetness of her lashes cast jagged shadows as she peered up at him.

"Look, I'm sor-" Han's inelegant attempt at a rare apology was cut off by a spate of coldly enunciated words.

"If you don't mind, Captain," her tone was biting, "I'd like to leave now."

Han scowled, his temper rising, his stubbornness following close behind. He tugged her closer. "Sorry, Your Worship," he smiled at her, a fierce baring of teeth that did nothing to hide the irritation in his own face. "I ain't done yet." His tone clearly implied that he wasn't going to release her until he was good and ready.

The delicate jaw that she angled up at him was thrust pugnaciously forward as the Princess gritted tightly, "Well, I am."

"Huh uh, Your Royalness…not yet. I got something to say to you and you're gonna damn well stick around until I'm done."

Fury flashed in the brown eyes that glared up at him. "How dare you!"

---

As a woman's voice, raised in anger, sounded close by, Luke stopped his search. His eyes widened before he shook his head in exasperation. Han and Leia must be sniping at each other again. A slight smile flitted across his face at the thought. He turned and started walking, not questioning the fact that, in the denseness of the jungle, he was able to pinpoint the correct direction to take with ease. The light from the three moons hovering above filtered eerily through the heavy canopy of leaves and Luke noticed a brighter glow ahead of him.

He strode swiftly forward, and then paused as he reached the edge of a small clearing, letting his eyes adjust to the brighter light. Glancing around the open space, he took a half step forward, raising a hand as he recognized the forms of Han and the Princess. He halted abruptly, frowning.

---

Knowing Leia was teetering on an emotional precipice, Han expected a slap to follow her outraged yelp. He braced for the blow, knowing that the fiery spirit he'd teasingly mentioned to Luke in the Falcon's cockpit wouldn't allow her to take his high-handedness without lashing out, either verbally or physically.

He swiftly found he had underestimated her. He caught sight of the clenched fist flying toward him a split second before it connected. He jerked his head back, managing to soften the worst impact of the blow, but stars still went nova behind his eyes.

Whoa! There's obviously a banked fire under that icy veneer of royalty, Han thought with some bemusement. Blinking, he shook his head slightly and then, with the lightening reflexes that had made his speed-draw legendary in some circles, he caught her wrist as she drew back to strike again.

"Oh no you don't, sweetheart." Han knew the endearment would fan the flames higher, but he was unable to resist using it. He yanked her closer, and then transferred his grip so that he held both her wrists captive in his left hand.

Infuriated by the ease with which he restrained her, the spitfire in front of him growled something that sounded suspiciously like a foul Alderaani curse and attempted to inflict damage a bit lower. Han dodged the blow, ignoring the spark of reluctant, amused admiration for her courage that rose within him as he focused instead on making sure that she would listen to him.

He gave another tug on her captured wrists, pulling her off balance so that she stumbled into him. "Look…" His voice was gruff. A movement a few meters away near the edge of the clearing caught Han's eye and he broke off.

Narrowing a wary stare at the spot, his right hand dropped to rest lightly on the butt of his blaster, ready to draw and fire within a split second if the motion turned out to be a threat. His tense fingers relaxed as his eyes first picked out the human silhouette and then identified Luke as the youth stepped further into the moonlit clearing.

The young man's thoughts were as transparent as the emotions on his face while he glanced from Han to Leia's struggling form and back again. Han met the sudden flare of suspicion and outrage in Skywalker's blue eyes and flashed a quelling scowl at him in response. Glaring a warning to the youth, Han raised his hand in a gesture telling the young man to back off.

He didn't really expect Luke to heed the warning and was mildly surprised to see him halt, the moonlit blue of his eyes falling on Leia. The accusation in Luke's eyes eased into wary concern, his gaze darting between Han and Leia again.

The captive Princess suddenly stopped twisting her wrists in an effort to escape. "Let go of me." The frigid cloak of dignity was back as Leia lifted her chin to glare at Han with regal disdain. Only the faintest of quavers in her voice betrayed her still roiling emotions.

Tearing his eyes away from Luke, Han met her glare with a direct, sober gaze. His eyes searched hers for a long moment before he shook his head. "Not until you hear me out, Your Worship." His tone brooked no argument.

"No. Now." She argued anyway, her voice a growl. "Let… me… go... right… now." She held herself rigidly, her temper firmly enough controlled to keep her from physically attacking him again, but the words were snarled.

Han shook his head in frustrated exasperation. Peripherally, he was aware of Luke edging closer, but he kept his full attention on the irate young woman in front of him. "No." His voice was flat, uncompromising.

As she yanked again at her wrists in response to his refusal, he thrust a finger toward her face to distract her. Prudently, he kept it out of reach of her teeth, the thought crossing his mind that he'd have a hard time pulling off a successful speed-draw if he were minus a good inch of the digit.

"You listen to me this time, sweetheart," Han knew his voice was rougher than it probably should have been, but he was unable to gentle it. "Listen…and understand…" Tension, born of the memories that rose, unbidden and unwanted, from within the depths of his own mind, almost closed his throat. He could hear the strain in his own voice, but could do nothing to ease it.

"You couldn't have done anything to stop it…you got that?" Seeing the flicker of doubt in the dark eyes that suddenly turned up to meet his, he repeated firmly, "There was nothing you could've done that would've changed a damn thing up there."

She was listening, Han noticed. Her attempts to wrest free of his grip had ceased and she stood quietly. He knew his words hadn't convinced her-only time would finally ease the guilt he knew she was struggling with-but she was listening. He dropped the accusatory finger when he realized that he was still jabbing the air near her face and, growing uncomfortable with the confrontation, released his hold on her wrists.

Unexpectedly, before he could pull entirely away, he felt her fingers close around his own, clutching his hand as if it were a lifeline. He watched as her eyes grew distant, turned inward into memory. The haughty mask of aristocracy was gone, leaving behind a beautiful--and very young-woman who had endured more in the past week than most people had to endure during a lifetime.

As he studied Leia's upturned face, a sudden surge of tenderness and possessive protectiveness welled within Han, terrifying in its strength. Whoa! Jet back, Solo. What the hell? Quailing in the face of the unexpected emotion, Han did what he had spent most of a lifetime trying to do-he threw up deflector shields and dove into evasive maneuvers.

He gave a lop-sided smile, unaware that it didn't quite reach the depths of the banked tragedy in his own eyes. He missed the searching look she gave him as he lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "The way I see it, Princess…you play the Sabacc hand you get dealt…nothing you do can change it." He tried to inject the old, familiar care-worn note into his voice and was surprised when the correct tone was hard to find.

"All you can do is hope the randomizer don't rearrange the cards on you when you've got a good hand…and cross your fingers for luck and bluff when you got a bad one." He saw a slight frown crease the Princesses brow as she blinked up at him, confusion entering her eyes.

After a moment of silence, she surprised him by following the analogy. Her tone was thoughtful and soft, not much more than a whisper as she added with a slight nod of understanding, "You can either choose to play the game through…or fold…" Her eyes dropped suddenly before she bowed her head, tears once more starting to cloud her voice as she continued in a soft whisper. "Quit playing…permanently."

Han's fists clenched, hearing the dark emotions that shadowed her quiet words. Only then did he realize that, despite his attempt to pull away from her, his fingers had disobeyed him, refusing to release the small hand nestled in his own. As his hand closed tighter around hers, an inarticulate sound escaped Leia, Han was unsure whether it was a wordless moan or his name.

Her shoulders shook as her emotions ambushed her once more. "Why? All those people… A whole world…" Leia raised her free hand, trying unsuccessfully to stop the words. Through the shaking fingers she pressed to her mouth, another wrenching sob escaped. "How can I…"

Han whispered a curse and gave in, pulling her to him once more. Wrapping her again in the haven of his arms, he dipped his head to press his chin against the darkness of her hair. "How can you go on living…" he finished the question for her, hearing the echoes of a young voice-the cry of long-gone, Clan-bereft teen-in his mind as he spoke, "When all of them are dead?"

He felt the shudder that ran through her as he voiced the words that she had been unable to speak. It shook her from head to toe and, for a moment, he regretted his own blunt nature. Then, he pulled in a deep breath. "I don't know, sweetheart…you just do. You go on…or you fold. We don't have any other choices…none of us do."

His eyes, focused on his own past, fixed blindly on the jungle as Leia wept into his chest. A motion nearby brought him back to the present, his eyes meeting Luke's as the youth stepped closer. The suspicion and faint anger in the young man's gaze had disappeared entirely, concern replacing them as the overheard conversation revealed the depth of Leia's despair.

Han held the young man's steady gaze as Luke stopped an arms-length away, offering his support silently with his calm presence. An eerie sense of completeness threatened Han as he stood with Leia in his arms and Luke by his side. He froze, transfixed with equal parts longing and fear, wanting nothing more than to preserve the moment forever while also wanting to break away, to turn his back and double-time it back to the familiar comfort of his ship. Caught between the conflicting urges, Han hesitated.

In his arms, the slight weight of the Princess suddenly doubled as, in her renewed grief, her legs gave way beneath her. She began to slowly crumple to the ground, Han's arms the only support for her sorrow-ravaged form. The moment of Han's indecision faded.

I'll leave tomorrow, he assured himself, jettison all this emotional baggage and head for clear skies. He'd done it many times before. He could do it again. But, for now…for tonight, he decided, I'll stay. Keeping a solid grip on the young woman in his arms, Han lowered himself carefully back down next to the boulder, letting her take comfort in his embrace.

He closed his eyes, hearing Luke as the kid moved to stand next to them both. The slight rustle of disturbed leaves next to him and the quiet presence that sank to sit on his right brought Han's gaze around. He met Luke's eyes squarely and was surprised to find a slight smile gracing the young man's lips as he nodded encouragingly at the smuggler.

He should be radiating jealousy like a Hutt gives off stink, was Han's distracted thought even as he frowned repressively at the youth. Luke answered the gesture with a knowing smile and a bemused shake of his head that deepened the smuggler's scowl. Ignoring the look, Luke turned his gaze back down on Leia as the violence of her sobbing eased slowly, tapering off into ragged breaths and un-regal sniffs.

As she quieted, both men remained silent, waiting patiently for her to regain her royal bearing. She surprised them both by remaining still, seated in Han's lap, cradled in his arms. For a long moment the three of them let the quiet of the night soothe the ragged edges of their emotions. Then, her voice broke the stillness, the sorrow in her tone deep, but lacking the shattered brittleness of earlier.

"It's my fault…"

"No, it's not." Han's response was swift and firm.

"It is," Leia insisted, the guilt in her voice clear.

Han shook his head although, with her head resting on his chest, her eyes downcast, he knew she couldn't see him. "No, sweetheart, it isn't. And that'll be the hardest thing for you to accept." Next to him, Luke remained silent, but Han could hear the movement as he turned slightly, angling his body to hear the exchange.

Han could feel the weight of the youth's gaze, but he kept his own attention focused on the woman in his arms who was now shaking her own head in denial of his quiet statement. He jostled her gently in reproof, intending to insist again, but she broke the silence first.

"They wanted to break me. That's why they did it. If I hadn't been there, Alderaan would've still been… If I'd fought them more during the interrogation… then…" A sob broke through.

Han sighed. "Interrogation, huh?" His voice was weary, cold with the knowledge of Imperial procedure, clinical. "Mind probe?" He questioned, almost positive of the answer. "Drugs?"

"A-a-" He felt the quaking tremors run through the Princess's body before she managed to whisper, "Among other things…" A hint of the shame, terror, and helplessness she'd endured colored her tone.

Something within Han raged silently at the thought of what she wasn't able to say. Next to him, an inarticulate sound escaped Luke. He flicked a glance to his right, meeting the incandescent blue wrath in the younger man's eyes.

Careful to keep the emotion out of his voice, Han continued to speak. "If you'd fought them more, Leia," In his seriousness, he dropped the teasing nicknames that he enjoyed using to rile her, "Then you would've been dead long before me 'n' Luke showed up…"

"I know. But, if I had…" The whisper was heart-broken, "Maybe Alderaan would still be…"

Han knew where her thoughts were heading and broke in with swift ruthlessness. "Yeah. My guess is that maybe they wouldn't have bothered Alderaan." He heard Luke's sudden intake of breath at his blunt pragmatism and felt the shiver that ran through Leia. His voice grew fierce as he continued, "Alderaan might've survived…but another world would've died in its place."

"Imps…" Han hesitated, his lips thinning at the thoughts running through his head, the memories. "Sooner or later, sweetheart, they were gonna make an example of someone somewhere. That's how they work, Princess." Cold finality flattened his voice, the ghosts of long-dead trust and crushed ideals lurking in his words. "They had the firepower, and they needed to let the galaxy know it. Any of one of the worlds close enough to the Core to make an impression could've been their target."

"If you had given in up there," Han's voice was firm as he continued, not allowing Leia any time to refute his words. "If you hadn't been as strong as you were…if you'd given them the information they tortured you for…then your Rebellion would have died…like Alderaan did. And after that, how many more worlds?"

He paused to let his words sink in and was gratified to feel the utter stillness in his arms that indicated that Leia was listening closely. "If you'd died up there…let them kill you…then Alderaan might have survived." He took care to emphasize the word. "But, even out on the Rim it was common knowledge…even in the most backwater places…that Alderaan was suspected of rebel activities. The Empire might've gone after it anyway, just to prove a point."

Her shuddery intake of breath sounded loud in the clearing and Han paused, waiting to see if she would speak. Instead, she remained silent. Luke, however, spoke softly, his voice distant, his eyes staring fixedly at a point past Leia's shoulder. "There was nothing you could have done, Leia. If you had followed a different path, then Han and I wouldn't be here…the Rebellion would have been doomed…and the Empire would have won."

Han frowned uneasily, hearing the ghostly echo of a crazy old man in the distracted certainty of the young man's tone. He felt Leia stir against his chest as she became fully aware of Luke's presence. Her head lifted slightly and he knew she was looking at the young man.

He steeled himself for the return of the dignified Princess, ready to release his hold on her at the slightest hint of resistance. Mildly surprised when she seemed content to remain where she was, Han studiously ignored the niggling pleasure that her trust in him evoked.

"They're gone, Luke. My family…friends…" The grief in her voice was tangible. "All of them…gone…and I…" She swallowed hard. "I feel so alone…" Her murmur barely carried to the ears straining to hear her.

"You aren't alone, Leia," Luke countered urgently, his face and voice earnest, yearning, and holding his own sorrow.

Heartache, Han knew from talking with the youth a few days ago, which was born of his own recent losses. We're three of a kind here tonight. The stray thought curled out of the depths of Han's mind before Luke's voice distracted him again.

"Han and I… We…"

"Yeah, sweetheart…" Han's voice was gruff as he interrupted, an irrepressible urge taking control of his mouth before he could rein it in. "We ain't much, but you got us."

Luke shook his head in mild exasperation at the smuggler's less-than-eloquent interjection. When his eyes lifted to take in the Corellian's wry smile, Han returned the look with a shrug and eased his hold on Leia even further, sure that his comment would be the one to drive her away.

He blinked in surprise when she remained where she was, a warm weight pressed against him. She reached out with her left hand, offering it silently to Luke, while she shifted enough to slide her right arm around Han's waist beneath his vest. Han tensed, suddenly uneasy with the embrace, but his initial urge to flee soon gave way to a curious sense of rightness.

Luke's desert-tan fingers closed over the slender hand offered to him, gripping it firmly. Han met Luke's eyes, a long moment of silent communion that somehow sealed the growing sense of friendship between them as they both offered comfort to the grieving Princess that had brought them together.

Han tore his gaze away, growing uncomfortable with the naked emotion on the younger man's face. He turned his eyes skyward and shifted his shoulders slightly against the rock, settling in. He could sense Luke doing the same even though the kid remained cross-legged and still, only his arm and hand linking him to the young woman for whom they were both willing to wait all night to recover.

The silence stretched long between them, comfortable and comforting. As the night rustlings and stirrings provided a quiet counterpoint to his thoughts, Han found his gaze drawn to a bright cluster of stars hovering low above the trees. His eyes picked out the third star from the center with ease and, with his stare focused on Corellia, he found his mind drifting, recalling half-remembered words in a language he'd almost forgotten.

"Mi k'varith a'su'lo." The husky whisper of Han's voice in the silence brought Luke's eyes to him. The note of desolation in the smuggler's tone also brought Leia's head up. Her eyes met Luke's as they listened to the unfamiliar words. "Me a'Vech, me a'vecha…ya atani fal'asa?"

The words had a solemnity, the singsong quality of a sacred chant, that were at odds with the normally cocksure smuggler who was speaking them in an aching whisper. "Va'ar. Mi eta' a'su'lo."

Lost in memories, Han remained unaware that his soft voice had gained him his comrades' full attention. He remained silent for a long moment, jaw clenched. Then, unable to refuse the demanding urge to utter the rest of the words, he sighed deeply and his baritone again carried quietly into the night.

"Me a'Vech, me a'vecha…ya sulan a'me v'challa. Mi a'telle ya." The archaic language forms of High Corelli slipped easily from his tongue, but Han's voice broke slightly as he continued, "Mi eta' a'su'lo."

Luke watched tears well in Leia's eyes. Though neither of them knew the meanings of the words Han spoke, the raw emotion in his voice, revealing a pain that hovered just within his control, reached both of them. The recital continued, the lyrical quality of the words increasing as Han's voice continued to keep the silence at bay.

"Me a'vecha, me a'Vech...Vech re'fa in'sula mi. Re'fa ni'sula mi. Mi eta' a'su'lo." Han swallowed hard, suddenly realizing that he had been speaking the words aloud. He pulled in a deep breath, wanting to fall silent, but unable to deny finishing the rest of the ancient chant.

It's fitting. If the words can offer even the smallest comfort for these two who've lost as much as… Han stopped the thought before it could finish, his jaw clenching. Then, he nodded reluctant permission to himself, allowing the Corellian boy to step free of the binders the Corellian man had placed on him years ago.

"Me a'vecha, me a'Vech…mi k'e'na. Mi a'nee varith. A'teran ye a'me varin." His voice firmed and grew resonant as he finished, "Mi eta' k'a'su'lo."

A long silence followed the final words. Broken only by the sounds of the night, the quiet stretched between the three until Leia's voice softly intruded, "That…that was beautiful." A puff of air and a slight jolt of the chest she was leaning against was her only answer as Han gave a silent huff of wry amusement.

Undeterred by his silence, Leia spoke again, "Corellian…wasn't it?"

Han stiffened. Defenses flaring again, he shoved the boy-of-memory back into his prison, slamming the door forcefully shut. He felt the Princess's arm tighten around him, offering him comfort. Han shook his head in uneasy bemusement at the turnaround, but finally answered, his voice a gruff grunt, "Yeah."

Luke's voice was dreamy and distant as he softly inquired, "The words, Han, what do they mean?"

"Yes," Leia's voice short-circuited Han's initial reaction, which was to dismiss the young man with a blithe answer. "It sounded like a…a song. What was it?"

Han sighed. He tipped his head back, resting it against the rock behind him as he tried to stifle the screaming case of wary nervousness that tore through him. Finally, he answered, keeping his eyes closed as he spoke. "It's an ancient Corellian ni'sarr…a chant-song." He translated the new word for them. "It's…a warrior's song…it…" He hesitated, and then tried to evade the Luke's question. "It doesn't translate well to Basic."

Luke's voice was resolute, demanding, and it held a hint of fond amusement that told the smuggler that he knew Han was dodging his request, "Try, Han."

"Please?" Leia's soft plea was Han's undoing.

With another sigh, the smuggler made the attempt, stumbling slightly as the ancient language resisted translation. "a'Vech… a'vecha… That's like…family…blood-kin…Clan." He paused, unhappy with trying to translate each word, and then he tried again, his voice low as he began speaking, "I cannot…continue…go on…alone. My Clan…my blood-kin…where are you now? You are…gone…"

Han made an impatient noise, frowned in thought, and then found the right word, "Destroyed."

Leia and Luke remained still as he fell silent, struggling with the meanings and with the emotions the words resurrected. Then, Han finally managed to gather the words he needed. Softly, he recited the ni'sarr again, in Basic, his voice gaining surety and strength as the words came more easily.

"I cannot go on alone

My Clan…

My blood-kin…

Where are you now?

Destroyed.

I am alone.

My Clan…

My blood-kin…

You remain in my heart.

I would join you.

I am alone.

My blood-kin…

My Clan…

Blood-oath keeps me.

Duty binds me.

I am alone.

My blood-kin…

My Clan…

I cannot follow.

I must go on.

Your spirits go with me.

I am not alone."

A long moment passed with no words to fill the silence. Han cleared his throat, refusing to open his eyes, unwilling to meet the weight of the intent gaze that had fallen on him from his right. Leia's arm around his waist tightened, but he couldn't bring himself to glance down into the brown eyes that he knew were turned upwards, focused on his face.

"I am not alone." Leia repeated the final words in a voice choked with sorrow, the message of the song sliding into the empty space in her heart.

"No, Princess," Han's voice was equally soft as he repeated the words himself, making a slight change to affirm her words. As he switched to his native language, the exotic tone of the High Corelli lent them the force of a vow, "Ya eta' k'a'su'lo." His eyes opened, falling to rest on the glimmer of light in the night sky that was Corellia.

"No, you aren't alone, Leia." In Basic, Luke's words echoed Han's, his quiet assurance loosing the young woman's emotions again.

She rested her head against Han's chest and wept, softly. There were no choking sobs this time, just a quiet flow of tears that brought a measure of peace. Again, silence filled the spaces between the three of them as each of the friends allowed the comfort of being together ease past sorrows.

After long moments, Luke turned from his contemplation of the night sky in which Tatooine could be faintly seen and glanced at the two next to the boulder. He smiled as he saw the ever-watchful gleam of Solo's eyes catch his motion, the Corellian turning his head slightly in question. His own eyes dropped to the Princess, half expecting her to be watching him as well. He smiled in mild amusement at what he saw.

"She's asleep, Han." He whispered.

She had been for long minutes-Han had felt the sudden relaxation that claimed her when she'd slipped into slumber. "I know." Han's low reply barely carried to the other man.

Concern laced Luke's voice as he studied Leia's pale features and the bruised flesh beneath her eyes. "She's exhausted."

"Yeah." Though the Corellian's response was monosyllabic, his tone and the tip of his head as he angled his own glance at the Princess transmitted his own concern.

Glancing at the moons, Luke gauged the lateness of the hour. "We'd better be getting back to the base. It'll be dawn in a few more hours."

"Yeah. I guess you're right, kid." Han nodded before adding with a wry grin, "Before my hairy partner decides that Her Holiness and I have tried to kill each other and you got caught in the crossfire. He's liable to have base security out stumblin' around in the dark tryin' to find us."

Han gathered Leia closer, preparing to stand. He didn't question the urge to rise as gracefully as possible so as not to jostle the sleeping woman. As he gained his feet, he glanced down into Luke's upturned face. Surprised to see the kid staring at him solemnly, Han frowned, "What?"

His frown deepened as his abrupt question caused a smile to spread across Luke's face. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Han narrowed his eyes and grumbled, "What's so funny?"

"You." The kid's response was not reassuring.

Han's scowl grew formidable. "Whaddya mean, farmboy?" He injected as much scorn as he could manage into his tone as he squared his shoulders belligerently.

Unfazed, Luke's chuckle drifted to Han on the night air. "I mean…you try so hard to act the mercenary, Han…so mean and heartless…but underneath it all…" The young man's voice gained a note of bemused exasperation, "You really are nice…"

"Ha!" Han interrupted him, snorting in derision. "Nice?" His scowl was fierce as he shook his head in denial. "Don't bet your credits on that, kid."

"Right, Han." Luke's tone was patently disbelieving.

Han tried again, injecting a sarcastic edge to his voice, "Nice is for wet-behind-the-ears farmboys like you…"

Luke's amused observation cut across Han's insult, "Nothing on Tatooine is 'wet', Han…"

"Don't try to be funny, Junior," Han growled repressively, glowering.

"Right, Han." Luke's tone was too bland.

Somehow feeling that the kid was still laughing at him behind the overly innocent expression on his face, Han threatened, "I am not nice. Got it?" He briefly regretted the burden in his arms, wanting to emphasize his statement with a jabbed finger.

"Right, Han."

Luke was definitely biting back a smile, Han noted with an inward wince. Han's answering grumble was in Corelli but, considering the chuckle that answered him from the Luke-shadow, Han surmised that the Tatooine farm-boy was worldly enough to have at least had one brush with the gutter form of the language.

Desperate to shore up his image, Han growled, "Don't just stand there, Junior. Why don't you do something useful…like use that glorified glow rod to cut us a path through this junk."

"Right, Han." Correctly reading the smuggler's irritation when a wordless snarl was the only response to his goading, Luke flashed him another teasing smile and stepped out of reach, pushing his way into the jungle ahead of Han.

Han strode into the cleared area in front of the base hanger-bay doors, skirting the half circle of light. He could hear Luke following close on his heels as he reached the edge of the door, unseen and unnoticed by all within the hanger.

No, Han amended, not all. A shaggy head rose, black nose testing the breeze as blue eyes scanned the darkness. Chewbacca set down the set of cables he was working on and took a step toward the door before pausing under the shadow of the Falcon's cockpit.

"Sitting gral'lks…" Han scowled.

"Huh?" Luke glanced from Han's narrow-eyed glower, to the hanger bay, and then back again, the question on his face transparent.

"Look at 'em, kid. How many of 'em could we pick off from here? You, me, and two blasters…without them knowing it and before someone found enough brains to shut the damn door?"

Luke trained a wide-eyed stare on the bustling activity that continued inside while he and Han remained unnoticed and unseen in the darkness outside. He frowned.

Han nodded. The kid was thinking. That was good, maybe with a few pointers, he'd be able to start thinking like a wanted man. Start thinking in a way that's gonna keep him alive.

Han shifted the slight weight in his arms. "C'mon, kid. Let's get her inside. I'm gonna head to the Falcon."

"The Falcon? Why not take her to her quarters?" Confusion laced Luke's voice.

"Because, Junior," Han tipped his head to eye the youth with a sardonic twist of his lips, "Her Highness hasn't deigned to tell me the location of her quarters…" A sly leer slid across the Corellian's face, erasing the grin, "Yet."

He stifled a laugh as the younger man flushed at the innuendo in his voice. Good, Han thought, see if you think I'm 'nice' now! He pushed a bit further to cement his image. "Of course," he deliberately eyed Luke with a coolly calculating, speculative gaze, "Maybe she's already…invited…you to visit… You wanna lead the way?"

Han tamped down a sudden flare of …something…as Luke's hot flush grew even more noticeable and he stammered. "I…ah…um…"

"Well?" Narrowing his eyes, Han gauged the youth's expression with all the attentive seriousness he would have given the long-dead Gallandro.

"No," Luke managed to sound both wounded and annoyed in the same breath as he huffed out his reply, "I don't know where her quarters are, Han."

"Well then," Han couldn't restrain a smile at the news, but he managed to turn it into a cocky grin before Luke could see the real relief that spawned it, "I don't think she'd care much for being carried through the hanger deck like this…and I don't wanna hafta wake her up…she looks like she needs the sleep…so…" Han let his voice grow condescending, "The Falcon's our best bet. She's close, her ramp's down, and we can get to her without being seen if we need to…"

As Luke stared for a long moment, tipping his head and frowning thoughtfully at him, Han quirked a goading eyebrow, "Well, Junior, what's it gonna be?"

Abandoning his obvious attempt to reconcile the two faces of Han Solo, Luke sighed, "Let's go for the Falcon."

"Right." Pleased with his success at sidetracking Luke's hero-worship, Han finally got serious about getting the Princess into the relative privacy of the Falcon.

"C'mon, kid, walk ahead of me and no one will see who we got here. And…take it easy…act natural." Luke shook his head at the admonishment, rolling his eyes in exasperation. Han pretended not to see.

Stepping out together, the two men entered the brightly lit hanger and made their way swiftly over to the Falcon. Chewbacca moved to greet them, his eyes falling with concern on the Princess' form cradled in his partner's arms. He growled a facetious question to Han.

"No…I did not resort to stunning her, you big oaf." Han scowled up at his partner as he started up the ramp to the Falcon's interior. "If I was gonna stun everyone who irritated me with smart-ass comments, you'd spend most of your life unconscious…"

The Wookiee roared a laugh at Solo's quip and his partner hurried to hush him. "Quiet down, furball." Han increased his pace, bringing himself and his burden into the safety of the Falcon's hold. "She's asleep." He ignored the Wookiee's sarcastic rebuttal to that obvious observation.

Han moved across the common room and used his elbow to key open the door to his own quarters. Carefully, he lowered his burden onto the bunk, smiling slightly as the Princess sighed and shifted without waking, snuggling deeper into the softness of the pillow. She drew her hand up to rest next to her head and Han winced.

Leia's blows, raining in frustrated grief on the boulder next to her, had bruised and torn the flesh of her fist. The delicate skin, marred by a raw and still-oozing scrape, was an angry red that promised to turn into a painful bruise.

Without conscious thought, Han turned and reached for the small cabinet inset into the bulkhead of the cabin. When the door hissed open, he automatically caught the objects that fell from its over-stuffed confines and set them absently on the table next to the bed. With the ease of long practice, he picked the med-kit out of the chaos within the cabinet and triggered the door to close.

Turning back to the small form on the bed, he sank to gingerly sit on the edge of the thin mattress. He opened the med-kit and plucked three items from its depths before gently reaching for Leia's hand.

The Princess stirred restlessly at his touch. Softly, he murmured a reassurance, "Shhh…" Han paused for a moment, unsure if she would wake up. When she appeared to slide back into a deeper sleep, he turned her hand gently to be better able to reach the wound.

Carefully, he sprayed the area with an analgesic. He waited until he heard Leia's soft, sleepy sigh of relief as the pain faded before he reached for the second item he'd pulled from the medkit. The light hiss of the antibiotic spray sounded loud in his ears, but didn't bring any movement from the young woman.

He smiled and shook his head in bemusement at her exhausted lack of response. There had been many times in his life when a sound just as quiet had generated a swift and violent reaction from him-despite his own exhaustion and pain, and much to Chewie's dismay. Han's smile faded into a frown at the thought and he paused as he reached for the third item.

His eyes focused on Leia's sleeping features, viewing the innocence that managed to shine through the exhaustion and battle-weariness. Shadows darkened his hazel gaze as he let his eyes roam over her face, the words he had spoken in jest to Luke suddenly replaying in his mind. Do you think a Princess and a guy like me…

Han's lips twisted into a sardonic curl. Right, Solo… He shook his head and snatched up the synth-flesh bulb. He kept his touch gentle, not letting his annoyance at himself be transmitted through his fingers as he ran the bulb over the torn flesh.

He held her hand for a moment, waiting for the protective film to dry. Unwillingly, he compared the delicately boned fragility of her fingers to his own large, space-tanned grip. With a faint smile, he remembered the blow she'd landed on his jaw earlier. Like her small fist, the feisty Princess was stronger than she looked.

Leia stirred again, and Han belatedly realized that he'd tightened his grip on her fingers until he was holding her hand firmly, caressing the back of it with his thumb. Swiftly, before she could awaken, he released her, carefully setting her hand back on the pillow near her head.

Leia shifted uneasily and Han rose to his feet. A frown creased the young woman's brow and a faint sound, a tiny whimper, escaped her. Han, watching her restless movements, spoke in quiet reassurance, "Shhh, get some sleep, Princess."

Leia's movements stilled and then a sigh escaped her. Rolling onto her side, she tucked her left hand beneath her cheek and drew her knees up with a soft sound of contentment.

Han grinned and shook his head, unaccountably touched by the trust inherit in her unconscious actions. Grabbing the blanket wadded haphazardly at the foot of the bunk, he gently drew it up over the curled form, his smile growing more open as she murmured something unintelligible, sighed softly, and slipped into a deeper slumber.

He turned away after a long minute and stopped in his tracks.

"What in the nine hells are you two staring at?" Defensively, Han glowered at the two beings standing in the doorway. Chewbacca wrinkled his muzzle at his friend, not having to say a word to convey his amusement and approval. Han scowled ferociously at him. Luke tried hard to stifle his own smile, dipping his head to avoid Han's glare.

"Aahhhhhh…" Han waved a dismissive hand at them both, his frustration escaping him in a wordless growl.

He pushed past both of them, deliberately jostling the Wookiee hard with his shoulder as he passed him. "C'mon, fur-face."

Luke blinked at him in surprise, turning to follow the smuggler's progress across the Falcon's hold. "Ah…Han…where're you going?"

Han ignored the puzzled expression Luke turned to him. "Got a little lesson to teach. C'mon Chewie, I'll need your help. Bring your bowcaster."

"Han?"

Han flashed a cocky grin at the sudden escalation of worry in the young man's voice. Enjoying the moment, he called back to Luke as he strode toward the lowered landing ramp. "Hey, don't worry, kid. I'll be right back." As an afterthought, Han offered, "Hell, its late. Why don'tcha bunk down here for the rest of the night if you want. There's another cabin just aft of mine. Or else the force couch is pretty comfortable…"

"Uh…okay, Han."

Han's grin widened at the nervous edge to Luke's voice. With Chewbacca striding behind him like a silent, furry shadow, Han stepped off the ramp and flashed a quick glance around the hanger deck. Hazel eyes narrowed on his target as the deck officer conferred with two mechanics in an open area between an X-wing and a dilapidated snub fighter. Snub fighters! Han snorted in disgust. The Rebellion was hurting worse than he thought.

He turned to Chewbacca, dismissing the issue of the sub-standard equipment the Rebels considered their top defense. "Okay, Chewie, here's what I wanna do…"

---

Pandemonium reigned within the hanger bay. Mechanics and techs dove for cover, droids squealed and scurried in confusion, pilots cursed wildly and followed the example of the repair crews. Luckily, the lateness of the hour ensured that the panic spread only to the few teams still working in the hanger bay.

The hapless deck officer, pinned by blaster fire so precise that he was unable to move from his exposed position, quaked with terror. His eyes searched the darkness beyond the hanger bay wildly, trying to find the source of the attack.

The barrage, which had somehow managed to miss hitting him, and had somehow avoided damaging anything valuable, suddenly stopped. Unable to give voice to more than a garbled stammer, he gaped in utter disbelief at the two forms that entered the light from beyond the night-cloaked jungle.

Irate shouts began to echo from the edges of the hanger bay where the other personnel had taken cover. The first figure to emerge from the darkness ignored the furious cries, appearing sublimely oblivious to them. The second figure, waving a bowcaster threateningly at the most vociferous objectors, roared back at top volume, the Wookiee bellow ringing throughout the hanger.

As the Corellian smuggler that had so recently been honored as a hero of the Rebellion strode with single-minded purpose towards him, the deck officer's jaw dropped. Struggling to regain his lost composure, he managed to suck in a breath with which to blast the older man even as Solo stopped directly in front of him. Before he could utter a word, Solo pushed closer and jabbed a hard finger into his chest.

"Think about this…boy." Han could feel his jaw clenching around the words as he glared into the pale, frightened face in front of him. The damn fool kid can't be much older than Luke. "Me 'n' Chewie there could'a had you, and almost every single one of the techs, fried just now."

His voice was hard. "We could'a been in and back out'a here with two ships, and could'a destroyed the rest…all before you figured out who the hell'd killed you…"

The slowly gathering group of techs, mechanics, and pilots exchanged uneasy glances as the truth of Solo's words hit home. Vaguely aware of the audience he'd gathered, Han let his words carry. "Now…you're young. The way I figure it, you're only young once…"

His eyes swept the group before he pinned the inexperienced deck officer with a narrow-eyed stare, "But then, you're only dead once too…so if you wanna reach an age other than young and dead, you might just wanna start thinking a little more defensively…" Han jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the still-open bay doors.

Sarcasm was thick in his voice as he continued, "And if you happen to think 'dead' is better than 'young', then you might wanna consider the men who're under your command, kid. 'Cuz I can lay odds that there's not one of 'em that's gonna agree with you."

The deck officer met the glacial hazel eyes that were boring into his own. Swallowing hard, the young man darted a glance over Solo's shoulder to the darkness outside the hanger that suddenly seemed a lot more threatening than it had only minutes earlier.

Nodding shakily to indicate his understanding, the deck officer swallowed hard. "Y-y-yessir…" Straightening his shoulders, he turned his gaze on another young man wearing pilot's orange who was staring at Solo with mingled fury and admiration. "W-wedge…"

The chastened young man stopped. Then, he cleared his throat and when he spoke again the nervous edge to his voice had disappeared, replaced by a tone of command, "Wedge, make sure the bay doors get closed…" He flicked a quick glance toward Solo. "Immediately…and post a sentry just outside…"

Han's grin was feral as he nodded his approval. Without another word, he pivoted on one heel and directed his steps toward the bulky, beat-up freighter crouched near the entrance to the hanger bay. Behind him, Chewbacca paused.

Glancing from his partner's retreating back to the deck officer who was also staring after the smuggler, the Wookiee shook his head in bemusement. It was a good lesson, he thought to himself, but the cub's method of teaching leaves a lot to be desired. The sound of the bay doors closing broke him out of his musing and, with a comradely pat on the young deck officer's shoulder, Chewbacca started out after his friend.

Han had almost reached the sanctuary of the Falcon, his furry partner following closely behind, when he was stopped mid-step by a voice from behind him. "Captain Solo, I presume?"

The intrusion brought an instantaneous reaction from Han. Pivoting swiftly, he tensed, ready to throw himself out of harm's way even as his hand dipped to the blaster strapped to his thigh.

The swiftly calculating glance he shot at the speaker eased his tension somewhat as he found no threat in the other's stance or expression. He narrowed his eyes, gauging the newcomer warily. "Who wants to know?" Han kept his expression blank, his voice coolly challenging.

The older man who was staring back at him smiled knowingly, acknowledging the smuggler's inbred caution. "I'm Colonel Rieekan." He paused.

Solo lifted an unimpressed eyebrow, but relaxed, removing his hand from the butt of his blaster and crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm impressed." His voice was dry.

Rieekan swallowed a chuckle, finding himself liking the younger man's brash, cocksure attitude. "Yes, I can see that you are." His own voice was droll and he watched Solo's eyes flicker, the emotion indefinable.

For a long moment the two men stared at one another, taking each other's measure silently. Solo bristled as Rieekan's eyes traveled over him assessingly. His gaze narrowed as he watched the older man's eyes linger on the red strip of piping at the sides of his dark trousers. When Rieekan's eyes lifted to his own, Han glared, deliberately schooling his face into forbidding lines.

"The Bloodstripe… You're Corellian." Rieekan's statement was not a question.

Han's keen ear for languages picked up an almost indistinguishable trace of an accent in the older man's voice. "By the accent, so're you." He challenged, "So what?"

Rieekan grinned, shaking his head. "Accent?" He waited until Solo smirked and nodded before he murmured softly to himself, "And here I thought I'd managed to erase it…" Solo shook his head, his eyes still challenging.

"Ah…well…" A genuinely friendly smile crossed Rieekan's features and he impulsively extended a hand in greeting to his fellow Corellian. "Yaveych alla?" He inquired, dropping into his native language, his tone sociable.

"Vech re'…" Unthinkingly, Han began to respond with the traditional answer, falling automatically into High Corelli before he cut the words off. He froze.

Too much for one night, Han railed inwardly at his slip, too many memories, and too many emotions. He needed this new reminder of his past like he needed a nashtah at his throat.

Han's jaw clenched around a biting oath as he glared into the face of the older man. Recovering, he let his lips twist into a derisive smile, tipping his head to peer at Rieekan quizzically. "Hey, not all Corellians belong to a Clan." He thrust his chin forward challengingly, "You should know that." He kept his voice light, letting a hint of scorn creep into it. His eyes, however, were coolly unwelcoming and he deliberately did not return Rieekan's friendly gesture.

Rieekan stared long and hard into the pilot's hazel eyes before he withdrew his proffered hand. Silently, he pondered the swift and unfriendly answer to his question about Solo's background.

He frowned. Either Solo was outcaste, or there was more to him than met the eye. Rieekan's eyes narrowed as he replayed the smuggler's first blurted response to his question. His eyes widened.

High Corelli- was that High Corelli? Perplexed, unsure of what he'd heard, Rieekan speculatively weighed the man before him. Swiftly made, his decision about Solo's character was based much on the steady gaze that was waiting for his reaction. Deliberately, Rieekan changed the subject. "Thank you."

Han was taken aback. He frowned at the Colonel, more perplexed by his acceptance of the biting response to his inquiry than he was about the expression of gratitude. "What?" Dimly, he was aware of Chewbacca as, bored, the Wookiee continued on his way, taking long strides up the Falcon's ramp to disappear within her.

Rieekan nodded toward the young Deck Officer and smiled. "For taking care of that little matter. I was on my way over to…er…explain…that he was being a bit lax with security."

Rieekan's smile widened as Solo snorted derisively at the understatement. He kept his voice friendly as he continued, "I, of course, would have been a little more…circumspect…with my explanation…" He let his voice trail off in a subtle reprimand for Han's rash actions.

His estimation of the smuggler raised another notch when Solo canted a savvy glance at him and shook his head decisively. "Huh, uh. The kid'll remember that lesson until he's old and gray."

Rieekan met Solo's unwavering gaze, then nodded. "True. And perhaps, thanks to you, he might even reach that exalted status…" He pointedly ran his hand through his own crop of graying hair.

"Uh…" Solo suddenly looked uncomfortable, "Right." He scowled suddenly at Rieekan. "Look, you didn't just call me out so you could tell me what you think of my teaching methods…so…" Han gestured impatiently, indicating that Rieekan should explain his reason for stopping him in the first place.

Rieekan's smile faded. "You're right, Solo." His voice grew grave. "I was told that either you or someone named Luke Skywalker might be able to help me."

Han raised a questioning eyebrow, already forming an automatic refusal in his mind. "Help you?"

"Yes. I'm looking for Princess Leia Organa…" Rieekan watched the shuttered wariness return to Solo's face. "I was told that she was…"

"Captain Solo! There you are." The imperious tone of the voice that interrupted Rieekan instantly set Han's nerves on edge. He turned his gaze to the rapidly approaching form of Borsk Fey'lya and suppressed a groan. Rieekan turned to follow his gaze and watched curiously as the newcomer approached them.

The Bothan hurried closer to the pilot, his ruffled fur showing his agitation. As he drew near, his eyes darted to the man standing beside the smuggler. Not seeing any form of rank insignia on the man's simple dark-blue shirt, Fey'lya dismissed him.

"Captain Solo…" The Bothan's greeting was cool.

Han eyed Fey'lya with distaste, remembering that he had been one of the posturing paper-pushers that had been opposing Leia's suggestions on the evacuation. Entirely disinclined to be even remotely civil, Han scowled repressively at the Bothan. "What d'you want?"

Fey'lya's eyes narrowed at the blatantly rude question. Then, deciding to match the smuggler's uncouthness with the disdain it deserved, the Bothan pulled himself up rigidly and coolly inquired, "I am seeking Princess Organa, do you know where she might be?"

Han was aware of Rieekan's focus as the older Corellian turned his gaze on him, his eyes once again asking the same question. Not turning from Fey'lya's questioning eyes, Han lifted a laconic shoulder. "Why would I know where she is? You think I'm running a Princess-lost-and-found service here?"

Fey'lya frowned at the sarcastic question, then decided to ignore it. Before he could continue to speak, however, the Corellian cut him off. "Why don'cha try looking for her in her quarters…where any sane person would be this time of night."

Fey'lya's frown deepened at the scorn in the smuggler's voice. Haughtily, he informed the pilot, "I have already checked her quarters, Captain. I was informed by her protocol droid that she has not reported there at all this evening and that Ensign Skywalker might know where she might be."

Han's smile grew nasty. "Well, in that case, why're you asking me? Do I look like the kid? Last I checked he was a lot shorter than me…" Goading, Han raised a hand to indicate Luke's height. "Blonde…blue eyes…with a probably fatal sense of moral responsibility…not to mention a cock-eyed notion of becoming a Jedi that'll probably get him killed…" Han continued to enumerate Luke's features, raising his voice at the last on the off chance that the kid might be within earshot.

A noise from the depths of the Falcon, sounding much like a yelp of indignation, caught Han's ear and he mentally congratulated himself on being able to tweak his young friend. Chewbacca's woof of laughter preceded him down the ramp as he moved back within sight, the sound effectively keeping Luke's outburst concealed. Fey'lya glanced briefly at the Wookiee who had paused to lean laconically against one the ramp's support struts.

Agitation was evident in the Bothan's voice as glared at Han. "I am well aware of Skywalker's physical description, Captain. I am also aware that he has been known to spend a great deal of his free time associating with you." The Bothan's tone easily conveyed his opinion of Luke's tendency. "Do you know where I might find him?" The overly polite tone was deliberately condescending.

Instead of getting angry over the politician's tone, Han was delighted. Feigning a thoughtful search of his memory, Han slowly shook his head. "No…" He drew the word out for a long moment, and then gave the Bothan an insincere smile of commiseration, "Can't say that I have any idea where you might find him, Borsk." Deliberately, he forced an unwanted familiarity on Fey'lya by using his personal name, certain that the Bothan wouldn't catch the slight emphasis Han had used to quibble the meaning behind his answer.

Fey'lya bristled at Han, irritated by his uncouth familiarity. "Do you know where Princess Leia is?"

Han gave the Bothan his best innocent look and lied without compunction. "No, Fey'lya. I don't know where she is." I'll be dragged through the Five Fire Rings of Fornax backwards without a spacesuit before I'll let this idiot disturb Leia. Han was careful to keep his thoughts from showing on his face as he continued to eye Fey'lya with a falsely earnest expression.

The Bothan gave a frustrated sound and shook his furred head. Finally, he sighed and reluctantly gave the irritating smuggler a message to pass on to the Princess. "If you should happen to see her, please tell her that I urgently need to talk to her."

"Urgently?" Han was skeptical.

"Yes."

"What about?" If it really is important, Han thought with an inner sigh, Leia won't thank me for keeping the furry idiot away from her.

Even uncouth smugglers were not immune to the political mechanisms of war, Fey'lya assured himself. Perhaps this Solo would be another ally in his attempt to recruit the Princess to his scheme. Pleased with the thought, Fey'lya deigned to elaborate on his message.

"I have developed some ideas on how we might be able to garner sympathy for the Rebellion and would like to discuss them with her. If we use the destruction of Alderaan as a rallying point, we might be able…" Fey'lya's words broke off with a yelp of outrage as Han jabbed a hard finger into his furred chest.

"Kest!" Han's voice was almost a shout as he glowered into the wide eyes of the Bothan. "Shut up!" Incredulous, he pinned Fey'lya with a penetrating hazel stare. "The Princess lost everybody that meant anything to her a few days ago and you wanna find some way to exploit it…?" Han broke off, the fury rising within him choking the words.

He drew himself up to his full height, a deliberately menacing gesture as he too-quietly warned, "Get out of here, Fey'lya. I got no use for blood-suckers like you." The hand that had poked the Bothan now gave him a shove as Han's other hand dropped to rest meaningfully on the butt of his blaster.

"Now," Fey'lya's voice held insulted outrage, "See here, Solo! You cannot possibly…"

Han drew the blaster in one fluid motion, the open bore of the weapon coming to rest under the Bothan's furred muzzle. "I can't what?" Han's eyes were narrowed dangerously and his voice was a quiet threat.

Fey'lya's eyes crossed as he looked down into the blaster. He took several hasty steps back and paused, glaring hatred at the smuggler. Han returned the look with equanimity, and then jerked his chin in the direction of the exit, indicating with typical Solo subtlety that the Bothan should depart. Glowering, Fey'lya took the hint.

Han watched him scurry off, fuming. He slid the blaster back into its holster and began to turn back to the Falcon. His eyes fell on Rieekan and he froze. He met the older man's gaze with a challenging glare, daring him to say anything.

Rieekan glanced after the departing Bothan, shook his head slightly, and sighed. "You've just made an enemy, Solo."

"Yeah?" Han brushed off the warning. "Well, what's one more, more or less…" He was careful to keep his voice light, not allowing his own weariness to show in his face or voice.

Rieekan tipped his head inquiringly, studying the brash young pilot in front of him. "Remind me never to play Sabacc with you, Solo."

Han frowned, not understanding.

Rieekan smiled, darted a quick glance up into the depths of the Falcon, and then turned back to Han. "When you see Leia next…" His smile grew broader as he watched the younger man's expression go blank again, the perfect Sabacc face. "Could you please give her a message from me?" He stressed the last word carefully.

"Depends…dunno when I'll see her," Han stuck to his fabrication with no reservation. "Depends on the message…" His eyes narrowed challengingly at the Colonel.

Rieekan nodded somberly. "I'm a friend of the family, Solo. Bail Organa was one of my best friends. I've known Leia since she was…this high." A fond smile crept across his face as he indicated a height well below his waistline. "I was afraid she was having to face…everything…alone." Rieekan's voice held the pain of his own loss. "I can see that's not quite true, but…"

"They've run her ragged since the battle…" Han kept his voice noncommittal, still playing his cards close to his chest, as he interrupted. It was the closest he was willing to come to admitting he knew where Leia was, and it was intended be an apology of sorts for not being willing to disturb her.

Rieekan rose slightly higher in Han's estimation as the Colonel nodded soberly, understanding clearly written on his features. Han watched as the blue eyes again targeted the darkness near the top of the Falcon's landing ramp-the older man's subtle acknowledgement of the secret Solo was keeping.

"Just let her know I'm on-base…" Rieekan's eyes dropped to match Han's hazel ones with a knowing stare. "When you see her again."

Han nodded. "Sure."

Rieekan began to turn away and then pivoted once more. "Solo…" His voice was thoughtful.

"Yeah?" Han raised his brows in question.

Rieekan turned to face the smuggler squarely. His eyes lifted to the Falcon once more, studying the ship with an assessing gaze. Dropping his attention back to the younger man, he smiled faintly. "YT-1300?"

When Han nodded, he gave the ship another admiring glance, "They were nice ships. Modified?" His eyes remained on the ship, taking note of a few obvious changes under the carefully contrived image of a battered hulk.

"A bit…" A quirk at the corner of Han's mouth would have belied the understatement had Rieekan been watching him. As it was, the dry tone to the smuggler's voice betrayed Han's pride in his creation, despite her less-than-appealing exterior.

"We need ships." Rieekan turned his head, catching Han's gaze with his own. He watched the smuggler's face grow guarded before a carefully neutral expression replaced the wary hazel stare.

Han couldn't tell whether he was more annoyed by the Colonel's oblique request or by his own insane urge to volunteer his, and his ship's, services. Able to feel the weight of the Wookiee's gaze, Han refused to meet Chewbacca's blue eyes as he deliberately shrugged with little concern. "Yeah. So I've been hearing." He kept his voice noncommittal.

Han watched Rieekan's eyes narrow in ill-concealed annoyance and a flit of amusement came with an irreverent thought. Looks like I still got the knack for irritating the hell outta ranking officers. Following swiftly on the heels of that thought was irritation at himself for considering Rieekan a ranking officer.

A low chuckle from next to him brought him back from his thoughts. Surprised to see reluctant amusement in Rieekan's eyes, Han scowled at the older man.

"Okay, Solo. We'll play it your way." Rieekan met Han's gaze with a forthright glance. "How much to hire the services of you, your ship…" He gave a nod to Chewbacca's towering form, "And your First Mate…for the duration of the time it takes us to evacuate Yavin?"

"Evacuate to where?" Han stalled.

"We've got a few options in mind. But, until we know we have your cooperation, I'm sure you can appreciate that we…" Rieekan let the sentence trail off.

"Right." Han smirked knowingly and raised a hand in acknowledgment. He sobered, assessing the other man.

"Well, Solo?" Rieekan met Han's gaze steadily as he assured him, "I do have enough authority to work out a deal for your services. Scuttlebutt has it, though, that you drove a stiff bargain for a simple passage from Tatooine to Alderaan…"

Han opened his mouth to protest loudly that the 'simple passage' had entailed a bit more than he'd bargained for, but Rieekan didn't allow him to jump in. Instead, a glint of humor lit the man's blue eyes, as if he knew what Solo was about to say. He continued quickly, "I'm not quite as easy a mark…but I think we could come to a mutual agreement if you and your partner are willing to work with us."

As Han scanned the suddenly impassive features of the Rebel Colonel, he felt a grudging admiration for the older Corellian. The man had a Sabacc expression of his own that would've given Solo reason for concern if he had to face it over a gaming table.

"Well, now…" Han drawled thoughtfully as he put on his own bargaining face. "I guess that'll be somethin' for me 'n' Chewie to consider, Colonel. We'd been talking about doing another Kessel Run…" Han blithely ignored the querulous grunt of denial from behind him, "But if you think you can come up with something to up the ante on that…" Han let his voice trail off suggestively.

Rieekan's gaze gained a hint of frost as he scanned Han's features in an attempt to discern just how serious the smuggler was being. There was no way the financially-challenged forces of the Alliance could match the profit a good smuggler could make on a load of glimmerstim spice.

Watching Solo, Rieekan frowned, still unsure of the cocky pilot's motives, but he followed a hunch and nodded, "We'll see." He glanced at his wrist chrono. "It's late. Come find me sometime in the morning…I'll be in a briefing with Mon Mothma and Madine until 0900. That'll give you and your partner time to…think it over."

He waited for a moment, watching as Solo's face went through a transformation from cunning bravado to calculating speculation. He interrupted the pilot's musings deliberately, asking for confirmation, "Tomorrow then?"

"Sure." Han nodded absently. There was no way, he thought to himself, that the Rebels had anything to compare to the fee for running a load of spice. Not to mention the fact that his instincts were screaming at him to haul jets, get away from these people as fast as the Falcon could take him, before they corrupted his carefully constructed selfishness.

The faint stirrings of something that might have been ideals that he'd considered long dead terrified him. He ignored the blue-eyed gaze of his furry conscience as he shrugged indifferently. "I'll stop by. But, unless you got more to offer than I think you do, I wouldn't get your hopes up."

Rieekan fixed him with a perceptive stare, and then nodded abruptly. Raising his hand in a farewell gesture to the watchful Wookiee, he turned smartly on his heel. Han watched the other Corellian until he disappeared around a parked X-wing, and then turned to head wearily back up the Falcon's ramp.

As he passed Chewbacca, he scowled repressively, silently warning the huge, furry nag not to start in on him. The silence that followed him up the ramp was almost worse than the rumbled growls that the Wookiee would have normally used to badger his partner. Han was almost relieved when an accusing blue-eyed glare from a peevish Tatooine farm boy greeted his arrival in the Falcon's main hold.

A gratifying amount of irritation filled Luke's voice as he repeated Han's comment, "Cock-eyed notion?"

Han smiled broadly at the youth. "Hey, buddy," he chuckled, "If the lightsaber fits…"

Luke gifted him with a hard-eyed glower, debating on whether or not to confront Han with his anger at him for his reluctance to offer his help to the Rebellion. Remembering the smuggler's actions prior to the Death Star battle, Luke followed the urgings of his feelings and bit back the words he wanted to speak.

Finally, with affectionate exasperation coloring his tone, he shook his head. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"It's a gift, kid…" Han's grin grew wider as Luke gave in and chuckled. He ignored Chewbacca as the Wookiee interjected a snide comment of his own. Yep, the Wook is definitely unhappy with me. Han shrugged inwardly, knowing that Chewie would stew for a while before blasting him with his opinion of Han's attitude.

Flashing a quick glance towards the opened door to his cabin, Han dismissed his partner's irritation with him and raised a questioning eyebrow towards Luke. "She still sleeping?"

"Yeah." Luke's gaze followed his, concern still lingering in his eyes. "She cried out earlier…nightmare I think…but she didn't wake up."

Han nodded soberly. "It'll take a while before the nightmares stop…" His voice trailed off and he was silent for a moment before he visibly shook himself out of his thoughts. "You better get some sleep, Junior." He gestured to the force couch next to the gaming table where a therm-blanket was lying in a crumpled heap. Luke had obviously tossed it aside when he went to check on the Princess.

"Me 'n' Chewie need to get that inductor put in…we'll try to keep it down." Han ignored the fatigue that was creeping through him, knowing that, thanks to the stresses of the past week--not to mention tonight's emotional firefight--his own personal set of nightmares were waiting just this side of sleep.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd deliberately set out to work himself into a state of exhaustion that would stymie any attempt by his subconscious to ambush his sleep-drugged mind. Not to mention, Han thought wryly as he met Chewbacca's knowing gaze from across the room, the fact that his partner was obviously aching for a chance to air his opinions.

As Luke followed his advice, stretching out on the force couch, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders, and closing his eyes, Han stepped over to the Falcon's main computer. "I'll start the diagnostics, Chewie. Why don't you get started with the wiring, I'll be there in a minute to help get the conductor outta the way."

Chewbacca grunted a gruff acknowledgement and turned. Ducking through the doorway leading to the aft part of the Falcon, the Wookiee shook his head. He rumbled quietly to himself, the sound an aggrieved mumble in Wookian.

Sometimes that human can be so difficult, he grunted softly to himself in irritation. He had seen the flicker of fear that had crossed Han's face as he'd talked with Rieekan. He was all too aware of the weary confusion that his friend had hidden beneath his smug grin and snide remarks.

This night had badly shaken Han Solo, whether his partner was willing to admit it or not. Han's willingness to undertake the laborious repair work this late in the night was a clear signal that the Corellian was upset and wanted to avoid the nightmares that Chewbacca knew sometimes plagued him.

Sighing, Chewbacca started pulling panels off the inductor housing. He decided to go easy on Han tonight. Though the sometimes-inexpressible covenants of a Life Debt didn't quite define the niceties of salvaging the recipient's emotional well-being, Chewie liked the irrepressible human too much to add to his confusion and disquiet.

At least, Chewie smiled to himself, not until Han got some uninterrupted sleep. He wasn't entirely heartless-or suicidal. A grumpy Han Solo pushed past his limits of endurance was enough to give even a Wookiee second thoughts. It was one of the reasons Chewie liked him so much. Chewbacca gave a chuckle, then turned his full attention to the job at hand.

---

Han turned away from the diagnostic computer. His eyes fell on Luke's relaxed form and he shook his head in amused disgust at the utterly peaceful expression on the kid's face. Was I ever that innocent? Han shook his head at the thought and snorted derisively as he answered his own question. Nope!

He stood and squared his shoulders in resignation, and then hesitated, not yet ready to go to the rear of the ship and engage in a verbal battle with his partner. He scowled. He didn't really feel like arguing with the Wookiee tonight. In fact, he felt like disappearing for a while…preferably into the silent darkness between the stars.

He sighed. Can't do that 'til you have a space-worthy ship, Solo, he admonished himself in Chewbacca's place. Get to work, Slick. Han frowned suddenly as the old nickname slipped into his thoughts. Kest! If I'm thinking of myself as Slick again, then it really is time to make a quick retreat.

Suiting actions to thoughts, Han started down the hallway. As he passed the open door to his cabin, he couldn't resist darting a quick glance inside. He paused, watching as the Princess shifted restlessly on his bunk.

Her face creased in a frown and she lifted her hands slightly as if she were trying to push someone away. Han recognized the signs of an impending nightmare and, despite the nagging mental voice that suggested he continue on his way and let Luke come to her aid, he spoke softly from the doorway.

Hoping that the sound of another human voice would calm her, he quietly repeated the words he had spoken to her earlier, "Leia, ya eta' k'a'su'lo." He watched with some surprise as her frown eased at his words. Then, she shifted slightly and relaxed again.

Waiting to see if the nightmare would return, Han studied her sleeping features for a long moment. Then, a sudden thought striking him, he turned away and headed back into the Falcon's main hold.

Reaching into an overhead compartment, careful to be quiet and not disturb Luke, Han dug into a drawer and finally located two small objects. Pulling them out, he clipped one com-link to his vest pocket and adjusted the settings on the other, setting it to broadcast openly.

Han crossed the hold again with swift strides and stepped into his quarters. Carefully, he clipped the comlink to the edge of the panel that served as a table in the small cabin. He'd hear her if she called out. As if sensing his presence, Leia stirred again, a small whimper escaping her.

"Shhhh, Leia, sleep," Han's low voice appeared to soothe her. She sighed and fell back into a more restful slumber. Han nodded in satisfaction and turned to leave the room.

As he emerged, he shot a furtive glance across the compartment and sighed in relief as his gaze rested on Luke's sleeping features. His lips turned up in a grimace as, while he watched, a low snore escaped the youth. Pity your roommate, kid. A chuckle punctuated his wry thought as he shook his head and started down the hallway to join Chewbacca.

Behind him, unnoticed, a pair of bright blue eyes opened and followed him. Luke stared after the smuggler, trying to unravel the bewildering mass of contradictions that was Han Solo.

After Han had disappeared into the depths of the Falcon, Luke rose silently and quietly made his way across the room. He glanced at Leia, who was now sleeping peacefully, then smiled in bemusement at the small device that rested near the head of the bed.

Touched by the Corellian's unexpected thoughtfulness, Luke shook his head in confusion. A huge yawn caught him unprepared and with a chuckle, he turned back toward the surprisingly comfortable makeshift bed he'd just left. Yanking the cover back over himself, Luke sighed and put aside his questions, letting sleep claim him.

---

The ship was silent, all her occupants sleeping soundly, the normal hums and chirps of her machinery stilled while she herself rested planet-side. Noises from outside drifted up into the ship through the opened hatch, sounds that had special meaning to all ship's captains from the Outer Rim to the Core-the sound of a busy hanger bay.

Whistles and squeals from astromech droids, the hum of servo-motors, and the hissing spark of macro and micro-fusers at work--all intermingled with the more organic and volatile sounds of curses at recalcitrant machinery and whoops of triumph as some repair work succeeded. Though the noises were plenty, they were filtered through the all-pervasive quiet of a ship at rest in a home port.

A new sound entered the quiet of the ship. Booted heels tapped a steady rhythm on the lowered landing ramp. The sigh of homecoming that escaped Han as he stepped into the welcoming embrace of his ship was quiet but the pilot would've hotly denied it if anyone listening had drawn attention to it. Nobody did.

Han glanced at the sprawled youth on the force couch. With his hair sleep-tousled and the blanket tangled around his legs, Luke looked even younger than he had appeared last night. Han shook his head, suddenly feeling the weight of his own sleepless night.

He crossed the compartment and threw himself into the chair in front of the diagnostic board. Scowling, he propped his feet up on the corner of the computer and slouched further into the chair. Closing his eyes, he tried to force tense muscles to relax.

A slight sound, no more than a soft whisper of clothing, brought an instantaneous reaction from the pilot. His eyes flew open and targeted the sound even as his feet left the top of the computer console and struck the floor with a muffled thud. His hand fell to the butt of the blaster that was strapped to his thigh and he had the weapon half-drawn before his tired brain sent the signal commanding his fingers to halt their motion.

Leia blinked at him, a confused expression crossing her face as she glanced from his battle-ready features to Luke's peacefully sleeping one. A faint smile graced her face as a soft snore escaped the Tatooine youth. Her bewilderment began to lapse into embarrassment as she realized that she was the target of a very direct, and very intense, hazel stare.

She forced herself to meet Solo's eyes, dreading the first snide comment she knew he would make. When he did speak, his voice held none of the antagonism she had come to expect from him.

"Morning. Sleep well?"

She blinked in surprise and nodded. "Yes." Her eyes traveled over him curiously as she added with ingrained politeness, "Thank you." He looked as if he hadn't slept at all, she admitted, noting the circles under his eyes and the fatigue creases around his mouth. A mouth, she noticed, that was even now gaining its normal sardonic curl.

"You're welcome." Han managed to make it sound as if he were entirely to be credited for the state of her night's slumber.

Maybe he was, she admitted silently to herself, remembering the comfort he had offered her. He and Luke, she tossed another glance at the younger man. With that thought prodding her, and for some reason wanting Han to know that she appreciated his decision to follow her into the jungle, Leia spoke into the quiet again.

"Last night…you…" She broke off, and then met the hazel eyes that were peering at her questioningly as she stumbled over the words. She hesitated, drowning in the depths of those eyes for a moment, before she shook her head. With a disparaging smile at her own awkwardness, she tried again, "Thank you. For following me last night. It helped."

He met her gaze with a steady look, his face unreadable. She was afraid he was going to ruin the moment with a sarcastic quip, but then the intense light in his hazel eyes eased and he nodded solemnly. "You're welcome."

He wasn't going to be obnoxious, she thought with mild surprise. Smiling, Leia relaxed further. She stepped closer to the chair he was sitting in, hearing the noises outside the ship that heralded a busy day within the Rebel base. Unwilling to leave the haven of the Falcon, she ignored the sounds.

It was at times like this that she could see the attraction of the ship. Its self-contained and self-sufficient confines were soothing. For a brief moment, she allowed herself the luxury of considering what it would be like to be able to leave the pressures and pains of her position behind and just disappear into the spaces between the stars.

Her distant gaze refocused on the Falcon's master and her thoughts focused on the glimpse of the smuggler's inner self that he'd allowed Luke and her to see. "Last night. That…" She paused, searching for the word he'd used. "The nehsarr?" The hazel eyes that were watching her widened, and then blinked, flickering away from her gaze. Leia, trying to remember the translated words of the chant, didn't catch the telltale sign of unease that flashed across the smuggler's face.

Change the subject, Solo…now. Start a fight…anything… Han didn't heed the inner warning voice. Instead, he found himself quietly correcting Leia's mispronunciation, "Ni'sarr."

"Ni'sarr." Leia repeated softly, with a smile of apology for mangling the word.

Last night there had been another word, one she had wanted to ask him about but, in her own emotional firestorm, she had forgotten to question him. Now, in the lingering warmth of the closeness he'd uncharacteristically allowed the night before, she fixed him with a discerning stare and asked quietly, "Ahzulo…what does it mean?"

She suspected that, with his spontaneous recital of the chant-song the night before, Han had revealed more of himself than he had wanted to, that it had a greater meaning to the smuggler than he was comfortable with anyone knowing. Despite his inexhaustible ability to boast of his and his co-pilot's exploits, Han Solo was painfully close-mouthed on any information that wasn't directly related to his life as a smuggler.

The background check the Rebel leaders had run on him had turned up nothing about the man that was less recent than ten years ago. The obvious conclusion was that Captain Han Solo was either a very mature ten-year-old, she gave a wry smile at the ludicrous thought, or his name and identity were an alias.

A very well-crafted alias, Leia admitted with an inward smile as she remembered the consternation on the faces of the Rebel slicers who had found themselves up against a brick wall while trying to investigate him. Luke Skywalker, like the young man himself, had been an open book. Han Solo on the other hand, was a mystery.

A very silent mystery, she realized suddenly, drawn from her thoughts by Han's lack of response. She tipped her head to one side, fixing him with a questioning glance. His hazel eyes had darkened, the shadows in them dimming their normal brilliance. He gazed through her, unseeing.

"Han?"

Her voice brought his eyes back into focus and he lifted them to meet her gaze. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and Leia read the signs of indecision on his face before he finally sighed. His voice, when he spoke, held a flat note of weariness that, to Leia, appeared to stem from emotional rather than physical exhaustion.

"It's just a word in a poem, Princess." The upward curl to one side of Han's mouth held no humor. "It can mean a lot of things…" Han slowly rose to his feet after giving her the vague response, then he continued, "Or it can mean nothing…" Deliberately, he turned his head away, glancing down at the readouts on the computer screen.

Han angled his body slightly in order to reach another control on the console. The movement effectively hid his face from the curious woman standing too close to him. Reaching out, he pressed a switch, twisted a knob, and adjusted a setting-for all the world looking like he was fidgeting uncomfortably.

He was, Leia realized. She watched him fine-tune yet another setting while checking the results on the screen in front of him. His determined attempt to appear busy brought a softness to her face as she watched him, knowing instinctively that her question had found a weak spot in the defenses he kept around himself and his past.

The silence behind him finally drew Han's reluctant gaze back to the Princess and seeing Leia's expression was like catching a blaster bolt through his gut. Haughtiness, he could deal with. Irritation, anger, and frustration, he enjoyed watching. Biting humor and sarcastic taunts, he delighted in. But pity…he drew the line at that. Huh uh, sister, no way! The thought was accompanied by an ugly scowl.

Wanting to wipe the tender expression from her face, Han blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "Oh, by the way, Your Worship…" Han made sure to drawl the nickname as insultingly as possible. "Next time you decide to run away from your responsibilities, you might wanna let some of your lackeys know where you've gone…"

Leia's eyebrows rose sharply at his antagonistic tone and the biting words, "Excuse me?" Her voice was confused as she tried to follow the Corellian captain's sudden shift in mood.

Han leaned against the navigation console, crossing his legs and folding his arms over his chest. He tipped his chin up, peering down his nose at the young woman standing in front of him. "I mean," he purred arrogantly, "It seems like you ought to at least let that walking tin-can know where you might be hiding out…"

Frowning in exasperated puzzlement, Leia's tone gained an edge of annoyance. "Why would I want to let anyone know where I'm going if I'm trying to get away…"

Han interrupted, "It'd save me a lot of trouble anyway. I got paid for my services getting you and the kid here, but so far I don't remember signing up as your personal scheduling secretary…"

"What?" Leia shook her head in mounting frustration and rising irritation. "What are you talking about?"

"Fey'lya…" Han answered succinctly. He watched as dismay, irritation, and finally resignation flitted quickly across Leia's face before she hid her emotions behind a serene mask. Wanting to shake that serenity, Han spoke again before she could ask, "He stopped by last night…said he had an 'urgent' message for you."

"An urgent message?" Leia repeated, the puzzled frown returning to her face. "What message?"

Han gave an insouciant shrug, delighting in the flicker of genuine annoyance that it drew from the young woman in front of him. "What do I look like…?"

"You don't want me to answer that," Leia broke in, cutting him off with a pointed glower that hinted that her response would be less than complimentary.

Han felt his lips curl slightly in amusement at her quick response. Briefly, he considered the merits of continuing the argument in that direction. His debate was cut short as Leia rapidly switched subjects, returning to the question of Fey'lya's message.

"Did he tell you what he wanted?"

This time Han's sour response did not have to be faked, his remembrance of the Bothan's distasteful suggestion from the night before narrowing his eyes in disgust. "Yeah, Your Highness," The scorn he felt toward Fey'lya colored his tone as he responded, "He did."

Leia drew herself up in angry defense at the scathing tone of Han's reply, incorrectly assuming that it was aimed at her. She buried the twinge of hurt that his obvious distaste created and concentrated on injecting a cool edge of haughtiness into her own tone. "You should have awakened me."

Mistake! Leia refused to flinch, even though she knew she had given Han a perfect opening. She watched his hazel eyes narrow and his mouth twist into an even more sardonic curl than normally graced it.

"Oh, I should've?" Han emphasized the word as he repeated it and widened his eyes in an expression of innocent dismay that was nothing short of patently false. "I'm so sorry, Your High and Mightiness…" Han's eyes narrowed in annoyance, "But for some reason I thought you might prefer a little uninterrupted sleep instead of wasting time listening to Fey'lya's twisted ideas about using Alderaan's destruction and your martyrdom to drum up support for the Rebellion."

"What!" Incredulity faded quickly, first into naked pain and then into outrage as Leia gaped up into Han's face.

The flash of grief moved Han despite his attempt to remain irritated at the young woman. His voice gentled, holding no hint of annoyance or teasing, and he nodded, "Yeah. I didn't think you'd mind me not waking you up for that."

Leia pulled in a deep breath, blinking and gaining control of her emotions as she stared blankly at the expanse of Han's chest. Absently, she scratched at the side of her hand, then glanced down at it in curiosity as she felt the distinctive smoothness of synth-flesh under her fingers.

Vaguely, she found herself wondering if it had been Han who had treated the wound she'd inflicted on herself the night before or whether Luke or Chewbacca had seen to it. As she tried to ignore the soul-wrenching memories that Fey'lya's message had triggered, she focused on the question of the patch of synth-flesh. Han, she decided, not questioning her instinctive judgment, it had to have been Han.

Visions of Alderaan's destruction once again flared in her mind despite her attempt to focus on other concerns. Realizing how much of a blow Fey'lya's suggestion would have been to her the night before, Leia felt a surge of gratitude toward the smuggler. Not looking up, she spoke softly, "You were right. Thank you."

She didn't see the softening of his hazel eyes as he looked down at the top of her head or the lopsided smile that reflected his mood. "No problem."

Leia remained silent for a long moment more, and then visibly shook off her melancholy musings. Glancing around, she frowned slightly. "What time is it?" She peered at the many displays on the console behind Han, trying to find a chronometer.

Lifting one brow at her sudden change of subject, Han tipped his head and flicked a glance toward the correct readout. His voice was carefully neutral as he informed her, "Ten fifty." He watched her eyes widen in dismay

"Oh, no," she breathed, sounding harried.

Han watched with interest as she ran a quick hand over her hair. Idly, he noted that she must have taken it down and re-braided it sometime after waking. He let his gaze linger over the neat, intricate coils she had twisted the dark strands into, admiring her handiwork even as he found himself wishing she'd left it down.

He frowned at his own interest in seeing her with her hair loose and flowing down her back. When he spoke, his voice reflected his irritation at his own wayward thoughts, "What's the matter, Your Hignessness? Late for brunch?"

For once, Leia let the snide comment pass. In fact, Han noted, she hadn't even seemed to catch it. Instead, she answered with absent urgency as she nodded while trying to make sure she was presentable.

"Late for an appointment." She twisted slightly, trying to catch a reflection of herself in a reflective bit of metal on one of the Falcon's storage lockers. She tugged on her clothing, trying to erase a wrinkle. She surprised Han by continuing to speak. "I'm supposed to meet with the Finance Department at eleven."

Unaccountably pleased by the fact that she was holding a normal conversation with him-a change from the usual banter and baiting tones-Han let a smile ease across his face. "The Finance Department, huh?" His hazel eyes twinkled slightly as he teased, "Got some bad debts hangin' over your head, Princess?"

Leia's eyes flew to his, startled wariness in her gaze, obviously wondering if his words were meant sarcastically. Meeting his steady stare, she noted the glint of teasing laughter in his eyes and relaxed. Her lips curved into a smile of her own even as she answered with her own teasing asperity, "Not me, hotshot, the Rebellion."

His raised eyebrow asked the question and her amusement took a downward turn into serious concern. On a sigh, she explained, "I told Mon Mothma that I'd help in Finances. We need money…"

Han snorted derisively. "Who doesn't?"

Leia rolled her eyes at his interruption but nodded in agreement. "True. But right now…" She sighed, worry dimming her dark eyes. "The Rebellion is strapped…and we need transport ships…badly."

Han's eyes narrowed warily and he shifted his weight in an unconscious urge to walk away. Leia caught the telltale motion and angled a wry glance at him. He shrugged unapologetically.

Leia continued softly, "We need freighters…and have no way to purchase any. I suggested we might try hiring…" Leia paused again, meeting Han's eyes with a hint of a smile as she used the Corellian euphemism, "Free-traders."

Han nodded his understanding. "Good idea." He kept his tone bland, non-committal and watched while a flicker of what might have been anticipation faded in her eyes.

"Yes. Well." Leia looked off-balance for a moment and Han knew instinctively that she had harbored a hope that he would volunteer his ship for the cause. He maintained a steadfast silence.

Leia pulled in a deep breath and then raised her eyes to meet his steady gaze. Hesitantly, she offered her thoughts for his more experienced input. "The way I figure it, if we can hire at least six ships, it'll take us less than five days to get everything off-planet. It will take at least three loads apiece for each ship…" She paused, her eyes questioning him.

Han's gaze flickered as he mentally calculated the figures for the amount of equipment the Rebel Alliance needed to move and the probable cargo space that would be available to them. Slowly, he nodded. "Yeah. That'd be about right. You could cut down on the number of loads if you can manage to find someone with a mid-sized bulk freighter. It'd need a fighter escort…" Han's lips quirked. "But one thing the Rebellion does have is fighters."

Leia smiled, as much at the fact that he was offering advice as at his quip. Filing away his helpful comment with a nod, she continued, "If we offer five thousand credits per load…"

Leia broke off as she caught Han shaking his head in disagreement. "What?"

"Nope. It won't work, Princess." A hint of apology in his voice took the sting out of his blunt words.

"Why not?"

"Five K? There's not a smuggler around that would be able to take that and make any sort of profit from it. Hell, hauling R'alla mineral water is a milk run…short, sweet…and even a small load will bring more than five thousand."

Dismay crossed Leia's features. "More?"

"Yep." Han tried to ignore the twinge of regret that rose in him as he watched her face fall. A wry smile touched his face as he boasted, "Hell, the Falcon's got the lowest overhead of almost any ship I know…and even if I wanted to just break even on each run, I'd have to charge more." Han's voice was matter-of-fact as he stated the bald truth.

Her eyes lifted to his, dismay in their dark depths. "Han, there's no way we could possibly go higher." A frown creased her brow as she mentally tried to calculate the amount of resources that she had discussed with Mon Mothma for the past two days.

"Sorry, Your Highness," Han shrugged coolly, trying to ignore the twinge of regret he felt as he watched her face fall. He flinched as she suddenly turned her eyes up to him, the eager light in them warning him even before she opened her mouth.

"What about… Han, surely you know of some…friends…who would be willing to help us…for less."

"Huh, uh, sweetheart, don't even think it!" Han shook his head firmly. "Some of the people I know would laugh in my face…and the others would shoot me…if I came to them with a deal that offered less than a R'alla run."

Leia sighed in frustration and dismay before she turned a speculative gaze on the Corellian. Han bristled defensively as he watched her go into full-Senator mode. With one part of his mind, he admired the sparkle of energy and earnest belief in her eyes as she turned them on him.

The rest of his mind absently noted the sudden sensation of being out of control again, and he felt himself recoil instinctively even as she spoke, "What about you, Han? Even the Falcon alone would make a difference. And I might be able to convince Mon Mothma to raise the payment so you could…

Han cut her off abruptly, slashing the air in front of him with a hand as he shook head again. "Don't try your recruitment speeches on me, Your Worship," Han ignored the flash of anger in her eyes at the nickname. Holding up his hands to ward off her words, he shook his head emphatically. He narrowed his eyes and deliberately stuck his right hand into her line of sight, rubbing his fingers together in the ages-old, universal gesture for money. "I'm lookin' to make a profit."

An inelegant snort from the diminutive spitfire in front of him earned her a glare from the Falcon's captain. As Leia opened her mouth to make a retort, Han stubbornly continued speaking, raising his voice slightly to be sure to talk over the top of her budding objection, "I'm a businessman…I don't go around volunteering my services for free." Han took note of the flash of anger in her eyes but continued speaking despite it. "And I ain't in the business of signing up for lost causes, got it?"

Han smiled nastily as he watched Leia's mouth firm into a compressed line, obviously holding back a scathing rejoinder. Finally, she sighed. "Alright. I won't ask you to…"

"Good." Han interrupted, knowing that it would irritate her further.

He was right. Her eyes flashed with rising fury as she glared at him for a moment. Han let the silence stretch between them, wondering absently if she would try to negotiate with him. Nope, he thought, musta pushed it a bit too far. The thought came swiftly after the muted huff of disgust the Princess let escape her as she shook her head at him.

He waited until she gave him a cool nod and was in the process of turning away, directing her steps towards the top of the Falcon's lowered ramp before he spoke again. "Oh, and Your Highnessness…" He paused.

She turned. Her face was tight, her lips pressed firmly together in irritation. Han waited a beat, wondering if she was going to respond. When she remained silent, he let his most irksome grin slide across his face. "When you see Rieekan…" Han lifted one shoulder in a calculatingly careless shrug and deliberately paused long enough for her to interrupt.

She didn't disappoint him. "Rieekan?" Her voice held confusion and the anger in her eyes had faded.

"Yeah." Han nodded. "Colonel Rieekan. He stopped by last night, too. Him and Fey'lya both."

"Rieekan's here?" Confusion gave way to incredulity and rising elation.

"Tall guy…gray hair…Corellian?" Han fell silent, waiting for a nod from the young woman in front of him, enjoying the delight that was beginning to sparkle in her eyes. When she raised her eyebrows impatiently, he shrugged again and continued, "Yeah. Said to tell you that he was on-base."

The sparkle turned into glittering irritation and Leia glowered at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just did." Han widened his eyes with as much innocence as he could muster.

An indelicate and unmistakably feminine growl of annoyance greeted his words. Han grinned.

Leia attempted to ignore the smug smile on the irritating man's face. "What else did he tell you to tell me?"

Han shrugged yet again, liking the effect it had on the Princess' temper, and feigned a search of his memory. "Hmmm…. Oh, yeah… He said he'd see you after his meeting at 0900. But when I caught up with him this morning, he mentioned that he'd be meeting Mon Mothma at 1100…" Han smiled in sudden, patently feigned enlightenment, "Hey, that's the same meeting you'll be in…"

Leia rolled her eyes and turned to hurry from the ship. After only two steps, she whirled, her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she locked onto a portion of his words. Frowning, she repeated, "When you caught up with him this morning? What'd he want with you?"

Oops! Great, Solo…that was smooth… Despite his irritation with his own verbal slip, Han let his lip curl in sardonic humor. "Same as you, Your Holiness… Tried recruiting me 'n' Chewie 'n' the Falcon."

"Good thing he didn't know how mercenary you are…" Another irritable glare accompanied the snidely muttered words.

"Yeah. Well he knows now." Han gifted her with another tight smile. The glower she shot him would have burned through plas-steel. Even Han felt the sting of her scorn. Watching her turn away and start down the ramp again, Han frowned, his eyes distant as he stared blindly at her retreating back.

The crushing weight of his sleepless night fell heavily upon him, shortening his temper and creating the nagging irritation that was eating at him. Yeah, it's just exhaustion, Slick. It sure as hell can't be a sense of morality, can it? Remember, you strangled that years ago…too inconvenient for a smuggler to have.

Han's scowl deepened. Rapidly, in a calculation that was almost as unconscious as breathing, he juggled fuel consumption, cost of maintenance, and profit margins. Within seconds, his hazel eyes refocused, pinning the departing young woman who had made it halfway down the landing ramp.

A lightening swift debate with himself ensued, and then Han shrugged. What the hell…might as well save myself the trouble of tracking Rieekan down again…and maybe I can get some sleep. Han stepped forward, making his way down the ramp in Leia's wake.

He called out when she had taken two steps away from the ship. "Hey! Princess!" Peripherally, he was aware that his shout had garnered him the attention of the nearest mechanics and pilots in the hanger bay.

Leia's determined stride halted abruptly. Back rigid, she pivoted, and Han was surprised to see a flush of embarrassed color rising in her cheeks. The almost unnoticeable flicker of her eyes to the watching flight crews tipped him off. The young woman had been trying to keep her presence on the Falcon as quiet as possible. Han grinned widely.

"D'me a favor, sweetheart…" Da'anar, the Corellian god of perversity, forced Han's voice up in volume and made his tone smoothly intimate as he drawled the request.

The color in Leia's cheeks flared hotter and her jaw tensed. She raised her chin a notch higher, trying to remain steadfastly regal in the face of the wisecrack she feared was coming. With effort, and no little surprise at himself for doing so, Han quelled the urge to truly embarrass her.

Instead, he lapsed into seriousness. "When you see Rieekan, give him a message for me…"

Relief flashed across Leia's face and she relaxed imperceptibly as she realized that Han was not going to humiliate her. She raised her brows questioningly.

"Tell him my final offer is eight." Han's voice was implacable. "He can take it or leave it."

Leia's eyes widened in dismay. "Eight!" Her exclamation held mingled disbelief and consternation.

"Yeah. Eight. And be sure to tell him the rest of the deal stands as is…no changes."

"Eight?" The Princess was outraged, her eyes brown daggers jabbing at him. Han met her gaze firmly. "Han, there's no way the Rebellion can afford to pay you eight…"

"In that case, sweetheart," Han cocked his head to one side and let an irritating lopsided smile slide across his features, "You'll need to find another freighter." Coolly, in his best mercenary voice, Han repeated himself. "Take it or leave it. Eight thousand, no less."

"Ohhhhhh…" With an inarticulate sound of fury, Leia pivoted again, her angry strides swiftly carrying her across the hanger deck. She never turned to look back and so missed the change in Han's expression as the smuggler captain let his smile fade. His eyes followed her as she stalked away, his mouth drawn into a pensive frown.

Then, shrugging, he turned to head back up into the Falcon. When he reached the top of the landing ramp, he stopped short, pinned by twin sets of blue eyes that were staring at him. His gaze flickered over to meet the Wookiee's knowing gaze. Han acknowledged his partner's approving nod with a slight one of his own before his eyes slid to meet the accusation in Luke's glower.

"Han!"

"Yeah, kid?" Han's answer was deliberately bland.

"You…you…" Luke's stammer gained him a wry look from the smuggler's hazel gaze. Scowling in the most intimidating manner possible, Luke attempted to stare Han down. He failed woefully. The older man remained silent, his green-gold gaze mildly questioning as he waited for the youth to give in.

Luke sighed and dropped the glare, knowing that there was no way to win the battle of wills directly. Instead, he tried wheedling. "C'mon, Han…you know how strapped these people are…"

"Yeah, about as strapped as Chewie 'n' me…" Han interjected sourly, blocking Luke's line of argument.

"But, Han…"

As Luke's wheedle crossed an invisible boundary, turning into a whine, Han's patience snapped. "Look, Junior…I dunno what you expect from me. I'm not some self-sacrificing Jedi Knight…" Han saw the flash of hurt that darkened Luke's blue eyes but was unable to soften his words. "I'm a smuggler."

With his temper already shortened by lack of sleep, the twinge of regret he felt over the impact his words had on the young man disproportionately increased Han's anger. "I get hired to move people and things from one place to another, got it?"

He jabbed a finger at Luke and ignored a warning rumble from the seven-foot tall Wookiee who was watching him with a now-censorious glower. "I get paid to make those runs. Credits, kid. That's the name of the game. And if someone can't afford me, well then…" Han spread his hands in a "what-can-I-do" gesture and fell silent.

Luke glared at him. "You know, Han," the young man somehow managed to reach into Han's soul with his withering stare, "I thought your mercenary streak was just a cover…"

"Yeah, well…think again, kid." Han's voice was sour, his anger dimming as swiftly as it had ignited, fading into disgusted irritation with the galaxy at large. He stepped brusquely past Luke and Chewie, his eyes steadfastly focusing on the readouts on the secondary navigational console.

Luke didn't deign to reply. Instead, after shooting Han another contemptuous glare, he turned to Chewbacca. "See you later, Chewie." Disappointment was rich in his voice.

Chewie chuffed a reply and watched as the young Tatooine man stepped quickly away from both of the Falcon's masters. As Luke's booted feet hit the tarmac of the hanger deck, the Wookiee turned accusing blue eyes onto his partner. A low rumble escaped him, a wordless sound of rebuke.

Han whirled, hair-triggered fury snapping in his eyes, turning them into gold-flecked glaciers. He poked his finger into the fur on Chewie's chest. "Don't start on me, furball."

Chewbacca folded his arms across his chest and returned Han's gaze unflinchingly. He watched the conflicting emotions that chased their way across his friend's face until only belligerent antagonism remained. Then, with a softly issued command, his tone deliberately chosen to match that of an exasperated parent to a recalcitrant child, Chewbacca turned away from the fight Han was begging for and walked deliberately out of the Falcon.

Han's response was slow in coming, but predictable. As Chewbacca stepped off the Falcon's ramp, he heard an indignant and ineffectual human shout echo from behind him, "I'll go to bed when I'm damned good and ready! Chewie… Chewie…?"

As he walked away without replying, Chewbacca chuckled and shook his head at the stubborn human.

---

Leia watched as the last of the aides stepped out of the council room. As the door slid shut behind them, she turned with a wide smile to the man standing nearby and suddenly gave him an uninhibited hug. "Carl…"

Rieekan smiled as he folded his arms around his best friend's little girl. "Lelila," he used the fond nickname, "How are you, little one?"

Leia sighed and smiled into the cloth of Rieekan's shirt, tightening her arms before she pulled away slightly. Peering up at him, she answered, "I'm okay. Glad to see you." Her smile widened.

Rieekan dropped his arms and took her hands in his. Leia winced, unable to restrain the motion as he unknowingly closed his hands around her abused flesh. Frowning, Rieekan eased his grip and gently turned her right hand over.

His eyes flashed with concern as he lifted his gaze from the synth-flesh covered wound that was surrounded by a dark purple bruise. His voice was serious, as was his expression as he searched her face. "You sure you're okay?"

Leia's smile dimmed slightly, but she nodded. "As well as can be, Carlist. None of us will truly be okay until the Empire is defeated…" She dropped her gaze down to their clasped hands.

Rieekan released her and reached out to tip her chin up with one long forefinger, forcing her to meet his gaze. "That's not what I meant, and you know it, Leia." His voice chided her softly.

"I know…" Leia stood on tiptoe and pressed a quick kiss to the older man's cheek. "Thank you for asking…but I'm…" She hesitated, grief clouding her eyes before she drove it back, "I'm alright."

Searching her eyes again, making note of the tired strain in her face, Rieekan wisely chose not to argue with her statement. Solo was right, they are running her ragged. The thought allowed him to redirect the conversation, steering it away from the subject she obviously did not want to discuss. He frowned slightly as he recalled the quickly whispered message Leia had delivered only moments before the meeting had started.

"Lelila, are you sure that Captain Solo told you eight thousand?" His confusion at the message was unfeigned.

Leia scowled in irritation. "Yes. He said to tell you his final offer was eight and that the rest of the deal was to stay as is…" She broke off, watching in confusion as a slow grin crawled across Rieekan's face. Unable to understand why her father's friend was smiling, she let her own irritation with the Corellian smuggler escape. "And that was after I told him we didn't have enough money to offer more than five thousand per load…"

Rieekan's smile grew, but his voice was non-committal. "Indeed..." Thoughtfully, he let the word trail off.

Leia watched him with growing suspicion. "So…what was he talking about, Carl? About the rest of the deal?"

"Oh," Rieekan's unfocused gaze suddenly sharpened, "He just agreed to contact some of his free-trader friends. Put in a good word for us." He angled a wry glance at the young woman. "And gave us some names that might be helpful."

"I can't believe he's willing to do something for nothing." Leia snorted derisively. "How much is he charging for the information?"

Rieekan shot her a knowing glance. "That young man might surprise you…"

"Ha!" Leia made her opinion known with a completely un-regal exclamation that caused Rieekan's brows to rise in surprised amusement. "Nothing he does surprises me. He's got to be the most mercenary, insufferable, self-centered man I've ever met."

"Yes…it certainly appears that way." Carlist spoke softly, almost to himself, "Well…we'll see."

Leia stared at him in disbelief, then laughed slightly and hugged him again. "You always were an optimist, Carl. Father always said you'd find something good to say about the Emperor himself…"

"Well," a roguish gleam lit Rieekan's eyes, "You do have to admit he knows how to organize a military…"

"Oh!" Laughing, Leia shook her head in exasperation at his teasing.

Rieekan smiled to see the lines of stress on her face ease. He watched her as she turned away and began gathering the flimsies she had been using during the meeting. As she stacked the printed copies of the Rebellion's financial distress, he spoke quietly, "I think maybe you're being a bit harsh in your judgment about Captain Solo, Lelila."

He thought back on the two conversations he had had with the younger Corellian, weighing the man's actions against his words. Reviewing the inadvertent clues the smuggler had accidentally revealed about himself, Rieekan smiled slightly and lifted his eyes to meet Leia's thoughtful gaze. "I think that young man has a lot that he could give to the Rebellion…"

Leia's eyes had softened, her own thoughts directed toward the late-night hours in the Yavin jungle. The memory took the edge off of her words even as she gave her father's friend a sad smile, "Yes, I'll agree with you there, Carl. The question is…what will he charge for what he gives?"

Rieekan's answering smile was rueful at first, and then he cautioned, "Don't make the mistake of thinking that he's as mercenary as he makes himself out to be, little one."

Leia held his gaze for a long moment, and then she shook her head in disagreement and dropped her gaze to the stack of flimsies in her hands. The silence stretched before she lifted her eyes again. When she spoke, her question was soft, and was the last thing Rieekan expected her to ask.

"Carlist, what does 'ahzulo' mean?" Leia tipped her head, watching the rapidly changing expressions her question brought to the face of her father's old friend.

Rieekan first blinked in surprise, repeating the word. "Ahzulo?" He pronounced it the same way she did. Then, with a frown, he mouthed the word again before repeating it and giving it a slightly different stressed syllable, "Asulo?"

At her nod, he raised an eyebrow, managing to look shocked before he angled a jaundiced eye at her. Weighing her innocently questioning expression, he finally shook his head and let a smile creep across his face.

Seeing his amusement, Leia scowled. "What?"

Rieekan chuckled. "Well, Leia, have you been hanging around some of the seedier dives on Corellia?" She frowned in confusion and his faint smile grew into a full-fledged grin as he informed her, "That word would've gotten your mouth washed out if you'd said it when you were eight…"

Leia's confused frown deepened before a red tide began to creep into her cheeks. Unsure if she was embarrassed or furious, Rieekan took pity on her and questioned, "Where'd you hear it?"

"Captain Solo…" Leia's voice trailed off, her eyes sparking angrily for a moment. Then, thinking of the night before, she gave a perplexed shake of her head.

Rieekan scowled. "What on earth brought up…?"

"What does it mean?" Leia interrupted him, her curiosity now fully engaged.

"Well…the way you said it…it's gutter slang… the closest Basic equivalent would be 'bastard'…even though there is another word that literally translates as 'bastard'. Asulo has…stronger connotations." Rieekan shrugged, adding, "On Corellia, using that malediction carries a lot more weight than it does elsewhere."

Leia frowned in confused denial. "But, that doesn't fit…" Her words trailed off.

"Doesn't fit what, Princess?" Coming from Rieekan, the word was an endearment, not a sarcastic taunt. In her mind, Leia heard the echo from the night before when another Corellian voice had spoken it with the same inflection. Briefly, she let the memory warm her before she turned back to her line of questioning.

"The nehsarr…if that's what it means…then…" She shook her head in confusion.

"Nehsarr?" Rieekan frowned in his own puzzlement, turning the word over in his head.

"Yes. Last night, Han…" Leia looked away quickly at the slip. "Captain Solo…recited something…for Luke and I. He called it a nehsarr…a chant. But if ahsulo means…" She flicked a glance up at the older man and sighed. "If it means what you said it means…then it doesn't fit the nehsarr. "Though I suppose it could fit…" She hesitated, thinking about her suspicion of the word's significance to Han. "Something else."

Rieekan blinked at her disjointed explanation. Then, replaying the Corelli words she had attempted to speak, he shook his head in amused affection. "Leia, my dear, you are definitely not a linguist."

Leia turned questioning eyes on him.

"I believe the word you are mangling so badly is 'ni'sarr'." He stressed the word differently to make the distinction. Then, teasingly, he informed her, "Your accent is atrocious." His affectionate smile took any sting out of the words.

Leia shook her head, smiling slightly. "He corrected me, too."

"I should hope so." Rieekan shook his head and decided not to tell her what she had inadvertently said when she misspoke the word. "He recited a ni'sarr for you?" His mind fixed suddenly on her earlier statement.

"Yes. He said it was a song or a chant…something about a warrior." Leia's eyes fixed intently on Rieekan, the question in them unmistakable.

Suspicion lit the blue eyes that met her gaze. "Can you remember any of the other words?"

"Umm…yes, I think I can…" Leia attempted to call the phrases to mind. Her words were hesitant as she repeated what she could remember, "Miatah ahzulo. Ahterran yehami var…something." She gave a frustrated shake of her head, knowing she was getting the phrase wrong, but not knowing how to correct it.

Rieekan was wincing with each word. "I'll forgive your horrible accent…I think." His mind struggled with the mispronounced words.

"Thanks." Leia rolled her eyes in exasperation even as she laughed at his pained expression. "I can't remember the words in Corelli, but in Basic they…"

Rieekan's bewildered expression faded into sudden comprehension, and before she could begin to recite the Basic, he interrupted, his eyes wide, "Your spirits go with me…"

"Yes…that's it." Leia nodded, recognizing the phrase. "Then you know it?"

"Yes." Rieekan gave her an inscrutable look. "I know it. It's old…very old."

Leia nodded confirmation. "That's what he said too."

Rieekan smiled thoughtfully, silently thanking the younger Corellian for the obvious comfort he had tried to bestow upon the young woman who had lost so much. His mind on the ramifications of Solo's recitation, Rieekan murmured absently, "Not many people know that particular ni'sarr. He didn't happen to mention…" He stopped, shaking his head, "Never mind, my dear."

Leia frowned in confusion, "What?"

Rieekan changed the subject. "The word you asked about…it wouldn't have been a'su'lo, would it?" He carefully stressed the right syllables and gave it the proper inflection.

Leia nodded with instant recognition. "Yes. That's it. I asked him what it meant, but he…" Leia broke off, remembering Han's obvious discomfort with the question. "He said it could mean different things…"

Rieekan chuckled at the young man's adroit evasion. "He was right, it can mean many things, depending on how it's used. In High Corelli, a lot of the meaning depends on usage, pronunciation, and inflection."

He took pity on Leia's confused expression. "Low Corelli is what most out-worlders hear, the official language of Corellia. Of course, there's the gutter form of Low Corelli too, in which you've already gotten a head start…" He grinned at her teasingly. When she made a face at him, he chuckled and continued, "But High Corelli…it's an archaic, formal language. And it's not known by many."

He hesitated, and then shrugged. "Most of the Clans that spoke it are gone…and the ones that remain don't pass it down to anyone but their own Clansmen. I'm afraid it will someday die out entirely…" Sadness creased Rieekan's face before he visibly shook himself, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he refocused and pondered the enigma that was the young smuggler captain. "Very interesting…"

He thought of the first blurted response Solo had made to the question of his Clan background. Vechre? I thought that was High Corelli… I wonder... Could he have been about to declare Blood-Oath? Vech re'fa? The binding oath to a Clan destroyed? Which Clan, I wonder? He broke out of his musings as Leia's voice interrupted them.

"Carl?" He glanced down to find her pinning him with a perceptive stare, her impatient tone bringing a smile to his face.

He answered slowly. "If the ni'sarr that Captain Solo quoted to you is the one I think it is…" His voice trailed off and the silence stretched for longer than Leia would have liked. If it's the one I'm thinking… But that would mean…

"What?" Her tone was impatient and it jolted Rieekan out of his thoughts again.

"Hmmm? Well, let's just say if it's the one I'm thinking of, I'd like to have a long conversation sometime with a certain smuggler…" Rieekan smiled.

Leia gave a huff of annoyance and planted her fisted hands on her hips. "You're not making much sense, Carlist. " Her voice was dry.

"No. I'm probably not, my dear."

Leia rolled her eyes at his noncommittal reply and asked the room at large, "Are all Corellians this infuriating? It's something genetic, right?" Then, narrowing her eyes at her father's old friend as he chuckled, she guessed, "That ni'… That poem…it's got something to do with his past, doesn't it?"

Rieekan remained silent but his eyes slid away from hers. She narrowed her gaze at him, "And whatever it is, you've got a good idea about what it is, don't you?"

Rieekan raised an eyebrow challengingly and returned her stare impassively. Leia sighed. "And you're not going to tell me." Her statement was dryly resigned.

Rieekan's voice was grave, and slightly apologetic, as he shook his head. "No, Leia. If I'm right about what I'm thinking, then it's a matter of honor for him. And, one Corellian to another, I won't infringe upon his decision to remain silent if he so chooses."

Leia half-heartedly attempted a threat. "You know, our best slicers can't seem to come up with anything about him… It might be a security issue…"

Rieekan gave a sigh. A slight frown creased his forehead as he spoke again, "It might be. But, I really don't think it is." He angled a fond smile down on the young woman as he tried to reassure her. "I think we'll end up finding that there is a lot more depth to that young man than he wants anyone to see."

Leia frowned repressively at him. "Right." Her tone was less than believing and Rieekan's only response to her biting comment was a sunny smile.

"If you'll excuse me, Leia, I think I'll go see Captain Solo about his unexpected…demands…" Rieekan shook his head in bemusement as he contemplated Solo's message again. He gave Leia's shoulder a fond squeeze and took two steps toward the door.

Watching him, Leia gave an exasperated sigh and accused, "You still haven't told me what that word means."

Rieekan hesitated as the door slid open before him. He turned, his eyes thoughtful as he gazed measuringly at the young woman he had known for so long. Then, with an almost imperceptible nod, he concluded an inner debate. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, holding a somber sadness. "A'su'lo. The a' prefix is 'with'. Su'lo, roughly translated is 'nobody'." His eyes met hers squarely. "Used together, a'su'lo… Well, the closest equivalent I can think of in Basic would be…"

Leia stared back at him somberly. Quietly, she interjected with her own summation, "Alone."

Rieekan nodded. "Yes," Softly, he confirmed her guess. The door slid shut behind him as he left her in the room.

Leia's quiet whisper went unheard by any other than herself as she repeated the Corelli word, "A'su'lo." She shook her head, her eyes dark. "Solo." As she sank into one of the chairs, Leia's thoughts remained focused on a mostly-irritating, always-fascinating, hazel-eyed, Corellian freighter captain.

---

"Hey, Sabre to the Falcon."

"Go ahead, Sabre," Han flicked a quick glance to his right out of the cockpit window, his keen eyes picking up the cigar-shaped ship. "And watch your approach vector, Salin, I'd like to keep the Falcon in one piece for a little while longer…" Beneath the light words, Han's tone conveyed real worry as he watched the distance between the two ships close rapidly. His eyes narrowed and his hands crept to the controls in front of him, unease making him flex his fingers.

"Ahhh, stuff it, Solo." The answer came back with good-natured insult. "I could run into the Falcon head-on and nobody'd be able to tell the difference…the way she looks."

Han sneered out the cockpit window, ready with a scathing retort. His eyes widened in genuine alarm as he watched the other ship's unaltered approach. "Dammit, Salin!"

A whooping cry of excitement was his answer. Suddenly, it changed into a shout of dismay that was almost drowned out by the shriek of the Falcon's klaxons, their strident cries warning her pilot that collision was imminent. Han's grip on the Falcon's controls twitched, and the Falcon responded, beginning to nose over in an attempt to move out of the other ship's flight path.

Next to the Falcon, the captain of the smaller freighter altered her course just as suddenly, his own hands tightening on the controls in a desperate attempt to miss the Falcon by the thinnest of margins. Both ships rocked as the outermost edges of their deflector shields brushed together.

The Falcon's speaker spit out a surge of Vallderian oaths as Salin, shaken by the near miss, cursed and struggled to control his ship. From behind him, Han heard the startled intake of breath that signaled Luke's unease but he didn't spare a glance over his shoulder as he blistered the air with a few choice curses of his own.

Next to him, Chewbacca howled a protest at the jostling and then began to yowl his own maledictions. Shaking his fist at the Sabre, Chewbacca voiced his scathing opinion of Salin's ancestry, his choice of sexual partners, his hygienic habits, and his piloting skills.

As Han coaxed the Falcon back into steady flight, his hazel eyes glared into the darkness beyond the cockpit window. "You got that right, Chewie." The calmness of his voice bespoke his rage better than the furious spate of cursing that had preceded it. He adjusted the Falcon's attitude slightly as he spoke with deadly earnestness into the com-pickup. "Salin, you bring that crate within one parsec of the Falcon again and I'll…"

An honestly apologetic and shaken voice cut him off. "Sorry, Solo. I…" The sound transmitted over the speaker was suspiciously like a nerve-wracked gulp before Salin continued, "I didn't know you had your screens up so high…"

Han's glare could have melted plas-steel and Chewbacca's angry growl drew another apology from the Sabre's captain. "Sorry."

A ripping Corellian oath was his only answer. Han scowled at the set of flashing lights that had just sprung to life before him. Luke leaned forward out of the navigator's chair and frowned at the lights as well. "What's wrong, Han?" His voice was surprisingly calm, not betraying his earlier fright.

"Starboard deflector shields are going. Looks like they overloaded." Han had forgotten that the comlink was still open as he muttered his answer to the youth's question.

"Awww, dammit, Solo…" Salin's voice intruded, his tone even more apologetic than before. "Shit. My fault, Han."

"Damn straight." Han's voice held less heat, but it was obvious that he was still upset.

"Look, Han…" Salin paused, then sighed. "I'll pay for the repairs, okay?" He paused as a drawn-out Wookiee howl interrupted him. After his ears quit ringing, Salin continued, "Uh…I'm not even going to ask you to translate that, Han…"

Han's voice was wry, "That'd probably be a good idea."

"Right. Well." Salin's tone was decidedly uneasy as he contemplated Han's reply. "Like I said, my fault about the deflectors…I'll make sure they get fixed."

"Sure." Han's voice was non-committal, experience had taught him never to accept a promise until or unless it was backed up by fact. Behind him, Luke shook his head slightly, picking up on the jaded disbelief in the smuggler's tone.

Salin heard it as well and, instead of being affronted or offended by it, he smiled, his own experiences in life bringing understanding. "You got my word, Solo. And my thanks."

"For what?" Han grunted, his concentration on the conversation less than complete as his fingers danced over the Falcon's controls, angling her for a decent into the atmosphere of the planet below her.

Laughter edged Salin's voice. "For keeping your co-pilot from strangling me when we set down?" The words held a humorous note of pleading that brought Han's head up.

His eyes fell on the other ship, now sedately pacing the Falcon. He kept his voice gruff as he responded, "Oh yeah? Who says I'm gonna do that? It'd save me the trouble of stuffing you head-first into your 'fresher unit."

A smothered chuckle escaped Luke. Han's temper had obviously lowered to simmering. Chewbacca barked a quiet comment that brought a wry smile to the Corellian's face. "Aww, c'mon Chewie…it'd be fun…" Chewbacca answered with a low chuckle.

A heavy sigh broke the silence at the other end of the comlink. "I'm dead meat either way, ain't I?" Salin's voice was resigned.

"Yep." Han's reply was disgustingly cheery as he reached for the switch to cut off the com-link.

"Great." Salin sighed again and then continued with a seriousness that drew Han's full attention and stopped his motion to cut the line of communication. "Well, thanks for dropping my name into the mix when Rieekan asked about freighters."

Han froze mid-reach. "Huh?" Unease danced across the Corellian's features for a brief moment. "Me?"

Salin laughed. "Don't try that 'who me' routine, Han. Nobody else could've known where to find me. Me, T'valik, Vareen, and Felessa…"

"Hey!" Han interrupted the recital. "He just asked me for names, buddy." Han scowled uncomfortably. "That's it."

"Right, Solo." Salin's voice held disbelief.

Han refused to look to his right, knowing that a pair of blue eyes was focused on him from that corner, he could see Chewie's lip lift in a Wookiee grin at his discomfort. A spot between his shoulder blades itched too, and he knew that a second pair of blue eyes was fixed upon him from behind.

Before he could respond, Salin's voice interrupted him again, "They've offered some of us steady runs, Solo…as free-agents."

Han snorted, his sarcastic tone at odds with a small, pleased smile that hovered on his lips, "Yeah…at a pittance per run."

Salin chuckled. "Well, it don't pay quite the same as running glitterstim," the other smuggler's voice suddenly softened, "But it's steady income, and it's for a good cause."

Han's snort this time was louder, the smile disappearing. "The Imps are playing for keeps, Salin. Causes can get you killed."

"So can Kessel Runs, Han."

Han fell silent, remembering his and Chewie's own run-in with Imperial ships on their last ill-fated Kessel Run. He didn't need Chewbacca's low rumble from his right to remind him of the hair-raising time parts they'd spent playing hide and seek with two Interdict vessels.

"Not all of us are still crazy enough to run glitterstim anymore, Han." Salin spoke from the com-link again, interrupting Han's silent contemplation.

Han pictured the older man's face, the saturnine features capped by a shock of rapidly graying black hair. Every one of the fifteen-year age difference between the Corellian and the Vallderian was in the older man's voice as he continued to speak softly, "Not all of us can anymore." Regret was thick in the other smuggler's tone.

Unhappy with the turn in the conversation, Han scowled. "Aw, shuddup Salin. You know you don't need this milk run. Its quick cash…and its easy…but you'll be runnin' 'stim again. You're too crazy not to."

Silence reigned for a moment before Salin responded. "Maybe, Solo. Maybe." Doubt edged his voice. Then, with an audible grin, Salin continued, "But just wait until word spreads that the lunatic Han Solo has thrown in with the Rebellion…" He laughed.

Han's sour grimace was in his voice as he firmly disagreed, "You got it wrong, Salin. I'm only here for the money."

"Sure…and that's why scuttlebutt has it that you dropped your own price from the ten Rieekan had agreed on and settled for eight K per drop. And then negotiated to get twelve for the rest of us, right Solo?" The retort was patently unbelieving, daring Han to reiterate his lack of involvement with the Rebel Alliance.

"Kest! Damn Rieekan…" Han gritted his teeth around further curse words, resolving to have a word with the Colonel as soon as he set the Falcon down on the planet that was rapidly filling the cockpit window.

A low chuckle from the Wookiee next to him raised his temper a notch. Glowering at Chewbacca reprovingly, Han opened his mouth to retort.

From behind him, Luke interrupted. "Dropped from ten to eight?"

Han flicked a quelling glance over his shoulder at the young man. Luke blithely ignored the warning glare. His perplexed frown met Han's guarded hazel eyes as he questioned further, "Twelve thousand credits for everyone else?"

From the com-link, Salin's voice answered Luke's question, the other smuggler mistakenly thinking that Luke's question had been directed at him. "Yeah, Skywalker. Twelve thou per drop for each run. With open-ended contracts for the future…" The Vallderian's voice was faintly antagonistic, daring the farm boy from Tatooine to comment on the mercenary streak that kept free-traders functioning.

For a long moment Luke remained silent, digesting the information, then a slow smile crept across his features. Han groaned and jabbed a finger under the younger man's nose. "Don't you say it, junior. Not one word, you hear me?"

Luke ignored the implied threat, his smile widening. A flicker of what might have been pride darted into his expression before he concealed it in the face of Han's glare. Chewbacca sniggered.

"Solo?" Salin's voice was perplexed as it issued from the comlink.

Han scowled, turning away from the insolent smirk Luke had aimed at him. "Salin…" The Corellian's voice was a growl.

"Yeah?"

Han launched into a spate of Vallderian words, his tone repressive, his eyes narrowed in furious concentration as he issued specific commands and threats. He paused, the bellow of laughter from the other end of the com-link drawing a wordless snarl of fury from him.

"Shut…up…Salin." Han ground the words out.

"Han, my boy…you have my word." More chuckles emerged from the speaker. "You, however, might want to have a chat with Rieekan." Another snort of laughter broke into the words before Salin continued, "After all, he's the one you made the deal with…you shoulda told him you wanted it kept quiet…"

Another grumble from Han interrupted the other smuggler, "Right. Me 'n' Rieekan will definitely be talking…"

Han sighed as more laughter came from the com-link connection. "Shut up and get your ass down there, Salin." Disgusted with the universe at large, Han reached out and, not letting the Sabre's captain reply, flicked the com-link off.

He refused to turn and meet the blue eyes that were staring a hole through his black spacer's vest, feeling the weight of the kid's stare was bad enough. Just keep your mouth shut, Junior. Han directed the thought firmly toward Luke. He sighed when a low laugh sounded behind him.

Luke's words were soft, slightly goading as he gave voice to his thoughts, "So…you and Rieekan cut a deal, Han. You supply names of…free-traders…" Luke used the euphemism with a great deal of humor. "He cuts them a deal that somehow…"

"Shut up, Luke."

"Now, Han…" Luke's tone was one of false injury, "I'm just trying to figure this out. You know I'm just a wet-behind-the-ears farmboy from Tatooine. Help me out here…"

"Lu-uke…" Han drew the name out in dire warning.

Chewbacca rumbled a low laugh, earning him a glare from his partner.

Deliberately ignoring both of them, Luke continued to ponder aloud. "You tell Leia that you're 'final offer' is eight thousand credits a load…but…that was after you'd already cut a deal for ten with Rieekan…" Luke injected a false note of bewilderment into his voice, "Then, you make sure that the other pilots are getting twelve…so why…"

Han whirled his seat around sharply, Luke's goading finally drawing a response. His hazel eyes ablaze with defensive anger, his brows drawn into a scowl, he glared furiously at Luke. "Luke…"

"Yes, Han?" Luke met his gaze, his blue eyes all innocence.

Meeting that stare, Han opened his mouth, closed it, and then settled for giving the youth his ugliest sneer before turning to Chewbacca. His voice was exasperated as he ordered, "Chewie, take Junior into the back…and stuff him in the airlock." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating both the Tatooine youth and the location of the airlock with the motion.

Chewbacca ignored his friend's grumbling, chortling lightly as he cuffed Han with a friendly paw. His blue eyes met Luke's, the two of them sharing a moment of amused, exasperated pride in the irritable Corellian.

"Cut it out, Chewie." Han's voice held resigned annoyance. "You two comedians go check on the cargo then strap yourself in, we'll be setting down in a few minutes."

Chewie rose from his seat, dropping a hand on Han's head as he passed, ruffling the pilot's dark hair affectionately. He ignored Han's answering growl-one of the few Wookian words Han's human throat could manage-the blistering curse drawing a chuckle from the Wookiee. He paused outside the open cockpit door, waiting for Luke as the young man unstrapped himself from the navigator's chair.

Chewbacca watched with amusement as Luke paused. He bared his teeth in a grin at the young man's daring as the youth leaned forward to speak softly to the back of Han's head.

"Admit it, Han…underneath it all, you are a nice man."

Another growl from Han betrayed his fraying temper as Luke repeated the words he had spoken only a few nights before. Without taking his gaze off the rapidly approaching planet, Han's right hand left the console before him and deftly slid his blaster from its holster, his thumb smoothly flicking the setting to 'stun' in a precautionary measure.

The Falcon's flight didn't waver a micro-millimeter even as Han unerringly poked the blaster's muzzle beneath Luke's surprised nose. Blue eyes widened at the speed of Han's draw, but Luke's smile didn't fade-he had caught the careful motion that had lowered the blaster's setting.

"Get the hell outta here, kid."

Han felt a sinking sense of impending doom as Luke chuckled, entirely unfazed by the infamous Solo temper. First, Her High and Mightiness and now Junior…great Solo…you've really got'em both scared to death of you. Vaguely, lost in his own dismal contemplation of his rapidly eroding image, Han was aware that Chewbacca was snorting mirthfully as Luke backed out of the cockpit, his hands raised in an utterly feigned show of terror.

"Okay, okay…easy now. No need to get nasty, Han."

"Nasty…" Han repeated Luke's words, skillfully piloting his ship one-handedly as he continued to aim his blaster at Luke's midsection. "Remember that, kid. I am not nice!"

"Gotcha, Han." A quiver in Luke's voice might have been fear-but Han knew it for the stifled amusement that it was.

Han let out an impatient huff of air and holstered his weapon, flicking the setting back to its original full power. "Out!" Han growled again.

Luke, predictably, didn't let the frustrated smuggler get the last word in. Just as he ducked out of the doorway, he repeated, "Nice."

"I am not…" Voice raised in objection, Han spun in his seat. The cockpit door slid shut on a Wookiee howl of amusement and a Tatooine chuckle. Han glowered at the door, and then spun back to the Falcon's controls with a perturbed grimace as the computer beeped insistently. With a curse, the Corellian set his mind to the task of landing his ship, trying to ignore Luke's words.

---

"Luke! Chewie! Han!" Leia's voice carried in the evening air as her rapid stride took her toward the Falcon. Luke and Chewbacca, striding down the Falcon's ramp, paused as she drew near. Luke beamed and Chewie yowled a greeting to the young woman.

"Hi, Leia…we made it!"

Leia grinned at Luke's typically enthusiastic greeting. "This is the last load?"

"Yeah…Yavin's pretty much cleaned out now." Luke's smile remained on his face as he glanced back up the Falcon's ramp. Han, striding slowly down the ramp, narrowed his eyes at the youth.

Luke tried to swallow his smile and turned to catch Leia darting a questioning glance between him and Han. His shoulders quivered in a silent chuckle and he shook his head lightly at her inquisitive gaze.

She tipped her head curiously, frowning slightly at him before shrugging off his odd behavior. Turning her head, she caught the scowl Han had aimed at the young pilot and briefly wondered what was going on between the two of them. A quick glance at Chewbacca revealed only a faint smile that exposed the tips of the big Wookiee's fangs.

Dismissing Luke and Chewbacca's obvious amusement, Leia turned an earnest gaze toward Han. "Han, Colonel Rieekan said he'd like to meet with you as soon as you get unloaded…"

"Great…" Han's snarled comment interrupted her.

Her eyes widened as she watched him strip off his flight gloves, his every movement peevish. Frowning, she continued speaking, her voice hesitant as she wondered what was bothering him now. "He's got another freight run for you if you want it. He told me about…"

In two long strides, Han was towering over her. She stumbled one step back in confusion as he thrust a finger under her nose and began to rant, "I'm hauling Rebel freight for the quick credits…nothing else. It's an easy run and I got debts to pay. So, don't you dare think for one damn minute that I'm doing this for you…or for your half-baked ideals. I'm here to make money. The sooner you and your precious Colonel Rieekan realize that, then the sooner we can come to an agreement. I am NOT nice! Got it?"

Han's glare dared her to utter a word. Surprise at his outburst held Leia silent for a long moment and, unaccountably, her lack of response seemed to please the tall smuggler. He gave her a short nod of what Leia took to be approval, spun on his heel and began stalking away.

Gaping, she watched, wide-eyed as his military-precise strides carried him quickly across the landing strip. Her incredulous expression remained as she turned slowly, her eyes falling on Luke and Chewbacca. "What was that all about?"

Gales of laughter from Luke met her bewildered question. Chewbacca gave a yowl and a chuckle, and then staggered under Luke's weight as the young man stumbled, the force of his uninhibited laughter knocking him off balance.

"That…" Luke gasped between chuckles, "Was Han's attempt…to convince you…that…" Luke whooped again, tears of mirth standing in his eyes as he darted a glance after the rapidly retreating Corellian. "Han Solo is…not a nice man…"

Finis

---

Va'ar a'Vech Ni'sarr

Mi k'varith a'su'lo

Me a'Vech

Me a'vecha

Ya atani fal'asa?

Va'ar

Mi eta' a'su'lo

Me a'Vech

Me a'vecha

Ya sulan a'me v'challa

Mi a'telle ya

Mi eta' a'su'lo

Me a'vecha

Me a'Vech

Vech re'fa in'sula mi

Re'fa ni'sula mi

Mi eta' a'su'lo

Me a'vecha

Me a'Vech

Mi k'e'na

Mi a'nee varith

A'teran ye a'me varin

Mi eta' k'a'su'lo