Author's Note: Okay, peeps. I think this chapter is a bit filler - but I read over it before I posted (surpise! although watch there still be some mistakes x.x), and I have a feeling that most of you... will like this. ;)

SkywalkerChild: Bleh. I've always had trouble with action writing. It takes me forever for me to type something that seems fairly decent. x.x But you're right - Leia's not having the best of luck. xD
Dovasary: - giggles insanely - shuts up- Thank you. Yes, I happened to like my last chapter much better than the one before. It was longer (a new thing for me!). Ah, of course, I've already planned how our little farmboy's going to enter this story. :) I'm already planning in my head what's going to happen; now I can't wait to write it. LOL. About the mustard - yes, I hate it myself. I can seriously taste any drop of mustard on anything. Lol, I got the idea, because my father just found an unopened bottle of fifteen year-old mustard in my cabinet. --; That's as old as I am - and I've moved four times, yet the cursed mustard remains. Haha.
P.P.M.: Lol! That would be funny - only I've already got this all Han/Leia thing planned out, and...yeah. Lol, but good idea. Yes, you will see Han very... very soon.
Jaina Solo Potter: Ah, JSP. What would life (or a story) be like without Han/Leia? xD
Isa the FagHag: Thank you so much:D


CHAPTER SIX: UNDESIRED MEETINGS

Leia froze, the bagel still in her mouth and the comm in her handkerchief in her hand. This was bad; it was unfamiliar, uncomfortable, and she was sharply aware that she was unprotected as well. No blaster, no guard, just her and that stupid droid that was being useless at her side.

"Drop it," snarled a voice, so close to her ear that she wanted to smash her comm into his head for the violation. Instead, she stood up straighter to try and mask her fear. She bit hard on her bagel, watching movelessly as the rest of its buttery goodness fell to the floor. She chewed slowly, as if contemplating to comply.

"Drop it!" he repeated with more force, although his voice didn't rise in volume. After she hesitated for a second, and heard the click of the blaster being set.

The comm clattered to the pavement.

"Get in there!" he said roughly, pushing her into an alleyway. "And don' turn around," he snarled, leading her around the corner.

They were well out of sight of anyone in the street.

"Are you armed?" he asked, and Leia felt the tension of the blaster point on her spine lessen a bit.

Throughout this, all that she could think about was that she didn't have a guard. That sent a rush of fear and ununsed adrenaline through her body; fire, ice. The cold fear won, and she stood, shaking, staring right ahead at the wall and not finding any ability to talk. So she shook her head silently.

"What was that?" he sneered into her ear. She forced her jaw to thaw.

"I said, no," Leia said with unnerving calmness that surprised even her, trying to suppress the urge to panic. Keep in control, keep out of danger, she recited to herself in her head. It was calming. This shouldn't be a big deal. He was probably some petty thief who saw her walk out of a store and decided that she had money so he would steal it from her. When he found out that she had no spare credits on her, he would most likely steal her food (jerk.), let her go, then run, or he would steal her food, pull the tr...

Well, he'd let her go. She was the imperial princess, for gods' sake, he couldn't kill her...

And it hit her like a giant fist. He wouldn't dare shoot Princess Skywalker, would he? He wouldn't be so smug anymore, huh?

Armed with this new outlook, she grinned like a maniac, very pleased with herself.

"You don't know who I am, do you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

It was rhetoric. But he seemed to throw that aside.

"Nah," she could hear the shrug in his voice, and stiffened when the blaster pressed deeper into her spine. That would leave a mark. "Should I? What does it matter, anyway? You're still some lil' thief," he spat the word through clenched teeth, and leaned closer. "who stole my ship and burned my shipment. Any idea how much that costs," Again, he spat the word, and Leia just kept herself from gasping as she felt another rough jab. "little girl?"

So this wasn't some petty thief. He wasn't just someone who wanted her food. This was the ship's pilot and owner; how he tracked her down, she couldn't fathom.

"I have some idea," she answered wryly, arching her back in a hope to get away from his gun. It was painful.

A snort from him made it clear that he thought she was full of bantha dung.

"My father wouldn't like this disrespect that you're showing me."

"Yeah? And what's daddy gonna do 'bout it?" Derisive.

"You tell me. From what you've heard of Darth Vader, what do you think he would do?"

That should have done it. Rumors were abundant about the powers that the Sith Lord possessed; the name instilled fear, Leia knew.

But it didn't. He only proceeded to laugh, causing dread to take root in Leia's heart.

"Darth Vader?" she felt his body heat near her ear again. "I like a sense o' humor in a woman," he leered. She flinched, trying to push away any evil thoughts of what he was able to do to her in that alley, with no one looking.

"Don't touch me," she warned. Even to her, it sounded weak.

"Or what? What can you do to me, girl?"

"Nothing. At the moment," she added. (She had to admit, it was more like a 'Nothing, until I get a hold of daddy and he kills you because I'm really powerless without a gun or anything and with my food back by the comm I'm weak as well and if it weren't for your stupid ship and your stupid mustard or the stupid bombing we wouldn't be in this situation so can't you see I'm really helpless and let me go?' But not like she could say that.)

"You can save my neck, that's what you can do. My employer isn't gunna be happy with his shipment destroyed... of course, being Darth Vader's spawn, you must be rich?" he mocked. She didn't answer, which he took as an inability to come up with a retort. Which wasn't true: his statement had scared her stiff again. "Now," he started. "We're gonna go back to the ship, you're gonna help me repair it, then we're gonna get the hell outta here so you can explain to my employer why he doesn't have the spice. Got it?"

She tried protest, but her jaw was glued shut again, save the trembling.

"C'mon," he turned her around roughly, shoving her before she could get her muscles to loosen. She stumbled, and all of the sudden the pavement was flying at her face as she collapsed onto the hard ground. In her palms was a searing pain where they had tried to break her fall against the coarse duracrete.

"Dammit..." she heard him mutter, and felt a stong hand grip itself onto her upper arm and heave her off the ground. She purposely hung like a limp rag doll until she was set atop her feet.

She finally saw the face of her attacker.

It was still dark, but she was able to make out basic features. Dark hair, probably lighter when hit by sunlight, dark eyes, sun-browned skin, a long-sleeved shirt with a vest of indistinct color thrown over it; he was very tall. A heavy-duty blaster in his right hand.

She felt a glimmer of recognition, and her mind played a memory. The man from the store... Leia felt her jaw tighten in anger at the realization that a man of his likes was holding her hostage with a blaster.

Then something moved over his shoulder.

The various shades of back further down the alleyway seemed to manifest a large, hairy, heavily-armed shadow. It stepped quietly until it was just clear of the man's shoulder. Large teeth gleamed in the dark, and from within its throat came a menacing, dark, low howl. A Wookiee. A vicious, infamous, terribly powerful native from Kashyyyk.

Leia's eyes widened, and she falteringly stepped backwards, unaware that there was a tight grip still on her arm. She uselessly tried to get away, terror surging through her. That thing was going to kill her, eat her, break every bone in her body and feed her to its family...

"Whaddya mean, 'is this necessary?'" he asked, annoyed, wheeling his head around to stare at his companion. Leia had no idea who he was talking to; she assumed insanity.

Or could that thing really understand Basic?

"Who the hell cares if she's just a girl?" He looked back at her dubiously, studying. Leia tried to set a glare and firm jaw. She failed miserably. "Your neck is on the line, too. You know what Jabba's like," he muttered. "The girl was pro'ly a slave on Kessel, got bombed, took the chance to steal our ship and we tracked 'er down."

At this, Leia felt a stir of indignance and anger. "If I were a slave, how would I have been able to fly that piece of fodder?" she ask, in the clearest and most regal voice she could muster while being held hostage by a Wookiee and a man that looked dangerously careless with his weapon.

"Dunno. Were you a pilot that tried to steal some spice and got caught? Awful touchy 'bout their money, those Kesselians..."

"Yes, I know."

"So you were?"

"So I was what?"

"A pilot-turned-slave."

"No!"

"I'on't believe you."

"I don't care. Now, if you don't let me go, my father will have your head and every other limb he's able to tear off," she warned. Even though her father wasn't one for dismemberment - for obvious reasons.

"Listen, girly, even if your daddy is Vader or whatever his name is, I'll be long gone by the time he's ever heard o' this. That 'piece of fodder' happens to be the fastest ship in the galaxy; and the galaxy's a big place, y'know."

"I know better than anyone, Covrl," she hissed. Covrl was the derisive, native Coruscanti word translating into one of Corellia. Native Coruscanti was rarely spoken anymore, seeing that the vast majority of the planet was foreigners who spoke in their own tongue or Basic. It was still spoken, although, as a language of nobility and intelligence among those on the high parts of the social chain.

She could see his scowl in the dark. "Chewie's one for dismemberment, too," he warned, nastily. Chewie, she supposed, was the Wookiee next to him. But she believed the statement; it was actually part of their infamousness, the fact that they tended to pull people's arms out of their sockets when they got angry. Needless to say, it shut her up.

They glared at eachother for a moment, and Leia felt deep-seated resentment and enmity stir up from the bottom of her stomach. Typical Corellian...

"Get goin'," he spat, turning her roughly around and giving her a shove in the middle of her shoulderblades. Again, she stumbled, but didn't fall. "You get to help me get rid of the dregs and then you can face Jabba."

"I'll scream when we get out into the street."

He pressed his blaster into the well-worn spot of her back. "No. You won't," he assured. Leia winced, feeling the forming bruise on her back gave a painful twang.


It had been easy for him to lead her through the edge of town without notice. Of course, he wouldn't be holding her at gun point in the middle of everywhere; not even a Corellian most likely drunk out of his wits three quarters of the day would be that stupid. No; to Leia's utter revulsion he had slipped an arm around her lower back as if they were going to a serene walk under the quiet moonlight, with Chewie walking so close behind them that she could've felt the thing's breath on her neck had she been taller.

They had walked in almost absolute silence through the field; Leia had no idea what had happened to the stupid droid. She remained stiff, her steps furtive and forced, her lips set thin and eyes hard as she determinedly stared ahead.

The one conversation they had was brief, but very enlightening. Of course, the man had an advanced tracker on his beloved ship; that's how they traced it here, they had paid passage to a man who was heading this way from Kessel. Of course, when they arrived, they would have seen the burned, wet wreck Leia made out of it. According to him, the Wookiee was able to smell her stench from halfway down the field, she smelled so much of the spice she had (accidently!) burned. This had caused Leia to smell her sleeve - she didn't smell anything.

Stupid Wookiee.

An end to the conversation, and now they were at the smelly, damp interior of the ship again. The ship she had hoped for all of her life's worth that she would never have to lay eyes upon again. Unfortunatley...

She cast a disdainful glance around the charred hallway, and glared at the pile of the dregs of spice in its compartments. She considered blaming the whole thing on him: he was the idiot to leave them open. But, considering that he looked much more dangerous as he was freshly reminded of his loss, she decided to hold that for later.

Which there wouldn't be. Because she was going to get the hell out of there.