a/n: this is a short story based in an unspecified time on Hoth. there were three years between ANH and ESB, so I'd say closer to the mid-way point between the two, perhaps close to when they first got to Hoth. timeline isn't important, but actually, then again, it is.

interlude i

The problem was supplies. It was always supplies, in a war like this. In a lopsided war, on which one side was a behemoth, armed to the teeth and vicious, omnipotent and inescapable, and on which the other was a cobbled together insurgency equipped with ample spirit, effective, righteous rage - and very little tangible clout. Despite the miraculous victory that brought an end to the Empire's formidable battle station, the Rebellion was still an underground, struggling coalition, an organization with the tacit sympathies of many, but the vocal support of only the brave - and harshly silenced - few. And thus, in the face of such a crucial need for secrecy, more often than not covert operations replaced opulent battles; guerrilla tactics were the necessary enclave of revolutionaries dwarfed by an incongruous adversary - and endlessly, they suffered from a lack of supplies.

No matter the season, or the base - they hurt for rations, for fresh food, for medicines; they were short soldiers and ammunition, mechanics and scientists - the intangible shortages were just as demoralizing as the tangible ones. Supplies - and it was ironic, brutally so, that one of the invaluable beings who braved blockades and Imperial checkpoints, execution squads and bounty hunters alike, to snatch Rebel supplies out from under the nose of legitimate merchants, so suffered from the lack of them now.

Han was distraught; Leia had never seen him so, so -

"He's strung out," Carlist Rieekan said tightly, a grim look on his face. He directed his words at Jan Dodonna, a tense muscle twitching in his jaw. "I had to remove him from the duty schedule. He's not focused."

Dodonna rubbed his temples hard, a sour expression on his face. He stared down at the charts and schedules beneath him.

"That puts more pressure on us," he muttered, though he bore no true ill will towards Solo. He extended his palm. "The Princess is already working multiple shifts."

He said it as if it were an affront to his sensibilities that she was working shifts at all, though Leia was sure it had more to do with her aristocratic status than her sex. She frowned a little - she always hated it when she was referred to by her title while she was in the room; instead of conveying elitism, to her it seemed to make her a mere synechdoche, instead of a complex being.

"I've made it clear I want to be treated as any other enlisted officer," she said.

"That's noble," Dodonna said shortly, "but you are not. I've no problem with you working, Your Highness. We need you, but there is a fine line that must be drawn in terms of rank, and fraternization. You will lose the edge of leadership if you're too often a foot soldier - "

"I don't think that's something we need to worry about," Rieekan placated dismissively. "The issue is - with Chewbacca and Han both off the rosters, we're light on combatants and watch officers and it's about that time," he muttered, "the time when the Empire finds us again."

A rough sigh escaped Dodonna's lips.

"Is there any intelligence that indicates - " he began.

"No, but there's intelligence indicating they'll start deploying probe droids and solitary scouts," Rieekan pressed. "We're down on recruitment, and the fortress near Sullust is not operational yet."

Dodonna nodded, lifting his head with a taut expression.

"Vigilance is key, early warning," he muttered. "Not only do we need Solo here, we can't risk that ship being spotted, or tracked. Everything is grounded," Dodonna said flatly. "He'll have to understand that."

"He won't," Rieekan said flatly.

"Make him, Carlist," Dodonna said, looking at the general sharply. "You're his commanding - "

"No," Leia broke in quietly.

She shook her head - reclining in a straight-backed, unforgiving chair, she was uncomfortable, and her posture was hardly ladylike; in a haze of concern, and heartache, she participated in this meeting, vacillating on how she wanted it to go, torn between the integrity and safety of her precious Rebellion, and the deeply emotional needs of her friends, of - whatever Han was to her.

"Han hasn't enlisted," Leia reminded Dodonna. "He's contract to contract."

Dodonna threw a stylus across his desk angrily.

"He bunks here, he eats our food, he benefits from our security - "

"He bunks on his ship," Leia amended. "He eats food he smuggled here in the first place. He arguably subjects himself to more risk than most of us, considering the double mark on his head. We hide. Han flies directly behind Imperial lines - frequently, on our behalf."

Dodonna put his hand to his beard, a narrow grimace on his face.

"You think we should let him go, then?" he asked curtly. "Risk discovery. Risk him being tracked. You're on his side?"

Leia blinked thoughtfully, betraying little emotion.

"I had thought we were here to have a round table discussion, between leaders," she said coolly. "I am not on a side; I am weighing the choices fairly."

"You're biased because you are close to him, Your Highness," Dodonna said shortly. "Forgive me if that is forward."

"It's not forward, and it's not untrue," Leia said, colder. "Bias is a side effect of the human condition, so it's fair to level the same accusation at you - given that you dislike him, Jan."

Rieekan folded his arm, one hand coming up to rube his forehead. He glanced sideways at Leia from behind his palm, and then curled his knuckles in, resting them against his brows. He closed his eyes tiredly.

"I may not like Solo, but I respect his contributions," Dodonna said. "I - we - have to consider his case the same way we'd consider anyone else's - "

"To an extent, yes, but I think rank, and level of contribution, should factor in to this decision - "

"He doesn't have a rank! As you've said yourself, he isn't committed. I suppose that means I can't command him, but that's also very dangerous for us!" Jan burst out angrily.

Rieekan arched his brows sharply.

"Did you interrupt her?" he asked incredulously, lowering his palm to gesture at Leia. Leia suppressed a smile at Rieekan's offended court sensibilities.

"I - " began Dodonna, mollified.

Leia held up her hand.

"I've interrupted him plenty, Carlist. I've asked to be equalized in my capacity as a soldier, so let him," she said firmly. She cleared her throat. "It's polite of us to sit here and act as if judiciary decisions are made based on an immutable template of fairness, but that isn't true anywhere. Situational fairness is justifiable."

Dodonna grit his teeth stubbornly, mulling over her words.

"That's your take, then?" he asked. "You think we should clear Solo to leave?"

Leia hesitated, her uncertainty a heavy burden on her shoulders. That they referred to him as Solo almost made it easier to go against him, his surname de-emphasized the intimacy of her friendship. The last time she had been faced with a decision that asked her to choose between her family and her cause, she'd seen her world destroyed before her eyes. It did not matter that she had tried to play a game, nor that she knew Alderaan was slated for execution no matter what she had done, she was permanently shaken by the choice she'd been given, the superficial reality of what she'd been asked, and confronting the same sort of thing again was traumatic.

Silent, she looked at Rieekan, one of the last trusted vestiges of her homeland. He lifted his shoulders, sighing heavily. She wondered what he thought of her lack of clarity; wondered what he wanted her to say. She knew he'd never speak for her, or try to sway her. Eventually, she took a deep breath.

"I think it shows immense self-control that he asked us at all," she said. "He could have just taken off when Chewbacca took a turn for the worse."

"Because he did what any sane person who understands the danger we are all in would do, we should reward him?" Dodonna challenged heavily. "If that ship is seen leaving this system, anywhere near this system, we are finished. If he's seen - caught - and tortured, how will he hold up? How loyal is he? It's Kashyyyk, Your Highness. It's the middle of - there's a goddamn Imperial occupation. There is no way he won't been discovered."

Dodonna was so impassioned, he did not notice himself swearing, an act he would normally be mortified to engage in around Leia. Shaking his head stiffly, he went on:

"If he miraculously gets away with it, it's a damn certainty he'll be tracked back here and then," Dodonna slapped his hands together. "Finished. We're finished, over one Wookiee."

His finale was harsh, condemning. Leia bit the inside of her cheek hard.

Rieekan shrugged.

"He may not come back," he offered. "He has debts to pay as it is. There's a reason he hasn't committed to the cause."

Leia bit the inside of her cheek harder.

Dodonna gave Rieekan a perturbed look; as if he thought the other man had lost his senses.

"Yes, he hasn't committed and yet he keeps coming back – that's an alarming indicator. 'He may not come back' – Carlist, for Sith's sake. He'll come back because she's here," Dodonna said, gesturing at Leia flippantly.

Leia arched her brows, her cheeks flushing faintly. She pursed her lips.

"That's true, Carlist, I enslaved Han with a restraining bolt," she said, deadpan.

"He'll come back with the whole damn Imperial army on his tail."

Leia shifted restlessly, leaning forward.

"I understand the position we're in," she began, "and whatever you may think, Han does, too. He may not be a crusader for our ideology, but he's shrewd, and he doesn't want to get jammed up by Imps, either – or risk his friends getting hurt. If he thinks he can do this," she trailed off.

"I don't know, Princess," Carlist said tiredly. "I've never seen him like this. What he's proposing would be a barely tenable risk even if he were at his sharpest, but he's emotionally gutted. If I can't trust him on watch – do we think he's capable of evading the sort of traps and trackers the Empire has for us – for that ship, specifically?"

Leia gave him a guarded look. She had expected Rieekan to lean more towards her side, circumspect as she was. He lifted one shoulder, dejected.

"I have to think like a general," he said.

Leia brushed her hand under chin stiffly.

"People can be emotionally gutted and function," she said, almost flippantly – do you think I was in my right mind when we fought at Yavin, Carlist?

She compressed her lips hard.

"He's not just one Wookiee," she quoted gently. "Chewbacca's been as instrumental as Han in smuggling for us, and he's performed hard labor building this base – he was doing our work when he got hurt," she pointed out. "Without compensation, if I might add."

Dodonna grimaced.

"I know," he said heavily. "I know."

He sat back, staring down at his desk.

"We can perhaps authorize Solo to make a jump to a more obscure planet, black-market, and smuggle back more appropriate medical supplies – "

"He says it's too late for that," muttered Rieekan. "Chewbacca needs his healers."

"What the fuck does Solo possibly know about Wookiee healing?" barked Dodonna, his face turning red. "I apologize, Princess – Carlist, I am trying to do the best I can; I am trying to protect hundreds without coming off like an ungracious piece of shit in the process!"

Rieekan blinked calmly.

"I understand, sir," he said. "I'm telling you where we're at."

Leia sat forward again, hunching her shoulders.

"You," she said, and then paused, correcting herself: "We need to consider that this isn't just a life debt relationship. It's beyond that. Han's never been comfortable with Chewbacca's cultural servitude, and he'd never recover if something happened to Chewie for – reasons that he perceived to be his fault."

"None of this is Solo's fault," Dodonna said tersely.

"No, not the accident," Leia said grimly. "Their being here at all, though?" she let that notion hang – because for the same reason Dodonna griped that Han would stubbornly come back, Leia knew Han was hanging around.

Dodonna sat back. Rieekan looked down at his boots and scuffed one hard against the floor, his lips twisting into a scowl. Leia looked between them, and then looked away, her chest hurting, as if some ice-cold hand had gripped it and relentlessly squeezed. Dodonna broke the silence, sucking in a deep breath, his face unreadable. He looked directly at Leia.

"No," he said finally. "I can't authorize it. Captain Solo does not have clearance to go barreling out of this system and storm into Imperial territory."

Leia swallowed hard; Dodonna looked at Rieekan.

"General, your vote?" he asked grimly.

Rieekan closed his eyes, and did not look at Leia. He sighed tiredly.

"I agree," he said. He opened his eyes. "These aren't decisions I like making," he said, directing the comment at Leia.

She looked at the wall, straight ahead of her.

"I understand your reasoning. I agree with it, even. It's logical; it functions for the greater good," she said. She hesitated, biting her lip. "I don't think it's right. It lacks heart."

"We can't win a Rebellion with heart, Your Highness," Dodonna said.

She blinked.

"Well," she said mildly, as she stood, "not with broken ones."

She folded her arms, and Dodonna grimaced, hanging his head. He looked at the things on his desk.

"You'll tell him?" he asked her grimly.

Leia nodded.

"He'll go anyway," she warned.

"Not if you ask him not to," Rieekan muttered. He glanced over at her. "Remind him your life would be at stake more than anyone else's."

Leia felt a flicker of anger at Carlist, a hot rush of irritation. She wouldn't – presume to place herself higher than Chewbacca in Han's affections, and if somehow, she did have that power, she wouldn't dream of wielding it. Argue that he should – forsake one of the most integral beings in his life for – for her?

She said nothing. She just inclined her head, and turned to go.

"Princess," Dodonna called from behind her. He hesitated, but went on grudgingly: "High command decisions are united decisions," he reminded her.

She paused, listening to him, but did not turn around. She just inclined her head in silent understanding again – contentious decisions behind closed doors were all good an well, but it was a sacred rule that when a decision was come to, and handed down, no member of the high command contradicted it. Much like supplies, cohesion, or lack thereof among the leadership, could make or break a victory.

The injury had occurred a week and a half ago, one of those sinister accidents that devolved into a tidal wave of problems. Chewbacca had been helping to repair an X-wing that was vaulted high off the hangar floor, and had been caught underneath it when part of the scaffolding had collapsed. Pinned, but in good condition, it had seemed like a matter of freeing him, and treating the break – but the wreckage was a heavy mess, and a clean break became something dangerously close to crushed syndrome – and over the days, Chewbacca plummeted, while the sparsely equipped Hoth medical bay struggled to pull him back from the abyss.

They had one single bacta treatment room, suffering from outdated formulas; they had older generations of technology, medics who generalized, rather than specialized, Two One-Bees that glitched, and again and again offered remedies that the medical supplies couldn't support – or procedures that required tacit knowledge that belonged to Wookiees alone.

With each passing day, Chewbacca's conditioned worsened, and as the prognosis grew darker, so had Han's mood. His carefree ambivalence, his surety that Chewbacca would bounce back as quickly as he had in the past, slipped away and he unraveled.

It should not have become so dire, but it was a gruesome string of unlucky and bizarre events – the atmosphere on Hoth had never been well suited to Chewbacca's system, and he'd been undernourished, sharing rations with the Rebels; with his system not up to par in the first place, a robust injury was a harrowing threat.

Standing next to Han outside the filmy, scratched up viewport that looked into the medical bay, Leia could almost feel him shaking. The pent up rage and anxiety in him was palpable, rolling off of him in harsh waves. A muscle in his jaw jumped, throbbing furiously, and he stared straight ahead, stared at Chewbacca.

Leia was the stony sentinel, the ice queen as always, relaying the decision that had been made to deny him clearance – a decision he had heard, and reacted to with dangerous silence, staring, staring, at Chewbacca.

The Wookiee was drenched in bacta and drenched in feverish sweat – the tank they had was too small for him, but the medics were doing their best; they did not have the fortifying herb Han had aggressively told them they needed to trigger a stronger immune response from Chewie.

Leia was used to the ire of the enlisted; she was unused to ire – real ire – from Han himself. Their arguments were litmus tests for passion, uncontrollable burst of emotion that was not being channeled into the right thing, and was coming out in other ways – but what she saw in his profile now was real ire, hatred, almost. Hatred –

"You don't have as much power as I thought, huh?" he said, his voice hard, and frozen. "As much as you act like you do."

The last part was a jab, laced with spite – arrogant, he seemed to call her, detached, bitchy – everything they say you are, and nothing I can count on. Leia held back a flinch, cocooned in her professional armor, clinging to that intangible chainmail.

"It wasn't an easy decision," she began neutrally. "Han, we have to consider – "

"Shut-up," Han muttered – under his breath, as if even now, even in his rage, and his worry, he was too wary of saying it too loud; it was a subdued command, but it stung, and Leia bit her tongue. "I hate it when you talk like that. I hate when you get that – condescending – empty – tone," he spat.

She was still standing mute, her head angled slightly away from him, when he whipped his head towards her.

"I thought you went in there for him, Leia," he snapped hoarsely, thrusting his hand out at the glass. "You have your stupid fucking hang-ups about me, whatever your problem is, but you were supposed to do this for him."

Han's m's were elongated, like he was jamming his lips together to keep his voice steady at the end. When he broke his words, he gasped in the back of his throat, hard, and Leia watched his face get red, his lips go pale around the edges. She'd known enough moments of raw emotion held back in the presence of others to recognize how much pain he was in.

She bit back what she wanted to say, and upheld the – unified – decision.

"It's too much of a risk. The Falcon is recognizable; the two of you are icons. Kashyyyk is full of garrisons, it's half-enslaved," she listed mechanically. "You'll be there tracked, or you'll be tracked back here. Or you'll be captured, tortured, and reveal our location – "

"That could happen on any run – that could happen to you, Sweetheart," he snarled. "You're not unbreakable. You're – "

"Don't talk to me like that," Leia broke in sharply. "Don't go there. I am unbreakable," she said fiercely, feeling needles in her skin. "I was unbroken," she said, thinking of hours on end of the Imperial probe droid. "You don't know what it's like," she said icily, "so don't talk to me like that."

Han fell silent, but it was a grudging silence; angry. She sensed he was swallowing down the immediate desire to apologize, forcing himself to stay angry despite his gaffe. Inflamed, for a moment, by his callous disregard for what she had been through, she went on –

"I lost millions for this fight," she said tersely. "I am not impervious to the grief – I'm trying not to lose more. I'm – we - trying to balance what is best with an impossible – "

"It's not impossible!" Han shouted, rounding on her. "It's not impossible – he needs Kashyyyk, he needs to go to Kashyyyk!" he bellowed, his face flushing. "He needs his healers, and his people, to save his fucking life – "

"Han," she broke in desperately, "do you really think that at this point that is going to turn the tables? That ancient herbal medicines – "

"You should have let me take him when they first couldn't get him into the bacta!" Han roared, his eyes flashing dangerously. "And since instead we fucked around here for a week watching this pathetic med bay botch his treatment, you can at least let me take him home to die with his wife and cub!"

Leia recoiled, turning away from him and standing close to the viewport, her arms wrapped around herself. The idea of Chewbacca gone, dead, lifeless at the feet of his family, was viscerally disturbing. Han towered over her, his heart beating on his sleeve and in the visible pulse at his temple.

"What would your precious Rebellion do without him, Leia?" Han demanded. "He's what, he's big, strong, free labor? He's got a weird language; he's expendable? He was fixing your ships – he's built half this base – "

"Chewbacca chose this! He chose – "

"You know damn well he goes where I go, and I choose to be here!" Han interrupted, his voice cracking. "I chose and he – he won't say no, he won't turn you down, and this is how you're going to repay him?"

"You choose, you choose?" Leia snapped. "Now it's you? You go on and on about Chewbacca's bleeding heart, and you doing him a favor by hanging around his pet cause for the money – "

"You know good and well why I hang around," Han interrupted dangerously, his eyes moving over her coldly. "Don't you dare play dumb now."

Leia's lips moved soundlessly. She stepped to the side, and looked in at Chewbacca, at the pitiful rise and fall of his chest, the blurry, ragged look on his gentle face. She set her jaw, wrestling with herself – this was not the decision she wanted. She didn't care if she made it for more personal than practical reasons.

She had so few people left to love.

"You have to understand what we're facing," Leia said tightly, bowing her head. "We don't have the numbers or the capacity to fight off an assault right now; we don't have an evacuation point! We can't be found," she said desperately. "If you go – if we get caught – "

"I won't get caught," Han said viciously. He took her arm gently, despite his anger, and faced her, pointing hard into the room. "Leia, I've got to take him to Kashyyyk. That's his only chance, that's it. He's going to die. Do you want that on your hands?"

"Han," she protested loudly, her eyes stinging – Alderaan or the Rebellion, Han and Chewie or the Rebellion, why was everything in her life juxtaposed like this; why, when she had chosen to fight this fight, had she not realized she was sacrificing all the human parts of her?

"What?" he fired back bluntly. "You told me you'd fight for him. You swore – "

"I did," Leia said, wrenching her arm away. She turned to him. "I did. This decision was not unanimous, it was not – I didn't want it!" she admitted in a hiss. "Rieekan and Dodonna, they have to think like soldiers, they have to."

"And you have to go along," Han said bitterly. "Why? Because you're just a figurehead?"

He put a hand to his chest.

"You know I can pull this off," he pleaded. "Who else – who else could?" he looked at her in disbelief – "We got off the Death Star, this is nothin' compared to that."

He shook his head.

"You know me."

"It is not that I don't trust you," Leia said hoarsely, "or believe in you. It is a risk analysis that you – don't win, that you – what does it matter?" she broke off, exasperated. "I told them you'd go anyway."

His jaw tightened and she saw his eyes flicker with a wrenching inner struggle, like he'd hope she wouldn't say that, wouldn't make him do that – because he wanted her approval, because he didn't want to disappoint her? Her mouth felt dry, and she reached out to take his hand without thinking – he so forcefully recoiled from her that she put her fist to her lips and held back a small sob.

"You think I want everyone here to get busted?" he demanded after a moment, his face pale.

She had never seen such conflict in him.

"If you," he started, shaking his head as if he couldn't get nightmares out of mind, "if you had said I was clear – "

He stopped talking and just stared at her, his mouth open. There was something about that – that gutted her, something about him still, at the height of his grief and worry, finding it in him to be conflicted about her, her cause, her blessing, things he claimed he didn't care about or believe in.

He turned on his heel and paced away.

Leia turned, her face pale, and clung to the edge of the viewport. If Luke were here, he could mediate, he could help all of this – calm nerves, come up with ideas, plan – but Luke was off on a scout mission, and she and Han were twice as volatile when he was not around to play the buffer.

"Han," she said quietly, placing her hand on the glass in front of her. "I don't want to lose Chewie. I don't," her voice broke.

Han turned again, pacing back towards her. He lifted is hand and pointed at her, his index finger hovering close to his face.

"You don't get to cry over this," he growled nastily.

He started to turn away, and then whipped back, his face incredulous, wild.

"You're a fucking hypocrite," he accused. "Some – rebellion. Some fight for equality," he spat.

Leia stared at him, her hackles crazed.

"Do you think I'm doing this for fun?" she demanded hoarsely.

"Everything here, everything about this base, the last base we were at, it was geared at humans – tailored to humans," Han said ferociously. "Chewie's had a bad time breathin' here from the get go, and no one gave a damn – when I get med supplies or rations, the bulk of it is for human systems - and he's there, he's all fucked up," Han jabbed his elbow at Chewbacca, "because even though he's helpin' build this Rebellion, none of you gave a damn thought to maybe bein' able to save him. Did you think he'd never get hurt?"

The suggestion that she was elitist, racist, was nauseating; she felt it like a physical blow to the stomach, almost doubling over. She felt an urge to slap him in outrage – do you know what I've lost for this fight? – but the worst part of it was the reality of his words – how little attention they paid to ensuring they were fully equipped for all the species that joined their ranks –

"The majority," she spluttered, hating herself even as the words came out, stopping her refrain before she could finish it – Han seized onto it anyway.

"The majority," he quoted violently. "That's who deserves to rule, right? Deserves the power, the best treatment?" he goaded. "The rest of the galaxy, shame on them for not bein' born human, eh? That what you were gonna say, little Empress?"

She did slap him. Hard, quick, and fast – a whiplash movement, her small palm, rough across his face like a white crack of thunder, her nails curling into her palm and her hand curling into her chest, horrified at the action right on the heels of committing it. Han looked for a split second as if he might return the slap, but that look faded into one of startled, dark resignation.

She swallowed hard.

Han rubbed his face, and turned away.

"Add it to the list of grievances," he muttered, half to himself.

He walked away, and leaned against the viewport, mashing his forehead up against it. He stared dully into the medical bay, his elbows shoved into the glass over his head, his expression dull. He didn't look at her, when he spoke again.

"I don't have access to the hangar bay flight doors," he said coldly. "'Cause I ain't an official member. Can't leave without your damn clearance. 'Course, I could break the code, but, that'd take a week," he shrugged harshly, "he'll be dead by then."

Han stared.

"After that, you just gonna bury him here, in the snow? Or you gonna let me hang on to him 'til I can take him back to his family?" he asked – and he didn't seem to be goading her now; he seemed to be eulogizing, dealing with a deep, stinging guilt.

Leia held her fist tighter to her chest.

There was no reason behind letting Chewbacca die if his homeworld could save him – and Han's accusing diatribe was disturbingly true; if Chewie had been human, he likely would not have deteriorated this badly. Her personal feelings on the matter were clear, yet she had tried to rein them in, constantly unable to express anything that might appear like weakness around her colleagues, wary of seeming vulnerable, or fanciful and young.

Han had given her a political torch to burn them with, and that was a hill she could die on; that was a lens through which she could assuage her own guilt, her own worry for Chewie.

"You really think he'll survive the trip to Kashyyyk?" she asked in a small voice.

Han let one of his arms fall, and rubbed his nose with his wrist inconspicuously. Leia pretended not to notice. He thrust that hand angrily, but tiredly, at the viewport.

"There doin' so little for him here," he said. "I can do this for him on the Falcon," he bristled again. "Malla, the elders, they got ancient remedies – you should see these things work, Leia, I seen 'em, I seen," he trailed off, one of his hands going absently to his back.

He clutched at his shirt.

"If you can believe that Luke's got invisible powers, you can believe that Wookiees know how to save their own. They've got – ways."

She did believe it. She believed in the Force, and she believed in Han's faith because he was a self-proscribed faithless man, and if he swore Chewbacca's clan was the only hope of saving him – he meant it.

Leia fidgeted, her posture tense and angry. Her hand throbbed, palm smarting from the force of the slap she'd delivered. She was ashamed she'd given in to violence. She was more ashamed she'd hurt Han when he was already hurting. She was conflicted, her heart racing and rising up in her throat to choke her; she tasted the metallic, sour trauma of the choice she'd been given on the Death Star – the personal, or political.

There had been no real way out for her then – but here, there was; maybe a chance at redeeming some of the helpless sorrow she felt over her inability to save Alderaan. She could choose to disavow a well-intentioned decision that might lead them into a pattern of indifference. She could risk fission in the ranks of command, risk destabilizing herself in the eyes of her peers – for Chewbacca.

Leia pushed strands of her hair back, her hands shaking. She had never before broken ranks with the Rebellion – certainly not since she'd lost everything for it. That she was about to do it for one Wookiee, for one man –

Not just one Wookiee, she thought, echoing her own earlier words.

She took a deep breath, and it was painful. She pushed away from the window, paced a little, and then walked over to take Han's elbow. Unexpectedly, he fought her, jerking away like a startled animal, recoiling. When she tightened her grip, he just turned his head, as if he were trying to turn it completely around on his neck, avoiding her gaze violently.

"Han," she said, casting her eyes down and deliberately avoiding looking at his face.

He made an unintelligible noise, his other arm going up to rub his face.

"You're right," she said.

She held his arm tighter.

"I'll get you clearance," she said, quieter.

Han turned to her with a sneer, until he saw the gravity of the expression on her face. She met his eyes, holding his gaze with the kind of resolve he needed to see, the kind of hope he was grasping for. His lips moved, and he set his jaw, reaching up impulsively to touch her face. His fingertips brushed her cheek, and then he turned away, his teeth clenched tightly. He put his hand up to the viewport glass, grinding his teeth.

Leia straightened her shoulders, and flexed her hand, turning to look down the long, colourless hallway that would lead her back to the high command office, where she would break ranks – it would cause uproar, it might cause a demotion; but it was right.

- alexandra

story #372