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It was only right that Han’s rescue would go awry. It was the lot the universe gave them. The way of the Force if Luke were around to call it that. Of course, Leia had backups in place for their plans to go off the rails, but she didn’t ever picture it would all happen the way it did. She could handle being locked away or her life being threatened, but for it all to happen in that godsforsaken outfit in front of the people most important to her. The thought made her sick when it came to her, but she was glad Han was functionally blind for all of it. If only because it meant she could rid herself of the evidence before he could commit it to memory.
The outfit was discarded easily enough, quickly swapped for the clothes she’d left on the ship, save for the shirt she had swapped for one of Han’s to avoid aggravating the sunburn over her shoulders and back. It would have been a greater comfort if that damned collar hadn’t still been stuck around her neck. Thankfully, Chewbacca had managed to break the chain, but she had to stop him from trying to break the collar for fear he’d snap her neck in the process. She knew he meant well by trying to help, but a finer tool would do them more good than brute force. She would just have to rummage through some of Han’s tools to find some other way.
It would have been easier to sneak into his room if he were actually following her advice and resting, but that wasn’t what the stars had written for her. As her luck would have it, he of course popped upright when the door swished open.
“Who’s that?” Han already had a hand on the nearest shelf, poised to make any bit of the clutter into a weapon.
“It’s me.” She closed the short distance to touch his hand to assure him of her presence.
“Leia,” he breathed out her name like a sigh of relief, falling back against the wall as he recovered from the sudden scare.
“You’re meant to be sleeping.” Leia stepped away from his side to look through his shelves for anything that might prove useful. She tugged the shirt up to her ears, hoping it might block his view from her current issue. If he had noticed, he didn’t say.
“I might have been. I thought I was in the cockpit.” She watched him rub his eyes and blink slowly as he scanned the room. His sight must have been fuzzy still. “Could definitely see a lot better in there.” He made an attempt to get out of bed, swaying on his feet as he did, and Leia had swiftly abandoned her search to steady him.
“And this is why you should be resting. The medics will already be looking at your carbonite sickness. Do you really want a concussion to make it worse?”
“I’m fine, Lei. I got us back here, didn’t I?” He tried to flash her one of his signature lopsided grins, but it didn’t come off quite right when his gaze was directed at the shelf behind her.
“You’re sick, Han.” She didn’t want to push him if he wasn’t steady enough on his feet, but she did try herding him closer to the bedside.
Han stayed firmly where he stood, though it was in large part due to his grip on Leia’s upper arms. “I’m not helpless.” The defense came out almost like a whine after it was clear his charm hadn’t worked. “I’m just a little cold - and hot. Sandy,” he paused as the descriptions seemed to do him a disservice. “My sight’s coming back, honest. It’s just a little fuzzy on the edges.” He must have heard Leia’s sigh because he quickly added, “Or all over.” Admitting defeat. “You don't need to keep me locked in here. This is my ship. I know my way around better than anyone.” As if to punctuate his statement, he’d taken a step closer to her, only to hiss as his foot caught a stray box of parts.
“Will you sit, at least? I’ll stay with you for a moment. I just came in for something first.” She moved him back to the bed, and this time he didn’t resist. She blew out a sigh as she looked over the room. Despite all the time she’d spent in it while planning this mission, she hadn’t dared to go through his things. Even if it was largely hers for the last year, it was still Han’s room, and moving his things without him around felt like removing his signature on the space. In that time, she needed as much of him around as she could get.
It was perhaps her loneliest time since losing Alderaan. Even at the time, she had Han squeezing his way into her life, pestering her, distracting her, wooing her. He’d squeezed his way so deep into heart that losing him was comparable only to losing her home. She had moved the stars to find her way back to him, calling in every favor she was ever owed, recruiting every friend she had. She even murdered that slug. Yet still, she was trying to shield him from the worst of what she had to endure. She thumbed the hinge of the collar while her eyes scanned his shelves for any ideas.
She must have been at it a while because she’d gone quiet enough for Han to pipe up with concern. “Leia?” She hadn’t answered soon enough before he was on his feet again. “Lei? Sweetheart, I can’t do the quiet like this.” By the time she’d heard him stumbling, his hands had already landed on her shoulders. She turned to face him, attempting to remove the hands before they crept any farther upward, but she wouldn’t be that lucky.
Han’s hands had brushed the heavy metal, trailing the border until he was sure it went all the way around, finally discerning what it really was. Despite his protests against the quiet, he completed his survey in silence, a twist of anger stirring behind his features.
“I was looking for your hasp cutters. Chewie couldn’t get the hinge opened. I didn’t want him to break something worse.” Leia finally admitted in a voice much smaller than she was used to.
Han didn’t give any other hint about his emotions, just feeling around the underside of the collar. “No, you’d slice your neck open if you cut it.” His fingers finally paused as he held the metal in place. “There’s a… a nano driver on that side- second shelf. It’s small, got heat tubing on the handle.”
Leia took the direction, finding a hand tool on one of the shelves that she wasn’t entirely sure was correct, but Han accepted it when she’d pressed it into his palm. She couldn’t bear to say a word about the contraption. She supposed she could have asked how he knew what to do with the collar without seeing it, but he hadn’t asked her about it, so neither did she. She had just tilted her head out of his way while he tinkered with the thing. A small click broke the silence until he had opened the hinges, letting it fall to the floor with a heavy clunk.
“You’re sure he’s dead?”
Leia’s hands reached up to touch her bare neck, rubbing on the skin that was sore from carrying that damned piece. “I’m certain.” She paused, taking his hand in hers. “Thank you.”
She should have known Han wouldn’t be satisfied with just the little contact. He dropped her hand, opting instead to pull her into a tight embrace.”I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair, his lips just grazing her scalp.
“Han, you didn’t do this.” Leia settled into the embrace, wrapping her arms around him in return. “It was my fault Vader took you. I brought you into my world.”
Han’s tone was still unreadable, somewhere between guilty and angry with a touch of concern, all held behind a flat mask. “Jabba was my mess. I was supposed to fix it before it touched you.”
Leia shook her head and pulled back so she could look at him, wishing now that he could see her properly. “We can toss blame all night. It all happened, but we’re here now.” She reached up to place a hand on his jaw. “He’s gone, and I have you back. That’s all I need. Let us have this while we can. We can face the war when you can read a battle plan again.” That seemed to ease the both of them as Han let a light chuckle escape. They stood like that a moment, just taking in being together, one less chain weighing on either of them, until Han started to sway unbalanced again.
“Maybe you should sit back down,” Leia offered, keeping her grip on his arms for support.
They both fell silent again as Han slipped from her grip. This time it was to move his hands to the sides of her face. His fingers slipped into her hair, loose from the hasty braid she’d tied it into earlier. His thumbs trailed down the lines of her profile, while his gaze stayed on her, intense but unfocused, like he was still trying to see her through the cloudiness. She’d missed the feeling of his touch, so gentle on her despite the hard callouses covering his palms.
“Han, I’m not going to slip through your fingers.” She whispered, hesitant to disrupt the gentle moment between them, but in spite of her words, her fingers closed around his forearm, just to feel his pulse humming beneath the skin. It at least didn’t discourage him, as his touch still ghosted over her cheeks. “Han,” she added more insistently after he hadn't answered, “You’re staring right through me.”
She could see the fight he was having behind his eyes, and she was about to speak up to try to pull him out of it until he finally broke his silence. His voice was questioning, almost timid as he spoke. “Don’t go.”
Her shoulders softened on her next exhale, as the breath she was holding finally left her, pushing away the anxieties she hadn’t felt building. “Oh, love…” She reached her free hand up to flatten her palm over his heart, another quiet reassurance that he was alive and with her. “If I go beside you, will you lie down? I can’t tell if you’re holding me for the endearment or for your balance.”
That joke at least earned Leia a laugh from him as Han finally dared to pull his eyes off her. “Might be both,” he mumbled. “Trying to keep my eyes open is starting to give me a headache.”
“Come on then,” she led them to his bed, all but forcing him to sit down. She started to move to the empty side of the bed, the both of their hands falling off each other until Han’s caught Leia’s before she could manage a step. “I’m just going to the other side,” but Han pulled her hand back anyway.
“I don’t want you on the other side.” And with another tug, Han had yanked them both onto the mattress, entirely on top of each other. He didn’t make a complaint or any motion to separate them, so Leia didn’t either. He had her pulled against his chest like she’d be enough to keep him warm, but still, she used her limited range of motion to tug a blanket over him.
This was the moment that Leia wished she could bottle as the justification of everything she fought for. This was why she needed Han back, not being held in his bed, but being needed and understood, not as a general or a princess or even a rescuer, just as someone who loved him. To be loved by Han Solo was to be enveloped in strong arms, surrounded by a mess they couldn’t control and could hardly understand, but in spite of it, they found a way to pull themselves back together. It might have been her favorite title she held, if it only meant her duties were being loved like this.
It was almost like he’d heard the monologue Leia was reciting in her head while Han’s arms tightened around her middle, his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”
Leia could feel the warm hum of those words in his chest, and it was all the assurance she needed. Lying there at a moment when he allowed himself to be so vulnerable and sought only her for comfort, and still, he made sure that she’d felt safe and comforted. It was then she really understood why he’d said what he did and why it was so much more comforting than repeating the sentiment. She relaxed against him with a contented sigh, settling in for the night beside him.
“I know.”