Shipping and Handling

by Susan Zahn and Erin Darroch

Notes: This story takes place approximately two months after the events of Vested Interest, so you may wish to read that one first. Thanks to YellinYee for beta reading.

"Wishing to be friends is quick work, but friendship is a slow ripening fruit." – Aristotle

Chapter 2

A short time later Leia rounded the corner of the flight line pathway and entered the circular clearing that had become "home" for the Millennium Falcon in the time since they'd established the base. As the familiar features of the old freighter came into view, Leia's sense of relief increased. There didn't seem to be any serious outward damage to the ship—although habit made her muse that it would be hard to tell, considering the normal state of the ship's scored and rusted appearance.

From the angle of her approach, Leia could see that the cockpit was empty, and the boarding ramp was already down. As she hurried closer, she saw the tall, hairy figure of Chewbacca emerge from the ship and stride down the ramp.

"Chewie!" she called out. Heartfelt relief and excitement made her rush forward the last few meters to give him a quick hug. He returned the embrace with one massive, shaggy arm and gave a soft woof in greeting. Leia stood back to take a closer look at the makeshift sling holding his left arm close to his chest, and the bandage wrapped around his right knee. "Are you okay? We've been so worried ever since we received your message but no follow-up."

The Wookiee nodded his big head and rumbled a reply, although the best Leia could do was decipher a word or two of his complex language. Luke seemed so much more adept at picking up the nuances of Chewie's tones which were key to understanding his meaning. She managed to piece together from his gruff vocalizations that something had indeed gone wrong with their mission, a fact that had already become self-evident.

Leia nodded anyway, and scanned his tall frame again. "You're injured. Do you need to go to the Medical Center?"

Chewbacca gave another shake of his russet head, gestured at his injured arm and then growled some more. She got the gist, but not having Han present to translate was frustrating, and that reminder of his absence escalated Leia's concern once again. Above their heads, the Falcon let out a creaking metallic sigh as it continued to settle down into the soft Serricci soil. Leia glanced around the landing pad, and then back up the boarding ramp that Chewie had just descended. Before she could utter the question on her lips, though, Chewbacca chuffed a few more words, then gestured at the boarding ramp. She flashed him a grateful smile, which he returned in Wookiee fashion before moving past her to continue attending to his landing tasks.

Leia strode up the steep incline of the ramp and stepped around the short bend in the circular corridor of the ship, then down into the main hold, only to discover it was empty of its captain and owner. Panels in the walls had been removed to expose electric works, and a large piece of the grated metal decking was lifted up on hinges to reveal more innards of the freighter. She realized at that point that he could be anywhere, and gave in to her impatience to find him. "Han?" she called out.

There was a sharp and loud Corellian curse from deeper within the ship, followed by the muffled reply, "In the bunkroom."

Leia returned to the corridor and followed it around until she reached the open hatch of the bunkroom that served as his quarters. She hesitated a moment and peered in, but still didn't see him. "Where are you?"

"In here." She followed the voice into the cabin, then finally spotted him inside the adjoining fresher. He was bare-chested and standing sideways to her as he leaned over the tiny sink, his arm blocking her view of his face while he used the mirror mounted there to see whatever he was tending to on his forehead.

This wasn't the first time she'd found him without a shirt—not in this jungle atmosphere where the temperature and humidity made living uncomfortable even before breakfast—but the combination of doing so while in his private quarters, and after such a long, self-imposed deprivation of his company, added a new level of distraction. Under normal circumstances she might have enjoyed the surreptitious view of his muscled arms and torso, and how the taut skin over his ribcage moved as he breathed and shifted his stance, but a closer look was all it took to recognize there was nothing normal about this situation. There was an ugly patch of scraped skin along the side of his forearm and a livid bruise on his biceps.

Leia opened her mouth to ask the obvious, but he pre-empted her with a sharp volley of his own. "What are you doing here, Princess?" He didn't bother to look her way.

A little taken aback by the tense welcome, she resorted to sarcasm. "I work here, remember?"

"Coulda fooled me. I figured you'd been transferred to Falleen or something." Han finally spared a glance in her direction, his statement blatantly facetious.

The knee-jerk flash of irritation she always seemed to experience with him evaporated the instant she saw the florid blossom of purple under his right eye, and a bloody cut above his left eyebrow where he'd clearly been attempting to apply a small Bacta patch.

"Goddess! What happened?"

"Long story. Ran into a Weequay bouncer in a portside cantina who didn't appreciate my joke about his short hair braid."

Leia rolled her eyes in exasperation, despite her lingering worry. She knew him well enough to recognize that he wasn't being serious—and that his humor probably disguised genuine concern. "We got the message from Chewie that something had gone wrong, and then...nothing."

Han grunted in acknowledgement, still focused on trying to make the Bacta patch adhere to his skin, despite the fact that the cut continued bleeding freely.

"For three days," Leia added, with emphasis.

"Couldn't be helped, Your Worship. We got separated and I couldn't get to the Falcon until just a few hours ago. Blasted out of there as fast as we could."

"We've been worried sick about you."

"Is that so?" Han sighed and dropped his arms, then turned to face her fully, and she got a look at his bare chest. There was no doubt about it; he'd been involved in some sort of altercation, or more than one—there were scratches and contusions all over him. The cut above his dark eyebrow continued bleeding as she watched, a thin rivulet winding its way down past the corner of his eye. Her instinct was to move toward him, to tend to him, but something held her in place.

"You're still bleeding," she stated the obvious. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine. I just—I'll need some help here. I can't reach this." He pivoted around to show her his back.

Leia gasped when she saw the angry red welt of a blaster burn that stretched across the back of his left shoulder. "You should go to the Medical Center."

"Nah. I've patched up worse than this on my own. This one's just damned awkward."

She muttered an old Alderaanian term once used to describe stubborn beasts of burden, then shook her head. "Alright, well, come out of there so I can get a better look at it."

"Ruined a good shirt," he groused as he obeyed and joined her out in the bunkroom.

Leia stepped over to the bunk adjacent to the fresher and started rummaging through the medkit that lay open there. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied his discarded black vest and a blood-stained white shirt, balled up at the head of the bunk. "Did you take any painkillers already?"

"Nope. No time. We barely got out of there because the Falcon's forward landing gear failed and it took a couple of tries to get it to retract. Then we spent the entire jump scrambling to get it working in time for us to set down here."

"Do you want something?"

"Nah, just do what you have to do."

She grabbed the small container of burn salve and turned back to him. "Then this is probably going to sting at first."

"Go ahead."

Leia moved around behind him and paused long enough to study the burn a bit closer first. She winced at the sight of his blistered skin. The injury looked more than a day old, and the skin around the primary wound was worryingly inflamed. It stretched from near the top of his shoulder down the plane of his shoulder blade towards the indentation of his spine. Leia hesitated for a moment, thinking about how close he'd come to dying. If the angle of the blaster shot had been slightly different—if he'd turned a few degrees one way or the other at the crucial moment—he'd be dead. The thought made her stomach clench.

"Are you sure you want me to treat this? You know there's a perfectly good medical center about three hundred meters away from here, right?"

Han craned his neck to look over his shoulder. "Yeah, but Lieutenant Dreis doesn't have your touch." He winked at her and flashed his most charming smile.

Rolling her eyes, Leia motioned with her hand, indicating that he should turn his head back around. "How would you know? I've never treated a wound for you before."

"I have a good imagination."

Leia opted to ignore that laden comment. She eyed the burn again for a moment before twisting open the container and scooping out a generous portion of cooling ointment onto her fingertips. She carefully touched the dollop of cream to the top end of the streak of burned skin. As she'd expected, he flinched away as she heard his a sharp intake of air.

"Sorry. Try to hold still."

The ointment contained a topical anesthetic, and as Leia gently began to smooth the clear salve over the wounded area, she could feel Han beginning to relax beneath her fingers. In the meantime, she was determined to return to business. "You know the drill. I need to know what happened on Onderon, from start to finish."

Han let out a long sigh of relief as the numbness sank in. "We flew in and landed, no problem. That new transponder code worked like a charm. We had time to spare before our meet-up, so Chewie and me decided to check out the closest market for anything interesting. When we got to the rendezvous later on, your guy was waiting for us like he was supposed to. I got the disk. Everything seemed fine." He drew in another tired breath and let it out. "Then, on the way back to the Falcon, I had to swing back through the Ardymion district to pick something up, but it wasn't ready yet, so Chewie went on ahead of me."

"Ardymion? The garment district? Is that where you get all those fashionable black vests?"

"Nice."

Leia smirked behind his back, still carefully smoothing the healing ointment along the length of the burn. "Sorry. Continue."

"I finished in Ardymion and was nearly to the port when I ran into a squad of stormtroopers who seemed to be on the lookout for someone matching my description. That was exciting. Two of them almost got Chewie, too, but he managed to deal with them and get to the Falcon before the local authorities sealed all entrances into the port facilities. I didn't, so I was stuck."

"Sounds like our Onderon contact was compromised," Leia observed grimly.

"Yeah, I'd say so." He paused for a moment, then turned his head to speak over his shoulder again. "Want my take on it?"

"Of course."

"Assuming they haven't picked him up or he isn't dead already, I don't think he knows. Probably doesn't realize he's being monitored. Obviously whoever was watching him saw our meeting and called in the Imps. I don't think they were expecting us, or even knew who we were, and it was a good thing they had no idea which ship was ours, or we wouldn't be here now."

Leia digested that news as she continued to apply the ointment to his inflamed skin. She didn't ask him to supply reasons for his assertions; she trusted his intuition and good judgement—at least in matters like these. "So you left our contact there and headed through Ardymion, and then….?"

"After I got tagged, I had to hole-up in a public fresher and wait out the lockdown. Chewie and me had our comlinks, so we were in touch with each other, but he couldn't risk more than that one quick transmission to you, in case they were monitoring."

"Well, at least you're both okay," Leia murmured while smearing the last of the cream over his burn. Then she wiped the residue on her trouser leg before resealing the container. She paused and stared at the wound for a moment as the realization hit her that, in his own way, Han was fighting for the same cause she believed in, and that he was in this injured condition because of it. With some discomfort, she acknowledged how absolute her thinking could be at times. Although he continued to refuse an official commission, Han's contributions were nonetheless invaluable, and he was risking as much as anyone else in the fight against the Empire. His bruised and burned flesh was evidence of that. She gave an involuntary wince as she thought again about the other possible outcomes of the mission to Onderon. "This was close, Han. It could easily have been much worse."

Maybe it was her tone of voice, or simply the fact that she'd finished applying the salve, but Han turned completely around to face her then. His hazel eyes sought hers and he offered a faint smile. "I'm fine, Leia."

She nodded and looked away as she replaced the canister in the medkit. "Good. I'm glad."

After a moment, he spoke again and she detected a distinct teasing note in his voice. "So is personally tending to your employees part of your job description now, too?"

Leia paused to meet his gaze once more, attempting to determine the level of acrimony in his direct question, especially when she was sure he already knew the answer. It was obvious he was prodding her again—deliberately drawing attention to the fact that she was giving him special care—and she gave him a hard look, making it clear that she was prepared to walk away at this point if he was going to keep pushing her on that topic. "Would you rather I summoned Lieutenant Dreis, or Two-One Bee?"

"No." He scanned her face, then flashed her another quick smile. "No, keep going."

"Alright then. Turn around. Let's get a Bacta bandage on that." As he complied and turned his back to her, Leia reached into the medkit for a large pre-packaged healing kit, ripped open the wrapper and unfolded the Bacta-treated pad, then carefully pressed the strip over the length of the burn. While there was some adhesive around the edges, she realized it wasn't likely to stay in place very long in that location by itself.

She returned to the kit and grabbed a big roll of gauze and began unfurling a long strand. "I'm going to have to bind this a bit to keep the entire burn covered. If you want prettier, you know where to go. Hold this," she instructed as she handed him one end of the strip, then continued to unwind the roll as she stepped around him. She wrapped the gauze over the Bacta pad and around his torso, suddenly aware of their proximity as she reached around him to pass the gauze from one hand to the other. Even in his injured state, he exuded a masculine power that she found highly distracting. She moved with quick efficiency to loop the gauze under the horizontal binding and draw it up and over his shoulder before securing the other end at the back.

When she finished, she took a step back to eye her makeshift creation. "You should have it redressed tomorrow, but I think it'll be fine. Don't sleep on it."

Han turned again to face her, and Leia saw that the cut above his eyebrow was still oozing blood. The rivulet of red that was trickling down the outer corner of his eye and weaving through the stubble on his cheek was about to start dripping off his jaw.

"Goddess, but you're a mess. You're still bleeding."

"Those always look worse than they are."

"But this cut looks fresh."

"That's because it is fresh. I was pulling out the medkit and whacked my head on the blasted locker door when you called my name."

"Oh. Sorry about that," Leia granted with honest remorse before nodding toward the bunk. "Well, I can't reach it properly with you standing up, so go sit."

Han sank down on the bunk next to the medkit, and she left him there for a moment while she went into the fresher, grabbed a clean hand towel and held it under the water tap to get it wet, then returned. She paused in front of him, however, not entirely sure of the best way to approach this next task. With him seated now, their height difference was reversed and she could easily view the damage to his handsome face as he gazed up at her. She took a step closer, between his knees, and summoned a monumental effort to focus on her task. She was perfectly aware that if he'd been any other contractor there would have been no question of tending to him herself; she'd have sent him to the Medical Center, or left him to his own devices. Furthermore, she knew that Han was perfectly aware of that fact, too, but she hoped he had the good sense to keep his mouth shut. She was at war with herself, and she didn't need him to point out the obvious inconsistencies in her behavior.

And he was being remarkably compliant, but that fact made her feel both grateful and a little wary. Determined to ignore how intently he was watching her, she began dabbing at the cut on his forehead, cleaning away the blood so she could get a better look. He winced a little as she continued to gently probe the spot, testing to see if the cut was beginning to show signs of clotting up. Then she reached for a small square of medical gauze, pressed it over the wound and directed Han to hold it in place.

"Yes, it's not as bad as it looks. I don't think it'll leave a scar."

"Too bad. I was hoping for one to match my chin."

The very mention of the distinctive and intriguing scar on his chin was enough to make Leia's eyes drop down to that spot. It wasn't the first time she'd been fascinated by the thin ridge of pale scar tissue that slanted across Han's chin, but she covered up her interest by taking a clean portion of the wet towel and rubbing at the trickle of blood on his cheekbone before it could dry. She could feel his steady gaze on her as she worked, and was vexed to feel a warm flush rising to her cheeks. A corner of his mouth twitched, as if he were hiding a smile.

"Are you trying to distract me…?" she asked, knowing full well her question was rhetorical. Of course he was. She reached for one of the smaller self-adhesive Bacta patches and ripped open the outer packaging.

"You look pretty...distracted."

Leia noticed the deliberate pause between words and gave him an amused roll of her eyes as she nudged his hand out of the way and applied the Bacta patch over the cut. Apparently, two months hadn't been long enough to dull his flirtatious instincts. Not at all. But ultimately she'd take Teasing Han over Surly Han any day.

Nothing I can't handle, she reminded herself.

"Alright, Captain," she said as she swabbed the last trace of drying blood from his jaw and took a step back to look him up and down. The rest of his injuries were relatively minor and, in any case, he could reach those himself. "I think you'll do."

Leia caught the flicker in Han's expression that said he had another quip ready to respond to that, but he didn't speak it. Instead, he simply eyed her thoughtfully and chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched her clear away the bloody swabs and empty packaging. She was aware of his gaze tracking her movements as she stepped into the fresher to dispose of the waste and to wash her hands, and he continued to watch her after she returned to the bunk to begin packing up the medkit.

"So," Han ventured at length, leaning in to catch her eye as she rolled up the remaining gauze and stuffed it back into the kit. "Does this mean we're still friends?"

Leia gave him a sharp glance, and returned to her task. "Of course. That hasn't changed."

"Hasn't it? I've barely seen you in two months." His tone was mild, softening the edge of his words. "If I'm gonna have to go missing for several days and get banged up like this just so you'll come talk to me, I'm gonna need a bigger medkit. "

"You've been on one mission after another lately, Han. You've hardly been here at all."

"Right. And you've arranged for either Lumey or Sommerlin to dispatch and meet me every time," he pointed out.

"I've been busy!"

"Leia."

His use of her name drew her eyes back to his and she felt her pulse race as they skated close to the edge of the contention between them.

If he pushes it, I swear I'm going to—.

Before she could complete her thought, though, he flashed her a smile and changed the subject. "I've got something for you."

Looking away, he twisted slightly on the bunk, then stretched over to snag his discarded vest from the top edge. When he straightened up and shook the garment out by the shoulders, she could see that the back of it was in ruins, a scorched and ragged tear showing through the black fabric.

"We came across some Sacorrian silverleaf in the local farmer's market the day we got to Onderon," Han said casually while fishing around in the vest's inner pockets for something. "There's a pile of it in the galley, and Chewie says he's cooking sahbiye tonight. You coming?"

As he spoke, he withdrew a small, unmarked data disk from a vest pocket and extended it to her. She took it with murmured thanks, and tucked it into her own pocket. Lifting her eyes, she saw that he was waiting for an answer.

Leia had no intention of refusing, but she was aware nevertheless of a faint flutter in her stomach as she considered his invitation. She'd finally acknowledged, at least to herself, that she genuinely missed his company, and longed for a return of the easy camaraderie they'd found in their evening get-togethers with Luke and Chewie. But the very fact that she'd just personally tended to his wounds, when she could have—and probably should have—sent him to the medical center, forced Leia to admit that she harbored feelings for him that extended well beyond mere friendship. On the other hand, there was also the niggling reminder at the back of her mind that, although Han clearly had no intention of abandoning his charming, maddening campaign to seduce her, he also had no intention of sticking around. Not forever. Not even for very long. For Leia, they remained at a clear impasse.

No. It's just dinner, Organa. Like all the dinners before. Dinner with friends.

Han's low voice interrupted her thoughts. "Chewie's a big sap, you know," he informed her dryly. "If you keep avoiding him, you're gonna hurt his feelings. And there's nothing worse than a morose Wookiee."

Leia rolled her eyes once again, but she couldn't quite fight the smile she felt tugging at the corner of her mouth as she looked at him.

"Yes, of course, I'll come," she told him. "Thank you."

Leia was ready to swear on the Goddess herself that there was a sudden twinkle of triumph in his hazel eyes when he smiled up at her then, and she felt her pulse race a little faster.

Why do I keep thinking that managing this man will be easy?

Dropping her gaze, Leia took a step back from the bunk and turned towards the hatch, preparing to take her leave.

"One more thing, Sweetheart." Han stood up and crossed the small space to rummage through a large leather satchel that sat on the opposite bunk. After a moment, he withdrew a medium sized paper-wrapped parcel and handed it over, a faint smile behind his eyes.

Leia weighed the light package in her hands, feeling the soft contours of what felt like fabric through the thin wrappings.

"What's this?"

"It's your Majority gift. I told you I'd give you a real one."

Leia had a sudden, vivid recollection of the kiss he'd given her in lieu of a birthday present two months before, and her stomach fluttered again. She pressed her lips together and looked down at the parcel in her hands, hoping to hide the renewed flush she could feel warming her cheeks. She felt a wave of embarrassment that the memory of that single, chaste kiss still had the power to affect her, and her self-consciousness only doubled when she realized that it was probably written all over her face.

She might have protested that the gesture was unnecessary, or that he needn't have bothered, but he seemed pleased to offer it, and Leia had been brought up to be gracious. She lifted her eyes to his and said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." If Han noticed her consternation, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he indicated with a gesture that Leia should precede him through the open hatch, and then he followed her as she made her way through the Falcon's hold and around the ring corridor towards the boarding ramp. He stopped at the entrance, and leaned one hand against the frame as he watched her descend the ramp.

"Hey, Leia," Han called out just as she was reaching the bottom. He waited for her to stop and turn to look up. "Thanks for the patch-up."

Leia had every intention of replying with a quip about his propensity for getting into trouble, but the way he was smiling at her and the way he looked as he leaned against the bulkhead made her give up on the attempt. Instead, she simply smiled back, gave him a nod, then turned away and started walking across the landing field toward the road that led back to the Command Center.

The instant she left the shade of the Falcon's hull, the power of the Serricci mid-day sun hit her full force, and she didn't bother stifling a groan. She tucked her Majority gift under her arm and plucked at the front of her uniform top, which was already clinging to her skin in the heavy humidity.

Is it just me, or is this place getting hotter?

The End