Leia Organa hated being manhandled.
His strong hand with long, deft fingers had gripped her upper arm upon his arrival in the destroyed command center. He subsequently hung on relentlessly, compelling her through the corridor. Every few steps she tried to shrug out of the grasp, resenting his hold.
"You can stop trying to pull my arm out of the socket, Captain, she snarled. "I gave the evacuation order, I'll go."
She hated being small enough that large men could simply move her against her will. Restrain her. Take her... Her will had been taken from her on the Death Star. Every choice taken from her, every action dictated by her captors. Now, any time anyone tried to oblige her to their wishes, she fought back; sometimes less eloquently than others.
Han Solo didn't spare a glance at the Princess he was dragging alongside him. There were Imperial Troops in the base. He would not let go of her until she was safely aboard her transport.
Chaos reigned, but bodies and droids parted in the face of his determined stride down the corridor. Cursing his foolish notion that she might be grateful for his concern for her welfare, he forged toward the hangar.
Suddenly a huge blast shook them off their feet. Han instinctively curled around the Princess, rolling with her, his arms and hands trying to cover and protect her head. Chunks of ice and snow rained down on top of them, but the real avalanche was a few feet ahead of them-blocking the only access to the transport bay. Sparing the seconds to assure himself that Leia was uninjured, Han jumped up to assess the cave in. They weren't getting through or over it.
Leia didn't move for an instant. The crash to the floor had knocked the breath out of her slightly. Solo's weight covered her, protectively, but was off her and moving again before she had time to contemplate it. Before she had time to be afraid of it. The reality of the situation set in. She had been trying to deny it. Had focused on giving commands, calculating losses, planning retreat and evacuation... Sometimes she thought it was a latent suicide wish that kept her in denial. Sometimes she knew it was.
He was risking his life (again, still... ) to make sure she got out.
The overhead speakers were silent but for the occasional sympathetic crackle echoing a power beam shot too near a radio or speaker. The last words to come from them coalesced now for her. "Imperial Troops have entered the base..." A delicate shudder trickled from the roots of her hair down her spine.
The fury over being dragged behind the tall Corellian pirate subsided. The quiet chill that began invading her was much more insidious. She had resented his hand on her. She could be foolish in her fears. His hand on her was not one she should be afraid of.
She gathered her composure, scrambling to rise, her temper dissipated in the freezing mist hanging in the air from the collapse.
He notified command he would get the Princess out in the Falcon, grateful he had stood his ground in insisting the freighter be housed in the hangar where the X-Wings and speeders were housed. In one movement he spun, grabbed on to her again, lifted her from her knees, and double timed it in the opposite direction.
This time, he held her hand. She stopped trying to pull away from him.