A/N: As usual, there are obviously unforgivable lapses in updating to apologize for here, and I do: I apologize most sincerely. For anyone who may still be bravely attempting to read this, though, here is the fourteenth chapter. Actually (and do your best not to die of shock) there's a fifteenth chapter that I'm posting as well, probably without any notes.

Obviously my behavior as a fanfic writer doesn't merit the reward of comments/reviews, but if you should happen to see something wrong you'd like to see fixed, do let me know, because I'm definitely always interested in what advice people have for improvement.

One other thing: I used to respond to people's comments individually right here in the author's notes, but I've decided to discontinue that in case it annoys other readers (that's assuming I have any of those left). Since the majority of reviewers seem to have accounts with this site, I'll just respond by PM-ing you back.

Thanks for all your lovely thoughts, to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and I hope you enjoy these two!

Chapter 14:

Leia opened her eyes almost before the voice was done making its statement, her combat instincts, somewhat put to rest for the past few years, coming back to her instantly. She blinked back with practiced ease the tears that had flooded her eyes with happiness just a moment before and looked around the clearing, raising her hands slowly. Easier to get out of tight spots if you cooperate at first, Han had told her once, one morning in bed when he had been cockily recounting his heroics during an episode of escaping bounty hunters on some faraway planet.

She squinted against the sunlight that was somehow managed to fight its way through the thick jungle canopy to cast her captors in a blinding patch of brightness. Either they had gotten lucky, or they knew the jungle extremely well and had planned it that way. She decided to opt for the latter suspicion; with as little sunlight as there was in this jungle, the odds of ending up in the one ray of it harbored couldn't be that great.

Her reflections were cut short when the person in question came out of the obscuring ray of sunlight and whipped a thick cord of considerable length out from…somewhere. It didn't seem to Leia that the woman's outfit – and she was immediately recognizable as a woman – left much room for stowing thick lengths of rope. In fact, it didn't seem as though the woman should be able to move in it at all, but it must have been more supple than it looked, because before Leia could even finish evaluating the situation to determine that the rope seemed to be the woman's only weapon and that drawing her blaster would therefore probably be a good course of action, her wrists were bound tightly together by the rope.

She mentally cited some of the more colorful expressions in her repertoire- also Han's legacy- before invoking her foster father's teachings instead.

"Excuse me, but there seems to be some sort of misunderstanding here," she said with as much dignity as she could manage while her wrists were rather embarrassingly bound in front of her. She spoke less firmly than she would have liked, but that was because she was casting her eye around the jungle floor in search of Han's glowstick. She felt somehow further away from Han without that tangible link to him safely in her hand. Now was not the time to worry about her own misgivings about losing the glowstick, though, given that the woman across the clearing from her did not seem to have understood her. Stop being ridiculous, Leia, she scolded herself mentally. You were quick enough to be cold-hearted and emotionless, even at Han's expense, when you thought the New Republic could benefit from it. It won't do either of you any good if you get captured or killed by some strange woman now.

"You will kindly remove your bindings from me this instant," she told the woman in her most commanding tones (and the clearest Basic she could manage), "I have done nothing to you to deserve this treatment and you have no right to injure my person in this manner." Having been the subject of the last diplomatic meeting she'd attended, the text of one of the latest versions of the sentients' rights laws currently being drafted by the Inner Council came back to her as she drew up to her full height (not that it was much, Han was constantly telling her) to make her declaration, rendering her words more formal than she had meant. She knew that Han, for instance, would have been decidedly more casual about it. Suppressing both the completely inappropriate grin and the rather inconvenient tears that threatened to overtake her face, she struggled to continue to look imperiously at the woman she had just addressed as if they were in a Court of Justice. It didn't seem to have mattered, she discovered a moment later, because the woman peered at her curiously for a moment before shrugging.

"No hear," she told Leia in clipped tones. Leia squinted at the woman as she approached, finally leaving that kriffing patch of sunlight. She appeared young- younger than Leia would have guessed from her low, husky voice, but her age didn't seem to have inspired any lack of self-confidence. And on top of it she was apparently deaf. Great. Just what I needed, Leia thought in annoyance. It wasn't even as if Leia was completely lacking in any other mode of communication, once Basic and the other vocal languages she knew had been exhausted. She was also familiar with at least four genres of sign-language. None of which helped, since her hands were tied tightly in front of her.

It wasn't going to matter anyway, she discovered a moment later. While Leia had been reflecting on her lack of lingual resources, the woman had been tying another length of her rope to the part she had already wound around Leia's wrists, and was now, apparently, preparing to lead Leia someplace. She turned away from Leia, apparently having decided she wasn't even a threat worthy of keeping her eye on.

"Come," she said commandingly. Leia wasn't sure what to devote her mind to: being insulted at having been dismissed as harmless, the fact that the woman apparently could speak (and in Basic!) despite her lack of hearing, or the fact that the woman had been able to walk up to Leia and attach her to another rope all while Leia was pondering one simple thought. What's wrong with me? The thought crossed her mind sluggishly as she squirmed her forearms within their bindings, which were beginning to chafe her wrists more than she could easily ignore.

Her head was beginning to feel curiously fuzzy, too, as small, black, pinpoint-sized spots began to dance across her field of vision. She swayed slightly, attempting to gather enough presence of mind to mentally scold her legs for being so blasted unsteady while simultaneously trying to recall the techniques against dizziness she had been taught as part of her military training during her youth on Alderaan. It was really quite pathetic, she would have decided had she been able to form the thought; her body's weaknesses had never betrayed her so readily before, at least, not that she could remember. Not that she could remember much of anything right now anyway. She was dimly aware of the fact that they had stopped moving. She lifted her eyes to look the young woman in the face, an act that seemed to take all of her remaining energy, and was surprised to see a smirk on the woman's face. I guess I can't read faces as well I used to, because she's being so nice to let me stop and rest a bit, was her last fully formed thought before any other thoughts she might have been about to have fled completely and the black spots filled her field of vision completely.

Isolder tromped on through the jungle for the second day in a row, beginning to regret that he had insisted upon taking his turn at guard duty last. Of course, he couldn't have done otherwise; he had to show concern of the highest degree for his betrothed (or… well, practically betrothed, anyway), and of course he really was concerned about her and didn't want to spend his day sitting in the ship and worrying about her and waiting for something to happen – something that he probably wouldn't know what to do about anyway. But, still…at home (and in most other places, come to think of it), there were other people to do tedious things, not to mention potentially dangerous things, like search through jungles for wayward females. Even if they were one's betrothed. That was just the way it was done on Hapes.

But that was all right. He could play the courageous and gallant lover. No one would ever know that he wasn't really Leia's lover – they were on first name terms (more or less) and that was all anyone really needed to know. Yes, that sounded about right: Princess' valiant and boyishly handsome suitor marches bravely through jungle to save her imperiled life. It made a perfectly grand headline, one that even his mother could be proud of. In fact, he half wished one of her hired holonews reporters was here with their recording equipment to witness his strength and bravery in the face of…mortal peril and all that. It would have saved him an afternoon or two of being followed around so that a proper sort of statement could be made when the time came and his mother decided he needed to 'go a little more public'.

Gods, he hated it when she said stupid things like that. Honestly. What did the woman think? That he was some five-year-old to be bribed into doing her bidding with a few shiny toys? Though, come to think of it, he usually did find it considerably easier to cooperate after she had promised to set her teams of scientists to designing whatever his latest desire was. Not as though the rest of the Hapes Consortium didn't appreciate his flights of fancy, though. The rest of the galaxy, too, for that matter. Leia, for one, he predicted, would be quite pleased when his scanner ended up leading him to her, to rescue her from whatever ills had befallen her.

Pleased himself with the image that thought conjured in his mind, he allowed his imagination to elaborate on it to pass the time, putting in such details as small tears in Leia's dress (though she'd actually been wearing more of a utility suit) in key places, having her swoon against a conveniently shaped tree (the trees here were all sort of gnarly and uncomfortable-looking, but no matter), and himself charging heroically and handsomely through the underbrush to appear in the clearing where she was lying (or propped against the aforementioned tree) unconscious, the sun glinting off the massive weapon he was carrying as well as his hair (never mind that both his weapon, which was decidedly on the smaller side, and his hair were looking a bit smudged and worse for the wear… not to mention his clothes, which were sporting some of the tears he'd imagined onto Leia's attire).

Occupied with such pleasurable imaginings (in fact, he was so much so that a lips began to curve their way into a smile), it took him far longer than it should have to notice the heat that was suddenly beating down upon his back. When he finally did notice, he looked up, his smile widening for a split-second as he realized that the trees had thinned completely: maybe it was the clearing from his daydream! He was not only brilliant and handsome, but also clairvoyant! Splendid!

It was such a disappointment to find that it was not a clearing at all, but instead the end of the whole forest (and even more so that he was not clairvoyant), that his smile fell completely from his mouth, leaving it midway between a frown and a pout. However, true to his noble character, he recovered quickly, marshaled his thoughts and emotions, and came to the conclusion that he had, as suspected, come to the edge of the forest. A second conclusion, that at the edge of the forest seemed to be located a wide grassland-like terrain, came hot on the heels of the first. He was about to begin pondering the question of why the forest, which seemed full to bursting with, well, nature, didn't expand into some of the grasslands, which were obviously comparatively much weaker, when his attention was arrested by something else. Something very large and even a little bit shiny.

He spent a moment adjusting his eyes to the sunlight that assaulted them as he looked up to find the top of it, and then a sense of familiarity began to dawn on him. It was a ship. And not just any ship: it was a ship of which he'd grown up watching vids and occasional newsflashes on the Holonet. Well, 'grown up' might be pushing it. He had, in fact, been nineteen when it had made the Kessel Run in twelve parsecs, and twenty-one when it had helped to blow up the first Death Star. But, still. It took him a full five minutes to recover himself and his thoughts. (Partly because it was rather difficult to reconcile his awe in the face of this ship with the fact that he was currently attempting – and, he flattered himself, at least partially succeeding – in seducing its owner's girlfriend of four years.)

Unfortunately, whatever mental tribulations he was undergoing did not deter the slight young woman who was currently circling the awestruck outsider, brandishing a rope. In fact, she was standing directly behind him by the time he finally took note of the mysterious swishing sound of something moving towards him through the knee-high grass. He turned around abruptly, ready to somehow tackle whatever it was, wrap his hands around its neck (he was picturing something along the lines of a medium-sized serpent) and – but it wasn't a serpent at all. And by the time he realized this and had altered his plan of attack accordingly, she had lassoed him with her rope (which he abstractedly noted to be approximately the thickness of the hypothetical serpent he had been expecting) and was pulling him towards her for closer inspection. Though he had an innate aversion to women attired in jumpsuits made of things that looked distinctly reptilian in origin, particularly after his recently imagined fight with a snake, he found himself forced to walk awkwardly towards her to avoid being pulled completely over by the rope that bound his arms to his sides.

"Teneniel Djo," she said sharply, looking him carefully up and down. He was somewhat younger than her last catch. Not necessarily better looking, but definitely younger and she did, after all, enjoy fresh meat far more than older, more grizzled types. Of course, this one didn't look to have nearly a fraction of the other one's intelligence (his surprise at her speech coupled with his annoyance at the fact that she had the nerve not to address him in Basic had produced a rather less than bright expression on his face), but his body more than made up for it. Not that the other hadn't had a good body, too, but… this one was just younger and somehow… juicier. It would be fun to toy with him before sending him off to the fields.

She stepped slightly closer and Isolder found himself blushing rather embarrassingly as she reached around him to tie the rope more securely around his waist. It might have been a perfect opportunity to attempt escape, but as it was he had to take a deep breath to regain some semblance of control (as much as he could, given that the rope still held him tightly bound) as she turned around and made visible a very shapely anatomy, of which her jumpsuit left very little to the imagination. He stared dumbfounded at her hips, which were swaying smoothly from side to side as she began to walk slowly away from him, until the rope reached the end of its slack and he was almost jerked off his feet before his stumbled forwards automatically, almost disappointed that he hadn't fallen onto her and toppled them both into the grass.

The other end of the rope was tied around her small (but, he was sure, strong) waist and she led him around in a small circle until they were facing the forest from under the shade of the Millennium Falcon. Isolder was just regaining his balance when another girl in lizard clothes sprang out into the grass from the cover of the forest. Teneniel Djo's head whipped around from where she had been studying Isolder and spotted the other woman immediately. Before Isolder really understood what was going on, they were both running towards the other woman. Or rather, Teneniel Djo was running – what Isolder was doing could better be described as stumbling behind her, mostly propelled by the rope around his waist. The other woman ran towards them as well and they all reached each other within a matter of seconds, and the two women immediately began jabbering in their strange language.

That was when time seemed to go a little funny for Isolder. He felt as though it was simultaneously slowing down and speeding up: the women seemed to talk faster and faster until their words were blurred beyond hope of understanding, but at the same time, he felt as though no time at all went by, as if they were suspended in one, long, voice-filled moment that would never end. The heat of the planet seemed to make it shimmer; in fact, the whole landscape seemed to ripple in waves before his eyes, including his captor and her friend. He couldn't be sure, but he thought the woman was un-hooking her rope from his. Yes, definitely: he felt even more unsteady now, without the tautness of the rope to hold him up, and the forest in front of him gave another colossal heave as he looked curiously around, trying to figure out what was happening.

The last thing he remembered before falling into the grass was one of the women saying 'Luke Skywalker' amid the rest of whatever else they were saying, but he could easily have been mistaken. All the same, he would be more careful of who her friends and family associated with, the next time he went out in search of a wife.

Teneniel Djo turned around as Isolder thudded to the ground and then glanced back at her cousin, Alarna Dje.

"73 seconds," said Tialarna Dje.

"Hah. My last one lasted 94," Teneniel Djo gloated, "and even longer after catching his whuffa."

"Not really much of a victory, Teneniel, since this one's yours, too. What are you going to do with him?"

Both women turned back to look at him. He was sprawled in the grass, his arm twisted at an angle underneath him.

"That arm'll be sore for a few days. He won't be good for much," her cousin observed, "might as well let him go, really."

Teneniel Djo went over to him and heaved him up by one shoulder to extract the arm in question from underneath his back. She lay him back down and felt along the arm for broken bones and any other abnormalities, but all she noted was that his arm was muscular in a very pleasant, masculine way: large, bulging muscles of the sort that the men on Dathomir often acquired by long hours of hauling whuffa out of the ground. Perhaps he came from a place where men were responsible for hunting whuffa as well. She made a show of extending his arm out towards her and moving it about, ostensibly stretching it, and then bent to examine his hand. It was strong and well built as well, but contrary to the rough, calloused palms and fingers developed by the men she and her clan kept, it was soft and smooth, like that of a queen whose sisters did all the work. As she stood, she thought to herself that she wouldn't mind checking the rest of him for injuries and, even more, holding that soft hand to her cheek, just for a moment. The thought made her redden uncharacteristically, and she covered it by pretending she was being affected by the heat. Her cousin, a few years older, raised an eyebrow and came over to peer at her clan-sister's catch.

"Not bad looking, though, for a man," she said, watching Teneniel Djo for a reaction.

"No," Teneniel Djo breathed in agreement. She was beginning to think, in fact, that she had never seen a more attractive or desirable man in all her life, "imagine the daughters one could get with him!"

Tialarna Dje shook her head discreetly while her cousin continued to stare at the outlander. It was always dangerous to fall in love with one's catch, or even to desire him for anything more than the production of daughters. But most young girls experienced it once, or – if they were particularly dense – twice, and then were wise enough not to let it happen again and, indeed, to counsel others against it. Tialarna Dje was put in mind of a certain red-haired young man who had crashed on their planet five or six years ago. He had fathered her twin daughters – a particularly special prize – but he had died of whuffa poisoning before they were born and that had been the end of that. Outlanders were rather too weak to live for long periods of time on Dathomir; like pet roshawks, they weren't meant to be kept so it was better not to get attached. Teneniel Djo was young, though, and had always been sharp-witted and sensible in the past. And she was old enough to think about daughters, now. Perhaps it was about time she had a dalliance with an off-worlder.

"You'd be the talk of all the village, but I'm sure if anyone could keep a man safe it would be you. Go ahead and keep him. If nothing else, that arm can be practice at healing for you if it does turn out to be hurt," Tialarna Dje told her young cousin with a grin.

Happy to have her cousin's blessing, Teneniel Djo mirrored it, one of the few true expressions of pleasure Tialarna Dje had seen on her since her parents had died last year.

"I think I'll stay here with him a while," Teneniel Djo announced, looking back at her prize, "let him sleep it off. They're always in a better mood that way."

Tialarna Dje nodded knowingly.

"Indeed."

When Isolder awoke, the first thing he noted was that he was not alone. That he noticed this first was unusual, because he almost never was alone on Hapes: there were always guards and companions of one kind or another shadowing his every step, to protect him, amuse him, bring him the steady stream of messages that always came from his mother, and other such useful activities. So he generally had ceased to take note of it. Usually, what he would have noticed first were things such as the fact that his back was damp, there were small rocks digging uncomfortably into his ribs, and that his arm was sore. For now, however, he ignored all of these unfortunate circumstances and looked around, craning his neck to see behind him.

His neck was at a particularly uncomfortable angle when he spotted the girl who was sitting serenely behind him. Despite the angle, he couldn't help himself from continuing to stare at her for a full minute or two. He couldn't see much of her face because the sun at her back cast it in shadow, but the same sun reflected off of her blue-black hair. It seemed that she had loosed her hair from its braid and was now re-braiding it, and Isolder was fascinated by the sight. As her fingers worked their way towards the bottom of the braid, his eyes followed their path down her slender neck, across her shapely torso, where they rested for a moment to absorb the reflections from the bright green scales of her bodysuit, and finished at her tightly muscled waist, where she tied off the braid with some sort of twine-looking elastic and then looked back at him. Whether from the discomfort caused to his neck by holding his head at such an angle for so long a time or from the impact of her cat-green eyes meeting his, he gasped.

"Wake?" his companion asked in her usual heavily accented and more-than-slightly awkward interpretation of Basic. He nodded, wincing at the lines of tension that shot through his neck and shoulders at the movement.

"Hurt?" she inquired, leaning down to peer more closely at him.

"Just a little," he said manfully, trying to raise himself to lean on his elbows and failing.

She nodded understandingly.

"Sleep ground, no good," she explained, as if he hadn't gathered that himself by now. Her actions were more interesting to him than his words, because she was maneuvering herself closer to him and then she was lifting his upper body up slightly and then his head was pillowed in her lap and he was looking straight up at her face and other aspects of her anatomy and he was almost positive he had never been more comfortable in his life. It didn't last for long, though, because after a quick smile, she began to work at his shoulders with her hands in what he thought must be her culture's version of a massage, but it little resembled the gentle ones he received almost daily at home. Even that was over far too quickly and she lifted her legs out from under his head and hauled him to a half-upright position against what he presumed was her pack.

"Ship, you?" she asked, pointing to the Millennium Falcon, near which they were still sitting. He followed her finger, and then shook his head.

"Not mine, no," he corrected her regretfully, "ship, Han Solo's."

"Han Solo, great good whuffa hunter?" she queried, her eyes widening in disbelief. Isolder frowned. Great good what? Well, Han Solo wasn't great or good in any respect, as far as Isolder was concerned, but he had to admit that there were many that would disagree with him, so it wasn't at all improbable that if this woman were acquainted with Han Solo, she would think him both.

"Um, yes, I suppose," Isolder said, again regretfully.

"You, Han-Solo-great-good-whuffa-hunter, friend?" she seemed to be posing another question, but it took him a minute to puzzle it out (he did wish she would stop referring to Han that way… it was getting a bit ridiculous, really).

"Are Solo and I friends?" he repeated the question, more to accustom himself to the concept (it wasn't one he had really encountered before) than because he needed a clarification. The girl nodded, and the look of hope in her eyes was so great that Isolder decided to improvise a little. After all, who was to say that he and Han Solo wouldn't someday be friends? There only differences, after all, were that… well, actually, maybe they did have quite a few differences. But the main one, the one that counted, was fairly easily resolvable... or maybe not. In any case, he didn't want to upset the girl, not when they were getting on so well, considering she had had him tied up on the floor just a few hours ago and now she was massaging him instead.

"Yes, Han Solo and I know each other quite well, actually," he said, puffing out his chest a little. After all, he was at least… well, acquainted with Han Solo. "Good friends," he clarified when his statement seemed to be met with more confusion than anything else. At that, the girl smiled and nodded, a lovely sight to see.

"Han Solo come?" she asked eagerly. Isolder frowned. This was getting a little complicated.

"Maybe," he thought it was safe to answer. Then he had a truly inspired idea and began digging in one of the pockets attached to his utility belt to find his signaling device. He held it out to the girl.

"This will make Solo come," he told her. If it did, well, he would deal with that then. If not, surely someone else would come and return him to his friends. After which he would take care never to accompany errant fiancées to backwater planets again. The girl nodded and watched him assemble the signal and then both of them looked up at the flare it sent up into the sky. Then Teneniel Djo opened the conversation again.

"Han Solo go to ship… me go to ship… go to away?" she asked, still eagerly. Isolder frowned.

"Maybe," he answered, hoping he had misunderstood. Why would this woman want to go anywhere with Han Solo? Why would anyone, for that matter? Hadn't Leia just about come to choosing him, Isolder, over that pirate?

It seemed to satisfy her, however, and she settled back into a more relaxed position.

"Now sleep," she announced, moving closer to him. Before he knew what was happening, she was lying down not far from him on the grass, stretched out with her head resting on her arms, and staring up at the sky.

"Good," she commented, pointing to the flare. Isolder nodded, wishing he had the courage to inch slightly closer to her. As it was, he was comforted by the nearness of another human being, however strange. The bright green of the flare matched that of the girl's eyes and Isolder's eyes were drawn back to hers. He found she was looking at him as well, and after a few moments it occurred to him that he should introduce himself. He extended a hand.

"Isolder," he said, pointing at himself with the other hand. She stared uncomprehendingly at his extended hand for a moment before understanding.

"Teneniel Djo," she answered.