CHAPTER 8:

When they entered their room, Leia stopped in the doorway and stared at the bed. Han, on the other hand, walked past her and flopped himself right on it.

"I sure hope Rugger knows what he's doin'," he stretched out his arms and stared at the ceiling. "Taking an entire city?"

"He's pulled off crazier stunts, from my understanding," she stared at Han.

"What's crazier than taking an entire city with no real army?" he propped himself up on his elbows, "I have to question his sanity."

"Many have questioned yours," she folded her arms across her chest.

"What's wrong?"

She rolled her lips between her teeth and furrowed her brow, "Nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothin'?"

"Rugger," she started then stopped. "I don't know. I have a bad feeling."

"Yeah," Han agreed then quizzically tilted his head, "but somethin' else is bothering you."

Her cheeks flushed as she twisted a braid around her finger. "There's only one bed," she mumbled.

Han put his hands on it and gave it a little bounce, "And a comfortable one at that."

Leia's left foot began to tap and she looked away, "I'm not comfortable…"

"Sharing a bed with me?" Han finished her sentence. "Sweetheart, I have no intension of sleeping on the floor."

"Then I'll sleep on the floor," she marched over to the bed and grabbed a pillow.

"That's ridiculous," he grabbed the pillow in her hand. "It's big enough for both of us."

"I said—"

"What?" he leered at her, "You afraid you won't be able to control yourself?"

"In your wildest dreams!"

"My dreams are pretty wild," he winked.

Her large brown eyes widened and retracted, "I prefer to know nothing about your dreams!"

"Okay," he let go of the pillow, "if you can manage to stay on your side of the bed…"

She really didn't want to sleep on the floor, but…"If you keep your hands to yourself."

"You don't have to worry about that," the levity in his voice faded away.

She inhaled deeply to mask the…hurt?...disappointment?...she felt, "What side do you want?"

"I'll take this side," he scooted to the side that was closest to the door.

"Fine," Leia grabbed her knapsack and stalked to the refresher.

Inside the refresher, the princess turned the knobs of the sink faucet and thrust a finger under it to gauge the temperature of the water. Eight months, two weeks and a day, was it? Alderaan, the Death Star, Luke, Han…it all felt like yesterday. And here she was in a hotel room with a man she barely knew—barely? Was that accurate after all they had been through?

Don't you trust me?

With my life.

She cupped her hands, collected some water, and splashed her face with it, repeating the action several times. She looked up into the mirror and stared at her reflection. Most traces of makeup had washed off, yet she hardly recognized herself. She studied the shape of her lips then pressed her finger against them. Han had kissed her as if it was nothing. Leia frowned under her finger. It was nothing to him. It should be nothing to her, but…but it wasn't. She didn't know what it was, but that light kiss sparked a burning inside her, and she wanted to be kissed again. By Han Solo? She shook that thought out of her head and took out a T-shirt and a pair of shorts.

Leia slipped out of her dress. So far Han Solo held her hand, embraced her during the thunderstorm, and now he kissed her. Human contact, something that she didn't realize she craved, needed until now. Just when she was getting used to keeping everyone at a distance, or rather, everyone keeping her at a distance, he reminded her that she was a real person. She's more than a figurehead. She was more than a symbol of the rebellion. And Han acknowledged that every time he called her a ridiculous name, teased her, fought with her, touched her. Leia closed her eyes to suppress the tears that pressed against her lids. He made it easy to forget her losses even if it was only for a few seconds or minutes. That's the nicest thing anyone had done for her since…And it was Han Solo who did it, the last person she ever expected to ease her pain be it a short time. She sharply inhaled then exhaled before slipping her T-shirt over her head and stepping into her shorts.

She raised her large brown eyes and lifted her chin, appearing more like herself. So, Han Solo kissed her, and now she was about to share a bed with him. This was not at all something she was prepared for, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. But what choice did she have? You could sleep on the floor…okay, she may have had a choice, but she was choosing the bed. It would be more comfortable and she could use a good night's sleep in a real bed. Leia raked her hair with her fingers until most of the tangles unraveled. Despite of how she felt about Han—or maybe in spite of—the kiss made the situation all the more uncomfortable, but she'd been in more uncomfortable positions and survived those. Leia straightened her posture and gazed into her own eyes until she conjured up all the composure she could muster.

When she stepped out of the refresher, she found Han propped up against the head board, fully dressed—holster and all—with his hands resting on his stomach and his chin resting on his collar bone. She walked over to her side of the bed, and his eyes popped open.

She smiled quizzically at him, "Aren't you going to get under the covers?"

"Never thought you'd be so eager to get me into bed," his lips stretched into a lop-sided grin.

"I—" she bristled. "Normal people change into nightwear and sleep under the covers, but of course, you're anything but normal.

"I'm one of a kind," Han's grin widened.

You make alota assumptions about me when you really know nothin' about the kinda man I am.

"You certainly are," she pulled back the covers.

"I just don't want to be taken by surprise."

"You think Rugger will betray us?" she slipped her blaster underneath the pillow.

"I'll sleep better if I expect the worse," he adjusted his shoulders and closed his eyes.

"Shouldn't we take shifts?" Leia climbed into the bed.

"Nah, I'm a light sleeper," Han answered. "Nothin' will get past me."

She hesitated as she studied his position, "Are you comfortable?"

He opened one eye, "Isn't that sweet of you to worry about my comfort." Then he opened his other eye and smiled impishly, "Or are you just tryin' to get me under the covers?"

"I—"

"No time for hanky panky, Sweetheart," Han closed his eyes but continued to smile.

"I—oh!" she punched her pillow and turned her back to him. "You need to get a good night's sleep before tomorrow."

"I'll sleep well enough."

"Fine!" she grunted, "Good night."

"Pleasant dreams, and stranger things," he answered.

She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

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A sharp rapping at the door dragged Leia from sleep. With eyes wide open she stared at the ceiling and waited. Who would be knocking on their door? The forceful rapping morphed into a door-jangling pound, and Leia's large brown eyes searched for Han. He was still next to her, body spread out on top of the covers, head propped against the headboard, and hands clasped over his stomach. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

"Han," she whispered. "Han."

He didn't move. Leia rolled onto her knees and bit her lip. She stared at his peaceful face. How could he still be asleep? What happened to him being a light sleeper? She glanced at the door. It suddenly quieted. The princess rubbed her arms. Was she dreaming?

"Han?" she breathed.

When he failed to respond, she lay back down and pulled the covers up to her chin. A stupid dream, that was all. Luckily, she didn't call out and wake Han. How incredibly stupid she would have felt. As it was, she felt pretty stupid just having a nightmare. It made her feel childish and frail, and those were the last two things she wanted to be in front of Han Solo.

Then the doorknob rattled again, and Leia sucked in a breath. Once again, she looked to Han who showed no reaction. She sat up slowly. Wake up. Wake up, she commanded herself. Another knock pulled her out of the dream.

"Han," Leia pushed at his shoulder, "Someone's here."

He didn't open his eyes, "It's fine."

"I don't think it's fine."

"Go back to sleep."

Go back to sleep? She looked at him for a moment. Then she reached for her blaster and crept to the door, positioning herself against the wall between the picture window and the door. Leia carefully pulled back the curtain, but there was no one out there. The doorknob rattled again. Maybe she couldn't see the person from her where she stood. It could be Rugger. But wouldn't Rugger announce his presence instead of twisting the knob? Maybe he couldn't. Maybe he was afraid of someone hearing him. What time was it? She looked at her watch but her eyes were too blurry from sleep to read the numbers. She twisted around and looked out the peep hole. It was too cloudy to see anything behind the door. She pressed her body against the wall again. There was a hiss and a click. Whoever it was had a key. Then why did they bother knocking? The door flew open, knocking her to the ground.

"Don't move!"

Several storm troopers filed into the room with their blasters drawn. When one of the storm troopers pointed his blaster at Han, Leia aimed her blaster and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened.

"Han!"

A shot screamed out and sparks flew as the bolt from the storm trooper's blaster pierced Solo's chest.

"NO!"

Leia sat up, fighting to catch her breath. It sounded too loud and scraped against the quiet room. She turned her head toward Han and watched his chest rise and fall with his own steady breathing. His head still rested against the headboard and his hands were resting on his stomach. She frowned. He definitely wasn't a light sleeper. Leia reached out and touched his arm ever so lightly just to reassure herself that he was really there, that her nightmare had ended. He shifted but didn't wake up. She exhaled, climbed out of bed and went to the refresher. She splashed some water on her face then cupped her fingers and drank the cold water from her hands. She avoided her reflection as she rested her hands on the sink counter. What a vivid dream that was; it shook her to her core. At least it wasn't another dream about the Death Star or Darth Vader or the destruction of Alderaan. She never could sleep after such a nightmare. This was a common everyday nightmare. There were storm troopers all over the streets; it was normal that they crept into her unconscious. She yawned then dried her hands and face with a towel. Just a dream. She was safe with Han Solo by her side and still tired enough to go back to sleep. She tip-toed back to her side of the bed and pulled back the covers.

Keeping her large dark eyes focused on Han, Leia lay back down and clutched the blanket to her chest. She tried to quiet her breathing but it remained raspy as it continued to scrape against the dark. Certainly if she couldn't settle her respiration she would end up waking Han and having to explain herself. She closed her eyes and forced her breath into a rhythmic cadence. In then out…in then out…in then out…in…

Her eyes popped open to the dark. Someone was in the room. Her large brown eyes searched the shadows in the room but couldn't detect any forms that resembled a sentient being. But someone was there, watching her, breathing in time with her. It wasn't Han; she could feel his heavy sleep next to her. No it was someone else, someone familiar, someone she hoped to never see again…