holdouttrout

Whew! Third post tonight...and that's just the fandom journal!

But I promised this would go up, so here it is:

Title: Bespin Redux
Fandom: Star Wars
Pairing: Han/Leia
Category: AU, written for the February challenge at HSP
Rating: Tame

*_*_*_*_*_*

Han looked decidedly queasy as he scanned the list of nearby systems. This, apparently, was not a good section of the galaxy in which to be stranded with no hyperdrive.

As the fourth system came up on the list, his frown got that much deeper, and he swore under his breath. Chewie, who had been reading over Han’s shoulder, growled a query.

Han looked up, and Leia was surprised to see a moment of uncertainty pass across his face before it was replaced by his usual arrogance.

Han tilted back in the pilot’s chair, putting his hands behind his head. “Bespin. There’s some sort of mining operation a friend of mine’s running.”

Chewie growled his doubt.

Han glared. “Yeah, well, I’m sure Calrissian’s forgotten about that.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Leia said caustically.

“Relax, sweetheart. Calrissian and I go way back. You’ll see—we’ll have the Falcon fixed in no time, and I’ll get you back to your precious Rebellion before they even miss you.”

Considering the trip would take at least two weeks, plus however long to fix the ship and fly to the rendezvous, Leia knew that the smirk on Han’s face was pure bravado. Still, she let it pass. It wasn’t like she had any contacts out here, and if there was one thing she knew about Han Solo’s contacts, it was that they were generally willing to overlook a lot of past trouble with him.

Gods only knew why.

*_*_*_*_*

She had a better idea why once she met Calrissian.

They’d been escorted down to the main mining platform—a city in itself, which Leia had to admit was beautiful, situated among the multi-hued clouds of the gas giant. There’d been a tense moment when they figured Calrissian hadn’t gotten over whatever had happened after all. The landing platform doors had opened, revealing eight guards and a tall figure in a cape.

As the group came closer, Leia saw the figure was actually a very tall, dark-skinned woman. Her mouth was set in a thin line, and she walked straight up to Han, who was waiting with a very nervous look on his face.

“Why you selfish, son of an arrogant—“ she growled at him, and made as if to punch him. Han actually flinched, but a smile broke out on the dark woman’s face, and she embraced him instead. As she did, the guards turned on a signal from their leader, and they headed back toward the city.

Stunned, Han was stiff as a board. Leia looked at Chewie, who lifted his big shoulders in an approximation of a shrug. Leia rolled her eyes.

Calrissian pulled back, just as Han was getting accustomed to this newest development. “It’s good to see you, Han. What brings you all the way out here?”

Han’s cocky grin slid back on his face. “Just some trouble with the hyperdrive.”

Calrissian glared at him, her eyes flashing. “You been damaging my ship?”

Han’s eyes widened innocently. “Your ship? Hey, I won her from you, fair and square.”

“And then stole her in the middle of the night.”

That sounded like Han, all right. His eyes darted to Leia, then back again.

“Yeah, well, I had business to take care of.” He turned back toward Leia and Chewbacca. “Linea, I’d like you to meet a fried of mine. This is Leia.”

Linea’s dark eyes were dark and cool. “A friend of Han’s is always welcome.” She extended a hand, and Leia took it reluctantly. Linea and Leia measured each other up a moment; then Linea dropped Leia’s hand and turned toward Chewie.

“You still hanging out with this scoundrel?”

Chewie growled something noncommittal, and Leia almost smiled at the implied nonchalance toward Han.

“My mechanics should be able to have the Falcon up and running in no time,” she said smoothly. “Until then, I’ll provide you with some rooms.” She gave Han an indiscernible look. “Much better than that time we spent on H’herou.”

Han flushed, and Leia gave him a look somewhere between a glare and a half-exasperated roll of her eyes.

Threepio picked that moment to remark on how cool and drafty it was and how he hoped that the climate controls inside were functioning properly. Linea finally looked at the droid behind the main group. When she looked back at Han, Leia saw a flicker of something—Regret? Guilt?—pass over her face.

Then the moment passed, and she was motioning them toward the city. Leia shot Han a look behind her back, and Han lifted his shoulders, just a little. He took her hand again, drawing her with him and letting Threepio follow behind.

*_*_*_*_*_*

The next morning, Leia caught up on news while she waited for Han to appear. Surprisingly, Linea had been courteous to the point of providing Leia with a new set of clothes—some long, soft trousers and a belted robe that went over it—and Leia had to admit she felt much better getting out of the gear she’d worn since they left Hoth. Still, something about Linea’s attitude and this place made her nervous. The fact they couldn’t find Threepio didn’t sit well with her, either.

She stood and turned at the sound of a door opening behind her. Han stood in the doorway, wearing a different set of clothes than he had on the Falcon. These were much cleaner. His eyes lingered over her appreciatively.

“Well, now, Highness,” he drawled. “That’s definitely an improvement from all white.”

Leia felt a stab of annoyance, but she had to admit the soft blues were pretty. She decided to ignore the comment—or rather, the way it was said—and asked, “Did you find out anything about Threepio?”

Han shook his head. “No, but Linea’s man told me the Falcon should be ready in an hour or so.”

“Good,” Leia said tersely. “I think we should leave as soon as possible.”

“Anxious to get back?” Han said, his words clipped in barely-controlled irritation.

It was Leia’s turn to shake her head. “I just…don’t like this place.” Han relaxed a bit, settling on the edge of a couch near Leia.

Leia asked, “Do you trust Linea?”

Han laughed. “Not exactly. But she’s been a friend for a long time.”

“More than a friend.”

Han looked at her carefully. “Once. A long time ago. And that’s not why she was mad at me.”

Leia felt a little bit of relief at Han’s words, but stamped it down before she had cause to ask herself why it mattered.

Curiously, she started to ask what reason Linea had for her grudge, but they were interrupted by Chewie barging in, carrying scraps of metal slung over his back in a net. With a jolt, Leia recognized Threepio, chopped into pieces and deactivated.

“What happened?” Han asked, horrified. “Never mind, never mind!” he shouted over Chewie’s emphatic yells. “Can you fix him?”

Chewie growled affirmatively, slung the bag down, and began reassembling the droid. The door opened again almost immediately, revealing Linea, who looked shocked at the state of the droid spread out across the table.

“I wanted to ask you to lunch with me, but if there’s trouble…” she said.

Han took Leia’s arm, acting overly casual. “No, no. Nothing’s wrong. Why would you ask?” He swept out into the corridor, and Linea followed, still with a puzzled and worried look on her face.

The door shut on Chewie, and Linea took the lead.

Leia took the opportunity to ask, “Are you a member of the mining guild?”

Linea shook her head, her dark curls just barely brushing the shoulders of today’s cape, made from a dark red velvet. “No, but we’re small enough we can escape their notice. Although we’ve had some trouble with the Empire recently.”

Han and Leia exchanged a look.

“The Empire?” Han asked, but Linea stopped in front of a double door and palmed it open. Leia turned to move inside, and felt her stomach plummet with fear. Han pulled his blaster and shot at the dark figure, but the bolts seemed to disappear right before they reached him.

Darth Vader.

Han’s blaster went flying toward the dark figure. Next to him, Boba Fett watched the proceedings silently.

Linea said, “I’m sorry. They arrived just before you did.” Leia barely heard her as her vision fuzzed and her ears roared. Then Han grabbed her arm again, and she felt the darkness recede a little.

She took a breath. Han kept her arm, and they stepped in to the room and the waiting figure.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Leia barely remembered anything after that. It wasn’t too much later when she was pushed back into a dark cell, finding Han already there with Chewie, who was still working on piecing Threepio together. She went to him, held him, unsurprised that he looked as bad as she felt.

“They didn’t even ask any questions,” he croaked out, and she shook her head. They hadn’t asked her any, either, and on the whole it had been much less painful than any of her interrogation sessions on the Death Star.

“It’s a trap,” she whispered, uncertain how she knew or how it could be so.

Thankfully, Han didn’t question her. They sat that way, quietly, for a few minutes, until Linea walked in.

Han struggled to his feet, lunged at her. Her guard struck him across the face, and he tumbled backward, falling with a sharp crack on the edge of the metal slab he’d been resting on.

He staggered back up, holding his jaw, blood dripping from between his fingers. “You slimy piece of work. I never thought you’d betray us to the Empire. I think you just killed us.”

Linea lowered her head. “I had no choice.” She looked him in the eye. “They don’t want you, anyway. They want somebody named Luke.”

Leia’s blood ran cold. Han glanced at her, then back to Linea. “Luke Skywalker?”

She nodded. “Vader said you’ll be given to Fett, but the princess can remain here.”

Leia didn’t believe that for a second, but she could tell Linea did.

“I’m sorry, Han,” she pleaded, “It was this or be shut down, and I couldn’t afford—“

Han wasn’t paying any attention to her. He had turned to Leia, picking up her hand. Neither one of them spoke, but Leia read everything she needed to know in the way his mouth barely quirked up at the end. In the background, Chewie turned Threepio on, and the silence was interrupted with the droid’s loud complaining.

Her guard said, “It’s time.”

Linea nodded, motioned for them to follow her. They did, Han and Leia still clutching each other’s hands. They were taken to some sort of processing room, with a large chamber sunken into the floor.

Linea said, “We use this chamber to process Tibanna gas, flash-freezing it for transport.”

There were several technicians around the chamber. Linea gave them book a look. With a shock, Leia realized she was worried and frightened.

Han said, “What are they doing to it?”

Linea refused to meet his eyes. “They're modifying it to place Skywalker in hibernation.”

Vader appeared at the top of the stairs. Han’s hand tightened.

“We’ll test it on Solo.”

Boba Fett protested. “He’s worth more alive.”

Vader brushed away his complaint. “You’ll be compensated if he dies.”

Leia was gripping Han’s hand so tightly he was going numb. Two soldiers came to drag him toward the pit and Chewie roared and threw off his guards, Threepio bouncing against his back.

“Chewie! Stop!” Han commanded. “I need you to take care of Leia, okay?”

Chewie quieted, Threepio grumbling to himself about broken gears and jostled circuits.

Han opened his mouth to say something, but Leia leaned up, and they were kissing, holding onto each other as though they would never get the chance again. There wasn't time to do anything but put their most frantic thoughts into the kiss and Leia grasped Han's arm as tightly as she could.

He was ripped away, placed in the middle of the platform. It was only then Leia realized that somewhere along the way her feelings for Solo had gone from unknowable chaos to an idea so simple and clear she had trouble believing she hadn't seen it before.

“I love you,” she said, hoping it was enough.

“I know,” he replied, and she felt an absurd amount of relief and worry and fear.

One horrible second later, she was flying away from Bespin, Luke in the Falcon's belly, Linea at her back, Chewie by her side, with the knowledge that Han was out there, alive.

Alone.

And she was going to get him back.

*_*_*_*_*_*

In the end, their plan had to wait months. Gradually, they infiltrated the palace. They had so many backup plans Leia was sure they wouldn't need, but of course everything went wrong, and it fell back on Luke to save the day.

She didn't mind, though, looking down at the man resting in the infirmary of Home One, his chin still bandaged, his eyes closed in sleep. She sat by his side, waiting.

He woke up, blinked a few times, and saw her there.

He grinned. “Hey.”

Leia felt tears well up unexpectedly. They'd managed one impossible thing, at least. “Hey,” she replied softly.

They were interrupted by a medical droid who bustled into the room, having been alerted to Han's change in consciousness.

“Captain Solo. It appears that you have exceeded everyone's expectations with your recovery.”

“Does that mean no bacta?” Han exaggerated a shudder. Leia cracked a small smile.

“Your injuries would not be helped by the use of bacta, as there is no remaining tissue damage. However, if you would like us to heal the wound on your chin, we are equipped to do such a procedure. It would leave no scar.”

Han started as Leia suddenly grabbed his arm. She was clenching the fingers in her other hand and her eyes never left his face.

“How long would something like that take?”

“You would have to remain in the infirmary for approximately one hour.”

Han shook his head, still gazing at Leia. “Too long. I need to get going.” He stood up abruptly. “We're done here, right?”

“Actually, Captain,” the droid shuffled after Han as he tugged Leia with him and left the room, “I do need you to fill out some paperwo--”

“I'll come back tomorrow,” Han called out over his shoulder. Leia barely concealed a laugh as they left the bewildered droid standing along in the infirmary, but she forgot about that as Han's fingers tightened around her own.