(Three weeks after The Incident In the South Passage; The beginning of Empire, after Han has gone after Luke...)

Han Solo was leaving. He really was leaving this time.

Leia Organa was irritated and cross, and would never admit the Corellian Pirate might be the cause of her ire.

It was the relentless cold of this godforsaken iceberg of a planet. She had made the mistake of mentioning her discomfort aloud, and thanks to R2, her meagre wardrobe would be damp for days.

There had been a truce of sorts between herself and the smuggler for almost a week after their little 'incident' in the South passage. That's how she thought of it, The Incident. If she was confused by her memories of his weight pressing on top of her—TRAPPING her, she reminded herself—well, chalk it up to more stress syndrome. If the strongest impression from the accident was the smell of his cologne, and the sound of his voice saying her name in entreaty...

With a sigh of annoyance she refocused on the readouts in front of her. A week. They'd been civil to each other, a sort of agreed, unspoken truce, for a week. But then something had set them off, she couldn't even remember what, and they were back to mutual verbal combatants. Another noisy sigh escaped her involuntarily.

When word reached her that Luke had not returned from his patrol, and subsequently Han had gone back out into the encroaching Hoth night, Leia put on her game face. Then she went to the hangar where the Falcon was housed, and where the duo would return.

They WOULD return. She had to think that way. Luke was perhaps the only male in the Universe that she felt totally comfortable around. She could not explain why, but if he hooked an arm around her shoulders, or put his hand on her arm to escort her, there was never any fear, never a reminder of what men could do.

She was getting used to the eternal state of cold that was Echo Base, but when the shield doors clanged shut, perversely the temperature around her seemed to drop even more. Chewbacca's howl of despair sent shivers up her spine. The ball of dread in her belly threatened to come up.

She didn't move for hours. She had even lost track of how long, when Chewie came over and draped a folded blanket from the Falcon over her shoulders. He stood with her for a bit, but he preferred to keep his hands and mind busy, so returned to working on the always needy starfreighter.

She couldn't lose them. Not this way.

She was trying to come to terms with Solo's leaving. Intellectually she understood he had to pay his debts. He was that kind of man. Even as a smuggler, he was honest, and had an innate sense of justice.

Though he never said as much, Leia surmised that in a way, his mercenary work was just as much a fight against the Empire as hers. Some of his escapes from Imperials were infamous, yet she never once heard of him doing anything that brought harm to the Rebellion. And certainly his skills and experience had gained them valuable parts and supplies since his unofficial union with them.

Their truce had only lasted a week, maybe ten days. And then, she couldn't even remember why, they began pecking at each other again. Somehow that was easier, she had to admit. But he confused her, and brought up feelings she wasn't prepared for.

Sometimes, if she was concentrating on something, she wouldn't hear or sense his approach, and she would turn and he would be there, in her space. No one else dared enter that bubble of safety. She would startle at first, and then tension would fill her. A combination of old fears and a new dread, that he would touch her.

That he wouldn't.

On the Death Star, when she had resisted every torture the impersonal droid could manufacture, Tarkin had sent soldiers to her cell. Still pumped full of nerve-stim, the pain they brought with their carnal acts was excruciating. In the end, that is what probably saved her sanity. She could focus on the physical pain, not the debasement.

And when they were done, and she was bleeding and on the edge of consciousness, Vader stood before the crumpled heap on the floor, and she was able to still resist him. She thought she would die then. She felt the cold touch of him inside her mind, and there was nothing left to resist him, so she did the only thing she could, she let go. She gave up.

And in giving up, she won. She kept the secrets in her heart, the one place he had not invaded. Yet.

Somehow, it was the medical droid that seemed the most humiliating. Pushing bacta inside her, injecting her with painkiller and tranquilizer, healing the cuts on her lips, the bruises all over her... bringing her back from destruction. Her mind cried out. Dying was not the worst thing. Coming back could be.

And so it was when Vader held her, shackled, in front of the viewscreen with the shining green and blue of Alderaan displayed... When Tarkin pushed his body up against hers, trapped against Vader behind her, the implied threat there did not touch her. She thought they had done the worst to her. She thought death was the only threat they had left.

She was wrong.

A thousand million screams flashed though her mind, cut off in an instant, as she sat up with a gasp. She must have fallen asleep. She found herself sitting on a packing crate, leaning back against the landing gear of the Falcon, blanket tucked tightly around her shoulders. Her hands gripped it so hard they were sore.

Her heart pounded, and she heard the rush of her blood in her ears. She looked around, the echoes of screams in her cobwebby mind. The icy hanger was still mostly quiet, though a few more mechanics scuttled about, the early day shift.

The worst of the night was over.

Leia searched her feelings, quieting her mind, hoping for some spark of insight about the fate of her two friends. She blamed the dread in her belly on the nightmare. For once, she wished for Luke's gift. But maybe she didn't want to know. As long as she didn't know, they could still be alive...

She left the blanket on the crate, and shivering, went to the mess hall. The thoughts of food had her stomach churning, but she got a cup of hot kaffe for her and a second for Chewie. She returned to the hangar.

Day crew arriving seemed to give her a wide berth. No one would meet her eyes. Chewie had gratefully accepted her gift, but returned to work—although he found something outside the bird to work on.

It felt like dawn would never come, but even before the sunrise, the shield doors ground open, shrieking in protest against the twilight cold. Leia stood. The first speeder was ready, and left immediately. Each minute that followed stretched into a lifetime for Leia. She found herself out of breath, realized she had been holding it.

And then the transmission—no one had thought to turn off the overhead radio speaker where all traffic normally was broadcast- "We've found them, Sir."

A heartbeat, loud in Leia's ears, all work stopped, all eyes turning toward the shield doors, "They're alive."

Leia sat down hard on the shipping crate. The danger wasn't over, they had been out in killing conditions for more than ten hours... but they were alive. A soft touch on her shoulder and she looked up. Chewbacca grinned and let out a joyous howl. Leia face felt frozen as she tried to smile. Chewie wrapped the blanket around her shoulders again with gentle propriety. It smelled like the Falcon, like Han.

A short time later the speeder returned. The pilot climbed out, then Han. His movements seemed slow, awkward. It was not until just that moment that Leia realized how inherently graceful he usually was. And then he was reaching up, nodding negatively to something said to him and appearing to give an order. And Luke's still form was handed over the side of the speeder to him.

Leia's stomach clenched. Even as far away as she was, she saw blood on Luke's face and clothes. But he was here, they could help him...

Han turned, walked the few steps to where medical personnel waited with a stretcher. Laid Luke on the stretcher. As if feeling her gaze upon him, Han stood and looked directly to where Leia sat. Even across the distance, she felt his eyes meet her. A look crossed his face that she couldn't identify, and then just a ghost of his cocky half-grin graced his lips.

Luke would be alright. Just like that, from his look, Leia knew it. Chewbacca started for the group heading for the med center, then paused, turning to wait for her. Shaking off her dread with the blanket that fell from her shoulders, she got up to go with him.

Han stood just outside the observation window, seeming lost. Chewbacca let out a mighty roar and lifted him up off his feet.

"Easy, easy buddy... I'm glad to see you too." Han patted the wookie's arm. His normally velvet smooth voice was rough, cracking, making Leia's stomach clench oddly. She stood back a bit, Han's face was bruised with the cold, his lips slightly tinged blue. When Chewie put him down, he wasn't quite steady on his feet, but masked it by clapping Chewie on the arm again. Leia noticed anyway. Slowly he pulled off his gloves, his fingers waxy white.

"Han, you need to be looked at too." He looked at her, a scowl on his features.

"I'm fine your Worshipness. They need all their attention on Luke right now..."

"At least go change and warm up." Leia worried at him.

"My, my, if I didn't know better, I'd think you cared." Han retorted.

Closing her eyes, reaching deep within her for calm, Leia wanted to rail at him. She wondered at the sudden urge to throttle him, why was she so angry? They were back, safe... why the flash of heat rising in her? Why were they always at odds? She refused to rise to the bait this time, was proud of the steady, calm voice she managed, "We've been over this. Of course I care. I'm incredibly grateful that you found Luke..." His gaze darted away from hers.

Suddenly feeling small and petty, and scared again, she added, "Is he...?"

"He'll be ok." Han sighed, and she couldn't read his rusty voice and weary features. "Got beat up by some kind of creature from the looks of it, and was delirious for a whie, but I got him warmed up as much as I could, and got the emergency shelter up."

"Han..." Leia nodded. She was worried about him, but he'd only fight her. And she was so weary of fighting with him. Wrinkling her nose, she picked up on something that had been nagging at her... "What IS that smell?"

"Uh... maybe cleaning up is a good idea after all." Han avoided her gaze sheepishly.

Before he could escape, Leia surprised herself and reached for his hand. Both her small hands wrapped around his large, cold one. "Thank you." She said, looking him full in the eyes, "Thank you for coming back, and for bringing him back."

For once, Han Solo was speechless. He chalked it up to exhaustion and brain freeze. And then the moment was gone, and Leia had let him go and headed into the med-center. As he turned to go back to the hangar-where he would turn the Falcon's enviro-controls up to their limit and take a real water fresher—Han thought he had begun to warm already, from the inside out.