Leia awoke feeling groggy and unrefreshed. The crushing terror of the night before had faded, yet a niggling sense of dread endured, a dark presence lurking in the far corners of her consciousness. To her disappointment, she was alone, and when she ran her hand over Han's side of the bed, she found it cold. Checking her comm, there was a brief, businesslike message: Gone to Falcon. Didn't want to wake you.

She felt a wave of annoyance sweep through her, sharp and irrational. He could have woken her. He should have woken her. He knew she treasured their mornings together, kisses turning from gentle to passionate, their lovemaking warm and slow and tender. They'd developed a routine of sorts on the trip to Bespin; Han would bring her a cup of kaffe in bed and then they'd shower and – if they didn't end up back in their bunk again – have breakfast with Chewie in the main hold. But today he'd apparently decided that she needed to sleep, just like he'd decided that he had to leave to protect her and decided that she could not accompany him. Leia Organa was not used to other people making decisions for her and she did not like it.

There was something else too, bubbling away in her gut and feeding her irritability.

Guilt.

You didn't say it back…

Han had given no indication that he was bothered by her non-response. But still, it rankled that she hadn't been able to express what she felt. Words did not often fail her, consummate politician that she was, especially when it was something so important, so deeply true. Surely he knows, she reasoned. He must know.

Sighing, she dragged herself out of bed and pulled on the white silk robe that Lando had provided for her. At least she could take the opportunity to have a long, hot, real-water shower instead of a sonic one. Many luxuries she had been accustomed to in her former life – fine clothing, jewellery, art and culture – had become completely irrelevant in the trenches of a galactic civil war. A hot water shower, however, was one luxury she would covet shamelessly until the end of her days. Turning on the water just shy of scalding, Leia allowed the heat to melt away some of the tension in her neck and shoulders. Afterwards, feeling a little more refreshed, she perused the selection of available clothing. She chose a dark red tunic with matching pants and a sheer, grey sleeveless cape. It was the only thing that was vaguely practical – the rest of the wardrobe was filled with plunging necklines, sequins and shimmersilk. What Lando secretly hoped she'd wear, she imagined with disgust, although in truth, she would have worn just about anything to get out of her snowsuit for a day.

Emerging from the bedroom, Leia was startled to find no sign of Threepio in the common area. Neither was he anywhere else in the apartment. Immediately, her unease returned full force. Had he been gone all night? She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him, wrapped up as she'd been in Han and her worries about him leaving. Chewie had mentioned something about Threepio wandering off. When had that been? She'd assumed he'd gotten lost and would eventually find his way back to their apartment, but it seemed far too long for that.

Frowning, she sent a message to Lando's cybernetic aide. Lando had assured them – in a boastful tone that had done nothing to elevate her opinion of him – that Lobot knew everything that went on in Cloud City and would assist them with whatever they required during their stay. Yet, a few moments later Lobot commed her back to inform her that there had been no reports of a lost protocol droid from anywhere in the city, nor had Threepio attempted to contact the administration himself. Something's wrong here, she thought to herself. If it had been Artoo, she might have believed that he would scamper off on some little adventure of his own. But Threepio? Not in a million years.

She paced restlessly back and forth in front of the window, seeing but not seeing the shuttles and small spacecraft zipping busily past. Something felt… off. She suddenly couldn't wait to get away from here, to leave Cloud City and its white walls and its sleazy administrator behind forever. Why were Han and Chewie taking so long? She briefly contemplated going to look for Threepio herself, then rejected the idea.

Finally, she heard the door swish open.

"The ship's almost finished," Han announced, his long legs carrying him into the room in two loping strides. "Two or three more things and we're in great shape." He stopped and looked at her, as though expecting her to be as pleased with him as he clearly was with himself.

"The sooner the better," she snapped, stalking across the room. "Something's wrong here. No one has seen or heard anything about Threepio. He's been gone too long to have gotten lost…."

Behind her diatribe was all the morning's frustration and anxiety, her guilt, her grief, her irrational fear. She saw Han react first with confusion, then exasperation as she approached him. He rocked back on his heels, half-turned with his hands spread as though his first impulse had been to walk away. But he stopped himself, turned back, took a breath. As she reached him, his warm, work-roughened hand went to her cheek.

"Relax," he soothed, his deep voice sending tingles through her body, a balm to the whirlpool of anxiety churning inside her. He bent and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. It disarmed her completely – damn him! – and she felt some of her anger melt away.

"I'll talk to Lando, see what I can find out."

"I don't trust Lando!" Her ire flared again at the mention of Calrissian and she sat down on one end of the white couch to try and mask it. She'd encountered so many men like Lando over the years. Smooth. Well-dressed. Charming. Some had even tried to court her, back on Alderaan. But she'd had little interest in such men then and had even less tolerance for them now.

"Well I don't trust him either." Han lowered himself so that he was sitting beside her on the couch. "He is my friend…Besides," he continued reassuringly, "We'll soon be gone from here."

She tilted her head, looked at him challengingly.

"And then you're as good as gone, aren't you?"

He said nothing, his eyes solemn. She knew she was contradicting herself; first she couldn't wait to leave Cloud City and now she was saying she didn't want to. But Han knew her, could read between the lines of her contradictions and her snappishness. His warm hand enveloped hers, his thumb gently tracing her skin.

"Leia," he said quietly. "I meant what I said last night."

She nodded silently, pressing her lips together into a tight line. She felt like a caw-crab curling back into her shell, protecting herself against the inevitable pain of losing him. He was looking at her expectantly now, and she could have told him she loved him more than anything, that she needed him desperately, that the thought of him leaving was almost more than she could bear.

She should have told him that.

Yet, she said nothing.