Decisions

Even at the time she knew it was a dumb idea. Going outside at this time of day to confirm that a blip was just a blip. The sun was about to set and the cold season was approaching. The colder season, she reminded herself. It was Hoth, after all.

But she had been trapped inside for days and was coming off a twelve-hour shift in the command center. Stir-crazy and cooped up, she was desperate for some fresh air. The ambiguous radar readings provided the perfect excuse.

She grabbed the first pilot she found loitering near the speeders. Thankfully it was Tiny, a hulking behemoth of muscle and good nature who was already a veteran when it came to braving the frozen tundra. He didn't blink when she showed him the coordinates and asked him to accompany her.

After they flew out to the spot and scouted around to confirm that the blip was in fact just a blip, they looped back to the the base. Tiny informed her that he needed to deliver the speeder to the secondary hangar for fueling and she agreed to go with him. Another excuse to spend a few minutes outside.

But within steps of the main building she had slipped and twisted her ankle. It was stupid, really. Although half of the base personnel had succumbed to minor injuries from the ice, she was still annoyed at her clumsiness.

Han was pacing the hangar as she hopped through the side door gripping Tiny's shoulder for support. Maybe he had seen the speeder leave and wondered why it was departing at this hour. Or maybe he had searched for her in the command center when her shift ended. He had taken to doing that lately.

She hobbled across the floor, Tiny stooping down to her height as best he could. She briefly wondered whether Han would be jealous that she was being half-carried by another man before she recalled Tiny's romantic preference for men.

Balancing on her good foot, she shook herself off the lieutenant and thanked him for his help. Han had already approached, hands on hips, looking as if he didn't know whether to laugh or scold her.

"Don't say it," she warned.

"Say what?" he asked innocently. "Say that hiking over an ice sheet in the dark might not be the smartest idea you've had? Sweetheart, I swear it didn't even cross my mind."

She glared at him. "Obviously."

"Is it bad?" He studied the foot that hovered a few centims above the floor.

"I'm sure it's just a sprain."

"Well then come onto the Falcon. I got some stuff you can put on it. And I know you don't like goin' to the medcenter."

That was certainly true and while not exactly a secret, it wasn't something she thought he would have stated so easily.

"Fine," she sighed. Han looped his arm around her waist and she slung hers over his shoulder and together they made it up the ramp of his ship.

"It's fine, Han," she repeated when they were sitting on the medcot, her foot on his lap as he dug around the drawers for bandages and bacta.

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled. "Of all nights to do something crazy. Right before we're leaving."

"We saw some odd signals on the radar." She omitted the fact that even Rieekan hadn't seemed overly concerned by them. "I wanted to make sure they weren't anything mechanical."

"You know better than that." He sighed dramatically and she couldn't suppress a smile at his overbearing manner. "I would have checked them out if you had asked me. Now you're gonna be limping around the next few days."

"You said last night the ship's sensors needed recalibrating. I thought you'd be finishing that before we left." They were slotted for an early departure tomorrow.

He rolled his eyes again. "When do I ever really need to recalibrate anything? You know what Chewie says."

She was too focused on his fingers, warm and gentle and loosely clasped around her ankle, to respond. In the absence of a comeback an expectant silence stretched between them. To fill the space she said, "How many years of medical training did it take to get to this level of competence?"

"Ha ha." Her words jarred him into action. He smoothed a final patch over the swollen joint and rolled the cuff of her pants back down. "Why don't you sleep here tonight?" He nodded at the bunk on which they were sitting. "I'll heat us up some dinner." Then adding hurriedly, "Or you can have my cabin. I'll sleep here."

"No, I couldn't do that," she murmured. As generous as he was with his food and drink and company, she knew he was twitchy about other parts of his life. "But —." Her mind raced. What would it hurt to sleep here for the night? It was surely a waste of effort to limp across the base for a bunk no more comfortable than this one. She lifted her gaze from where it had been resting on her ankle. "I can stay here. I'll get my bag in the morning."

"Good." He met her eyes and nodded. He started to rise and she assumed he was going to leave to prepare the meal but instead he dipped down and kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger before brushing them over her hair. It was slow and quick at the same time and before she fully knew what was happening he was standing again. "I'll get the food ready."

Her mind was refreshingly blank after he left. She refused to draw any conclusions from his actions, focusing instead on the warm imprint left by his lips. After waiting a respectable amount of time she stood gingerly and hobbled over to the table. Several small dishes had been set out along with two shallow bowls. Han was stirring a stew-y concoction with a dented spoon and seemed unusually preoccupied as she sat down. "It's just leftovers," he said without prompting. "Though I've been saving some of the kovash that I found on my last run." He shrugged helplessly. "I thought it would pair well."

She nodded and flashed a grateful smile. He was focused on rearranging the dishes next to her bowl and she wondered if he regretted what he had done. "Han —." Almost reluctantly he raised his head, the serving spoon poised between them. She leaned forward and touched his wrist. "Thank you," she said softly. "For letting me stay."

He nodded, his expression unwavering and penetrating, and she felt a flush spread across her body. Focusing anew on her food, she busied herself with filling her bowl from the spread between them.

"You know," he started, as he dipped his bread in his stew, "Chewie and I were talking and, well, we thought we'd stay around. With the fleet. For as long as we're needed."

For the second time that night she was taken aback. Rather than blank, her mind swirled with the implications. He was staying. Indefinitely, it would seem.

She realized she hadn't said anything. "I'm —. I'm glad." Then confusedly: "You're staying? I thought —." How many times had he pronounced otherwise?

He shrugged again. "Yeah, well, Jabba will always be there. It's too late anyway, given the amount that I owe him. Maybe I'll get lucky and he'll choke on his dinner one of these days." There was a grimness underlying his words.

"Han." She touched his hand again. "I don't want you to leave but I don't want you to regret staying. Let us help you." His stubborn expression returned as it always did when this subject arose. "We'll figure out something. I know we can. Please."

He shook his head but with less conviction than in the past. "You know how I feel about that," he muttered.

She did. It had been a topic of contention between the two of them for a while. He had always been prickly about it and since receiving the news of his deathmark was even more adamant that she not be involved.

One thing at a time, she told herself. He was staying, and that was already a significant improvement. She'd tackle the larger problem of convincing him to accept help when the time was right.

When they finished eating it was too early to think of going to bed so they stayed in the booth surrounded by the empty dishes. Leia felt an aura of expectation hovering over them that diluted the conversation to a bare minimum; even Han was distracted and off his rhythm. The atmosphere reminded her of the night he learned about his deathmark; now, however, she imagined that instead of despair the silence contained a hopeful spark. She waited for one of them to do something, anything, to break the tension, but the careful separation persisted and she couldn't decide if the seemingly inevitable shift in their relationship was precipitously near or further away than ever.

It was a relief when Chewie returned and treated them to a detailed re-hashing of a prank played on Wedge that had gone spectacularly awry. The story then turned into an impromptu Shryiiwook lesson as Leia struggled to differentiate slushy snow from packed snow from icy slush and really, for a species that arose from the depths of forested jungles, shouldn't a single word suffice?

"You're fading fast, Princess," Han declared when her effort to enunciate loosely-formed snowball was interrupted by a yawn. He shook his head wryly as that yawn cascaded into a second one. "Yeah, you're down for the count. Shryiiwook can do that to the best of us. I'll make up the bed for you."

After a quick rinse in the 'fresher, she hobbled back out to the med bunk. Han had cleared it off and fitted it with a sheet and blanket and tidy-looking pillow. She avoided his gaze as it lingered on her now-bare face and focused instead on the angle of the pillow and the lay of the folded-back sheet. Had he ever done this for anyone else?

She felt his eyes still on her. "You want a shirt or something to sleep in?"

Her body's reaction to that offer made it obvious that she wouldn't get much sleep if she took him up on it. "I'll be fine. I'll change in the morning before we leave."

He nodded and shoved a hand in his pocket while his foot tapped restlessly. "Well, good night. Wake me if you need anything."

It was one of those nights when she woke frequently or perhaps slept so deeply that she dreamt she kept waking. A holoreel of his fingers around her ankle and his lips on her forehead cycled over and over until it merged with their previous encounters. Memories of the night they slept outside joined with more recent ones until she was dreaming, or thought she was dreaming, that he was now curled around her in the bunk, his arm weighty and comforting on hers, his slow, even breaths washing over her head. Like that night long ago she remained still, refusing to confirm whether his presence was an illusion or a dream or neither.

In the morning she was no more certain what had or hadn't transpired during the night. Upon opening her eyes she heard him tinkering around the ship and when she emerged from the 'fresher the smell of his kaffe hit her with a pang. During their abbreviated breakfast he was his typical self, having shed the awkwardness of the previous evening. Her ankle had improved and he grunted a farewell while stretched out under a console conducting the pre-flight checks with Chewie. She braced herself for the cold walk to her quarters and was back on his ship less than an hour later.

The Falcon's engines rattled familiarly on start-up as she adjusted the restraining belt around her shoulders. Pulling out her datapad, she focused on reorienting herself to their upcoming assignment and completing the last of the pre-arrival tasks. Fortunately, spare hours stretched in front of her. Han had informed her that it would take most of the day to reach Ord Mantell.