A/N: I wrote this while binge watching the Indiana Jones series, so it definitely had me comparing the two characters all night! Still, I think Han Solo beats Indiana in my mind. Indy might be pretty bad ass, but Han has the sarcasm that I adore.

Ha, anyway...read and review, as always!

XI

The Dark Lord's ship was traveling fast through hyperspace, but not quite fast enough. When the fleet had taken off after Luke's escape pod, they had lost coordinates in their chase due to jammed sensors after leaving the Corellian ship's post. Now, they sat in silent space, somewhere in between the core and the outer rim, waiting for Luke's ship to come back on display on their navigation boards.

"Sir!" One of Vader's Imperial captains approached, ready to deliver news to his superior.

"Yes?" Vader breathed. His voice was lower than usual, full of anger and annoyance. For once he'd like to catch the kid without any problems.

"It seems Rykin has gone rogue, sir…"

A burning flared in Vader's core. "Our spy has gone rogue?!" His outburst wasn't unexpected.

"Erm…" the captain stuttered. "Yes, sir… It seems she…has other intentions on what to do with the Millennium Falcon, sir."

Other intentions? Vader was certain he hadn't heard right, so he took time to process. Then, an eerily calm reply. "She wants the ship for herself," he told them. "She's no longer luring Solo and the Skywalker boy for us."

The Force worked just as well for Vader as it would for Luke. He hadn't quite grasped it yet, but the Dark Lord knew how to use it well, and could reach out to touch their sky, Rykin, even from a distance. She was full of determination; full of greed.

"Solo has been captured by—" The captain began filling in Vader of the events on Corellia, which he already knew.

"Find the coordinates of Skywalker," the Sith Lord interrupted.

"Yes, sir," the Imperial agreed. "Right away."

"Forget Solo. I want the Jedi!"

"Chewie, how far are we from Han?"

Leia made her way back into the cockpit after a short rest; she wasn't fully healed from the poison put into her veins, but she was feeling much better than she had been before.

Chewbacca, who had been piloting the entire trip by himself, gurgled a tired response. He was exhausted, but not too tired to save his friend.

"Well what kind of place is that for a landing?" Leia retorted when she saw the display pop up, taking Han's usual piloting seat next to the Wookie. "How can you possibly put her down on another man's ship?"

He yowled in outrage as soon as the Princess touched the seat, so she lifted herself off and moved to one behind it, barely touching the smooth surface. Her glare burned into Chewie's back, but she didn't say anything more.

"I guess it'll have to do, then," she said under her breath.

A small rumble emerged from Chewie's throat. It wasn't anywhere near as hostile as the last few had been, and was short and to the point. Leia guessed he was apologizing; she still didn't understand much of his language, but she made do.

"I know it's his seat," she snapped, not taking the apology very lightly. "But he isn't here." Her head cocked as her chin lifted in defiance.

The air was tense. Chewie didn't have anything else to say to her, probably out of being so upset by her words. Leia didn't see the point in arguing, but had to make sure her alliances weren't angry with her, so she instinctively calmed down.

"I'm on your side, you know," she told the Wookie. "The good side."

A low wail came from Chewie, but he didn't take his eyes off of his navigating towards Ylesia.

Leia sighed, opening up. "I know he's not a bad guy," she promised him. "I do happen to like him." Then, she thought for a moment. Did she like him? Or did she just tolerate him? She added, "for a smuggler, he's all right."

Chewie shot a glance at Leia, who blushed. "If he had more decency, he'd probably get somewhere in life," she told Solo's friend. "Like Luke. He has his head on his shoulders, and—"

Chewbacca turned towards Leia fully and ruffled her braided hair until it was a bird's nest of a mess. She scowled and tried desperately to fix it while he turned back around to face the dash, but did not succeed.

"This must be why he always looks so scruffy," Leia barked in return. Sighing, she removed her pins and dropped her hair to start from scratch.

As she took her hair back up and made a simple braided bun to keep the hair from her eyes, she studied the floor in front of Han's piloting seat. The floor was stained with black scuff marks, probably where he shifted back and forth nervously while trying to outrun so many other ships while he was smuggling away their goods. For a moment she wondered if they had been made by the same boots he wore today; the same ones that had saved her from Vader on the Death Star.

"If it were me, he'd do the same thing," she murmured, partly to herself, but she knew Chewie had overheard her. "I guess he isn't that bad, after all…"

Chewbacca grumbled, which Leia thought was an agreement, but when she looked up, she saw bright yellow filling their front windows; the Ylesia system.

Bright lights blinded Han as he blinked her eyes open momentarily. He barely had the strength to do so, but he managed. He always managed to do the unspeakable.

In front of him was a post. A simple structure, but something he feared from his childhood. Many times after disobeying Garris Shrike, he had been drug here and beaten. So badly, in fact, that he had broken a leg and been immobile for several weeks, once. It was Shrike's way of trying to teach him not to go against his orders, but Han had always wanted to escape more and more after each beating.

They were somewhere below the main corridors…somewhere the rest of the ship wouldn't view them. Two soldiers were dragging him forward. He could hear their boots stomping down on the metal floor as he got closer and closer to the post. Their hands stung on his forearms; he had no strength left, and his muscles were sore from whatever Larrad's kid had injected him with. Probably just a sedative, but in this part of the galaxy, it could mean all kinds of trouble. He would be lucky if he didn't die without an antidote; most of the poisons Shrike used to carry on board were lethal, made up from insects on all parts of the planets in the outer rim.

Gradually, his vision blanked out again. For a moment, he felt the two guards lift him up to the tops of the post. His knees still brushed the ground; the bad part about being so tall. When he was younger, he was given a stool so he could stand properly. Now, he was left hanging, though he thought that that might be best for a short moment; the stool allowed him to agree with Shrike's demands, and there was no way he was going to die giving in.

Blackness engulfed him. The last thing Han heard was the voice of his dreaded capturer, Larrad Shrike.

"I've changed my mind, Solo," his growled in his ear. "Why should I wish you an easy death when you made Garris suffer so much?" he asked him quietly. Then, Larrad stepped back and shouted aloud at his aids, "200 strikes! Then, we will let him bleed to death."

So this is how it ends, Han thought to himself. Back on this damned ship, being tortured by the same damn captain. He was disgusted. Dewlanna, he begged silently in his mind. Was it all worth this? Is this how it felt when I left you? He still never forgave himself for his first escape when his Wookie friend had been killed.

Then, a sharp burning smacked his back like he had been shot by a gun over and over, all in the same second. The guards had lashed him, and hard. Larrad chuckled from the corner ahead of him; this was only one.

Han could feel the blood dripping down his back as another and then another had hit him hard. His shirt clung to him in pieces; it had easily torn at the first few strokes. They had rid him of his vest long ago, when they took his DL-44 and other assortment of weapons.

Soon, he wouldn't be able to stay conscious, but that was okay to him. Han let his mind wander into a darker, quieter place. His vision was gone, but he knew he was slipping when his hearing began to vanish and the pain in his back was slowly starting to ebb away. He was accepting it; what better way for a smuggler to go than to be tortured for his crimes?

Then, all at once, the pain stopped. A blaster rung from somewhere behind him. Are they planning on shooting me, now? He thought.

Silence. Han wasn't sure if he had just blacked out and was dreaming before he died, or if Larrad had stopped whipping him. The poison was still strong; he couldn't think straight to help himself get out of this situation, if it were an opportunity. So, he lay still, letting the poison slowly take him from the inside, pretending to be dead. It was his best and only shot.

"Alright, nerf herder," said a soft voice in his ear. "Let's get you out of here."

Leia, Han thought. He wanted to say it out loud, but he was giving into the poison and his dripping blood too quickly for his own good. Shortly after, he blacked out for good.

A rumble came from Chewie as he watched Han's body go limp against the post Leia was stealing him from. She was struggling to keep him lifted off of the ground; his was heavier than her by a long shot, and she wouldn't be able to carry him out of the room by herself.

The Wookie made his way over to the Princess, who was decorated in the Stormtrooper gear they had stolen from the Death Star. Her helmet was off, but the armor was still cloaking her body; it was their best shot at getting onto the ship. An Imperial search would never be out of the question.

"Help me lift him up," she ordered.

Chewie had no problem carrying Han like a baby in his arms back to the ship, but he had to drop his bowcaster if he wanted to do so. Leia took it willingly, slinging it over her shoulder; she couldn't use it, so it was easily to simply carry it back and use her blaster if she had to.

She glanced at the bodies of the guards and Larrad on the other side of the room. She had stunned the guards, but Chewie's bowcaster had done irrevocable damage to Shrike. Part of her regretted going against her personal promise of always to stun, but part of her was also glad that Chewie had permanently ended Han's torture. There was no worry of Larrad coming after him again.

"Han!" Leia called, brushing his ragged hair from his face as he lay in Chewie's arms. It stuck to him like wet paper. "Han, can you hear me?" No answer. Leia began to worry. "Han!" Still nothing. Was he dead? Her last attempt pulled at her heart, but she didn't let it show as anything more than anger. "Han Solo, you answer me this instant!"

A muffled, almost mute sounding insult came from Solo's lips as he fell in and out of consciousness. She caught something agreeing, and he may have called her 'Princess', but that was good enough for her.

"Threepio!" Leia called into her comlink. "Open the doors, we'll be back soon!" A smile spread across her lips in secret as she added, "he's alive."