a/n: this is a very short story. only four chapters, and four very short ones. set on Hoth.

"sleep death"

Inside the antechamber of a hermetically sealed room, Leia stared through the glass at a single treatment bed, occupied by one man.

"What is it?" she asked quietly.

Her shoulder ached. She folded her arms and grasped at it, rubbing the strained muscle - she shouldn't have tried to catch him, but he'd gashed his temple so badly -

The medic next to her cleared his throat.

"Sweat Fever," he answered simply.

Leia cringed.

The medic crossed his arms, his sterile scrubs rustling. He was the only one left monitoring Han after the chaos had died down; after Han had been stabilized. He glanced at the woman next to him, and then over her shoulder at General Rieekan.

"There isn't any risk of outbreak within the ranks," he said. "It's only communicable in respiration within the first sixty hours. Once a patient is symptomatic, the contagion subsides."

Rieekan grunted. He jerked his chin.

"What about Chewbacca?" he asked.

Leia pressed her palm urgently into her shoulder, still massaging the ache.

"Hmm. Pathogenic in humans. No other species," he answered.

She tilted her head to the side, looking at Han. He was just back from a supply run - an unusually successful one - she'd been sitting with him in the cockpit, arguing lightly about nothing. He hadn't seemed himself - he hadn't seemed ill, either; a little listless, perhaps, and nothing more, until he pitched forward, unconscious, his forehead crashing against some of the controls as he slumped forward - and alarmed, Leia tried to grab him before he hit the floor - only then feeling how - unbelievably hot his skin was.

"Biological attack?" Rieekan muttered, his expression sharp, wary. "Could he have been contaminated, as a means for someone to ensure he brought it back? Wreaked havoc on us?"

Again, the medic demurred.

"Unlikely," he advised. "The virulence isn't an effective weapon. It would be disruptive - if everyone were to catch it," he muttered,"but Solo isn't going to spread it, not now. Contagion's diminished," he said again, and then glanced at Leia with deference. "You weren't on the run with him, Your Highness?"

She shook her head, focused ahead. The medic nodded.

"Even the Princess isn't at risk of contraction."

Leia closed her eyes.

She tucked her shoulder closer to herself, felt Rieekan's eyes on her. Her fingers brushed tensely at the white material, stained with coppery, drying blood - she'd wiped her hands on her shoulder when she tended to his cut brow while she waited for Chewbacca's help - Han's fever was so high, his skin burned through her snow suit - she still felt it.

The medic snorted, his tone derisive:

"If it was a targeted attack, it was poorly executed. Sweat Fever is brutal - but tricky. It ought to be weaponized in densely populated areas, if it's going to be used that way," he extended his palm thoughtfully, gesturing at Han. "If all they succeed in is killing him, it won't even disrupt our supply lines with significance."

Rieekan shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Leia. Her eyes were fixed on the medic's profile, cold, and piercing.

"I am sure Captain Solo would appreciate the depth of gratitude you have for his services," she said icily.

The medic bowed his head.

"One would think a medical professional would look upon a patient's potential mortality with more solemnity."

"I am sorry, Princess. I was - "

"Callous."

"Leia," murmured Rieekan. "You're still shaken."

She lifted her chin, and turned her head back, fixing her eyes on the glass again -

"No need to soften my disposition for him, Carlist," she said quietly, her fingers flicking vaguely in the medics direction. "The rank and file consider me a bitch regardless. May as well be for good reason, this once."

Rieekan closed his mouth, and arched a brow, looking at the medic without saying another word. The medic flushed, and cleared his throat uncertainly.

"Will it kill him?" Leia asked.

There was silence around her, and she suddenly felt like screaming. The medic hesitated for too long.

"Well," he began. "Was he struck suddenly, or gradually?"

"Suddenly," Leia said shortly. "He lost consciousness unexpectedly. Hit his head. He was fine all morning, if a little subdued."

"Yes," agreed the medic. "You were with him - how long, before that?"

Leia was silent for a moment.

"A few hours."

"Any strenuous physical activity prior to - onset?" the medic asked.

She blinked.

She heard - heard - Carlist whip his head sharply at the medic, his brow darkening.

"Lieutenant," he snapped. "Is that relevant?"

Why are you angry, Carlist? she thought to herself - you don't want to hear whether the rumors are true? Or is it his presumption and lack of tact?

"The specifics of Sweat Fever onset often determine the strain, and without advanced titre testing here - "

"If you consider the way Captain Solo runs his overactive mouth to be strenuous physical activity," Leia interrupted mildly, choosing not to let it go any further. She paused for a moment, and shook her head. "No. He had a headache."

The medic sighed after a moment.

"If it was sudden onset, not triggered by exertion, with a fever as high as his was when he we stabilized him," he hesitated, "then he is not in good shape," he admitted finally. "The slow acting strain is less virulent and fatal only in small children, or the elderly - the aggressive strain," he hesitated again.

"Will kill him?" Leia asked.

"Not necessarily," the medic said, turning to her. "He needs to stay awake. His fever needs to be kept below the critical damage threshold throughout the night," he said. "If he makes it through the next twelve hours, he'll recover."

Leia turned her head slightly, her eyes cast down, listening to the prognosis without looking at the medic.

"There is a reason Sweat Fever is sometimes called sleep death," he said flatly. "It kills in sleep."

Leia said nothing for a long time, while Carlist watched her. She reached out and touched fingertips to the glass.

"He's asleep now, Lieutenant," she said, dangerously quiet.

The medic shook his head.

"We put him under to protect him from meningitis while we flushed him with bacta and brought his fever down. It's an induced sleep. When he wakes up, we'll keep him awake, and manage his suffering."

Suf-er-ing - her lips formed the words silently. She watched Chewie, standing vigil by the bed, a forlorn expression on his face. He had sprung into action quick enough when Leia screamed for him from the cockpit, but since the handful of medics had slipped away, he looked increasingly somber - Leia wondered if he had ever seen Han so sick.

"There's nothing else that can be done?" Leia asked curtly.

"Fluids. Supportive care - Sweat Fever is viral, Your Highness. It takes its course."

Leia nodded. She lowered her hands, and twisted them together in front of her.

"I'll help keep him awake," she said firmly.

"You will not," the medic's objection was sharp, and unexpected - Leia was taken aback both by the firmness of it, and that he'd spoken to her so forcefully.

In a brief moment of indignation, she glanced at Carlist - uncharacteristic of her as it was, she thought - did you hear how he just spoke to me?

"I believe you stated there is no risk of infection," Leia remarked coolly.

"No respiratory risk, any longer," the medic said. "Prolonged skin-to-skin contact with his sweat could put you at risk - "

"I suppose I'll keep my hands to myself, then," Leia interrupted tightly, "though that is the second comment you have made, Lieutenant Mar, whether it be inadvertent, or deliberate, implying that I have a physical relationship with Captain Solo, and I am beginning to believe you wish to spread tales back to your colleagues."

Rieekan cleared his throat.

"You should not put yourself at unnecessary risk, Princess," he said diplomatically.

"That is all I meant," the medic said under his breath.

Leia gestured to her shoulder.

"He bled on me. I touched his blood," she said. She shrugged. "I won't catch it," she added, turning to Carlist, "will I?"

Rieekan looked back at her thoughtfully, well aware of what she was asking him to confirm - never had he, nor any other Alderaanian, known Leia Organa to come down with something - not a day in her young life. He lifted his head, peering over her shoulder at the medic.

"She won't," he allowed. "She doesn't get sick."

She brushed her hands on her sides, and then tugged at her sleeves, shoving them up her forearms - she'd wear gloves, if that was expected of her - but she would not stand by and watch from behind glass while Chewbacca kept a lonely watch; she would not go about her business elsewhere when Han had - picked this virus up on a mission that arose from her personal directive.

Stepping to the side to take a light, sterile cloak from a hook on the antechamber wall, she slid into it, her eyes falling on the medic boldly.

"You ought to alert the base," she informed him, mild and acerbic all at once. "I'm spending the night with Captain Solo."

at least half of why i wrote this is because i have nightmares about getting sweating sickness. of which there hasn't been a case since 1644. this is a fictionalized version of that.

-alexandra

story #365