a/n: companion piece to 'Pointy Things.' you don't necessarily have to read that to read this but ... it would make more sense.

Nurse Solo

It was just an unfortunate twist of fate that the medic Leia was seeing for her Alliance-mandated routine check-up was the same one who had attempted to stick her with a needle three years ago on Yavin. She might not have remembered him, except her routine appointment became less routine when he said, slowly –

"Your highness, we have instructions to give an immune booster to all members of the rebellion due to the atmospheric nature of the planet."

- and the wary, uncertain look in his eye, and the dread in his tone, was a dead giveaway for the fact that he knew exactly how she was going to react.

Leia blinked at him silently for a moment.

"What atmospheric nature?" she asked blankly, knowing full well why the leadership would call for bolstered immune systems. Still, she asked; she was buying time.

"Uh, it's cold," the medic answered flatly. "So, to prevent…influenzas, and poxes," he listed. "And runny noses," he added.

"Is the medical commander specifically afraid runny noses will be the undoing of the rebel alliance?" Leia asked shortly.

"It's just precaution, Your Highness."

"My nose is fine."

He grimaced at her nervously. He tapped the data pad in his hand anxiously.

"I have to give you an immune booster," he told her pleadingly. He flicked through some notes on her file. "I can't just let this heal an old way; it's a vax," he explained.

Leia pursed her lips tightly; she knew that. She also knew she wasn't going to be able to just pass on this; any sort of microbe prowling around infecting their already paltry ranks could be just as dangerous as the Emperor himself strolling in and electrocuting them all. It would be bad for morale if it got out that Princess Leia refused a shot and thus negated an attempt at herd immunity.

Leia rubbed her wrist, her jaw tightening.

"Can I take an oral alternative?" she asked dryly.

He looked even more apprehensive, and shook his head.

"We only have the shots," he answered.

Leia, perched on a padded grey examination table, looked around the hospital bay. There weren't too many people around; one of the Rogue Squadron had a bad case of frostbite, but no one was too worried about him, since he'd gotten it playing an ill-fated prank on General Dodonna. There was one instance of a broken bone – even thinking about bone knitters gave Leia the shakes - and a case of busted teeth; other than that, rebels were just waltzing in and out intermittently for their checkups.

She turned back to the medic, her lips pressed in a tight line. She considered asking them to just quarantine her until they left Hoth. She'd probably be warmer, anyway. However, that would also damage her credibility. How could anyone be expected to follow a leader who threw tantrums over something as common as a shot?

Granted, they didn't have her background, but she also wasn't willing to publicize what she'd gone through on the Death Star.

So, she pressed her thumb into her wrist, and bit the inside of her lip hard for a moment.

"Where do you have to give it to me?" she asked tightly.

He indicated with his finger –

"Upper right arm," he said.

Leia nodded stiffly. She didn't say anything else, and the medic put the data pad down and turned to the supply cabinet, busying himself with readying the vaccine. Leia turned her head away, digging her nail sharply into her wrist – she told herself she could handle it; this was nothing. That needle was to help her, to do her good; it wouldn't end with searing pain, disorientation – then numbness, then an inability to fight back –

"Your Highness?"

She turned her head, and he was holding the syringe. She closed her eyes immediately, swallowing hard, her mouth dry. She shook her head.

"No," she said flatly, refusing to open her eyes.

"I'll count to three, and I'll be quick," he said slowly. "It won't be bad," he promised.

She felt his touch on her arm and she jerked away, drawing her legs up, eyes flying open.

"Don't touch me," she snapped at him.

He stood in front of her helplessly, the needle in his hand, holding it up. He touched it like it was nothing; she looked away from it as if it were Vader himself, towering over her. She clenched her teeth together, taking a deep breath.

"I can get Rieekan in here to hold you down," the medic said – it had been Rieekan who interfered the last time, had authorized them treating her in whatever way she asked, even if it was the least efficient way. Rieekan, the medic knew, was the one who had given the order for the Princess to be given the shot no matter what.

It was time, he said, she started to work through the issue.

Judging by the look on her face, though, the medic figured he should have said 'calm you down' instead of 'hold you down.'

He winced, and she wrapped an arm around her knees, shifting back away from him.

"I will not be held down," she said nastily.

Consternated, the medic searched his experience for a solution. He smiled suddenly, snapping his free hand.

"What if Commander Skywalker came in and talked to you?" he asked. "That way you won't notice when I stick you."

Leia blinked at him tiredly – the only thing she was going to focus on while she was in this room, in close proximity with the needle, was the blasted needle. Talking to Luke wouldn't solve a damn thing – and Luke had her on a pedestal anyway, she didn't need him exposed to her more human faults.

In her moment of silence after the offer, though, she remembered a supply run to Naboo, a remarkably similar situation – though at least this time, she'd been warned before the needle appeared. She loosened her arm around her legs slightly, swallowing tensely – she wasn't sure she had enough humility to ask for help from him of all people.

She also wasn't sure she wanted to give the medic any wild ideas to go gossiping about.

She parted her lips with some difficulty, and took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully – though there was no subtle way to ask what she was going to ask, and there was really no context in which to explain it other than the distinctly romantic one everyone would probably put it in if the story got out.

And with the way rebels gossiped, it would.

"I want you to call Captain Solo," she said heavily.

He'd offered, hadn't he? 'If you ever need a shot…' he'd said. He might not have been serious; if he wasn't, she was about to find out. She remembered how quickly he'd defused the situation on the Falcon, despite being totally stunned at her reaction.

The medic blinked at her silently.

"What?" he asked.

She repeated her request.

The medic lowered his hand, staring at her. He opened his mouth and did an incredibly on point imitation of a fish.

Leia narrowed her eyes at him.

"Why?" the medic asked

Leia grit her teeth.

"I want him to give me the shot," she said, with more nonchalance than she actually felt.

The medic imitated a fish again, and just when Leia was about to lunge forward and knock that stupid needle out of his hand, if only to make him get his behind in gear, he lowered his hand, laid down the needle, and turned to the supply table, picking up a comlink. Leia was unable to decipher the expression on his face as he neutrally asked her for Solo's comlink code and she, from memory, provided it.

Han was crammed up in some ridiculously small space on under the Falcon when Chewie suddenly tapped on his foot. Startled, Han banged his head and then swore loudly, inching out from the nook and giving Chewie a ruthless glare.

The Wookiee shrugged.

[You were going to be startled no matter what.] He pointed out blithely – which was probably true; over the humming of the hydrospanners and the loud noises he was making while he fixed the problem, Chewie could have charged up singing and still caught Han off guard.

Han still glared at him.

"What?" he griped. "I'm almost finished with this."

Chewie held up a buzzing comlink and growled something.

"The med center? I already went!" Han whined, rubbing his head. He leaned forward, glowering – he'd already gotten that damn immune vax they were forcing everyone to take, and he'd had to be tested for a couple of other things since he'd been doing runs on seedier planets lately and he'd sprained his ankle last week. He was sick of the med center.

Chewie howled lightly and threw the comlink at him. Han fumbled with it, and then clicked to answer it.

"Solo."

Chewie turned and began to amble off.

"Um," came the voice over the line. "This is Hrakk in medical," the voice said. "Do you have a minute to come to the medical bay?"

"No," Han answered bluntly. "Look, you're not puttin' me through that viral scanner, punk – Antilles was kidding, I didn't touch the Twi'lek prostitute, it was a joke – "

"Captain Solo," Hrakk interrupted hastily. "It's not about you, it's, er – "

"Well what do you want? To flirt over a cup of kaffe?"

"Her Highness won't take her immunization shot without you present, Captain."

Momentarily confused by the quick rush of words, Han blinked, uncomprehending.

"Who won't?"

"Princess Leia," Hrakk said heavily. "She," he paused, as if he wasn't sure he believed what he was saying. "She says she won't get the shot unless you give it to her."

Suddenly, Chewbacca was standing near Han again, looking at him with interest. Han gave him a withering look for eavesdropping, and hesitated, holding the comlink gingerly in his palm. He shifted around, and sat up, running his hand through his hair and arching his neck – working in such a cramped space was not doing him any favors.

He held his thumb on the button.

"Oh," he said, and then released the button, and fell silent.

[Why does the Princess want you to give her a shot?] Chewie growled.

"Mind your own business," Han retorted.

[Seems kinky.]

Han glared at him.

He rubbed his jaw, keenly remembering the trip to Naboo, and his off-hand remark about the shots. Never in a million years had he expected her to take him up on it, especially not if it meant telling someone else that's what she wanted. Her aversion to shots must be worse than he thought, if she was choosing asking for his help over gritting her teeth and taking one.

That in itself made him shudder a little, because whatever had been done to her had to have been pretty bad.

Han clicked the button.

"Be right there," he said, without any other elaboration.

There was a crackling, and Hrakk said:

"Uh…okay."

Boy; that medic was probably having one weird day. Getting assigned to handle Leia's medical evaluation was probably intimidating enough, but having to interact with her when she was upset and swallowing her pride? Han got up and slid the comlink into his back pocket, abandoning his tools.

"I'll be back, Chewie," he muttered.

Chewie tilted his head, lifting his arm slightly.

[I'm hurt you didn't tell me you got a medical degree,] he teased. [When you get back, can you look at this weird thing on my foot, Nurse Solo?]

Han rolled his eyes.

"You know, you're always telling me my mating techniques are too harsh," he pointed out. "Now here I am, tryin' to be sensitive, and you're mocking me."

Chewie gave him a look; the Wookiee equivalent of a smirk, and then strolled off, back to what he'd been working on at the other end of the ship. Han scowled – he hated that look; it was so superior. As if Chewie knew exactly what Han was thinking.

Han made his way to the hospital area as inconspicuously as possible – and he hoped the comlink's speaker hadn't been too loud when he complained about that joke Antilles had played; Leia might take it the wrong way. He tried to shore himself up for the task ahead during the walk, because he'd made a big show of implying he'd make it all better if she ever needed a shot again, and now he was just worried he'd disappoint her, or make it worse.

He probably shouldn't have offered to be her hero, but then again, since when had she ever taken anyone up on the offer to be a savior, or even a supporter? She hadn't even needed saving on her own rescue mission! Once they got her cell door open, she was the brains.

He rounded the corner and ducked through the icy door of the medical bay, casting his eyes around casually. He spotted her over in a more secluded corner, siting stiffly on an examination table. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he strolled over, clearing his throat.

Leia looked at him warily.

"Time to put your credits where your mouth is, flyboy," she said dryly.

He bent forward at the waist, dramatically bowing to her.

"Your wish is my command, Your Worship," he drawled.

The ghost of a smile touched her lips, and Hrakk the medic turned around, data pad in hand.

"It's just an immune vax," he said. "It takes no skill to give."

"Good," Han said, deadpan. "I have no skills."

"I have to record that you gave it to her," Hrakk added.

Han shrugged. Leia gave the medic a piercing look – but recording was not the same as blabbing, and technically he couldn't do that, since he had to keep her medical issues confidential. He tapped something out on the pad, and then gestured to the supply table.

"Syringe," he pointed out.

He folded his arms over the data pad, held it to his chest, and waited.

Han looked around behind him, looked at Leia, and then gave Hrakk a wary look.

"You gonna watch me do it?" he asked edgily.

Hrakk stared at him.

"Well – yes, I was going to," he said, uncertainly.

"No," Leia said quietly. "Go away."

Hrakk stared at her, and finally turned, shaking his head silently. Fine – he really had no desire to stand and watch the soap opera unfold. He could get a much more salacious, overdramatic version of what was going on between Han and Leia from watercooler gossip.

The medic retreated, and Han inched over to the table, making note of the needle for a moment. He looked back at Leia, and folded his arms casually.

"That bad, huh?" he asked, arching a brow.

"What?" Leia asked hoarsely, shifting. She hugged her knees.

"I'm just thinking, the phobia must be pretty bad if you took me up on my offer." He gave her a lopsided grin.

She gave him a faint smile.

"Just pretend to give it to me," she joked half-heartedly.

He shook his head.

"Nah, it'll be better in the long run if you try and get over it."

"The long run? Since when do you think about the long run?" Leia asked.

Han picked up the syringe loosely, holding it down by his side.

"Quit stalling, Princess," he responded simply.

He took two steps forward, and she jerked back, eyeing him angrily. Her face flushed, and she lowered her eyes, chewing on her lip – she hated reaction, hated how uncontrollable it was. It utterly conflicted with everything she knew to be true about herself, her trained discipline, her ability to keep a cool head – she knew she needed to get this shot, and she knew it was harmless, but that logic was foggy in the haze of fear.

Han hid the syringe behind his back, and stepped closer.

Leia sucked in her breath.

Han tapped the edge of the examination table.

"Move closer," he ordered lightly.

Leia was reluctant, but she did so, letting her legs down. Her toes didn't come closer to brushing the floor; she felt tiny, and Han was so tall. He moved forward, paused, eyed her knees for a moment, and then seemed to change his mind; he took a step to the side, and stood on her right side. She appreciated that he didn't stand between her legs.

He lifted his hand and rubbed his jaw a moment, tilting his head.

"Heard you told Wedge I looked handsome with a few days' shadow," he remarked roguishly.

Leia looked at him, appalled. Her cheeks turned pink.

"I did – not," she protested. "I said – no, I did not," she repeated.

"No? What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything!"

"Why would Wedge just make that up?"

"Well – I told him – Jansen was making fun of your – he said you were spending too much time with Chewie, that you were starting to look like him – "

"What? I'm going to kill that little nerf – "

"—and I just said you didn't look that bad with a beard."

Han reached out and touched her shoulder, curving his palm around it. He caught her eye intently, flashing a smirk.

"So, you did say I look handsome."

She grit her teeth and scowled at him.

"You're infuriating – I asked them to call you for help, and you're – making fun of – "

"Why'd you have them call me?"

"Because last time you said you'd be able to help!"

"Help with what?"

"Giving me a shot!"

"Why me?"

Leia's breath caught. She stared at him – and stared at him, and stared at him. He nodded, watching her think, watching her try to come up with something to say, and then he stepped closer, his arm and body at an odd angle, cutting of her view of her right arm.

"I've got this needle pointed right at your arm, Leia," he said suddenly.

She didn't move – she hadn't seen him lift his hand from behind his back, and now he was blocking her view with his arm, holding her shoulder. She didn't turn her head. She felt a rush of confusion – there wasn't any fear when he said it – she hadn't seen it – looming towards her.

She swallowed hard. She started to move her head. He shook his.

"Don't look at that; look at me," he said. He touched her skin – barely grazed it – and she jumped, shifting violently away from him. He pulled her back steadily, the point still resting lightly against her arm.

"It's just me," he said quietly. "Just me, on Hoth, making fun of you," he remarked casually. "When I'm done, you can slap me, and no one will care. You can walk out of here and slap me again later," he added seriously.

She made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a squeak of terror – but somehow it helped; knowing she wasn't trapped, not being able to see the object of her fears –

"You want me to count?" he asked mildly.

She closed her eyes, and shook her head, her eyes pressed tightly together.

"Open your eyes, Leia," he said, a little sharply. "Stop imagining what happened; just look at me." He paused for a split second while she obeyed. "It's just me; it's just a vax, and," she felt a sharp pinch, a quick pinprick of pain, a cool flush of medicine, and then it was gone, "it's over," he finished bluntly.

She jerked her head around and he moved his hand smoothly, sliding the syringe into his back pocket so she wouldn't see it. She lifted her chin, and he caught her eye wryly, proud of himself – he'd thought keeping her from seeing it might help; that always helped when Chewbacca seized up over some things. He also figured making her irritated and focused on something else would leave less room for total absorption in her fear.

"It's over?" she whispered hoarsely.

Han shrugged, and nodded.

She didn't slap him. She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his chest. Surprised, Han stood still for a moment, and then lifted his hand and placed it on the back of her neck, fingertips playing with loose strands of dark brown hair. He squeezed her shoulder comfortingly with his other hand.

"Captain Solo."

The moment was rather rudely interrupted by Rieekan marching over, Hrakk in his wake. He looked a bit concerned, and shot a narrow look between Han and the Princess as she straightened up, her face unreadable.

He seemed about to say something, and then noticed, by the tell-tale red dot on her arm, that Leia had been given her shot. He raised his brows, and turned to Han.

"I was unaware you had trauma training, Solo," he said. "We could use you more in the – "

"It's not trauma training," he said hastily, shaking his head. He stepped back, hands hanging at his side. "It's – "

"No one's been able to give Her Majesty a shot before," Rieekan said bluntly.

"It's, ah," Han stammered, rubbing his jaw. "Look, you try leading a Wookiee out of a burning building; they don't like fire," he said roughly. He shrugged. "It's the same, that's all."

Rieekan looked mildly amused at that, and gave Leia a sideways glance, his lips tilting up almost mysteriously.

"Whose idea was it to call Solo?" he asked, more to her than anyone else.

Leia blushed by way of answer. Rieekan grinned at her, and turned to Hrakk.

"No, you're not in trouble," he said, leading the medic away, clearly finishing the conversation he'd been having earlier.

Leia hadn't seen Rieekan come in; she cast her eyes downward warily, left alone with Han in the secluded corner. She reached up and cupped her hand over her arm, hiding the red dot from view even as it faded.

Han grinned at her, and inclined his head.

"I told you I'd be able to get your through a shot," he remarked, gloating slightly.

Leia sat forward, crossing her legs at the ankle.

"You told me you'd be able to do it by distracting me with your good looks," she retorted, "not because you had experience taming histrionic Wookiees."

"Well, Your Worship," he said seriously. "You're not a Wookiee," he pointed out.

"That's news to me," Leia retorted, deadpan. "Where'd all this hair come from, then?"

Han laughed.

"I mean, I don't use the same technique with Chewie."

"How do you calm Chewie?"

"I yell at him until he starts running."

Leia looked appalled. Han laughed again.

"You're joking," Leia guessed. He nodded, and she pursed her lips.

"Half your problem is seeing the needle," Han said matter-of-factly. "The rest is association."

Leia rubbed her knee thoughtfully.

"You're very smart, you know," she said abruptly. "You're smarter than you let on."

"Can I get that in writing?"

She smiled. After a moment, she tilted her head uncertainly.

"But – a therapist has tried to talk me through a shot before," she confessed quietly, lowering her voice. She shook her head. "It hasn't worked. How did – you?"

The question was unfinished; only half-thought out. Han looked slightly uncomfortable for a moment, and shifted his weight, and then he looked at her guardedly, almost with a hint of exasperation in his eyes. The look evaporated, and then he leaned forward and winked, shrugging charmingly.

"'Cause you got lost in my dreamy eyes, Sweetheart," he quipped.

Leia glared at him, her thoughts scattered. She wasn't quick enough with an acerbic reply, he'd strutted out of the medical bay before she could think of anything, and he left her sitting there with pink-tinged cheeks, hoping the others weren't reading too much into this.

But who was she kidding? Han Solo was the only person who could give her a shot, and even she couldn't pretend there was nothing emotionally significant about this.

-alexandra
story #277