Han staggered a bit as the walls of the Falcon seemed to shift around them on their way to his cabin, but Leia's firm grip on his waist kept them upright. While adrenaline had kept him steady enough to survive the short fight over the sarlacc pit, the tremors that had originally wracked his body in the first few hours out of carbonite seemed to be returning with a vengeance. Hibernation sickness was no picnic. At least he hadn't backslid completely. His eyesight was better than it had been, although nowhere near his normal vision – still, anything had to be better than the terrifying, inky blackness he had woken up to. "Pilot" was more than just a job title for Han, and if he couldn't see….

And then there was Leia.

Leia hadn't spoken much on the ride to the Falcon, and only briefly to Luke before he left them. Han glanced down at her face to see if he could read her expression as she led him into the cabin, but all he could've bet on was the fact that she still had hair, and her protective goggles were pushed onto her forehead. Probably. He ached to be able to see her face, with a fierceness that surprised him, but if he could only feel her, touch her, for the rest of his life, gods…. The weight of her small frame pushed against his side to keep him on his feet anchored him, forced him to believe he wasn't dreaming, wasn't still trapped in the hellish limbo of hibernation. And, though he'd never admit it, Leia's touch was the only thing, the only comfort, standing between him and a complete breakdown. Han had too much nervous energy and not enough mental, emotional control to keep it from pushing him over the edge on without her help.

They finally made it to his bunk – their bunk – and Han stretched out a hand to feel for the edge of it as he gratefully sank down onto its sturdy, familiar surface with a groan. His eyes closed in relief for only a moment before shooting open in immediate panic as he felt Leia move away from him.

"Leia!" Damn, he had never sounded so desperate. Pull yourself together, Solo! But he couldn't stop his hands from reaching out to for her. She grabbed them in her own and quickly stepped back to him, between his legs, halting any instinct to stand.

"Shhh, shh, it's okay. It's okay, Han, I'm here." Her hands moved to his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks, running soothingly through his hair, pulling him close. Han buried his face in her neck, still covered in the cloak, encircling her waist with his arms, calming himself. She held him, one arm around his shoulders and the other clasping the back of his head in a firm grip, tightly enough to remind Han that she might need him as much as he needed her.

After a few seconds, Han realized that he needed the reassurance, but Leia was clinging to him, and the muscles in her arms and back were rigid with the effort it was taking her to hold them both together. He started at the revelation, but just as quickly Leia pulled away and kissed him tenderly on the forehead before moving towards the fresher.

"Lie back and relax, if you can. I'm going to get you something to drink. It's important we keep you hydrated – it will help flush the toxins out of your system faster." Leia's steady voice was dampened because of the distance, but it didn't betray any of the tension Han had felt in her body. "I'm sorry we can't do more to help your eyesight. It will just have to return on its own." She was back, holding what he assumed was a glass of water, about to hand it to him. "The whole topic of hibernation sickness is fairly…vague."

Han scoffed. "You mean I'm supposed to be dead."

He reached for the glass, but Leia pulled back suddenly.

"Han, don't. Please."

A heavy weight settled on his chest – he should've known better than to make a joke about his death with Leia. Not after all she'd lost.

"Yeah…I'm sorry…." And he was.

Leia leaned towards him again, and Han felt her grasp his right hand and cup it around the glass. He brought his left hand up to hold it as well, not wanting to drop it, gritting his teeth at the trembling in his hands.

Once he had a firm grip, Leia took a step back. He could picture her look of concern, the way her eyebrows drew together and her round, coffee colored eyes went soft. Han still couldn't say for sure if she actually looked concerned, but it was a safe bet. Bringing the glass to his lips, he successfully proved himself capable.

"I'll get you more when you've finished that."

Han grunted his agreement in between swallows of the coolest, wettest water he could ever remember drinking. He could hear her open the locker and assumed she was getting a change of clothes for him. Maybe herself, too – he wasn't sure how long he'd been gone, but if they'd gotten to Tatooine on the Falcon then she was sure to have her own clothes stored on board.

Glancing up, he almost choked on his water – what he guessed was a brown cloak dropped from Leia's shoulders to the floor, and he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Or what he thought he was seeing. Where before had stood a rather shapeless, brown blob, there now stood a thin, too thin, pale form of a woman, with barely more than scraps of metal and cloth to preserve her dignity. With vision still only marginally better than it had been ten minutes ago, understanding quickly dawned. He'd been around Jabba's too often.

He worked his jaw and set the glass beside him on the bunk, not caring when it tipped over and the remaining liquid soaked into the blanket and the thigh of his pants. Leia's back was to him, and he stood silently, clenching his fists convulsively, trying to get a grip on his surging emotions. Despair, fear, guilt. Anger. He knew what kind of operation Jabba ran, damn him, and if Leia—

He couldn't bear to even think it.

Leia finished rummaging around in the locker and turned back toward him.

"Han!" The clothes fell out of her grasp. "You startled me. What – what's wrong?"

Han dimly noticed the uncertainty, near panic, in her voice over the blood roaring in his ears. Too late, he realized a look of rage had twisted his face, and he breathed deeply through his nostrils to gain some control.

"Leia." His voice sounded strangled, even to his own ears.

He tried again.

"What happened at Jabba's, Leia?"

Han felt the tension in the room skyrocket, and he could practically see the blast doors sliding into place behind Leia's eyes, closing off the parts of her he'd worked so hard to reach.

"Nothing, Han, I'm fine. It's alright." She bent over to pick up the pile of clothes she'd dropped, holding them in front of her like a shield.

Han cringed at her defensiveness, in her voice, in her posture. She hadn't felt the need to cover herself in front of him in…well, since about halfway through their flight to Bespin, however long ago that had been. Kriff.

"Leia…." He slowly took a step forward and reached for her, giving her time to move away. When she held her ground, Han slid one warm, surprisingly steady hand around her bare waist and the other moved from her shoulder to—

He froze, then fingered the metal collar around her neck, only breaking out of his daze and jerking away in horror at Leia's sharp intake of breath – her neck must've been rubbed raw, he'd hurt her.

Leia quickly stepped to him, cupping his face in her hands, the clothes falling to the floor again.

"Han, listen to me." He tried to focus, but his anger was back and rising quickly. "I am fine."

Han broke free and stumbled back, running into the bunk. "Like hell you are! You've got a collar around your neck, Leia!"

"You know, Han, I'd figured that one out already!"

Han jabbed a finger in her direction. "Don't you get smart with me, Princess. I've been dealin' with scum like Jabba longer than you've been orderin' people around, and I know what goes on in his hole of a palace."

"I think I have a pretty good idea myself, Flyboy. Call it firsthand experience!"

Han chose to ignore her last comment and the hands firmly planted on her hips, usually a warning sign. He pushed her further.

"And besides that, what the hell were you thinking coming after me like that without backup?"

"Without—" Leia faltered, she crossed her arms, hugging herself, "without backup?" Han heard the uncharacteristic, dangerously brittle tone of her voice and immediately wished he could take back the accusations, start the conversation over again.

"Lando was there. Luke was on his way. I had Chewie with me." She wasn't defending her actions – she didn't need to – she was just stating the facts, her voice too quiet. He hadn't meant to hurt her. He never did. He was mad at himself – at his inability to protect her when it counted – not her. "The Alliance wasn't going to help, Han. And Chewie and I, well…. We had plenty of time to learn how to work as a team while you – while you were…" she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence but sticking her chin up in the air defiantly nevertheless.

"Aw, hell, Leia…." Han gently pulled Leia into his chest and just held her, not knowing how to apologize – for yelling at her, for getting her mixed up with Jabba and his bounty, for not being there to fight alongside her. It wasn't until she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his chest that he realized she was crying, silent tears wetting his shirt. He held on tighter. "I just…."

"I know."

They stood that way for a minute more until Leia pulled back, kissing him softly on the lips.

"Do you think you can get showered and changed by yourself?" A legitimate concern.

"Yeah. I should be fine." His thumbs rubbed slow, deliberate circles on her shoulders, consciously keeping himself from reaching for the collar again. "Can I help you get this piece of junk off first, though?"

To Han's surprise, Leia actually laughed out loud and stepped away from him, backing towards the door and wrapping her cloak around her once more.

"I think I'll get Chewie to help me, Hotshot. Your hands still haven't stopped shaking, and I like my head where it is, thank you."

Han could've sworn she threw a wink over her shoulder as she left him standing there with his mouth hanging open.

The door had already clicked shut by the time he yelled after her, "You're not that funny, Princess!"

A/N: I hope I've done Han and Leia justice! This is my first Star Wars fic, so any constructive criticism on characterization, vocab, etc. would be appreciated! :)

A/N 2: I'm an artist (as in, that's who I am and it's also my day job), and I'm currently working on a series of portraits of women in the arts who have impacted my life. One of the women I'm featuring is Carrie Fisher! I'm using the portraits/the process to tell stories about my life AND stories from other people these women have impacted as well. SO, if you want more info on the project (I wrote a blog post explaining it in more detail) and/or you would like to share a story of how Carrie Fisher (or her portrayal of Leia Organa) has impacted your life, just let me know! :)