Leia woke up alone. The events of the previous day slowly came back to her: the long stretch on Kyros, the trip to the medcenter, the fight (barely a fight it seemed now, in the optimistic light of morning), and then the minutes and hours curled up together in Han's bunk and talking, really talking, for the first time in ... well, given the topic at hand, maybe the first time ever.

The empty space on the mattress next to her was cool and marred only by the rumpled sheet but Leia chose to pretend he had only just left. She rubbed her hand on the spot and smoothed out the quilt over it and wondered if he would do the same to her side if they slept here again and she happened to rise first. She wondered if his sleeping habits changed when sex was involved, if he lingered in the morning or woke his lover from her sleep for an early morning round. Would they sleep entwined more closely, arms and legs competing for space? Would they climb out of bed together, sated, only to return for more later?

The contrast of an imaginary alternative with their current frustrated state only served to prod her out of bed and into the 'fresher. When she came into the lounge, Han was sitting with a mug frowning at a datapad. His eyes softened when he saw her and he stood up halfway out of the booth.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked.

"Good," she admitted.

"Kaffe?"

"Yes, thank you." The awkwardness of both sleeping in his bunk and waking up alone returned now that they were in the same room. She lowered herself into the opposite side of the booth. "Have you been up long?" she called to the galley.

"About an hour." He emerged holding a steaming mug. "You were sleeping soundly. I didn't want to wake you."

"Thank you," she murmured again. She sipped the rich, bitter brew that was Han's specialty but not one to which she had fully acclimated. Noting her reaction, Han pushed a chipped jar of dehydrated creamers in front of her. She shook some powder in in her cup and stirred until the liquid turned from black to a dingy brown.

Han sat down across from her. "I think I have a plan," he began.

Leia tried not to get her hopes up. "Okay."

"We'll have to ditch the Falcon before we reach Bessos. There's a hub about an hour away. It's a bit shady, being within striking distance of an Imperial stronghold, but we'll have more luck there than at the Bessos spaceport."

Leia pulled up the nav chart on the datapad closest to her. "Are we headed there now?"

Han shook his head. "After we come out of hyperspace, I'll reroute us."

"So..." She calculated in her head. "One more hour on our current trajectory –."

"Fifty-three minutes."

"— and then another hour to the hub." She took another sip. "And then an hour back to Bessos."

"Depending on how we decide to travel there."

Hubs were the best place to either rent a short-term shuttle or pay for a seat on a public freighter. Both options had their pros and cons. "What's the least risky?" she asked.

Han leaned back in the booth. "I think we should get our own shuttle. Public transport may receive less official attention but being surrounded by a scrum of beings puts us at risk for being recognized."

"We'll have that risk on Bessos anyway," she reminded him.

"Yes." He spoke warily. "If we're gonna do this, we'll need to disguise ourselves. And use covers, of course. Did you bring your IDs?"

Leia nodded. She always carried extra cards and ID books in her bag. They were slotted in an interior pocket and shielded by a layer of canvas. "I didn't bring any extra clothing, though. I'm not sure how convincing of an outfit I can put together."

"We'll have to make do with what we have here. That's assuming we can even get in contact with Gaile's source," Han added.

"We will," she promised. That was the least of her worries. She was accustomed to pushing and cajoling and doing whatever it took to convince others to carry out their portion of her plan. "I'm not concerned about that."

"Uh-huh," Han said drily. She ignored his tone as he tilted his head and scrutinized her anew. "Assuming he's game and we make it there without incident, we'll have to avoid detection so we can meet up with him. You can't wear your braids, obviously. And I suppose you can't cut your hair."

"No." She didn't even have to think about it. Cutting her hair was not an option she was prepared to consider. "I'll figure out something to make it look shorter."

"Uh-huh," he repeated. He was appraising her at length and she felt her face flush. Now it seemed even more likely that after last night something had changed between them. She could never tell with Han, though, never knew exactly what he was thinking when it came to the two of them.

"And we'll need a plausible reason to be traveling," he was saying. "They always ask at the border, especially on planets under Imperial control."

Focusing on her datapad to avoid his gaze, Leia skimmed the current news on Bessos for anything they could use as an excuse. A trade conference, a smashball minor-league game, the usual events on an outpost such as this one; nothing caught her eye as an obvious excuse.

"Wait. Look at this." She scrolled down further, scanning the text rapidly, before pushing the datapad over to Han. "There's a concert tonight. A big one. That's the reason we can give at the border. They'll be prepared for an influx of visitors, especially ones with rented shuttles."

"And they'll either have heightened security or will be short-staffed and wave everyone through." Han studied the picture in the news item of five androgynous-looking humans. "Is that the band that was popular in the Core last year?"

Leia nodded. "They must be on the outer-rim portion of their tour." She wrinkled her nose at a promo holo of the band members clowning around in feigned camaraderie. "Half of the base claims to be a fan. Needless to say, I fail to see the appeal."

"It's 'cause they're not very manly," Han offered helpfully.

"Yes, well." It was impossible to deny. "At least that helps us with our cover story. We'll go as twenty-somethings with bad musical taste splurging on a night on the town."

"Look at you, the music snob." Han leaned back and grinned. "Though it might be nice to be in my twenties again."

"Didn't have enough fun the first time around?"

"Something like that." He turned serious again. "This concert will help, but we're still gonna need to change our appearances. You have your bounty and I've got a few former associates who have the bad habit of turning up when they're least expected."

"Enemies, I believe you mean."

"Nah." He toyed with his spoon, eyes on the table. "Just some folks I'd prefer to avoid. Fortunately, most of them are unlikely to frequent a teeny-bop concert."

"I can adjust my make-up." Leia thought back to what outfits she had tossed in her bag a week ago. "Maybe hem my dress."

"That'll help, but..." Han paused and she waited for him to finish while his expression turned sober, almost dejected. He ran his hand through his hair more deliberately than usual. "I think I should shave my head."

She must have badly disguised her reaction because Han's face fell even further. "Don't like that idea, huh? Well, you aren't the only one."

"It wouldn't be my first choice," she said quietly.

"Me neither. But if we're gonna get through the checkpoint, we can't look like ourselves. Remember, we're not undertaking a suicide mission. Besides." A sliver of confidence emerged from the ruins of his vanity. "I'm flattered. First you call me funny and now you admit you like my hair."

"I've never exactly hidden it," she protested. "I mean, strictly speaking, your hair is not bad at all. Compared to other men on the base it might even qualify as decent."

Han jutted his chin, turning his head this way and that as if he were the starring subject in a shampoo holo-ad. "Decent doesn't begin to describe it, Sweetheart. This hair has been my ticket to many a fancy shindig in years past. In fact," he mimed a snipping motion, "why don't I save you a piece so you can sleep with it under your pillow?"

"Fine, Han," she replied straight-faced. "But only after I put half of it in a locket around my neck."

Han laughed out loud and then sighed wistfully. "I will miss it. But I suppose it'll grow back in a few months."

A year if you're lucky, Leia corrected him silently. She stood up. "I need to get a message to Gaile's contact on Bessos. There's not much time for him put something together for us to deliver."

Han nodded. "Just – don't give him any details about who we are or the details of our plans."

Leia rolled her eyes. "I know, Han." But his warning seemed well-intentioned this time and there was warmth behind her own words.

Silas read the message three times before he was able to form a coherent thought. Then the possibilities came rushing in all at once.

It could be a sincere request. Gaile could have met someone in a position to help and passed along Silas's private comm address.

Or it could be a trick, a fishing expedition on the part of someone who harbored suspicions about Silas. Suspicions about his loyalty to the regime and his possible involvement in the disappearance of that courier a few weeks ago. Jade, her name was, though Silas had assumed that was just a pseudonym.

Or it could be... well, in the midst of his heart hammering in his chest Silas couldn't think of a plausible third scenario of how or why the message had reached him. No doubt something would come to him later at the worst possible moment, maybe at home that evening with Louis.

Louis.

Silas knew his partner had been harboring his own suspicions recently. Part of Silas hoped he did; after all, he wouldn't have bought an apartment and committed himself to a complete idiot. And Silas was well aware his own gameface was less than convincing at times, that he was someone who was never able to entirely conceal his reactions. Because of that, the topics of conversation between him and Louis while they cooked dinner or sprawled on the couch catching up on their holo shows had been curtailed of late. Instead of the usual office gossip, the miniature triumphs and defeats of working life they used to gleefully relate to each other, Silas kept his end of the conversation to more banal topics. Daily happenings in their apartment building. Where their friends were traveling this coming weekend. The usual gloss over political items, second nature by now for those like Silas and Louis who were opposed to the Empire but careful not to broadcast that opposition too loudly.

Silas didn't want his partner to know anything of substance about his actions over these past few months. The stolen compounds. The missing vials, a small enough number to be written off as lab error or a minor manufacturing incident. Silas had always refused to involve anyone he worked with as an accomplice but even innocently dropping names of his co-workers at home was dangerous. If the worst were to occur, if something were to happen to Silas and Louis was called in for questioning, Silas didn't want the sheen of guilt reflecting on anyone else at the plant.

Silas glanced one more time at the waiting area outside his office. His assistant was busy at her desk and for the moment no one was hovering nearby hoping for admittance into the director's realm. Now that he thought about it, was he being left alone at work more and more consistently? Was he emitting an aura of disloyalty that made others avoid him?

Silas leaned back in his chair and studied the message again. In the depths of his mind, a plan was growing from a feeble seed. A plan that, if able to be reconciled with his past anti-Imperial actions, might undo the threat of exposure. A plan that might endear him to his Imperial overlords, the ones who stopped by the factory a few times a month ostensibly to inspect the production lines and chat with Silas but who he knew were equally likely to spy on him. Ones who might or might not be able to connect Jade's disappearance with Silas. In this plan, he would claim victory for the morality of his past actions yet avoid endangering himself further.

Or, Silas thought, he could throw caution to the wind and continue on the course he had begun. Maybe it was too late to switch sides; maybe he wasn't clever enough to pull off a counter-deception of this scale. Assuming the message was real – and by now he thought it was, the other possible options falling away from lack of heft – the being on the other side of the datapad might be useful to him in some way. Useful for securing a future off Bessos with Louis.

Silas tapped a reply, hesitating only briefly before pressing the Send button. He logged out of his secure account and ran the encryption program standard on the plant's devices. He always felt a quiver of uneasiness when he did so; another way in which he might be detected, running the anti-spy software too frequently.

There was no easy way forward, Silas knew. And for a brief moment in which he effectively absolved the Imperial dictatorship as the cause of his troubles and those of everyone else on Bessos, he felt he had only himself to blame.

"Well?"

Leia looked up from the report she was reading and widened her eyes.

"It's, uh ..." She made her best effort to stay positive. "It's not as bad as I had feared."

Han ran one hand over his head and waved the clippers in his other. "Could've been worse. I put it on the longest setting and kept it to one pass."

Leia went over and brushed her finger over his hairline, pretending to scrutinize the evenness of the shave. "Have you ever done this before?"

"Once years ago, ironically for a similar reason. Safe to say I've never exactly aspired to the shorn Imperial look otherwise."

"I can see why." She stepped back and folded her arms. "Well, we'll get used to it, I suppose. At least it makes you look slightly more upright and law-abiding."

"Thanks. I think." He tossed the clippers on top of a crate and tugged his shirt off. Leia tried not to linger on the fluid muscles of his chest as he swiped his neck and shoulders and shook the stray hairs onto the deckplates. He caught her eye before she was able to look away and treated her to a rakish grin.

She searched around for a distraction. "Just please tell me you didn't borrow those from Chewie," she said, nodding at the clippers.

"I'm not gonna say. And I'm definitely not gonna tell you where on his body he tends to his overgrowth."

"Then keep those away from me," she warned, backing away. "Better yet, let's review the plan for when we dock at the hub."

Han gave his shirt a final snap and pulled it back over his head. "Where's your outfit?"

"I'll be ready when we arrive." Leia sat down again and spread their assortment of IDs and travel documents in front of her. "Here are the options we have."

Han sat next to her and scanned her ID holos. "This one," he pointed.

Leia shook her head. "She went missing in a storm squall on Vrishnot a few months ago. Remember?"

"Oh right."

Leia pulled one of the IDs closer. "I'll go with her. And you can be..." She assessed the half-dozen doppelgangers of Han scowling at the camera. "Him."

"What about the hair?"

Leia shrugged. "People cut their hair all the time. If questioned, you can say I goaded you into it."

"It certainly has the advantage of not being far off from the truth," Han said wryly.

"Exactly." Leia peered up at him as a mixture of gratitude and affection came over her. "Um.." She glanced down and then back up. "Thank you for doing this," she said. "And not just the hair. All of it."

Han was unable to hold back a wink. "Is this the part where I tell you how you can make it up to me?"

"If you like." It was somewhat startling to discover his insinuations didn't threaten her sense of equilibrium like they used to. In fact, sitting next to him comfortably sorting through their plan for the day, she found herself struggling to recall why they had irritated her so much in the past.

"Or..." He fiddled with one of the ID booklets. "How 'bout I tell you I'm doin' it for you. Those patients too, I guess, but mostly 'cause of you." He paused and studied her closely. "You okay with that?"

Leia swallowed and nodded. "I think so," she said quietly. And then: "Yes, I am."

The smile reached Han's eyes as he laid a hand over hers. "Good. I'm glad."

Their gaze held a beat until a beeping from the cockpit captured Han's attention. He reluctantly withdrew and stood from the booth. "We're getting close to the hub. You should get ready."

"All right."

"Fifteen minutes," he called as she made her way to the cabin. "Otherwise this entire plan will go to pot and for once it won't be my fault."

"We'll see about that," she hollered back. "You know I can always come up with a reason for why it would be your fault."

She heard his chuckle as she slipped into the captain's cabin. Searching through her bag, she was so distracted by the clothing options she had packed that it took her a moment to realize she was still smiling.

One of Silas's finance managers, having apparently charmed his assistant, knocked on Silas's office door. Silas waved him in.

"I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch and discuss the latest budget numbers back from headquarters."

Silas rose from his desk and assumed an air of preoccupation. "Not today, I'm afraid. I'm going to take a look around the floor. The shipping date for our next order is coming up and one of the machines has been acting up."

"All right."

Silas watched his visitor leave. He then put on his jacket, locked his office door behind him, and relayed to Jayne that he would be spending the afternoon on the floor and to comm him directly in case of an emergency. He knew it was very unlikely an emergency would arise.

The layout of the plant consisted of three large facilities connected by tunneled hallways. Silas's office, and the offices of the other plant administrators, occupied the top floor of the middle building. Silas took the lift down to the production floor and donned a protective suit among the several hanging on hooks. Swim-walking in a cocoon of yellow, he made his way to the clanking, stomping machines that piped concentrated antibiotic compounds into sterile vials.

Nodding at the few humans working the floor, Silas inspected the vials closely. As director he was known as a hands-on supervisor committed to quality control practices. Every shipment involved a trip to the production apparatus; his practiced eye would scan the output for any visible impurities. It might have been overkill; after all, the pharmaceutical formula had been consistent for years and the droid-run machines rarely made an error. But Silas knew it was important to cultivate a reputation for exactitude.

Silas also knew that due to his attention to detail he was imagined by others to be a stooge of the Imperialists. For some workers such a suspicion was an advantage and they parlayed it into predictable attempts at garnering promotions and raises. For others it was a reason for avoidance. The ones working this afternoon seemed to belong to the latter group, hanging back and busying themselves with other tasks instead of interacting directly with him.

Silas strolled casually for several minutes, picking up and putting down vials that lined the slotted crates before he started slipping some into a pocket of his suit. Then he strolled to the other side of the floor and did the same next to the machine there. And then, with a quick glance at the catwalk hovering above, he ducked into a tunnel and disappeared.

It took Leia several attempts to drag Han away from the Falcon once they landed at the hub. While there were no visible signs of an Imperial presence, she had to remind him that they were on a tight schedule and couldn't afford delays. After a final pat to the hull and a promise to return no later than tomorrow, Han reluctantly raised and locked the ramp and followed her to the rental area.

Shuttles of all makes and models lined the arms of the hub stretching out into the blank, black environs. Having made it through the registration process without a hitch, they strolled as casually as they dared through one of the transparisteel tubes. Only the hatch doors on either side were opaque and the sensation of walking untethered in deep space, a scheme no doubt dreamt up by an overly ambitious station architect, was disorienting.

"We're number 632," Han read from the keycard as he scanned the doors. "Must be right up here."

Leia had girded herself for the magnitude of grumbling she would be subjected to given the substandard condition of rental shuttles but even she was unprepared when Han took all of two steps inside before throwing up his hands in disgust.

"This navicomputer's older than I am," he complained, jabbing at the sticky buttons. "And look – the radiator doesn't look like it was ever properly outfitted. If we find ourselves in a situation where we're forced to use the shields we'll just have to pray." He glared through the viewport that framed the spokes of the hub. "Assuming we even make it out of here in one piece."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll do just fine." Leia settled into the co-pilot's seat and scanned the control panel for anomalies. "These shuttles are flown every day without incident."

"I'm not even gonna bother checking the hyperdrive," Han muttered under his breath. "It'll just be a surprise, one way or the other."

"Think of the experience you'll gain flying an inferior ship," Leia reminded him. He sat down beside her and flipped an overhead switch. The shuttle jerked in place, jolting them in their seats, before the locking mechanism decided to release. Han swore again, this time in Corellian.

"Got all the experience I need, Sweetheart," he said moments later when the hub was safely behind them. While not exactly a smooth departure, the engines had roused themselves to a moderate putter and after a few adjustments the steering apparatus appeared to be cooperating.

Han tapped the coordinates to Bessos into the navicomputer and primed the hyperdrive. Finger hovering over the igniter, he turned to Leia with a lopsided grin. "It's now or never. Got any last words you want to say?"

In the half-light of the cockpit he looked devilishly handsome with his buzzcut and Leia resisted the urge to touch him in reassurance or luck or both. "I'll save them for when we come out of hyperspace," she said instead.

"He's at it again," one member of the pair murmured to the other.

"How can you be sure?"

The first one pointed. "He's being especially deliberate around the vials that are ready for shipment. Taking time to inspect them closely. Encouraging those who might be following him to lose interest with the repetition of his movements."

They stood silent, watching.

"Should we detain him?" the second one asked.

"No." The word was delivered casually. "We'll let this play out. If we're lucky, it may catch us another traitor."

Hunched in her seat, compact in one hand, Leia applied the finishing touches to her makeup. Smudges of kohl lined her eyes and her lips sparkled with a purplish-lilac hue. Her dress was hiked to her knees and belted in what she hoped was a convincingly vintage fashion (though in reality was a strip of duracloth requisitioned from the Falcon's engine bay). Laced-up boots over sheer black tights completed the look.

Han watched as she snapped the last of her belongings into their carry-on. "I still can't tell how you made your hair shorter." He studied the shoulder length chunks that curled into free-swinging loops. "You sure you didn't cut any of it off?"

"Hairpins," Leia replied, rising from her seat. "If you use enough of them, there's nothing they can't do." She performed a final check of her appearance in the viewport reflection before unwrapping a piece of chewing gum and popping it in her mouth.

Han eyed her skeptically. "Ready?"

Leia chomped her gum in her best impression of a starstruck mega-fan. "Ready."

"What were you going to say?" he asked as she scanned their keycard in the reader on the spaceport door locking the shuttle behind them.

She tilted her head quizzically.

"Before we made the jump. I asked if you had any last words in case the hyperdrive shorted or routed us into a star or the engines failed entirely."

"Oh." She threw him a sidelong smile as they started down the corridor to customs. "I told you so."