She wasn't used to the sight, not by a long shot. Han Solo was standing in the Falcon's cabin looking as if he had misplaced something important or perhaps had forgotten why he had entered the room to begin with.
Leia observed him from where she stood in the 'fresher entry. The sand, the grime, the Hutt drool that had infiltrated every pore of her body was now somewhere in the bowels of the Falcon's waste-disposal system. She was sore, she was exhausted, she was emotionally drained, but at least she was clean. And Han, after all this time, was alive and in one piece and standing right in front of her.
Though standing may have been an optimistic assessment. She moved to hang up her towel when out of the corner of her eye she spotted him swaying in place. He took a halting step toward the bunk and gripped the rail to steady himself.
"Han." She was at his side before he was aware of her approach. "You should sit down." She supported him as he turned to face her. Real. He was solid and real in front of her.
"Yeah." He lowered himself gingerly on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his damp hair. "Thought I was doing pretty well until now. The medicine seemed to help."
"You've been through a lot," she reminded him. True to form, Han hadn't exactly gracefully accepted his impaired state. After the hasty takeoff from Tatooine, he had insisted on hovering in the cockpit and barking unnecessary instructions at Lando and Chewbacca while they made the jump to hyperspace. It had taken a series of sharp bellows from the Wookie to convince Han to retreat to the med-bunk and accept the medicines Leia had stocked prior to their flight out.
He had laid there, tense and inert, before pulling himself up and muttering something about using the 'fresher. Leia had eyed him closely as he wandered off. He had seemed steadier then, perhaps the adrenaline from their escape fueling his movements. But now he looked wrung out, hunched over his knees and staring vacantly around the room.
"You'll probably have some dizziness and nausea for a few days," she said, sitting next to him. "We'll run a more thorough check when we're back with the fleet."
"Yeah," he repeated. "I'm —." He stared at her curiously and then turned to survey the cabin again. "Guess I just feel a little woozy for some reason."
For some reason. She would have laughed had the circumstances been otherwise.
"Lie down." She pressed gently on his shoulders. "I'll bring you something to eat. Something to help settle your stomach."
She didn't miss his grimace at the mention of food, but he let her recline him against the pillow all the same. In the galley she found the bone broth that Chewie had made and stored in the preserver. While it reheated she listened to the Wookie's and Lando's voices bounce off each other as they traded updates on the Falcon's performance and rehashed the more cinematic moments of their escape.
When she arrived back at the cabin Han was lying perfectly still, eyes closed, and for a terrifying moment she imagined all their efforts had been for nought. But then he opened an eye and gave her a watery smile and pulled himself up against the pillow.
"Here. Have some of this." She sat on the edge of the mattress and handed him the bowl.
He spooned a few sips into his mouth and nodded at her. "Don't you want to eat something, too? You probably need it more than I do."
"I'll get something later," she promised. Her stomach was still in knots from the events of the day and food was the last thing on her mind. "How are your eyes?"
He set the half-eaten bowl on a shelf. "Still blurry. Better, maybe." He squinted at her. "You got any more of those drops?"
"The next dose will be in four hours. Can you hold out until then?"
He nodded vaguely and then refocused on her. His eyes swept over her face and then her body, taking in the casual clothes she had put on after her shower. She had lived so much in her head these past few months, focusing on the war and the rescue, that she was unused to the scrutiny of another person and had to force herself not to look away.
"What happened to the —?" He brushed the tips of his fingers over her neck where the collar had indented her skin. She leaned instinctively into his touch. Gods, it felt so good; he was here, he was alive, he would be hers again. "You got it off?"
"Chewie helped me. While you were in the shower." She hadn't wanted to leave it on for another second and with Han's vision improving especially hadn't wanted him to get a good look at it. Growling under his breath as he maneuvered the laser-cutter around her neck, the Wookie had made quick work of the slave ring.
"Chewie told me," Han said flatly. "That night, in the dungeon. He said Jabba kept you up there with him, kept you —."
She shook her head fiercely, feeling herself coming unmoored. "He — I wasn't —." She stopped and took a deep breath. "It could have been a lot worse."
"Could've been a lot better too."
Tears of humiliation pricked her eyes and she blinked them away. The hours she spent chained to Jabba's throne was the last thing she wanted to talk about. "It's over, Han. It's all over." She swallowed and clutched his arm, fighting the urge to run her hands all over him. "You're warm. I should check your temperature."
"I'm fine." His tone was definitive, almost harsh, and she sat up straight. "I'm fine," he repeated, this time more gently. "I don't need anything now except for some rest."
She shook her head. "Rest will help, but you need treatment too. There aren't a lot of studies on recovery from carbon freezing, but based on what I found it's likely that some of the aftereffects could last for a while. I found one reference for an experimental protocol that seems promising but there's no consensus among medical professionals on its effectiveness. We'll have to try a few things and take it one day at a time." She was babbling. Why was she babbling?
"Leia." He raised his hands to cup her face and looked at her earnestly. "I'm here with you on my ship. Luke, Chewie — we all made it out in one piece. And Jabba's dead." His eyes, narrow and dark mere seconds ago, turned soft. "There's nothing else I need right now."
His hands on her cheeks weren't nearly enough. She longed to bury herself in him but settled for sinking onto her side and laying her head on his shoulder. He curled his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.
"Do you remember anything from the carbonite?" She wouldn't tell him yet the accounts from other survivors, those who had experienced intense visions, daymares almost, lasting for months or even years after their encasement.
"I'm not sure what I remember," he murmured after a moment. "You — I remember you standing on the platform on Bespin. But after that it's just a blur." He paused and squeezed her tightly and then stiffened. The bruising, she thought, from Lando's men.
"I don't have a sense of how long I was gone," he continued. "When Chewie told me, I didn't believe him at first."
She pressed her face into his neck and inhaled deeply against the threatening tears. "It was so long, Han, so long. I didn't know if we would get you back alive. We came up with a plan, and a backup plan, but I couldn't think about what would happen if they didn't work, if you didn't make it."
"Shhh." He stroked her hair and she swallowed the sobs rising in her throat. So long. Why couldn't she just be happy he was here? The joyful reunion she had pictured so many times seemed like a distant dream, out of reach and unobtainable. She had stored up too much emotion for too long without any outlet for release and now her long-buried feelings were breaking against the dam of her self-control.
"Hey." He lifted her chin and bent down to kiss her. Under the medicinal tang he tasted reassuringly familiar and she pressed against him hungrily.
Too soon he broke apart and separated himself from her. "Not trying to push you away," he grunted, scooting aside on the mattress. "Just feeling a little sore."
"I understand." She tried to hide her disappointment. "Next time I'm up I'll grab the bacta."
"Don't get up." He winced as he reached for the quilt and pulled it over them. His hand rested gently on her hip. "Relax here with me for a bit."
Relax. It was something he had told her early in their trip to Bespin before she had relinquished her customary devotion to work-filled days. Every time she thought she had finally relaxed, she discovered that there was still room to sink further into the luxury of idleness. It had been good for her, she had recognized, the utter lack of responsibility, and Han had realized that before she herself did.
He doused the cabin lights and she closed her eyes and focused on the puffs of breath against her forehead. His exhalations slowly lengthened until he was finally asleep. She drifted in and out of consciousness herself, aware at one point of Chewie or Lando creeping into the cabin, and then, too exhausted to resist, finally submitted to the slumbering waves and was soon aware of nothing at all.
"Hold still." Han stood stiffly at the 'fresher sink as Leia smeared a final dab of bacta below his rib cage. His abrasions had scabbed over and the bruises had turned an encouraging shade of green over the six hours or so he had slept. Her own sleep had been fitful, her concern for him waking her every hour or two, but she was feeling more refreshed than she had in months.
"Please tell me there's not going to be a welcoming committee," Han muttered as he buttoned his shirt.
"I can't promise people won't be happy to see you," she replied. "But, no, I didn't plan anything."
He pulled on his vest. "Any idea when Luke returns?"
"Soon, I hope. We'll need him for the next push." She zipped up her bag of clothes and watched him out of the corner of her eye. He stood at the wardrobe, picked up a belt, studied it, and placed it back. They hadn't had the opportunity to discuss whether they would spend nights in her quarters or on the Falcon. Now that she thought about it, they hadn't had the opportunity to discuss much of anything.
"He didn't tell you when he'd be back?" She blinked and remembered they had been talking about Luke.
"You were there. He said he couldn't predict."
"Figures."
"What do you mean, figures?"
"I mean, it seems that this Jedi mumbo-jumbo is a convenient way to hide what he really thinks about something."
"You've only been around him for the last day." She regretted it as soon as it came out. "He's still the same person he's always been."
"Everyone changes, Sweetheart."
"Even you?"
In response, Han walked over and kissed her full on the lips. For a brief moment they were themselves again, the way they were before Bespin and the carbonite and her plunge into the depths of despair. His hands were gentle and knowing and her pulse hammered in her throat. But then a sudden tenseness in his body broke the trance and jolted them back to the confounding present.
"Han," she whispered. She wanted him to know they didn't have to take on everything all at once, that small steps were okay. She wasn't sure how to explain that without him feeling insecure, so she held him to her and rubbed his neck. He must have felt it too, the unfinished dialogue between them, and lowered his mouth to her ear.
"Listen, after I'm done in the medcenter, why don't you and I —"
"Han. Leia. You ready?" They started in each other's arms at the voice floating from the corridor. Up to now Lando had assumed a polite distance during the trip, ostensibly to give them privacy, though Leia suspected he was wary of acting too chummy with his old friend. "Chewbacca and I will be bringing her out of hyperspace shortly. You should strap in."
"Are you telling me I have to sit on my hands while somebody else lands my ship?" Han protested.
"Afraid so, buddy. I'm under strict orders." A darting glance betrayed Leia as the source of those orders. Fortunately Chewbacca was on her side and Lando had long ago learned the futility of opposing the two of them.
At Han's expression Calrissian raised his arms in surrender. "It'll be the last time, I swear."
"I'm pretty sure I've heard that one before," Han grumbled. "What was it — seven years ago?"
"Eight," the other pilot corrected quietly.
"Right." A flash of annoyance alit on the Corellian's face and he strode out with Lando close behind.
Alone in the room, Leia tried to ignore the souring turn of their reunion. The rendezvous with the fleet, something she had been dreading for intruding on her time alone with Han, now held a more hopeful cast. Seeing old friends, immersing themselves in the bustle of activity — perhaps those would help set them back on the right path.
After they docked at Home One Lando disembarked first, a thin slip of confidence overlaying a watchful eye as he glided through the vaulted hangar. Leia and Han came down the ramp to a smattering of cheers and applause from the Alliance personnel gathered to greet them. The Corellian nodded and otherwise played the humble returnee, but Leia could tell he was restraining himself from bolting back onto his ship. With Chewbacca trailing close behind for moral support, she managed to successfully steer them to the medcenter where she entered into close consultation with the medic on duty.
Not long after seeing him installed in a med-bed, Leia was pulled away by a urgent entreaty from Mon. That inevitably turned into a larger briefing which was followed by a series of strategy meetings with High Command. She was annoyed at being separated from Han and yet couldn't help being drawn into the debates on the incoming intelligence. Most of the decoded threads confirmed what the Alliance had suspected but the extent of the Empire's progress in its endeavor was still up for debate. The few comms she sent to Han went unanswered.
It was near the end of the day-cycle when she finally broke free from her duties and hurried over to the medcenter. The medic on call told Leia she hadn't seen Captain Solo since the start of her shift and there were no indications in his chart of his physical or mental state when he left. To the surprise of absolutely no one, the former smuggler had managed to sneak out of a flagship medcenter without leaving a trace.
The hangar was half-empty when Leia reached the Falcon's ramp. Aside from the whirr of the environmental systems, the ship was eerily quiet, as if poised to reveal a secret it had been hoarding in the confines of its hull.
"Han? You here?"
The faint echo of her voice was the only response. Visions of him collapsed in a heap preyed on her already frazzled nerves. As she moved through the hold and past the empty cockpit, she reminded herself he was healthy enough to have left the medcenter on two feet even if he had not been formally discharged per medical opinion.
"Han?"
Judging by the stack of clean dishes at the sink he hadn't spent time in the galley. And now that she thought about it, where was Chewie, who had promised her that he would keep an eye on him? Tamping down her panic, she rounded the corner to his cabin and came to a halt. Han was neither slumped on the floor nor sprawled unconscious on the bunk but instead stood at the desk fingering the holo of her and Luke that she had surreptitiously discovered years ago. He betrayed no surprise at her sudden appearance.
"You were so young," he said quietly. "You've changed. Both of you. Luke seems like a totally different person now."
He spoke as if their earlier conversation about the Jedi had never happened. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, the furrow of his brow as he tried to unlock the secrets of the picture.
His gaze flickered to her and then back to the holo. "Do you know who gave this to me?"
She shook her head.
"Rieekan. It was a few months after the ceremony." He rubbed his thumb along the edge of the glossy surface. "I never knew if he meant it as encouragement or as a warning."
"Han." She stepped closer and cupped his cheek. His jaw twitched under her palm and she caressed the smooth-shaven flesh, trying to soothe the tension away. "It's just a picture."
He didn't look at her. "I didn't mean —." He released the holo and let it flutter back into the drawer. "I know I was gone a long time. I would never think — I mean, I know you wouldn't —." He clamped his mouth shut and turned to her uncertainly.
"Han." She raised up on her toes and kissed him. She threaded her fingers through the hairs at the base of his neck and held his lips to hers, attempting to pour into him her emotions from that awful time. "Nothing has changed. I love you. I never stopped loving you."
"I know. I know. I'm sorry." Shame and relief shuddered through him as he wrapped his arms around her. "For everything."
"It's all right," she murmured. During that long stretch without him, never had she thought he would return unconvinced of her devotion. It simply wasn't an outcome she had foreseen. "It's not your fault."
"'Course it's my fault." The words were muffled in her hair. "The fact I was gone to begin with, what you went through at Jabba's — it's all because of me."
She shook her head. "It's not. It's not."
"Oh, Leia." He squeezed her even more tightly. "Where would I be if I didn't have you by my side?"
Lost to the wind, perhaps, or adrift among the stars. "I don't want to think about that," she whispered fiercely.
He huffed a breath and held her to his chest as if she were the only thing keeping him upright. "You know, it's not easy seeing someone you love get hurt because of your past."
She smiled through her tears. "That's what I've been trying to tell you all these years, you nerfherder."
He drew back in confusion. "You never told me that."
"Not in words, perhaps."
"Was it in sign language? 'Cause I don't remember that either."
"Gods, Han, you're —" and then she couldn't speak because her cheeks were wet and his lips were wet and he was covering her in kisses, one after another, and the love radiating from him staggered her senses and sent her soul careening.
"I know," he murmured. "I'm irresistible."
"Something like that." She laughed and brushed her lips over the familiar terrain of his face, the crooked nose, the arc of his eyebrow, the ragged scar on his chin.
"I want you." Her words tumbled out without any trace of awkwardness. They would be open with each other from now on, she decided. It was the only way back.
He responded by clamping his mouth to hers forcefully and within seconds she was on the bunk, his body a welcome weight on hers. She moaned into his mouth as his hand worked under her shirt and thumbed a nipple. For months her body had existed in a state of suspended animation, motions performed without intent. And now she was awakening from that stasis into the present, a present that in her worst moments she doubted would ever arrive.
She swept her hand down his front and caressed him into a half-hard state. It was natural that he would be nervous the first time having sex after coming out of carbonite. "We can go slow if you want," she assured him.
"Slow?" He stared at her as if she were speaking Galmorran. "Maybe for round two."
"Oh, Han." She grinned at him like an idiot and they both started laughing and then he swooped down for the attack, nipping at her neck, eliciting both giggles and gasps. She clutched his shoulders and back and drew her hands lower, her fingers digging greedily into warm skin under his waistband.
The chirping of her comm penetrated the fog of arousal. "Dead battery," she muttered and tugged his shirt over his head. The device ignored her suggestion and continued to beep cheerfully. Disentangling herself she pulled it out of her pocket and skimmed the message. "Damn it," she swore. "I have to deal with this."
Han fell onto his side and waved a hand toward his lower regions. "You're really gonna leave me like this?"
"Unfortunately, yes." She stood and straightened her shirt. "But I'll meet you here later tonight?"
"You better," he threatened. He looked rumpled and wild amidst the bedding with his mussed hair and swollen lips. "Though there's something I gotta take care of too."
"Just promise me you won't overdo it." Ignoring his non-response, she bent down and gave him a kiss. "I'll see you soon."
Hours later during the still of the night cycle the hangar was manned by only a few tired souls. Mechanical hums reverberated through the recycled air as she entered the Falcon. A lone occupant sat at the lounge table cradling a steaming mug of worschleff.
"Hi, Chewie," she said. "Is he here?"
The Wookie nodded and jerked his head toward the cabin.
"He's sleeping? That's good."
Chewbacca studied her silently for a moment before proffering a question.
"I'm all right." She sank down wearily into the booth. "A little tired. There's a lot going on." She looked up from her hands at the expectant face across from her. "I'm just glad he's doing well."
Chewie rumbled a soft response.
"I'm all right," she repeated. "Later, when we're out of crisis mode, I'll take some time for myself. For us." She reached out blindly to the middle of the table. A furry paw covered her hand and patted it gently. "I know I shouldn't expect things to be normal quite yet. We'll just have to be patient." She added wryly, "You know I hate being patient."
Chewbacca bared his teeth and she couldn't help smiling back. "Did he eat?"
The Wookie answered in the affirmative and shot her a challenging look.
"Yes, I ate in the briefing." She breathed deeply and stood up. "I'll go check on him. See you later, Chewie."
The cabin was bathed in shadows, illuminated only by the weak lamp in the 'fresher. She crept to the bed and saw that Han was lying under the quilt, shirtless, hands folded on his chest. His breathing was shallow and his face looked wan and paler than before and the optimism she had nurtured since she last saw him started to curdle inside her.
It's only been a couple of days, she reminded herself. She sat on the bed beside him and rubbed his shoulder gently.
His eyes flew open and he stared at nothing, momentarily stunned, before focusing on her. "Leia?" he stammered. "What are you doing here? Where —?" He looked around the room in confusion.
"We're on the Falcon," she said softly. "You fell asleep. I told you I'd come by after my meeting. Did you forget?"
She watched a wave of helplessness wash over him, transforming him into a younger version of himself, as if he were thrown back into the uncertainty of his upbringing.
"No." The fear was replaced by a resigned weariness. "Well, yes. For a moment. But now I remember." He attempted a smile. "The medic said my short-term memory might be a bit iffy for a while. It'll improve over time, though."
"I believe that," she nodded. She needed to place her trust in something more than just the two of them, if only for their own sakes. Something larger than themselves that would prod them up out of the pit so they could summon the energy to climb the rest of the way to the light. She stroked his hair. "You just woke up suddenly."
"Yeah. I guess."
She traced the fine lines on his temple with the tip of her finger. "Chewie said you ate."
"Uh-huh." And then as if surrendering any pretense of talking, he drew her down to him and kissed her feverishly. His tongue slid wetly against her own and his fingers dug into her shoulder. She squeaked in surprise and he pulled back, suddenly unsure. "This okay?"
"Very okay." She leaned in and then paused. "Unless you want to wait until you've had more sleep."
"No." He began to undo her shirt. "We've waited long enough. Especially you."
She couldn't argue with that. The communion of sex, of intimate touch, was too necessary to deny any longer.
His hand slipped under her clothes and spanned her back and he kissed her more gently this time. She relaxed under him as he roamed over her curves, remapping the plains and valleys he once knew by heart. Her skin grew heated under his touch and her nerves pulsated in time with her blood. Flush and impatient, she kicked the blanket away and discovered that he had fallen asleep nude. He rose above her and they struggled to remove her remaining clothes and then his mouth was between her breasts and on her breasts and she was helpless to do anything except move in the rhythm demanded by their bodies.
"I would never forget this, Sweetheart," he murmured. "Never." She shivered as his mouth brushed behind her ear and warm fingers dipped between her legs to probe the dark curls lying in wait. Her limbs slackened as he gained his confidence of old, applying the pressure she liked, this way and that, over the contours of her flesh. Again and again she climbed higher toward oblivion only for him to retreat and induce a competing sensation elsewhere. It had the effect of flattening out the spikes of pleasure and made her twist against the roiling heat that settled low in her belly. Blindly she groped between his legs for his shaft.
"Not yet." He brushed her hand aside and re-centered his fingers on the locus of nerves. "Let me do this for you."
The ascent continued as his fingers moved in and out and over and the sounds of slick flesh and labored breathing filled the stuffy cabin. He was above her and around her and her legs bent back further and then he was flush inside her, full and hard, an echo of their first time, that strange sensation of being broken apart with love that was nonetheless accompanied by a separation even the most generous lover couldn't bridge. His fingers met her nerves once more and she was spiraling out of control and crying out and he thrust deeply, entreating, one more, baby, for me, and she climaxed again, his hand and his words driving her over the edge, before he collapsed with a groan.
He lay half on top of her, his chest heaving. She smoothed his forehead and swept her hand down his damp back. Rather than wan, he radiated an exhausted exuberance under her touch.
"I love you," she whispered. The events in the days ahead only increased the urgency to confess. She pressed her lips to his jaw and tried to lock this particular moment away for safekeeping until her brain rebelled against the finality of it.
"I love you too." He rolled them over, gathering her to him, and thumbed her cheek lazily. With the release of tension, his shoulder and chest were once again relaxed under her head. She idly traced his fading bruises and basked in the post-coital lull.
"You'll stay here tonight?"
"Of course." She could change clothes in her quarters in the morning. "But you have to promise me we'll actually sleep."
"Deal," he yawned. "Tomorrow's gonna be a big day."
Remembering what he had said earlier, she propped herself up. "What did you do? You said you had to take care of something."
"Oh, that." He rubbed his chin and looked a little guilty. "It's a surprise."
"Uh-oh."
"A good surprise," he clarified. "For once."
"Well, thank the gods for that," she quipped. And then more softly: "We could use some good news at a time like this."
"Hey. Whatever happens, we'll take care of it. We've done it before."
"Aren't you the optimistic one."
"Sometimes," he agreed. "Except when I think about everything that happened while I was gone. Then — well, I feel like I don't know anything at all."
"You just need time, Han," she reminded him.
"And yet we don't have much time," he countered. "That's what your meeting was about, wasn't it?"
"It was," she admitted. "But we know now where we stand and what we have to do. There will be a larger briefing tomorrow to kick off the formal strategy."
"I'll be there."
"Good." She sat up and squeezed his hand before making her way to the 'fresher. On her way out, she snagged one of his shirts and crawled back under the quilt. He pulled her to him with a throaty noise and nuzzled the back of her neck.
"Go to sleep," she whispered. The reassurance of his chest against her back, his arm spanning her waist — these were the only things she wanted to remember right now. Everything else could wait until morning.