She winces as she places a cool compress to one of the several burns on her body. Gently, she twists, trying to get a view of the damage done to her back. Thanks to the combination of wind, sand, the blazing Tatooine suns and a conductive bikini, her skin appears raw. She lets out a sharp hiss when the rag makes contact with one of the larger burns, and she lets the cloth drop to the floor.

"Leia?" she hears him call from outside the door.

"Mmm?" she tries, but the pain overwhelms her ability to answer him.

"You've been in here a while, and I'm starting to get worried."

"I'm fine, Han."

He sighs. "We can talk about this, if it would help," he tries, and he frowns when she doesn't answer.

"Please."

She sighs, hearing his obvious concern. She mumbles a quick "hold on" before wrapping herself in her robe, wincing as the cool material makes contact with her open wounds.

"Hey," Han sighs, stepping into the bathroom. He quickly looks her over, frowning when he sees the glint of tears in her eyes.

"Talk to me," he begs, and he wants nothing more than to hold her. But he's scared to. He has no idea what she was subjected to while enslaved by Jabba, and any speculation causes his stomach to churn.

"I'm just exhausted."

"It's more than that, Leia," he says firmly, but his voice softens when he notices her gaze on the ground. She's quiet, and it's pure torment.

"Dammit, what'd he do to you?"

She jumps at his volume and winces in pain.

"I'm sorry," he sighs, reaching out to caress her face. She doesn't flinch, but rather seems to melt under his touch, and he's relieved.

"I was a dancer," she tells him after what seems like an eternity

He's furious. "A dancer? I swear if that damn slug wasn't already dead-"

"Han," she interrupts, trying again to reassure him. "I was just a dancer."

He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief; he isn't falling for it. "Yeah, right. I know what 'dancers' are. They're sex slaves, Leia ," he bites out, "And knowing Jabba, I don't doubt he had some terrible things done to you."

"It wasn't that bad," she lies.

"I heard you," he tells her, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"I'm sorry?"

"After they'd brought us back up to Jabba, I heard you. I asked where you were, and I could barely make it out as you when I heard you say 'I'm here.'"

"Because of the hibernation sickness?" she asks, but she knows the answer.

"No, because of Jabba. Because of what he was doing to you. You sounded so small, and afraid, and…different. I didn't need to see you in that moment to know how much pain you were in. I could hear it in your voice then, and I can still hear it now, so please, talk to me. What happened to you?"

"It was awful," she whispers, averting her eyes from Han's. "In every sense of the word, it was awful."

He swallows, unsure he wants to hear the answer to his next question. "What did he do to you?"

She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her voice, but she's unable to speak.

"After I was unfrozen, when Jabba and his decrepit bastards caught us together, what happened?"

She pales, and Han feels a knot form in his stomach. "I heard Threepio," he tells her, slowly stepping towards her. "I know something happened, Leia. Please, I need to know."

The tears threaten to fall and she tries to quickly wipe them away, hoping he won't see. But he does.

"Please," he begs.

"I didn't know what to do," she starts, her voice barely audible. "I was pushed towards him, and I couldn't get to you. He grabbed me, with his slimy, stump of an arm. He grabbed me, and had me strip down, right in front of everyone. His eyes wouldn't leave me, Han. It was like he was taking in a prize. Like I was his trophy. I felt so disgusting, and disgusted. And then he was all over me. His hands," she tries to continue, but it's too difficult.

"You don't have to finish. I have a pretty good idea of where this is going."

A brief silence passes over them as Leia takes a deep breath and tries to continue. She can't stop now. It's as if she's opened a flood gate. She's needed to talk about this, and she can't keep this to herself.

"And then there was Boba Fett."

Han bristled. "What did that son-of-a"

"He didn't do anything," she interrupts him. "But his eyes…you could never tell where he was looking. His mask- face- was always oriented towards us. We could only assume where his eyes were trained. I didn't have to assume, I already knew. I wish I didn't, but I did."

"He didn't hurt you?"

"Not the way Jabba did," she whispers. "But anyone that stands aside and watches us go through what we did, and doesn't intervene, is just as hurtful as the person committing the act. He didn't do anything to stop him…"

Her words trail off. She's not sure how much more Han can bear to hear.

"I'm so sorry," he tells her and cautiously wraps his arms around her, being mindful of her burns.

"I wanted you in that moment so badly," she admits, and he can feel her start to shake. "I just wanted you to hold me, to tell me everything would be okay. To tell me that you wouldn't let anything happen to me, even though I knew it was inevitable."

"Sweetheart," he starts, but there are no words to ease the pain behind her words. And by this point, she's sobbing.

"I'm sorry," she cries, and holds onto him tighter, ignoring the protesting pain rippling across her body.

"Leia," he sighs, "you have no reason to be sorry."

But she shakes her head. "You don't understand. I was in so much pain and…"

"And?" he prods, but seeing the fresh wave of tears take hold of her, he becomes desperate.

"I wished I were dead, Han," she admits, her voice barely a whisper. She can feel his body stiffen, can feel his breathing stop.

"You…what?" he asks, in complete disbelief.

"Every night I had to fall asleep, chained up to that monster was another night wishing I were dead. My legs, arms, my neck were all shackled. I couldn't move, unless Jabba wanted me to. And I didn't think I would ever see you again, I didn't even know you were still in Jabba's palace."

"We always find our way back to each other," he reassures her, still in disbelief

"This time, it felt different. Something felt off. I tried to protest, to demand Jabba tell me where you were, or at least tell me if you were still alive, but whenever I would ask, he would tighten my chains. I couldn't breathe, or talk… or beg," she admits, hanging her head. "I got to a point where I had just given up, and would purposely disobey him, hoping that the next time he would pull on my chain, that it would be the last time, or that he would open the gate to the pit. I hoped that it would finally be over."

"So many women," she continues, swallowing thickly. "I watched so many women drop below to their deaths, Han. And I wanted that to be me. If someone made a wrong move, if they dropped a serving tray, if they even so much as looked at Jabba in a way in which he didn't approve of, they were gone."

I almost-"

"Leia-"

"And I almost was one of them," she answers over him, closing her eyes to avoid seeing his reaction.

"The day Luke had showed up- I wanted nothing more than to get to you, to hold you. I was chained, Han. I was so determined to break free and get to you, to comfort you- you looked like you were in so much pain, you were so sick from the carbonite-I tried tugging against my chains and he-he'd pushed the release button," she continues shakily. "But the chains wouldn't break loose, there was a malfunction or something, I don't know, but I just hung there, above the open grate, trying everything I could not to scream, or make a sound. As much as I hate Vader for what he did to you, I was so glad that you couldn't see in that moment."

She pauses, letting her words sink in, and she's worried. Han's completely still with his eyes shut, and she swears she can see his lips quivering ever-so-slightly.

"Do-do you still feel that way?" he asks, terrified of the answer, but he's relieved when he feels her head shake against his chest.

"The moment you held me, after the battle, after we'd all escaped, it was as if that feeling never existed. I didn't feel broken anymore. It was as if being held by you had pieced me back together."

"This wouldn't have happened if you would've just stayed put. You didn't have to put yourself in danger by rescuing me," he finally replies, his words a mixture of sadness and anger.

"I couldn't just stay put," she fights back. "I could not just stand idly by and wonder each day where you were, if you were still frozen, if you were alive, or if you were dead. Not looking for you was never an option for me, never," she answers,, blinking away hot tears. "Because I love you, Han."

"I know," he tells her, brushing away the now-falling tears. "I love you, too."

"Months went by, Han. I never knew if and when I would see you again, do you understand how hard that was?" she cries.

"I would've figured out a way out of trouble, sweetheart. Or Lando, Luke, Chewie, hell, even Goldenrod," he adds, listing the names of their friends. "I'll never forgive myself for getting you into this."

"You couldn't do anything. You were frozen, and I had a choice, Han," she reminds him. "I chose to fly across the galaxy, I chose to come find you. I chose to put myself in danger. And I deserved it for not being able to successfully rescue you."

"Des- you deser-?" He tries to ask, but he's too stunned to speak.

"Leia, you did not deserve any of this. You hear me? None."

"Then why do I feel so guilty?" she continues to cry.

"I don't know, Sweetheart, I don't know," he sighs and runs his hand through her long, tangled locks.

She winces, feeling the tug of his fingers working through her hair.

"What's wrong?"

Leia groans as she lifts her arms up to her head, pushing her long hair behind her shoulders. Her neck and shoulders, covered in scrapes, burns and bruises startles Han, and a new wave of guilt washes over him.

"I can't even touch you without hurting you?" he asks, his voice trembling, and he breaks off on a long string of Corellian slurs.

"Han-"

"What does the rest of the damage look like?"

He grimaces when she flinches, unsure herself whether or not he should see this.

"It's bad," she lets him know, raising a hand to slip the robe off of her shoulder. He nods, bracing himself for what he's about to see.

The more skin she reveals, the more furious he becomes. How could someone do this to her?

"Does-does it hurt?" he asks her. He knows it's a stupid question, and he's surprised when she quietly laughs.

"Just a bit."

"What can I do to help?" he asks. He's desperate to comfort her.

"Help me get the hard-to-reach spots," she answers, handing him the cool rag and jar of bacta-cream.

He swallows past the thick lump in his throat, and gently presses the cloth against a rather large burn in the middle of her back. She moans, gripping onto the bathroom counter.

"You alright, sweetheart?"

"Hurts," she breathes, trying not to cry.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," she tells him. "These have sat long enough."

"Have you thought about going into the tank?"

"It's not that bad," she tries to tell him, but really she doesn't want to imagine the type of pain she would experience by submerging raw, open wounds into bacta all at once. This cream is painful enough.

"Leia," he warns, but by how she flinches every time the ointment comes into contact with her skin, he understands why she wants to hold off on the tank.

"I'm going to work on this big one right here, okay?" he warns her, gently placing his hand on the outside of the wound.

She nods, taking in a deep breath and braces herself for the pain.

"Would it help if I blew on it?" he asks earnestly, feeling horrible as he sees her white knuckle grip return to the counter.

He manages to get her to laugh, though. "I'm not a child."

"Hey, your worship, I was only offering," he retorts, sounding mock-wounded.

"Mmmm," she sighs.

"How did these all happen?" he asks, noticing faint strap outlines branded into her shoulders.

Leia tenses, wincing with the pain.

"You don't have to tell me if it's too much."

"No, it- it hurts," she whispers through clenched teeth, prompting Han to gently blow across the bacta-covered wound.

"Better?"

She nods. "The bikini," she starts, and he can hear her disgust. "Whoever came up with the idea of a metal bikini, on a desert planet with two suns, should very well be used as bantha fodder."

"That's what this is from?" he asks, trying to hide his shock. For such a small garment, it seems to have caused a lot of damage.

"Most of it. Trying to make any type of movement in something as restricting, rough, and conductive as that small scrap of metal is painful enough as it is. Trying to fire blaster cannons, jump ships, and run through the blazing hot sand storms in it is simply preposterous."

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he tells her, leaning in to kiss the back of her head.

"You have no reason to be."

"I wish I could've protected you, that I could've been there for you."

"You're here now and that's what matters," she assures him, turning around to face him. "I'm sorry you have to see me like this, though."

"Sorry? Why're you sorry?"

"I just feel so vulnerable right now."

"And you're still sorry because?"

"Because I'm supposed to be strong. I'm supposed to be diplomatic. I'm supposed to appear as if I have nothing to fear and I'm supposed to be reassuring others, not having others reassure me."

"You can't always be the one to take care of others, Leia. Sometimes, you have to step back and let others take care of you."

"But you're still sick," she reminds him, alluding to his hibernation sickness. While the past few days have brought Han some relief, he still has quite a ways to go until he's fully recovered.

"And you're still in pain," he answers matter-of-factly.

"I'm just embarrassed."

"Why?"

"I don't want anyone's pity. I've been through so much- I've received too much of it already."

"I don't pity you," Han tells her. "In fact, I admire you."

"You do?"

"You've been put through absolute hell. Several times. There's no doubt about that, but through it all, you remain so strong and put together. Not many people can do that. And I admire you for it. I'd admire you more if you would understand that it's okay to not be okay," he jokingly adds, "but I admire you nonetheless.

To his surprise, he feels her start to shake. "Sweetheart?"

"I'm not okay," she whispers, turning around to grip the counter top.

"I know," Han tells her before gently slipping her robe over her shoulders.

"You were gone," she whimpers. "They took you away from me. First my mother and father, and Alderaan, I couldn't lose you, too. I can't lose you, Han."

By this time, the tears are falling faster than Han can sweep them away.

"You're not going to lose me, Leia," he tells her so fiercely, he almost sounds angry.

"I'm not going anywhere and neither are you."

"How do you know that? We're at war, Han. Either one of us could be captured or killed at any instant. I can't lose you again."

"I promise you, I won't let that happen, alright?" he soothes, gently lifting her and taking her to their bed.

"I'm here, and I'm always going to be, okay?"

She nods, and swallows past the lump in her throat, but it feels as if all of the pain and suffering she's been through these past couple of years has finally caught up to her.

"I'm here now," he soothes. "I'm here, and we're both safe. There's no more Jabba to capture me, or torment you."

"But there is an entire empire."

"Let's not worry about that right now, alright? Let's worry about the here and now. We're both here-we're home-we're safe, and we're together. That's all that matters right now."

Leia nods, wiping tears from under her eyes. He's right. As scared as she is right now, he's right. They're together, and they're safe, and that's all that matters. And in this moment, that's enough.