My thanks to all of the fine folks who are patiently following this story. I am very flattered that you like it, and I appreciate your support. It means a lot. A shout-out to LyaCatWoman, StatsGrandma57, jeanmarie3, jessiekathenerd, Kpop Rules, A fan, nerdyninjaunicorn, Rey is Bae, Guest, and Guest101 for your comments on the previous chapter, and also thanks to those who wrote me privately to nudge me along. A special thank you to 2Old4This2, who has supported me and this story from the beginning, even as I ran off to write a year of Supernatural fanfiction. Big hugs to StatsGrandma57 for beta-reading this installment.

This chapter was inspired by Rogue One. If you haven't seen it yet, stop reading this right now and go watch it! It's like a giant fanfiction come to life.

None of this is mine, save any grammatical, timeline, or other random errors.


Leia stumbled blindly down the dark alley, wondering, not for the first time, what she had been thinking when Mon Mothma had talked her into wearing this ridiculous get-up. Ord Mantell was everything the rumors said it was - seedy and testosterone-laden, full of horrible, lecherous characters that made the smuggler behind her seem like a refined gentleman. Leia winced as the flimsy heels continued to slice through her cold feet. She never imagined that she would wish for the fur-lined snow boots left aboard the Millennium Falcon. Leia tried not to stumble as Han propelled her forward, a steady hand at her back. The ridiculously high heels continued to trip her up and she had to lean against him to maintain any sense of balance. She hated this stupid, backwater planet.

No one should be required to wear shoes that are practically stilts as part of their disguise, she fumed internally. It's no wonder men think women can't take care of themselves. No one could, outfitted like an Alderaani peacock.

Both of Han's warm hands grabbed her shoulders tightly, preventing another fall. "And here I thought you could hold your liquor," he teased.

Leia fought the urge to bring one of her pointy high heels down on his instep. "You are incorrigible."

"I try." Han's chuckle rumbled comfortably in her ear, his breath warming her skin and sending a tingle of pleasure down her spine. Without thinking, she leaned back into him, catching a whiff of Algoraspice cologne mixed with engine grease. She gave an involuntary moan of pleasure as she savored his warmth. He snuggled her closer, brushing his lips against the lace barely covering her shoulders. "You cold?"

Leia blinked and turned to glare at him. "What do you think, Flyboy? It's freezing out here." And yet, she continued to lean into him, intoxicated by his touch, his scent, his warmth.

What am I doing?

She forced herself to push away from the smuggler, to focus on the mission at hand. Han is a player, a rogue, Leia reminded herself. And he's very much in his element here.

Captain Solo gave her a sardonic grin. "Just askin'." His features relaxed as he feigned total innocence.

"I'm fine." Leia cleared her throat and squinted ahead in the dim light. "Where is this restaurant you wanted to take me to?" An uneasy feeling tugged at her and Leia tried, in vain, to place exactly what was causing her discomfort.

"What's the rush, Sweetheart?" He pulled her close again. "We've got two more hours to kill before the ship arrives."

I should push him away. I should tell him that I'm not an adornment, not something to be discounted and viewed as a man's property. But her brain seemed to be stuck in slow motion, and she found herself pondering their situation.

Something isn't right.

Things had gone according to plan so far, a situation that - in Leia's admittedly limited experience as an undercover operative - was a sign of trouble. No one had doubted that she was Han's bride, the painted tart of a Corellian smuggler. Leia wondered, not for the first time, what that said about her. The few sentients they had interacted with had taken them at face value, and no one had been suspicious when they had stumbled from one cantina to another, seemingly drunk on love and too many glasses of Angerian Fishak Surprise. They'd found their contact after their fourth boozy bar hop, and he had provided them with the manifest for her late father's ship. It was due to dock at 23:00 standard hours in Ring 12 of Docking Bay 75. The late hour would provide the perfect opportunity for Han and Leia to sneak aboard. Security on the docking bays was limited at night; once the crew of the ship had disembarked, Leia would be able to use her handprint to unlock the hydraulic doors of the stolen vessel. If they were quick about it, they'd be back in orbit before anyone noticed that they hadn't provided the proper flight takeoff codes. If needed, Luke and Chewie - aware of the revised plan and waiting impatiently aboard the Millennium Falcon in neighboring Ring 7 - would provide added cover as needed.

Leia sighed, feeling an uncharacteristic sense of tranquility wash over her. She was heading to dinner with Han, a fantasy that she'd never allowed herself to believe possible. What's there to worry about?

Everything! Leia reminded herself. Han is only acting. This is just a fantasy. He made it perfectly clear back on Hoth that he wanted to put distance between us and I am not rushing back to him like an Alderaani schoolgirl!

But there stood Han, warm and inviting, right beside her. His manner seemed genuine. They had two hours to relax, dine, and talk.

For the good of the mission, she reminded herself. We have to make this believable to maintain our cover. That's all this is. A romantic dinner for the sake of the Rebellion. I am not attracted to Captain Solo, if I ever was. He's proven himself fickle and unreliable. I just have to play along.

Not that it's hard. A blush crept across Leia's cheeks as she smiled up at the tall man, studying his strong jaw and the jagged scar under his full lips. Dreamy lips. The kind that would feel so good sliding down my ...

Wait, what? Leia started and realized that she was enveloped in warmth. Han's scent surrounded her, a heady sensation. He had draped his jacket around her shoulders.

When did that happen? she wondered. How much did I have to drink?

Han slung a possessive arm over her shoulders and pulled her tight against his side. "My girl," he purred under his breath, rubbing his hand up and down her jacketed arm.

"What did you say?"

"Just lean on me, Princess," he spoke in a seductive tone. "We're almost there." Leia found herself closing her eyes as they continued to walk slowly down the alley, bodies tangled tightly together.

What's wrong with me? Leia's eyes popped open as she realized that she was losing track of time and place. Where are we?

"Han?" Her voice emerged small and frightened. "What's happening?" The high stone walls of alley ahead swirled and pulsated in the darkness. Flashes of light from the various cantinas and back-alley rooms - dives too sleazy to even be considered bars - splashed across her eyes. The effect was nauseating. Leia felt like her tongue had grown fur.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," she whispered.

Unfortunately, Leia realized too late that Han wasn't faring much better. He stumbled against her as they both fell against the cold cobblestones, and she felt the first frisson of panic amid her sluggish disorientation.

Han, hands waving in the exaggerated slow movements of the truly inebriated, managed to pull out his comlink. "Chewie?" A blaster bolt sounded over Han's head and he threw himself over the princess as he scrabbled to locate his own blaster. "Get y'r furry butt o'er here, pal. Me and the missus got company." A second blaster shot landed so close that Leia's ears rang, and she felt rather than heard Han's sharp intake of breath.

"Are you hit?" she squeaked out, wondering why her voice was distorted, why she could see sounds as colored notes in the air.

He grunted back and let loose a string of Corellian curses before shouting, "I know yer out there, you bounty hunter scum!" He rolled right as soon as the words were out of his mouth, shooting his blaster erratically into the darkness with one hand while dragging Leia with him using the other. He tucked them behind a stone planter in a nearby crevice. Another blaster bolt landed right where her head had been.

She tried to shriek, but Han clamped a hand over her mouth. "Shh, Sweetheart, shh. He can't see us, but he kin hear us," he whispered, tongue thick.

"I don' ..." Leia tried, fighting hard to control the nausea. "I don' understand."

"S'mebody slipped som'thin' inta our drinks," Han slurred at her. "Had to've been a bart'nder. I's watchin' e'ryone else."

Leia thought vaguely that she should have been touched that Han was looking out for her. It had never even occurred to her that someone might drug their liquor.

And I've been told I'm a great warrior, Leia thought ruefully. She tried to shake her sluggish head. I'm such a nerf. Leia tried to care about her obvious failings, but her thoughts were winding down, cycling in ever slower circles.

I'm glad Han is here. It was warm beneath the captain's embrace. Leia felt safe and protected, even as the next blaster bolt singed the fringe of her skirt. As Han tugged her more deeply into the crevice in the alley, the heavy pull of the drug dragged Leia completely under until all thoughts and worry ceased.