AN: Thanks as always for reading and reviewing! Just so there's no confusion, let me explain something before we start. There's a persistent fan theory in some parts of the fandom that Han might be a bit Force-sensitive – not enough to be a Jedi, but enough to have quick reflexes, which is why he's such a great pilot and marksman. I myself have never subscribed to this theory (and in fact have argued that part of Han's charm comes from him NOT being Force-sensitive), but there's a moment in TFA where he shoots a stormtrooper without looking. Some fans see this as confirmation that yes, he is a bit Force-sensitive.

Anyway, long explanation short, I decided to play with that theory in this story and use the idea that when Han in enough pain (physical and emotional), he can subconsciously reach out in the Force and when Leia's reaching out to him at the same time, their souls can touch.

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 11

"Han?"

He was lying in a small bed in front of her, a blanket wrapped up to his neck, but something wasn't right. No, something inside her was saying, this isn't real, Han's dead, don't let yourself get sucked in. Still, there he was, blinking up at her as if he thought she was a fantasy.

"Leia . . ." he said in a weak, raspy voice, ". . . am I dreamin'?"

Leia felt her heart thump at the sound of his voice. "I . . . I think I am."

Han kept blinking at her, his eyes shifting a bit. "Maybe . . . maybe we both are."

Leia gulped, her eyes dampening. After another moment of hesitance, she slowly reached out for him, but he suddenly flinched away, his chin ducking under the blanket.

"No!" he exclaimed, his voice still raspy. "Don't look . . ."

"Don't look at what?"

He slowly looked back up at her, revealing that his eyes were wet too. "Don't look at me. Remember me like I was, not like . . ."

"Remember you?" Leia exclaimed, unable to keep herself from shouting. "So you are dead after all?" A tear drizzled down her cheek. "You let me think that . . . for a moment I actually thought . . . how could you let me think . . ." What was she angry at? Angry at Han for being dead? Angry at Kylo Ren for killing him? Angry at herself for believing in the impossible?

Han just stared up at her, every blink moistening his eyes further. "Leia . . . I'm not dead . . ." With those words, the tears overflowed and started dripping down towards his ears.

Leia could only stare at him, her ears numbing. The words she'd longed to hear, the words she'd been afraid to hope for . . . now all she wanted to do was dive down on him and kiss his handsome face, but something was holding her back. This was a dream, she reminded herself . . . yet it didn't feel like an ordinary dream. It felt like Han's real soul was behind those words and not just her own projection of him.

"If you're alive . . ." She couldn't keep herself from sniffling. ". . . then where are you?"

"I got no idea," he said, "but even if I did, you shouldn't come for me."

"What?"

"Leia, listen," Han's voice quickened. "Ben's here . . ."

"Ben," Leia interrupted, uttering the name as if it belonged to a monster. "He doesn't deserve to be called that."

Han blinked at her again. "Leia . . . I ain't givin' up on him and you shouldn't either – even after what he did to me."

"And what did he do to you?" Once again she reached out to him and once again he flinched away. "Han . . ."

"Don't look!"

Leia swallowed. "Han . . . he cut off your hand, didn't he?" It was the first time she had acknowledged it out loud – if acknowledging it in a dream counted – and doing so made her head spin.

Again he sank under the blanket as if afraid of her. "What . . . what makes you think that?"

"I saw it in my dreams."

"You Force-sensitives and your dreams . . ." He peeked back out, staring at her once more. "Well I ain't showin' it to you, in case you were wonderin'."

"Why not?"

"Leia, please." Another tear escaped his eye. "They're gonna kill me sooner or later – I'd like you to remember me with two hands." He blinked at her in rapid motions. "Now listen, they're gonna use me to get Rey."

"Rey?"

"Yeah," said Han. "Snoke wants to make her his dark side slave . . . just like he did to Ben. Listen sweetheart, no matter what you do, don't let Rey come after me!"

There was so much desperation in his raspy voice that Leia automatically nodded. "I won't." Slowly, gently, she leaned over her husband's body, her hand cupping around his pale, boney face. "And you're not going to die here, I promise. Maybe if I look around this dream or this vision or whatever this is, I can find out where you are."

"No!" Han exclaimed. "Don't!"

"You can't stop me," said Leia. "I've never given up on you before and I don't intend to start now."

His eyes closed. "Please . . . don't leave . . . we might never see each other again . . ."

She gently brushed his eyelids, encouraging them to open. "We will, I promise." She leaned over and kissed his cold forehead. "I love you."

Han gazed up at his wife, sincerity in his eyes. "I know."

. . .

Rey tiptoed into her father's dark bedroom. She shouldn't do this, she knew that, but something was compelling her. The vision of Han was still swirling through her head, and if Pooja wasn't going to do anything about it, someone had to.

Luke was snoring gently in his bed. In the rushing lights from the city outside, he looked troubled – his eyes were squeezed as if he were deep in an awful dream and his hair was mussed up against the pillow. Her father. No matter how many times she repeated the word to herself, she couldn't get used to associating it with Luke. She wasn't sure how she would have imagined her father back in her days on Jakku . . . but she wouldn't have imagined that he would be Luke Skywalker.

She gulped as her gaze moved to the nightstand next to the bed. That was where it was, she could feel it, just like when it had "called" to her the first time.

"That lightsaber, it belongs to me."

She ran her teeth over her lip at the thought of Kylo Ren's words. Both of them were Darth Vader's grandchildren . . . both of them had some claim to the lightsaber.

But Kylo Ren needed to be destroyed.

She pressed the button on the nightstand, holding her breath as the drawer slid open. There it was, nestled in the drawer as if given a place of honor there, gleaming eerily in the city lights. She took a deep breath as she slowly reached out, remembering the visions she'd seen the first time she'd touched it – the visions, she now realized, of Luke abandoning her. No, no . . . she couldn't worry about that now. It had called to her, as Maz had said, it was rightfully hers. This had to be done – for Finn, for Han.

She took the lightsaber.

. . .

The corridors seemed endless, weaving up and down, left and right. There was a haziness about them, as if Leia were walking through a thick fog that just happened to resemble a series of corridors, and there was no one else in sight.

Why was she doing this? She was dreaming – she might not even remember any of this when she woke. Yet it still felt different from an ordinary dream, much like how Han had felt like his real self instead of a conjured image. She was thinking in this dream – thinking like she did when she was awake instead of the jumbled thinking that usually happened in dreams.

And if this was the only way to find out where Han was, she would have to take advantage of it.

Up, down, left, right, corridor after corridor, a winding, ongoing maze. Maybe this wasn't where Han was after all. Maybe these were just trails in her subconscious that led nowhere, but it was the only trail she had.

"Han?" she whispered. "How can I find you?" Maybe she should try going back to him, but by now she had no idea how to get there either.

She could only go further.

Maybe hours passed, maybe minutes – time was difficult to measure in dreams – but finally there was something different. A large, open doorway, leading out into a foggy jungle wilderness. The calls of various animals echoed into the corridor, enticing Leia to exit the building. After a deep breath, she did so, stepping into the thick, warm outdoors.

Once outside, she immediately turned around to see what kind of building they were holding Han in. At first it was only a tall shadow in the fog, but as she stared longer, it slowly materialized into a large stone building, ancient looking, with domed roofs and narrow windows.

A monastery.

Leia's breath hastened. Beyond the top of the building, two large moons shone, giving the jungle and the monastery an ethereal glow. Two moons, jungle, monastery . . . all right, where was Han? This could be one of any number of different planets.

She fell to a sitting position, hastily crossing her legs and squeezing her eyes shut so tightly that they hurt. Where is this? she pressed into her head. Han, where are you? I need a sign, where's Han? Come ON, where's Han?

Again it might have been hours or it might have been minutes, but finally something swirled into her head. It started as a whisper, but as she gradually became aware of it, the word became clearer and clearer, as if she could finally understand a new language.

Teth . . . Teth . . . Teth . . .

"Teth system?" she whispered out loud. "Teth system? Is that where Han is?"

The word just kept its silent loop in her head. Teth . . . Teth . . . Teth . . .

"Teth system . . ." she whispered again. "Teth system . . ." Her voice became louder and louder. "Teth . . . system . . . Teth system . . . TETH SYSTEM!"

With that she awoke, her body aching from sleeping in a slumped-over position, but she hardly noticed the pain – her mind was still wrapped up in the dream.

"Teth system . . ." she repeated between pants. "Teth system . . ."