Luke's Girl

By Yatzee

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Part 5

She collapsed next to him; despite her own pain and fear, she cradled his head in her arms, comforting him. “Why are they doing this?” Leia whispered.

“They never even asked me any questions,” Han groaned. If Vader didn’t want to know where the Rebels were, or their plans, why put them through such torment? He remembered the grid he’d been strapped on—the grotesque display of twisted metal, the shrieking agony that had jolted through his entire body.

Han tried to silence the pain of his aching limbs, tried to feel only the touch of Leia’s fingertips on his forehead.

Their cell doors slid open; Lando stepped in, looking almost as ashamed as he deserved to. Han felt his strength rush back into his limbs, along with a crushing rage. “Get out of here, Lando!”

“Shut up a minute and listen,” Lando said sharply. His voice was edged with bitterness, maybe even guilt. “I’m doing what I can to make this easier for you.”

“This oughta be good,” Han sneered.

“Vader has agreed to turn Leia and Chewie over to me,” Lando continued. “They’ll have to stay here, but at least they’ll be safe.”

Leia safe. Han knew the Empire too well to trust Vader’s words—but he wanted to believe it, wanted it desperately. He could bear it if only Leia were safe—

Leia protested, “What about Han?”

Lando looked long and hard at the man he’d once called his friend. “I didn’t know you had a price on your head. Vader’s given you to the bounty hunter.”

Given to Boba Fett. That meant he’d be within Jabba the Hutt’s clutches all too soon.

So this was it. The end.

Unless he could still, somehow, get through to Lando. In the old days, he’d known Lando, flashy and slick as he was, to be a good man at the core; he couldn’t have changed so much in just a few years. Could he? “You don’t know much if you think Vader won’t want us all dead before this is over.”

“He doesn’t want you at all,” Lando said, “He’s after someone named Skywalker.”

Han and Leia gasped in unison. “Luke? I don’t get it,” he said, bewildered. What on earth could the Emperor’s right hand man want with a kid from Tatooine?

“Lord Vader has set a trap for him, “ Lando explained.

“And we’re the bait,” Leia finished, her voice grave.

“Luke’s coming here?” Han said. Oh, gods. Not Luke too. At least let Luke get out of this mess alive!

When Lando just nodded, Han hit the boiling point. His life, Chewie’s life, Leia’s, and now Luke’s, everything Han held dear—everything he loved—was being destroyed. All in a day. “You fixed us all pretty good,” Han had to pause before spitting out the last word: “friend!”

With that, he launched himself at Lando, getting off one powerful punch to his jaw before being shoved back cruelly by the guards. The impact of their laser rifles crumpled him over with pain. Chewbacca snarled and started for the guards; they would surely have killed him, had Lando not cried, “Don’t shoot!”

He turned back to Han, his expression unreadable. Lando was breathing hard with pain and emotion as he said, “I’ve done what I can for you. I’m sorry it’s not better, but I have my own problems.” On the whole, he sounded more as if he were trying to convince himself, rather than Han.
“Yeah,” Han growled, “you’re a real hero.”

Lando walked out without another word. Han let himself slump onto the tiny bench. As he did, Leia dabbed at his bleeding chin, and laughed softly as he grimaced. “You certainly have a way with people.”

Han almost smiled at that. “It’s the famous Solo charm.”

“Famous for what, I wouldn’t want to guess,” she said.

“Hey, it worked on you, didn’t it?” Han met her eyes for the first time, and was surprised to see tears well up in her eyes. She didn’t cry—gods, the woman never cried—but he wouldn’t have blamed her. He felt like it himself.

“Han—I—” she hesitated, glancing over at Chewbacca. Obviously the lack of privacy was bothering her; Chewie, not normally the most adept at social subtleties, caught on immediately and began studying C3PO’s workings with renewed interest.

“What do you want to say, Princess?” he whispered, using the title, for once, with all respect.

“Last night—I should have gone to bed with you,” she confessed quietly. “I wanted to, you know I wanted to—”

“Shhh,” he soothed her, pushing himself up from the bench to stroke her hair. “It’s all right.”

“But it isn’t. I thought I’d take the time to be sure of myself—”

“Then you did the right thing. I told you that last night.” It had killed him to say it, to walk away from her bedroom door with the taste of her lips, and the softness of her body, still so close and so real. He’d laid awake half the night, twisting up his sheets, unable to stop dreaming of her. Could that only have been a few hours ago?

“How can you say that, here and now? Damn it, I thought we’d have other chances. After three years of war, you’d think I’d know that you have to take the few chances you get. I should’ve seized the moment.” Leia hung her head, regretful and shamefaced.

Han couldn’t answer her seriously—he was in desperate danger of agreeing with her, which was the last thing she needed. So instead, he smiled. “I can think of some other things you should’ve seized.”

She spun about to look up at him, amazed and angry—until she burst into laughter. “Do you ever stop?”

“Nope, never.” He couldn’t help grinning at the sight of her smile. They probably didn’t have many happy moments left; he wanted to savor each one. “That’s what I like about you—you don’t let me take myself so seriously,” Leia said, ruffling his hair. “Promise me you’ll never stop making inappropriate jokes.”

“I promise,” Han said, wondering if he’d ever have another opportunity

“Tell me more things you like about me.”

Leia looked up at him, willingly joining him in cheerful denial of their fate. “Hmmm—it’s sort of a short list—”

“That’s good. We haven’t got a whole lot of time here.”

She laughed once more, caught up in his gallows humor. “Well, I like this,” Leia said, stroking one finger along the scar on his chin. “It just begs to be kissed.”

“The best thing about me is my scar?”

“No,” she whispered, suddenly serious again. “Do you want to know the best thing about you? The thing that made me want you?”

Han took her hand in his. “This I definitely have to hear.”

“Just over two years ago, at my Name Day party, when we were dancing—you remember?

“Couldn’t forget it.” That party seemed to have taken place centuries in the past.

“You told me that I shouldn’t think of other people’s needs on my Name Day. You told me that I should come first.” Leia smiled unevenly. “Do you know—in all my life, you’re the only person who’s ever said that to me? There’s always been duty: to Alderaan, to the Rebellion, to royal protocol—always something. You’re the only person who thought that part of my life should be for me, and me alone. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear that.”

Han embraced her tightly, feeling her panic-rushed heartbeat against his own. “Somebody should have told you sooner.”

“Nobody did,” she whispered. “Only you.”

Suddenly, Han realized that Leia was no longer wearing the cocoa dress she’d had on earlier; she was in a dusty white coverall instead. He felt a pang of guilt and fear; why had he been so caught up in his own agonies? How could he have failed to notice? “Leia, why are you wearing this? What did they do to you?”

Leia stiffened within his arms, then pushed herself away slightly. She was silent for a long moment.

Oh, gods, no. “Leia—”

“It’s not what you think,” she blurted out. “They didn’t rape me. They wanted to hurt me, but more than that,” Leia swallowed hard before continuing. “they wanted to humiliate me. I guess that was enough for them.”

Han felt rage sweeping through him again, impotent, useless rage. “I should never have brought us here.”

“You did what you could. If you hadn’t, I would’ve died on Hoth. Maybe I’m going to die now anyway, and the difference can only be measured in days—but they were the days I spent with you.” Leia looked at him again, so tenderly that he felt his own self-control waver.

He took her by the shoulders and shook her ever so slightly. “Listen, Princess, don’t let me catch you talking like that. Luke’s coming here, right? He might not make it in time for me—but he’ll find you here. He’ll outsmart Vader, get you off this rock. He might be on his way right now!”

“He is,” she said quietly. “I can feel it.”

Han paused, silenced by the depth of emotion in her voice. Leia’s gaze was distant, fixed on something—someone—far away. On Luke.

It caught him off guard, although it shouldn’t have; why should he assume, just because Leia cared for him, that she’d stopped caring for Luke? Han knew, all too well, the potential for being in love with two people at the same time.

For a moment, he felt painfully jealous of Luke—a jealousy he had no right to feel, he reminded himself. Luke fell for her first. He’d come in later. Han no longer felt guilty about that; what was happening between him and the Princess was too powerful to deny. But the strength of what he felt for her didn’t erase Luke’s place in her life.

He was going to die—Han knew that, accepted it. He’d heard stories of how Jabba dispatched those who displeased him; he was well aware that his death was going to be long and excruciating, and utterly inescapable. His own fate didn’t bear thinking about. But Leia—

She won’t be alone, he told himself in an attempt at comfort. Luke and Leia will have each other. They’ll get out of this mess; that’s something, at least. They’ll go on together.

The thought of her with someone else, even his best friend, stung him to the core. But at least he could picture Leia—and Luke—happy, safe, and loved.

“Luke’s going to rescue you,” he whispered, pulling her back into the warmth of his embrace. “He’s going to get you out of this. You’ll see.”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” Leia said, her voice colored with doubt, though not quite the kind of doubt he’d been expecting. “I think he’s in greater danger than we are.”

Han somehow forced himself to smile. “I’m afraid I can’t agree, Your Worship. If he ain’t in a prison cell with a Wookie who hasn’t bathed in two weeks, Luke’s doing a hell of a lot better than you and me.” She chuckled softly, looking up at him again with a smile on her face. Chewie was unable to resist speaking up, and growled at his friend in mock anger.

Only someone who understood Wookies as well as Han could’ve read Chewbacca’s distress. He looked at his friend, recalling all the sacrifices Chewie had made on his behalf. You know, he thought, I haven’t done that bad. If I have friends like these, and won a woman like Leia—I must’ve been worth something after all.

“What did he say?” Leia asked, her voice tremulous.

“He reminded me that I’ve smelled prettier myself.”

And once again—maybe for the last time—he was rewarded with the sound of her laughter.