I was planning a follow-up to The First Time They Met but then this little idea took hold and wouldn't let go. This piece is set just before the events in ESB. I have the fuzzy outline for a second chapter, but my beta-reader suggested this might be a one-shot, so we'll see. (Note: second chapter is up!). Slightly AU.

Star Wars and its related characters were conceived by George Lucas and are now owned by Disney. This is a work of fan-fiction. I don't own any of this.

My thanks to my oldest son for beta-reading. However, we are all new to the rather extensive online Star Wars universe so if you see something that's wrong in canon or could be better explained using the EU, please drop me a line.

Thanks for reading!

"Hey, kid, you all right?"

If Han Solo hadn't seen Luke Skywalker wincing as he walked by just seconds before, the kid's perky "Yeah, I'm fine" might have sufficed. But as he cast a glance at his friend, Han noticed the younger man biting his lip as he forced the grin. Han knew Luke pretty well by now; close quarters on Hoth forced intimacy on strangers and friends alike. Something was definitely wrong with the kid. Han wiped his hands on a rag, left his tools by the Falcon, and crossed the hangar to fall into step beside his friend.

"Where you headed?" Han asked, more because he wanted to keep the conversation going and less because he actually cared about their destination.

Luke had trouble replying. "Mess ... hall," he spat out between breaths. It was only then that Han realized Luke was limping and trying very hard not to show it.

He nabbed the shorter man by the arm and steered him back toward his ship. "No, you're not. The Falcon's right over there. I'll send Chewie over for some food. You need to sit down." He gave Luke an appraising eye as he wrapped an arm around the young man's torso and propelled him toward the entry ramp. "You look like hell."

At close range, it was obvious that Luke wasn't all right. Despite the frigid temperatures inside Echo Base, beads of perspiration dotted his pale forehead and he was breathing heavily. Even so, the young man fought his friend's concern. "I'm fine, Han, really."

"Really?" Han echoed skeptically. He removed all support from Luke's torso, triggered the entry ramp controls for the Falcon, and crossed his arms to regard his friend.

Luke managed one step forward without assistance before staggering, unable to continue bearing weight on his right leg. "Kest!" he yelped, and the older man barely managed to catch him before he fell.

"Right," Han said, shaking his head. "You're perfectly fine." He tightened his grip on Luke's right side and guided him up the ramp.

Once Luke was safely aboard the ship, seated at the Dejarik table with his leg propped up on the lounge sofa cushions, Han stood over him, hands on his hips, and frowned. "What happened?"

"It's nothing," Luke mumbled. He crossed his arms and looked away.

Han squatted next to Luke's injured foot. "Well, if it's nothing, you won't mind me taking a look." Ignoring his friend's frown, Han loosened the fasteners on Luke's right boot. The young man visibly paled and winced. "Anybody look at this yet?" Han asked as he slowly worked the boot off.

Luke shook his head and clenched his jaw. "No," he ground out.

Han shook his head and placed the boot on the floor. Holding Luke's lower leg, he eased the tight fur sock off and studied the extent of purple bruising before gently manipulating his friend's swollen ankle. "You're lucky we didn't wait any longer, Luke. We woulda been cuttin' that sock off." He carefully placed his friend's injured foot back on the cushion and headed for the galley. Luke moaned.

Chewie wandered in to the lounge from the crew quarters as Han returned with a chilled bacta pack. "'Bout time you woke up," he said, irritably. "The kid here's gonna need a lift over to the med lab." Han placed the pack over the largest of Luke's bruises and gently molded it over the injury.

Chewie eyed Luke's foot and wuffed in sympathy.

Luke looked up. "No, I don't," he pleaded. "It looks worse than it is, Han. But I'd love some breakfast, Chewie, if you don't mind getting it for me." He gave the Wookiee a wide-eyed, imploring look.

Chewie glanced from Han to Luke and back again. Then he shrugged, folded his arms, and waited to see which man would win the argument.

"Now, look here, Luke," Han ordered, pointing at Luke's swollen foot, "you've got to get that ankle checked out. Best case, you've got a bad sprain there." He crossed his arms and gave Luke a stern look. "I hate going the med lab as much as the next guy but you could have a broken bone."

"You've got a medisensor on board, right?" Luke pressed. "Just give me a once-over with that." At Han's dubious expression, he added, "If it's anything bad, I'll head over to the med lab after. Please Han? I promise. I think I just bruised it." Luke leaned back into the sofa cushions and shut his eyes.

Han frowned and growled at Chewie. "Get us some breakfast. I'll try to talk some sense into him." After Chewie left, Han stalked toward the portable medical kit in the galley and brought back the scanner.

Luke hadn't moved. Han moved the medisensor in careful arcs over his friend's leg. For good measure, he scanned the rest of the kid too, just to be sure. There was only one injury, a suspected mid-grade sprain of his right ankle.

"You can open your eyes, kid. Nothing's broken."

Luke looked up and gave Han a grateful smile. "That's great! You've got a bacta splint in the medpac, right? Wrap me up and I'll be on my way."

Han hadn't stopped frowning since Chewie left and Luke's latest comment didn't make him any happier. He pointed at the injured man with the medisensor. "Now, look here, junior. If you were injured aboard my ship, I'd do that for ya. But you've got medical staff over there just itching for something to do. And their equipment is one hell of a lot better than mine. You could have a small break in that ankle and we'd never know." His voice softened fractionally. "'Sides, they have the good drugs and you look like you could use something for the pain.'

Luke groaned and sighed. "But I can't go to the med lab," he whined.

"Why not?"

"I'd have to tell them how it happened. Then everyone will know." Luke covered his face with his hands and hung his head.

A ghost of a smile crossed Han's face. "How -did- it happen?" he pressed.

"Itrpovrmltsbr," Luke mumbled.

"What?"

"I tripped over my lightsaber!"

There was near silence aboard the Millennium Falcon as Han absorbed that comment and tried really hard not to laugh.