Mind Tricks

by Corellian Blue

(first published 2003, revised 2016, 2020)

Warnings: mental health issues

VI

"Where's Chewie?"

Leia looked up at the sound of Han's voice, but was surprised to see that she was still alone. That was odd. She'd distinctly heard his voice and had thought that he'd come down the Falcon's ramp without her noticing. But she was definitely on her own, sitting out in the sunshine, enjoying what was left of the day.

She turned back to the datapad sitting in her lap. She was obviously missing Han, hence the reason for conjuring his voice in her head. She'd been on her own for most of the day. Luke had returned to the Fleet that morning in the shuttle he'd used to escape from the Death Star. Once he'd given his report to the High Command and ensured his X-Wing was operational, he was off to Dagobah.

Chewbacca and Lando had returned to the Fleet with Luke, supposedly to hunt down a new sensor dish and other parts to repair the Falcon. But they had also left the moon to give her some time to be with Han, time together and away from the Alliance.

Leia had cleared her own and Han's leave with General Rieekan. She'd explained to the general that as she was injured and Han exhausted, not quite having recovered from the hibernation sickness, they intended spending the next few days on the forest moon. Rieekan had appeared mildly amused by Leia's instruction that was more demand than request, but he had agreed to their leave after making a wry comment about whether spending time alone with Han Solo was the best way for her to recuperate. When she considered that she had spent most of their first day on her own, working while Han slept, she was starting to wonder the same thing herself, though not in the way Rieekan had meant.

At least being on her own had given her time to practice the healing techniques Luke had taught her the previous night. Something must have been working because she had been able to remove the bandage this morning.

Leia rubbed at the place where the wound had been. By simply concentrating on the area and imaging the healing process, her own skin had rapidly grown over the synthflesh. The new skin was still pink and shiny, but thankfully it hadn't itched since Luke had started her Force lessons.

When she wasn't experimenting with the Force, Leia had been researching the functions and disorders of the human brain, predominantly those related to traumatic stress. She had downloaded information from the medical database located on Home One. Studiously digesting and selecting those items she considered relevant, Leia had compiled a report for herself. If she was going to help Han, she needed to have some idea of what she was dealing with.

One thing that had hit home with Leia was the frequent reference to how post-traumatic stress disorder could have an impact on relationships, particularly when the effort to block out painful memories could lead to the sufferer appearing irritable or uninterested.

Leia had tried ignoring Han's behaviour, and then making excuses for it when she couldn't ignore it, but she had never been able to accept it. She didn't think she would be able to successfully cope if he remained like this for the rest of his life. Whatever happened, she hoped she would never reach the point where she feared him. Afraid for him perhaps, but never of him.

The click of boots on the boarding ramp caused Leia to look up again and this time she saw Han duck out from under the hull. He looked rested, his eyes less haunted, so his decision to use the sedative had been worth it. She was pleased to see he had showered and shaved, reassured that he now wore the spacer garb he seemed most comfortable in. But then she realised he was unarmed, the ubiquitous blaster missing from his hip, and she wondered if it had something to do with the way he had discarded the gun-rig on the deck of his cabin.

Han stopped at the end of the ramp, his eyes scanning the clearing as he wiped his hands on his trousers in a vaguely nervous gesture.

"Hi," she called out to him brightly, switching off the datapad and rising to her feet.

Han's eyes briefly met hers before continuing to search the clearing. "Where's Chewie?"

Leia flinched, silently forgiving his lack of greeting and that he appeared more concerned with his friend's absence than her presence.

"He's gone back to the Fleet with Lando."

"What?" Han shook his head irritably. "Doesn't he know we've got repairs to make? Especially after what Calrissian did to her."

Leia moved towards him, calmly explaining, "That's why they've gone. Lando's feeling guilty enough about the scorch marks on the hull, let alone the fact he lost the dish."

Han gruffly agreed, "So he should."

"They've gone to hunt down a new dish for you." Disregarding his apparent desire to be annoyed, Leia reached for his hand, and was grateful that he allowed her to hold it. "And how about you?"

He met her concerned gaze. "Me?"

"How are you holding up for repairs?"

He pulled an indifferent face. "Fine."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Did you sleep well?" When he didn't respond, she added, "I was a bit worried when you didn't come back for dinner."

Han dropped his gaze. "I wasn't hungry."

She suspected he was feeling guilty about not returning to say good night to her, but she didn't push him for an apology.

"Are you hungry now? I can get you something to eat, if you'd like."

"Maybe later. I've gotta return a bike to the base."

She tilted her head and looked at him curiously. She hadn't heard him pull up on a speeder bike last night and wondered where he might have left it. Had he hallucinated the bike?

"And then I suppose I better think about getting you back to the Fleet, Your Highnessness. High Command probably think I've run off with you."

His heart wasn't in the banter, but at least he was trying. She poked her tongue at him to lighten the mood. He pulled her into a light hug, and she returned the embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest. It was the first time she had hugged him since she had told him about Vader being her father. It felt wonderful to be back in his arms.

"We don't have to go anywhere," she told him. "Carlist has given us the next few days off. I thought we could spend some time down here. Alone."

"Rieekan's given us leave?" he asked sceptically. "How did you talk him into that?"

Leia chuckled and squeezed her arms around him. "I cannot reveal my secrets."

"And you sent Chewie and Lando away?"

"And Luke too," she added. "He's off to Dagobah."

"Sounds like you've got something devious in mind planned for me."

Leia pulled back so that she could see his face, leaving her arms around his waist to maintain the contact.

"Nothing devious," she promised. "Just catch up time. You. Me. Getting to know each other again." …and what's going on in that mind of yours. "We haven't had a break since Bespin."

Han gently caressed her cheek, a gesture he hadn't made for a long time. "I know."

"Love you too, flyboy," she whispered, struggling to control the sentiment in her voice, wishing he was the way he used to be, this had all been a bad dream.

"You're going mushy on me, Princess," he lightly warned her.

She smiled shakily at their private joke. It was moments like this that made her believe there was nothing wrong with him.

It took all her strength, but she stopped her lips from trembling and admitted, "Perhaps a bit."

The last thing he needed was to be consoling her. He had more than enough problems without worrying about a blubbering princess.

Reluctantly, she stepped away from his embrace. Her eye caught on the synthflesh patch under his chin and she was tempted to ask him how he had hurt himself. Her instincts told her now was not the right time. When he was ready, he would tell her. She noticed that his hand, the one she hadn't been holding, was quivering slightly, so he probably hadn't taken any of the medication she had brought back.

"I left the drofic in your cabin for you," she said. The sooner she got him back on the medication, the sooner she could start dealing with the cause of his disorder.

He consciously rubbed the back of his hand with the other. "I saw it. Thanks."

There was something about his tone that made her believe she knew what he was thinking.

"You're not going to take it, are you?"

He dropped his gaze, shook his head.

Leia repressed a sigh, wanting to understand. "I thought it was working. I thought it was helping you."

He certainly wasn't going out of his way to make things easy for himself.

A grimace twisted his face. "I can't take it anymore."

"Why not?"

He was silent for a moment before mumbling, "I want it too much."

Leia's stomach dropped as she empathised with him. She recalled the argument she had used on Luke the previous night: the drofic relieved his symptoms, but it didn't solve the problem. She had since changed her mind once her research had indicated that a psychotherapeutic drug, combined with other therapies, would help him. Luke had also suggested the spice might make Han more receptive to the Force. As well as easing his anxiety, it would probably bring down the barriers his mind normally held in place.

Leia was also aware that if she took the drofic, it might enhance her burgeoning Force skills. In addition to stimulating the brain's pleasure centre, spice was renowned for invigorating any extra-sensory ability a user might have. The drofic hadn't caused this result in Han, but Leia suspected this was more likely because he was Force blind, not because it was ineffective.

Leia laid a hand on his forearm. "It's not supposed to be the solution, Han. It's to make you feel more like your old self. To help you cope. Then you can separately tackle the main cause of the problem."

He pulled away from her touch. "You're not listening to me, Leia. I said, I want it too much."

"You told me yourself it's not overly addictive," Leia reasoned. "I think you're over-reacting to the fact that it's doing you good."

"I'm not taking it."

There was no point in arguing with him. She knew that once he'd made his mind up, that was usually it. She understood why he was afraid of becoming addicted to the spice-derivative, no matter how much of a long shot that was. Even before the carbonite, he'd had an almost paranoid distrust of medication. She suspected his attitude towards drugs—of any kind—had arisen from his streetwise experience, seeing too many lives destroyed by the effects of countless stimulants, depressants and spices.

His distrust of drugs was fervent; it was possible he may once have been an addict himself. It had been a genuine surprise to her when he had agreed to take the drofic to help with his symptoms. But unlike other forms of spice, drofic was reasonably innocuous and infrequently habit-forming. The medication Han had been given was probably even less addictive, as it was only a derivative and not the spice in full-strength.

Up until yesterday, Han had seemed eager to get back on the medication, especially after he had experienced life both on and off the drug. Something had happened for him to change his mind. If she could work out what that something was, she might be able to convince him otherwise. But she would have to take things slowly and surreptitiously.

"So," she began, "are we heading off to return the bike?"

Han frowned, then his eyes widened. "It's all right. I'll go on my own."

She cocked her head at him, trying to work out why he was unenthusiastic about her suggestion. "You don't want me to come?"

There was a pained expression on his face as he tried to explain. "It's not that."

"But you don't want me to come?"

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

Breathing heavily through his nose, his eyes looked everywhere but at her. She wasn't about to let him off easily, no matter how ill he was.

"Han?"

He ran a hand through his hair and finally met her gaze. "The bike." He stopped, grimaced at her. "I left it...out where Luke landed the shuttle."

Leia immediately understood his hesitation. He had gone out to see the pyre. To see the remains of Vader. And he hadn't wanted her to know. He was either embarrassed, ashamed, or something had happened out there.

She gave him a small smile. "It's all right. I was thinking about going out there myself."

He raised an eyebrow. "You were?"

She hadn't.

Going anywhere near the remains of that monster had been the last thing on her mind. But if it meant being with Han, being there for him and helping him, then she would go.

Leia took his hand again, squeezed his fingers and smiled at him. "If we leave now, we should be back before it gets dark."

His look was cagey, but he squeezed her fingers in return. "Lemme close the Falcon."

She let go of his hand and watched as he climbed the ramp to the seal the hatch. Her mind, however, was trying not to think what lay across the forest.

I can do this, she re-assured herself. What am I going to see, anyway? Perhaps some human remains. I've seen worse than that. Far worse.

And invariably the far worse she had seen had been created by the one person she was going to see.

Vader. My father.