This chapter is kind of short, but here you go. Comments and reviews are welcome. -T.

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"Luke," Han mumbled frantically, hands going to kid's neck, fumbling for a pulse. Chewie howled in distress.

The elfin creature, Yoda, stepped forward, leaning carefully on his cane. "Sick the boy is," he observed quietly.

Han wanted to snap something about stating the obvious, but he was too busy searching for some sign that Luke was still hanging on, still alive.

"I can't find a pulse," he snapped, to himself, to Chewie, to no one. A familiar feeling of helpless rage was building under his collar bone. This was why he should have kept his distance from the kid, the Princess and the entire Rebellion from the beginning. He had vowed once never to put himself in the position to feel this kind of pain again.

Chewie howled in anguish, still standing behind Yoda, then stepping over the small creature to kneel at Luke's side, lifting the boy from the deck, enclosing Luke's slack form in his large, hairy arms and clutching him close to his body, his howl of grief deafening in Han's ears.

Yoda stepped forward, the click of the cane against the deck. He waited until the wookiee eased the young man back to the deck, then he reached carefully with a clawed hand to Luke's forehead. The creature closed his eyes.

Han watched warily. It appeared as if nothing was happening. Chewie was watching too. At this point, Han had seen enough Jedi parlor tricks to at least understand that possibly this Yoda could attempt something, though to bring someone back from the brink of death seemed a little far-fetched, even for Jedi.

After long moments, everyone's eyes on Luke, the kid suddenly hitched a sharp breath, gasped for air with another cough. His eyes remained shut, and he didn't move further. But Han realized with a flood of relief that the kid was breathing now. He exchanged a glance with Chewie, eyed the green creature again. Yoda's eyes were still closed, his hand still resting on Luke's forehead.

They remained like that for several long minutes, the elfin Jedi very still, Luke even stiller.

Han and Chewie sat frozen, as if any movement might disturb whatever magic trick Yoda was working. After some time, Solo started to feel his legs go numb. He shifted cautiously, eyes locked on Luke and Yoda.

It was long minutes before the small Jedi opened his eyes, stepped back away from Luke, his hand dropping to his side.

"Take some time, this will," he told Han, his green ears twitching, eyes still on Luke. "Be patient, we must."

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It certainly took time.

Cautiously hopeful, but not at all sure what to expect, Han tried to keep from pacing.

Luke was lying again in the bunkroom, under a blanket, pale, eyes closed, still as death. They'd cleaned him up, made him as comfortable as they knew how. Yoda had kept vigil, standing near the boy, hand on his forehead, himself unmoving for hours at a time. When he was not there - and even when he was - Han and Chewie kept their own vigil, sitting next to Luke on a small packing crate next to his bunk, taking shifts so the other could sleep. It appeared that nothing was happening. What Han could tell was that Luke was still breathing, and that he hadn't vomited or even coughed once since Yoda had arrived. That first night Han had sat next to Luke's bunk through the night, he had noticed the fever had broken.

He had no idea how to explain any of this, so he just rolled with the events as they came through: He and Chewie scrubbing down the ship, offering a dehydrated meal to Yoda, who had crinkled his nose and politely declined; trying to make small-talk with Yoda, which had felt like pulling teeth; making another small repair to the hyperdrive and one to the landers. But mostly they waited.

And three days later, early in the morning, when Han was about to swap shifts with Chewie, and Yoda had gone home - wherever that was, Solo didn't know - to rest, Luke stirred. Han, who had been nodding off, abruptly straightened, wide awake.

"Kid?"

Luke groaned, bringing a hand to his face, then dropping it weakly back to his chest.

"Luke - you okay?" Han asked again, edging the crate closer to his friend. Luke's eyes were still closed, but he was breathing deeper; he swallowed.

Blue eyes flew open, staring up at the upper bunk for a moment, then, another long blink and he was staring at Solo.

"Han?"

"You're okay, kid?" Solo's hand flew to Luke's forehead, testing his temperature. It felt perfectly normal. "You hurt anywhere?"

Luke frowned. "I… no." His voice croaked with disuse. "No. I feel okay."

A cautious smile was creeping up on the Correllian now. "You want to sit up?"

Hesitantly Luke nodded. Carefully, Han eased the younger man into a sitting position, keeping his hand near in case the kid suddenly toppled. But his color was better, Han noticed, his eyes no longer glassy.

Luke cleared his throat experimentally. "I'm starving."

Han let out a short laugh of relief. "Really, kid? Cause that's the best news I've heard all day. Do you want to come to the food or should the food come to you?"

Luke gingerly shifted his feet to the floor, tested his weight experimentally. "I think I can walk."

"Okay." Solo pulled Luke carefully to his feet, kept his hand at the kid's elbow as Luke stood for a moment, getting his bearings. "Still okay?"

Luke nodded, swallowing. "Yeah."

They shuffled slowly to the galley, half-lit and powered down for the night. "Good thing your ship's not that big," Luke quipped hoarsely. "Not as far to walk."

"Hey," Solo adopted an offended expression. "Don't knock the ship. She's gotten us out of too many scrapes."

Luke smiled, sank down to the bench at the holochess table. Han opened a cupboard, pulled a package of broth cubes. The kid hadn't eaten in several days - probably best to go easy at first. He poured water into the small heating pot, pressed the button, turned back to Luke.

"I - " Luke hesitated. "I'm kind of out of it, but are we…on Dagobah?"

Han gave his friend a patient smile. "Yeah, kid. Don't you remember landing the ship? Meeting Yoda?"

Luke frowned. "I wasn't sure if that wasn't a dream."

The water pot beeped to signify it was ready and Solo added the broth cubes and poured it into a small mug, handed it to Luke.

"Not a dream, kid. Whoever he is, Yoda saved your life."

Luke's eyebrows arched, at the broth or at Han's words, Solo couldn't tell. The smuggler plowed on anyway. "He's been here for a couple days, working his Force magic. He called it a 'healing trance'. Whatever it was, it worked. 'Cause according to that doc on Cattairn, you should be dead by now."

Luke didn't answer, just stared into his cup, probably taking it all in. It was a lot to take in, Han had to admit. He was still trying to figure it all out himself.

"How long has it been?" Luke asked quietly, finally lifting the steaming mug to blow on the hot liquid, take a careful sip.

Solo shrugged. Time seemed to bleed together. They hadn't been out of the ship much - nothing but a giant swamp out there - and even when they had, the constant cloud-cover and drizzly rain seemed to blend night and day into one soggy twilight. It was easy to lose track of time. "I don't know - three, four days."

Luke set his mug back down, considered, belatedly glanced around. "Where is Yoda now?"

Han sat down across from him at the table, hooked his thumb back the direction of the Falcon's ramp. "He was here a long while, but finally went home, I guess to rest. Whatever he did to help you probably took a lot out of him."

Luke nodded, an odd expression in his eyes, as he took another sip of broth.

Han waited. After a moment of silence, he shifted. "What're you thinking, kid?"

Luke's eyes flashed to Han and back to stare into his mug. Finally, after taking a long swallow, he set the cup down on the table. "So, I guess," he hesitated. "Yoda doesn't want to kill me."

Solo shook his head, not sure whether to laugh or frown. "No kid - he just spent four days saving your life. He's on your side."

Luke nodded again, though his expression didn't change. Then he seemed to wake up to the fact that he was drinking broth, frowned at the mug again. "Don't we have any solid food around here, or did Chewie eat it all?"

Now Han arched his eyebrows. "Go easy, Junior. You just woke up."

"And I'm hungry," Luke insisted stubbornly. "Got any creamed tapeeka?"

"What, do you think this is a four-star restaurant on Coruscant?" Solo retorted.

"I know I saw some packets in the stuff we got on Terrenia."

Han made a gagging gesture. "Who eats creamed tapeeka? I was about to throw those away."

Luke frowned. "I like it," he answered. "My aunt Beru used to make it for special occasions."

"Fine," Solo ground out, getting to his feet again. "I'll make it for you." He leveled a finger at the kid. "Only because it's your first day back from being sick. After this, my job as kitchen help is over, understood?"

Luke brought his mug up again, but it only partially hid his smile.