I'm glad everyone enjoyed the last chapter :) Thank you all for the love and support! :) Let's see what Han and Leia get up to now...

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A new, powerful thread of intensity seemed to have developed between them and Leia couldn't define it, much less figure out what to do about it. She had tossed and turned all night, unable to stop thinking about the rush of emotions Han imbued in her. Could she attribute it to the physical passion that roared between them? She had never experienced anything like it before and perhaps that led to false feelings of intimacy.

The anxiety that fluttered in her chest challenged that theory. But, surely such intense, carnal pleasure could have an unintentional effect on one's emotions.

The thought made her feel a bit better. Logical explanations always reassured her, made her better able to deal with ambiguity.

But all logic flew out the airlock at the sight of Han. He sat back in his pilot's seat, Chewie beside him, and when he looked at her over his shoulder, the flutter became a throb. The feel of his skin on hers filled her mind and, for a moment, she could barely breathe.

"How'd ya sleep?" His expression was casual, as if they had never, ever made passionate love on the deck of the galley. Love, she thought. Ugh.

"Good," she lied. Chewie barked a greeting and she smiled at him weakly. "Good morning." She took her place in the navigator's chair and saw that they had already come out of hyperspace. The swirling, brown and green planet of Wachichi hung in the viewport and they were soaring towards it.

"What's your plan?" Han asked with seeming disinterest.

"My plan?" It was hard to concentrate.

"Yeah. For finding the refugees."

Oh. "I'm going to reveal my identity to the villagers and gain their trust in the hopes that they will see that I only want to help."

His chair spun before her sentence had finished and he was staring at her with outrage. "You're gonna what?" he demanded. Before she could open her mouth to reply, he continued to berate her. "You can't tell them who you are! Are you crazy?"

The anger and defensiveness were instantaneous. "I know what I'm doing." Her muscles were taut and straining. Why did he always have to challenge her?

"I don't think you do," he sneered. "Half the galaxy is lookin' for you. You know how much your head is worth?"

"Just a bit more than yours," she gritted through her teeth.

"A lot more than mine," he growled.

They glared at each other for a long moment.

"I'm not letting you tell them who you are," Han warned.

"You're not letting me?" She laughed without a hint of humor. "I think you forget who's in charge here."

His lips compressed and his eyes grew smaller. "Someone has to have some common sense."

This time her laugh was mocking. "You're the last person who should be talking about common sense."

"That right there should tell you what a crazy idea this is!"

"I know what I'm doing!"

"The hell you do!"

Chewie roared at them to shut up but they both ignored him. Han sat back and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, I'm not bringin' her down unless you come up with a new plan."

Stunned, she only gaped at him. The audacity of this man! Her voice grew low and menacing. "I order you to land this ship."

His brow rose in challenge. "Make me."

"You're a child!"

The Wookiee's loud snarl rang throughout the cockpit, followed by a string of furious growls. It startled Leia and, although she did not understand his words, his meaning was as clear as transparisteel.

Han spun back to the console, grumbling under his breath. Leia crossed her arms and sat back heavily in her seat. She sucked her lips against her teeth. Why did she ever think there was anything redeeming about him? He was impossible. Literally impossible!

They descended into the atmosphere in silence, the blatant tension coursing around them like a chilly mist. Leia focused on breathing and regaining her composure. She did not need Han to throw her off balance.

"Where are you landing?" she finally asked.

When Han didn't answer, Chewie replied slowly and carefully. She was able to gather that they were landing near the base of the mountain. She nodded even though no one was looking at her then checked the coordinates on her data pad. The village began about halfway up the mountain.

Leia stared past Han out the viewport as the landscape rose into view, lush shades of brown, red, and orange dappling below them, signifying this planet's autumn season. It looked lovely and she took a moment to admire it. The colors seemed to rise to meet them then surround the ship as Han settled them down in a clearing beside the mountain.

She was still agitated over the argument with him. Who did he think he was, ordering her around as if he were her superior officer? He wasn't even an official member of the Rebellion!

She unstrapped from her seat and fled the cockpit to use the refresher and retrieve her travel pack. Once they were gathered outside, Leia craned her neck and peered up the mountain. She could just make out some sort of dwellings jutting between the foliage, but they were too far to identify.

"The village begins about halfway up," she announced.

Chewbacca grunted and Han remained silent. A glance in his direction showed he was obviously still irritated. Good. That made two of them. She strode forward and began the steep climb up the mountain. Moments later, Han had passed by her and taken the lead. Her eyes shot daggers at his back.

With little conversation, they traveled for several hours, stopping occasionally to eat a ration bar or drink from their canteens. Leia's anger had dulled but not dissipated.

As they drew closer to the village, she was able to get a better look. Circular pods peeked through thick trees with walkways linking bits of cliffs. Lights flamed from the poles on either side of the planks. Green and brown, the pods seemed to blend seamlessly with the trees and the earth. Upon approach, Leia saw a group of Wachichi gathered in anticipation of their arrival. She shuffled forward past Han, who grabbed her abruptly by the arm, forcing her to halt at his side. His expression was sober.

"I'm asking you one more time. Don't let them know who you are."

She studied his features and saw worry in place of his former anger. It softened her. "I appreciate your concern," she replied simply. "But, I have this under control."

Something she could only describe as vulnerable flickered in his eyes for a heartbeat. Then his lips parted ever-so-slightly before pursing together in disapproval. She tossed a pointed look at his hand still on her arm and he reluctantly released her.

They trooped forward, crossing the wooden bridge that led to the group of six red-skinned beings on the other side. They all wore either robes or light armor. Several of them wore blasters on their hip.

"Greetings," called the tallest of the males. "What brings you?"

"Greetings," Leia responded when she was halfway across the bridge. She stepped onto land and regarded them earnestly. "I come requesting information." She paused and lowered her voice. "Of refugees."

The man's head tipped subtly to one side. "We know nothing of refugees."

Adept at reading body language, she could tell he was lying. "We only wish to help. I am Princess Leia Organa, daughter of the Great House of Alderaan."

His eyes widened and low murmurs resounded from those standing behind him.

"And how are we to know that you are who you say you are?" an older woman asked.

Leia smiled. "You can search the holonet for an image of me."

One of the shorter men spoke in their native tongue, which Leia was not familiar with. The tallest man, who appeared to be some type of leader, answered and a few others chimed in. The leader appeared conflicted as he returned to appraise Leia.

"We will take you to the upper levels. But, you must come alone," he informed her.

Before she could respond, Han stepped to her side.

"Over my dead body," he growled.

She tried to catch his eye with a look of warning, but he remained focused on the Wachichi male, who rose to his full height and pulled his shoulders back.

Instead of igniting her anger, his defense of her actually flared an appreciative warmth through her chest. She placed a light hand on his arm.

"Han, it's all right. I'll be okay." She wasn't sure how she knew this, she just did.

Han remained unconvinced. His hard stare was aimed at the Wachichi leader and Leia could almost feel the hostility radiating from him.

"Your people must remain here if you are to proceed," the leader proclaimed, eyes narrowed at Han.

Leia spoke in a low tone so that only Han could hear. "You need to learn to trust me. I know what I'm doing."

He wrenched his gaze to hers and she could see the internal struggle in his eyes. Green and gold seemed to swirl, a constellation of conflict.

He let out a loud, harsh sigh and shook his head. "Ok," he grunted before returning to glare at the leader. "But nothin' better happen to her. Or you're all doomed." Venom spewed from his words.

Something rippled through her, a combination of gratitude and shocked pleasure at the level of his concern for her.

A Wachchi female interrupted the moment. "Come, human and Wookiee. We will provide you with refreshment while you await her return."

Han's gaze slid back to Leia and he nodded, that startling intensity still in his eyes. She squeezed his arm and gave a small, reassuring smile. When she turned away, he was still watching her. With a nod at the leader, she spoke confidently. "I am ready."

He returned the nod and moved to cross the nearest walkway leading away from her companions. Leia followed and just as she was about to pass beyond his sight, she threw a glance back at Han to find him still staring after her gravely.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Chewie barked, for perhaps the fifth time, that the Princess could handle herself. Brooding, Han said nothing.

They had been given a meal that he had picked at but had no real interest in. He was worried about Leia, and on top of that, he was irritated about the fact that he was so concerned for her safety. He really didn't want to think about the implications of that.

They seemed to be a curiosity to the Wachichi people, but Han remained avoidant. He and Chewie sat outside, legs dangling over the side of a cliff, in view of where Leia had disappeared. As if waiting in that spot might hasten her return.

He had been hell-bent and determined not to let her go alone. But, she had looked up at him with such large, beseeching eyes and sincerely asked that he trust her. And he had found that he couldn't refuse.

But, he was very unhappy about it.

If anything happened to her, he could only blame himself. He felt the pit of his stomach dip down even further, lost, as if into the depths of a spice mine tunnel.

He couldn't remember when he had last been so worried about someone. Had he ever?

His foot jiggled over the cliff-side, anxiety causing it to jitter nervously. He realized he was doing it and forced it to stop.

Beside him, Chewie sighed deeply and bent over to place his furry chin in his palm. Han's eyes slid to his friend then back into the distant trees.

Why did this one woman affect him so? Something seemed to rumble through his soul in response to the question. He didn't want to acknowledge it, but how could he possibly deny it? She stirred something inside him, something wholly unfamiliar.

The worst part was that she made him doubt himself, made him uncertain of the man he was. He had always thought he more or less knew himself. And when he felt conflicted, he was easily able to thrust it aside and forge ahead.

But Leia made him feel at odds with his own beliefs. She challenged his mercenary, loner philosophy. Because, really, why had he stayed with the Rebellion for so long? He couldn't lie to himself anymore. Leia was the reason he was still here.

He hated to admit it, but at this point, how could he refute it? And, acknowledging that truth only led him to examine his feelings. Which was something he always tried to avoid.

There were feelings, many of them. They brewed beneath the surface, and lately they seemed to constantly threaten to bubble over.

But, Leia made it clear that what was between them was simply sex. It made him wonder how he, of all people, had gotten into this situation. He had always remained aloof, kept things casual. Somehow, he had shifted to the opposite end, now the one who sought any crumb of affection. And it made him angry and resentful. It made him want to turn his back and soar into the stars, leaving all thoughts of her behind.

Yet, here he still was. He glowered at the leaves ahead as a light breeze rolled gently over him. He sighed into the wind.

In the distance, Leia emerged from the trees, heading to the walkway that separated them and Han's heart clenched, grateful. The Wachichi leader was behind her. Han let out a relieved breath, suddenly drained. He scrambled to his feet and approached his end of the walkway. Chewie rose beside him with a huffed, pleased growl.

When she was at the walkway, he assessed that she was okay then noticed the stricken look on her face. Her eyes were wide, yet her brow was slightly furrowed. She looked pale and her lips were parted as if she were in the middle of a question. Han had never seen her looking so defeated.

When she stood in front of him, he placed a hand on her shoulder, needing the solid reassurance of her safety.

"Are you okay?" His tone was sober, concerned.

She gazed up at him for a moment, looking younger than she had since they first met. She nodded and turned her eyes to the ground. Abruptly, she faced the man who had accompanied her.

"I thank you for your time," she said in her formal, diplomat's voice.

He gave a slight bow but said nothing. As Leia turned in the other direction, Han sent a scathing glare his way. Chewie fell in step next to the Princess and the trio followed the path away from the village. Before long, the Wookiee's long legs carried him ahead of her and Han picked up his pace until he was walking alongside her.

"What happened back there?"

"Nothing," she responded, her tone and expression one of dejection.

Han waited a moment before questioning her again. "Well, something had to have happened. What was it?"

Her voice hardened. "I don't wish to talk about it."

Stung, he kept his retort to himself. Why did he even bother to ask?

The long trek down the mountain seemed longer than the climb upwards. No one spoke and the air was tension filled. They reached the Falcon without event and once they were aboard, Leia went directly to the crew quarters.

As he and Chewie prepared for take-off, Han wondered what had transpired with the refugees. Had she even found them? What could have rattled her so? He wanted to know, felt compelled to get the details.

Once the ship was in hyperspace, Han thought about his options. Finally, he went to the galley and prepared two cups of kaffe. Carrying the steaming mugs, he stood at the door to the crew quarters and rapped it with an elbow. When Leia didn't answer, he tapped it again more forcefully.

Finally, the door slid aside and she stood in front of him, face impassive, devoid of any emotion. Her eyes looked dead and it was even more disturbing than seeing her upset.

"Made some kaffe." He held one mug out to her and she stared at it blankly for a moment.

She took it from him with no change of expression. "Thank you." They just looked at each other and she seemed to suddenly realize he wasn't leaving. She turned her back to him and sipped at her kaffe as she wandered from the doorway.

Undaunted, Han stepped inside. He took a long swallow of kaffe then placed the mug on a side table between the third and second bunks. He watched her sit on the first bunk, against the bulkhead, the one she usually slept on while aboard the Falcon. He took a seat on the third bunk, feeling awkward and uncertain. She continued to sip the kaffe.

"So, what happened back there?" he asked casually.

"I'd rather not talk about it," she replied smoothly.

"You're upset."

"And you're very observant," she answered in a biting tone.

His defenses began to rise and he tried to exercise patience, although it was far from his strong suit. He gritted his teeth for a moment, shoved his temper down deep, and spoke slowly to keep the irritation from his voice. "You're sitting here sulking. You might feel better if you talked about it."

She placed the kaffe aside and her arms crossed at her chest. "Oh, because you're so chatty about your feelings," she answered in a clipped tone.

That was it. He'd tried. With a grunt of disgust, he rose to leave. When he was half a meter from the door, she spoke again, her tone soft and conciliatory.

"They want no part of us."

For a flash, he wondered who 'us' was, realized she meant the Rebels, and grudgingly let it lie. He turned back to her, hands on his hips.

"The refugees?"

She nodded, eyes large and sadder than he had ever seen them.

"Well," he countered slowly, ambling back in her direction. "Not everyone's cut out for a rebellion." His tone was ironic and he raised one eyebrow.

She didn't miss his meaning. A sour look shot in his direction before it melted back to dismay. "It wasn't that," she said quietly, staring down at her own worried fingers.

"Well, what was it?"

"They despise the Rebellion," she said petulantly. "And me," she added with less acidity.

His jaw went a bit slack. He recovered quickly. "Why?"

She met his surprised gaze with a bitter smile. "If the House Organa had not gotten involved, Alderaan would be alive today."

Han sputtered a moment. "They can't possibly blame you for that!"

"Oh, they do." Her lips twisted and she shook her head. There was almost a sheen of tears over her eyes but he couldn't be sure if it were a trick of the light.

He stepped closer to where she sat and pointed down at her, tone sharp. "Listen, you did everything you had to do. Everything to make things right. It's not your fault that Vader's a sick bastard. If they don't want to join the Rebellion then you don't need them."

Her head jumped sharply to meet his gaze. "I didn't ask them to join the Rebellion. I asked if we might provide them aid, a new location in which to start over." She paused meaningfully. "But, they don't want it. Not from us."

He sat down on the bunk next to her. "Then they're stupid." He watched her carefully, took in the virulent look in her eyes.

"They're not stupid," she muttered.

"What do you mean? Of course they are."

She shook her head slowly. "No. They didn't say anything I haven't thought to myself."

Han blinked a few times, uncertain he had heard her correctly. "What?" he asked incredulously.

Her chin rose defiantly, as if daring him to argue. "Has it ever occurred to you how much blood I have on my hands?"

Shocked at the turn this conversation had taken, he could only gape.

"An entire planet," she whispered harshly. "Billions of lives. Vanquished in an instant because of me. Because I was captured."

It had never crossed Han's mind that she might feel this way. She was always so steady, so cool and in control. The only time she showed actual emotion was when she was angry with him.

"You can't blame yourself. You had the best intentions. No one could have done any better." He didn't realize how vehement he sounded until after he had finished.

Her brow rose in surprise at his encouraging words. When it lowered she just looked sad. "Not a day goes by that I don't think of what I might have done differently. How just a change of a few minutes might have saved Alderaan." Her eyes fell to her lap. "I try so hard not to think about it. I know it does nothing, that I can't alter the past. But, the desire is so strong. And sometimes it twists me up inside until I almost don't know myself."

A sudden hollowness filled his chest. He didn't think he had ever had such a visceral reaction. With not a clue of what to say, he reached forward and took her hand in his. To his surprise, she gripped it fiercely, eyes still lowered as if she were afraid to further acknowledge the gesture.

"I never cried," she whispered in a tortured voice.

Han was confused. "Never?"

"Over Alderaan. I never cried for Alderaan." Her brow was taut just over eyes that held every heartache in the galaxy. Tears brimmed at her lids but stubbornly remained, refusing to spill.

He didn't know what to do. Words of comfort were a puzzle for others to put together. Feeling awkward and surprisingly vulnerable himself, he reached his free arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his arms, her head resting against his chest beneath his chin. She fell into his embrace and he could almost feel her internal struggle to remain composed. She sniffed delicately and the ache in Han's chest continued to grow. After a moment he could tell that she was crying in earnest, small whimpers emanating from beneath his chin.

He tightened his arms around her, finding that her pain hurt him too. He wanted to hold her together with the strength of his arms, wished so very much that he could instill her with his own fortitude.

Never before had he felt such a longing to take away someone's pain. It made him feel weak and powerless. Each quiet sob twisted his heart in his chest. It was overwhelming.

Through it all, he held her more tightly, rubbing a hand down her back, silent and disconcerted. Time seemed to stop for her pain, prolonging it, etching it into his soul.

An endless time later, her soft sounds of grief petered out and both stayed still, Leia lying comfortably in his arms. Somehow, he had ended up lying back against the bulkhead in a semi-reclining position, her nestled into his chest. He didn't know what to say or do; the dynamic between them had shifted. So, he said nothing, only continued to cradle her in his embrace.

It should have felt awkward, he mused. He was surprised to find that this physical contact, which for once did not involve sex, filled him with a satisfying contentedness. Holding Leia in his arms, comforting her the only way he knew how, felt like it was where they both should have been all along.

Her breathing had slowed and become even, and Han realized she had fallen asleep. He shifted to a more comfortable position beneath her, careful not to wake her. He was flooded with a deep tenderness and lowered his lips instinctively to kiss her gently on the crown of her head.

Gods, what was he doing? Was he falling in love with her? He had never really thought about love before, but right now it seemed as if he were giving his heart away, carelessly thrusting it into her hands. Surely, that must be what love felt like.

He didn't want these feelings, yet at the same time, wanted nothing more than to clutch them fiercely within his limbs, to cherish those emotions and never let them go. To tumble into them, head-first, and surround himself in them.

What did she feel? How could he possibly find out without revealing his own feelings? He swallowed at the thought. He couldn't leave himself open to such rejection. The thought horrified him.

Feeling tortured, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift on the pleasant sensation of drowning in the moment.