Han Solo finished dealing out his hand of Widow. It was Leia's fourth night in a row beside him on the bench. He'd spent most of the day thinking about that. The first night she showed up he was so surprised that he was on his best behavior and maybe that's why she came the second. The third, now, well. He was developing a theory. He'd test it tonight.

"Is this a message?" Leia asked, gesturing at the cards. Widow was a one-player game that used three decks. "Playing solo," she sniggered, though she was content to watch. She was on new territory, literally and figuratively. The Alliance had moved to a frozen wasteland called Hoth. She was adjusting to the cold and to the increasingly shrinking web of human interaction. It felt safer on the sidelines, since she had made the first move.

"Cute," he answered.

He might as well test his theory, he thought, since the Falcon had decided to test him. Just when things were starting to get- what, exactly? Better. Nice. Where he could look into her eyes and think 'big and brown' instead of ducking a glare. And she had rubbed her neck and told him she got a crick in it from looking up at Chewie so much and those big brown eyes had lingered on his like it was up to him to knead that crick out. They were friendly now, yeah, but Han wasn't as interested in that direction as he was another. And he was getting the impression she was, too.

The spread of cards took up most of the table. Leia held her mug of tea on her lap. The bottom of it was warm through her snow pants, on to her thigh. A mug-sized circle of heat. But it was fading. She cupped her hand over the top, trapping the steam. And that's when it hit her.

"Why is it so cold in here?" she asked.

Han was gazing at the cards. "Climate system's broken," he said lazily.

Leia waited while her reaction built. Now that she thought about it, it really was very cold in the ship, as cold as anywhere else on Hoth. And she was disappointed. "Now there's no reason for me to be here," she said. "It's the only warm spot on the base."

Han moved the seven of Flasks to the eight of Coins and lifted a card. "Is your night ruined?"

"I'm afraid so," she sighed. "Why don't you fix it?"

Han sent her a quick glance. "Worried?"

"For the condition of future shipments, yes."

His lip twitched a smile. She was good. Predictable, but good. "I'm not cold," Han said. She didn't know he had a secret theory or that she was shooting it down, but then he wouldn't be thinking about her all day if she was like anyone else.

"I don't believe you," Leia countered.

Han put the deck of cards down and held up his hand, knuckles showing, fingers splayed a bit. "Feel my hand," he dared.

Leia hesitated as she tested the expression in his eyes. She was tempted. He wore a jacket, open. No gloves, no hat. His customary attire. Usually when he dared he knew he would win. So he wasn't cold. What would he win? Her hand atop his.

The other question was, would she gain anything by taking his dare? The answer was also her hand atop his. She bet it was warm.

"Breathe out," she ordered. "Let me see if your breath steams."

He smiled. He opened his mouth, parted his lips to form a circle, and expelled a puff of his own air. "What did that prove?"

Leia directed her own steamy exhale toward Han. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "Only that you're warmer than the air temperature." She decided she could give him his victory. There was a blue vein that raised his skin a little across the first knuckle, and she covered the top of his palm with her fingers perpendicular to his. They curved down over the outside edge of his hand.

"Your hand is cold, Princess." Han took a moment to enjoy the shiver her touch brought him before remembering to play it cool. With his other hand, he returned the seven of Flasks to its spot and tested the seven of Sabers.

"You just cheated," Leia pointed out, removing her hand. "Play it honestly."

Han blinked. He peeked under cards so much he had forgotten it wasn't normal play. He overturned his warm palm. "The point is to win."

"Yes. Cleanly. Fairly."

"It's Widow. And anyway, it don't help much."

Leia nodded. "Widow is notoriously difficult to win, isn't it?"

"Yeah, and why deal all this out," Han swept his arm over the three decks of cards, "to pack it in after a few moves?"

"I see," Leia said dryly. "You're repaying your own effort."

"That's right."

Leia smiled with a roll of her eyes and had nothing to add. The game played out. She watched from lowered eyes, the mug at her lips, while Han shifted cards. The first night she came because she had an impulse. She wanted to see how he was in his element. She had an idea it might be attractive. The second night was to dispel that thinking. If anyone asked she called it a Warmth Break. But a third night followed and then here she was again, watching his long fingers tend a deck of cards and enjoying the quiet satisfaction he got out of cheating. Their silence was comfortable. Once Leia clucked as he uncovered a lucky card and he smiled at her in appreciation.

He was shuffling the deck to ready a new hand, when Leia, who thought she should go because it was cold and wasn't that what she told others the point of these nightly visits was, remembered something.

"Don't you fly out tomorrow?"

"Mm-hmm, got clearance first thing in the morning."

"Shouldn't you be worrying about your climate control?"

"I don't find worrying too helpful, Princess. It's bacta; a frozen ship won't hurt its frozen state that much."

Leia held her lips folded inward for a bit and when she finally released them she spoke in a rush. "I'll admit I'm worried for the condition of you," she said, and forced herself to slow down. "You can't go in space without climate control."

Han set the deck down, his hand still resting lightly on the top of the deck. "Well, now, Princess," he said, giving her a long look. "This is a new development."

She managed to fend off his eyes. "No, it isn't. We won't get our perfectly preserved bacta if our captain is also frozen."

He smiled at her. "I got evac suits."

Evacuation suits were standard emergency equipment on space craft. They were used in the event a crew member needed to step outside the craft to make repairs in the airless setting of space. The warmth and oxygen they provided was, however, temporary, and if a ship shut down, they only extended a miserable death.

"For two hours," Leia pointed out, fighting an alarm. "How long is the flight?"

"Nav'puter estimates the first jump is one hour forty-five."

"You can't do that."

"Sure I can."

"That's calling it way too close! Fix it." Leia stood. She felt odd. Frustrated and frightened and wanting to run away or into his arms and like her pulse was trembling.

"The part I need isn't here. I'll get it when I land." Her big brown eyes were boring into him. Han almost couldn't take it. "What are you worried about? I said I could handle it."

"Is that what you call that? When a pilot just launches himself into airless, sunless space in a freighter that provides as much cover as a light jacket? You call that worry? I call that witnessing idiocy."

"I don't doubt my piloting and you shouldn't either." Han stood too, feeling like he needed to be taller. It was a stupid feeling. What had happened to the night? Either he should shove her out the ramp or smash his lips against hers. Both, given their history, seemed extravagant.

"Use another ship."

"I don't need another ship."

"Just this once." Leia took a step toward him, and lifted her hand, like she wanted to press it against his chest. "Han, please. Don't-"

She stopped, and just stood there, her lips still forming the shape of her last word, a pleading in her eyes, that he asked, hoping she was braver than he was, "Don't what?"

"Don't-" Leia dropped her hand. It seemed there was always something preventing them growing closer. Their different backgrounds, her grief, his anger. And now it was something technical. He could be right but so could she.

It was just like his game of cards, peeking under a corner until the one that helped the most was uncovered. Who was cheating who?

"Don't let the repair delay your return." She picked up her empty mug and brought it to the galley.

Han heard her cleaning the mug, wiping all trace of her lips and hands from it. He stood there, feeling surly and childish and not sure what went wrong, except it always did. She called, "Goodnight," and she left, and her brown eyes dropped from his as she turned away toward the ramp. He watched her go, her movements small and graceful, and wondered what it would be like to follow her, to turn her around and tell her don't was because she cared, to confess his own, to just have her. But his feet didn't move.

Another time, maybe. When he came back, if her visits started again.

If.

Gods, if.