| abstract | - Log Intro: Luke's well-meant desire to get Han out of his suite for some food and fresh air has had an unexpected effect: it has snapped Han's temper, and led to him attempting to get plastered at the Briny Deep Tap House. Luke has trailed his friend to the tavern, and after a brief but heated argument, Han has confessed to the young Jedi that he's been suffering nightmares ever since escaping from Imperial imprisonment. Startled by his normally confident friend's admission, Luke has nevertheless swiftly pledged his aid; the Corellian, though, has shot down the idea of getting a medic's aid, which has prompted Luke to promise his own kind of assistance.... Princess Leia and Han Solo's Quarters The main room of this private suite is decorated in soft shades of white and beige, and the lighting is a subtle glow that chases off the shadows without being harshly bright. Two plush chairs surround a table of dark, refined wood that rests beside a large open window that looks out upon the oceans of Calamari. The floor is carpeted to match the decor, and to muffle footsteps throughout the suite; the center of the floor, however, is covered with a soft, shaggy rug in assorted shades of grey and tan. A side corridor leads off to the more private rooms of the suite; the most apparent exit is the door leading back out into the base. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Luke => Han_Solo => Artoo => Threepio -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- aster Bedroom leads to Master Bedroom. uest Room leads to Guest Room. ut leads to Waiting To Be Linked. fighter, someone accustomed to getting into tight situations... and getting quickly right back out of them. His brown hair is cut pragmatically short, but is thick enough to hold a hint of a wave, framing a set of ruggedly handsome features that have finally lost the last traces of youthfulness and are solidly into weathered maturity. A long scar crooks across his chin, adding another touch of ruggedness to his face. Sharp-gazed hazel eyes, prone to shift tint depending on his clothing, miss very little that crosses their line of sight, and he typically speaks in a lazy almost-drawl. He is clad in a rumpled, simply cut white shirt tucked into black breeches; on his feet he's wearing scuffed black boots, and his clothes in general look like he's probably slept in them for a week... in direct contrast to his face, which suggests he hasn't slept at all, with the shadows about his eyes. He is thinner and paler than he should be, and the white shirt hangs loosely on his frame. blonde hair, which frequently falls into his clear blue eyes, frames a well tanned face. Several discernable scars line his mouth and nose. He is dressed entirely in soft black fabric under a slate wool tunic of plain design. From his scuffed brown belt, an empty blaster holster and Lightsaber hang loosely. His pants are tucked into gleaming calf high boots. It is not particularly surprising that once he and Skywalker leave the bar, Han Solo lays in a straight course back to the suite he shares with the Princess. As he and the Jedi head back into the corridors of the NR base, more than one officer -- both old and young, human, Calamari, and other -- does a double-take at the passing of General Solo. Most of them pretend, with varying degrees of success, to not notice his rumpled appearance. With rather more success, Solo pretends not to notice those who gape, ending, at last, with the pair of evening guards at the door, to whom he says nothing when he thumbs open the suite door and lets Luke into the room along with him. Only then does Han seem to balk a little, and he turns a somewhat bemused gaze to his younger friend. "So, uh, Kid..." Luke, sensing Han's second thoughts answers easily, "Nothing to it. You won't even know I'm here Han. I'll just give you a little boost is all." He shrugs this off for the Corellian's benefit, "You know. Just let you work through the dream on your own." Despite his conscious aloofness with this endeavor, he squints at Han to gauge his response. Han visibly steadies himself, and tries to appear casual under Luke's calm blue scrutiny. "Okay... so..." He starts to pace, first turning left and then right, and finally asking awkwardly, "You want me to sit down or somethin'?" Luke considers this, turning his head to the side and glancing around the room, "Threepio." He says simply, "Go in the other room. Take Artoo with you." He peers at the Corellian, "Whatever makes you comfortable. Try and remember the dreams, or sleep if you can." He moves over and finds a chair near the couch, his eyes following Han. "I'm not going to do anything other than give you a little clarity of thought." He squints again, unsure if Solo will balk once again at the thought of someone -giving- his mind something it might not have at the moment. Threepio whirrs loyally, "Of course Master Luke. Artoo, come along." he says. The little droid whistles dispassionately about being sent off like the help, but follows anyway. The door clicks behind them. Hazel eyes narrowing balefully at the pair of droids, Han doesn't move until Threepio and Artoo disappear; only then, warily, as though he were in someone else's residence, the Corellian creeps over to the couch and sits gingerly down upon it. Equally reluctantly, he then shifts to lie down, and mutters gruffly, "Dunno if I can sleep." "You don't have to sleep." Luke answers softly. His hands move down to cling casually to the arms of the chair, his posture relaxed. Blinking slowly, he lets out a breathe and looks at Han. "You might feel a sensation like adrenaline.." he continues dreamily, "..then your body will tingle and go numb a little. Don't worry about that, just remember the dreams." Another breath and he adds, "Sometimes it's easier for a person to handle a dream that is bothering them, when they have a clear conscious image of it." "Feel somethin', but what if it's just the brandy?" Han mutters, settling down to lie still now. His eyes flicker closed a moment, then back open, in nervous reflex. Luke smiles warmly, voice miles away now, "..you'll know it's different. Just relax. I'll be pleasant enough." His eyes half closed and staring blankly at the far wall, not on Han. The door catecornered from the one Threepio and Artoo just disappeared into cracks open just slightly, a soft, brown gaze peeking through. Han draws in a breath and then releases it, frowning a little, his head turning in Luke's direction. "Relax... yeah. Got it," he murmurs. Luke doesn't make any movement or response now. Senses tuned high, he feels Leia's presence in his mind rather than seeing her and tucks it away while pushing the Force toward Han in an effort to relax him and give him the aforementinoed clarity of thought. It has the added affect of giving him the sensation of a protected sphere, seperating his unconscious from his waking mind.. a window from which to view the dreams in relative safety. The Corellian's eyes don't close, though as Luke begins his work, clear startlement flashes across his features. His gaze flicks instinctively to the young Jedi, and he seems startled again to find that Luke hasn't actually touched him; then, he seems to sink back a little farther into the couch, for all that he's already lying down. "Started... on Palanhi," he begins, his voice very low. The warm brown gaze peers further as it focuses on the familiar figures on the couch, a mixture of curiosity and concern washing through her. She dares not open the door further, however, remaining somewhat safely hidden on the other side from the visual range of her brother and husband. Han continues, his voice slowly growing more distant, slightly confused; Luke's senses on the older man can tell him Han hasn't quite grasped exactly why he's suddenly feeling more at ease. "Thought it was..." He smirks vaguely. "'Cause I was sick. Fever dreams. That kinda thing." Luke's breathing is regular now, and deep. His eyes move from their half closed positions to fully closed, mouth opening a fraction of an inch. His thoughts focused totally on Han now. Occasionally as Han speaks, Luke diverts a touch of his attention off to wander around the place as he is apt to do when in such a trance. A portion wanders near the door, secure.. about the apartment, sensing no lifeforms of any threat.. settling on Leia and lingering there, feeling her concern for her husband.. something else.. not sure what without full focus.. and gradually meanders back to settle on the Jedi himself, clearing his mind inwardly to allow the push toward Han and the protective bubble that surrounds him now to come clearer into view. "Dreams... about the Noghri, mostly... he... kinda roughed me up, kid," Han admits, the tranquility drifting across his worn features disturbed by a troubled glimmer to his eyes. As he speaks, memory flickers within the Jedi's senses: pain, lancing in sharp slashes across his chest... splashed with something fiery, that sears his blood... bone-deep, aching cold... and white-hot agony through his foot. Luke nods slowly as Han recounts the events, especially as the image of the Noghri comes forth.. the same one that attacked the Jedi on Etti IV.. he pushes this thought away, concentrating on giving Han the relaxation he needs to see it all more vividly.. He pictures Han as a lab coated scientist, examining the dangerous bacteria from behind a duraplated wall.. Another wave of physical relaxation reaches the Corellian and Luke once more goes through his trance ritual of surveying his surroundings.. finding Leia.. resting there as Han speaks.. Leia takes half a step backwards deeper into the bedroom as she senses her brother's wandering mind rest on her again, almost as if reconsidering being at the door watching at all. Her husband's words hold her in her place, however, rooting her to the ground as her gaze remains locked on him with a deep concern welling up within her. Han's eyes dropped closed, and his head jerks for a moment, unconsciously, as his over-tired, over-stimulated body wrestles with the peace trying to settle over him, like a blanket. When he settles again, he murmurs more softly, "I... didn't know what he wanted. They never even asked me any questions..." (Another flash of memory, vague, unrelated to the nightmares -- another torture chamber, this on Bespin, sparks flying into his face. But that memory, secure on the other side of the sphere, does not disturb here...) Luke still doesn't say a word. He nods as the memories flood through his friends mind. Eyes coming half open once again. "I... I thought I was okay, no time for it anyway." The Corellian's tone is curt, now, dismissive of mental distress -- and lingering physical weakness -- as inconsequential in the face of the need to get the _Black Dragon_ off of Palanhi, her passengers out of reach of the Imperials. "But... dreams wouldn't go away, they wouldn't go away..." "They will if you want them to.." Luke says hazily. "Remember them.." Leia remains frozen in place at the door, her husband's words sinking in deeply. Part of her wants to go to her husband, to help him, to comfort him.. the other half filled with a concern of what else lies beyond the door, her brother. Thoughts of Luke conjure up more and more introverted worry as she reflects on the events that occured the night she was hospitalized.. though none of that worry is of the magnitude to overpower what she feels for her husband. Memory swirls on the other side of that sphere, simply part of his thoughts and experience for the Corellian, but energies through the Force for the Jedi... and perhaps his sister... and therefore, readable. Han scowls, disturbed, and Luke can sense the reason why: the recollection of the Noghri's torture haunting his mind, all the more vividly when Han is stolen one night off Palanhi, beaten into unconsciousness, carried away only to awaken in yet another jail. Imprisonment -- _that_ memory, gaining strength, pushes against the sphere shielding the exhausted Corellian, beginning to build the dream again for him. Luke, keeping a portion of his mind trained on Leia, gets a flicker of her worry and considers it. She's just concerned for Han.. he thinks.. but something else is there, thoughts of himself.. furrowing his brow, he re-directs some more focus toward her, all the while helping Han bring the dreams forth. (The dream takes shape. He is trapped, and he does not know why; they will not tell him. He is exhausted, furious, desperate to act; there is nothing he can do. And it sinks in to him that perhaps he has been trapped for a Purpose: to take him from what he holds dear. Grathix is there, all at once, saying in a tone no less threatening for all its ostensible cordiality: "The Hutts have called a bounty onto your head, yours, and those of your friends. You will do what I want, or my hunters will come for you.") On the couch, Han twitches again, his head turning from side to side, one hand lifting from where it'd dropped limply across his stomach. Luke turns to watch Han, his attention momentarily distracted from Leia. Grathix.. he lied.. Luke makes a conscious effort to once again empty his own thoughts regarding the subject, no matter that friends of his could be in danger because of the man.. He blows out a breath and composes his attention toward Han. Gentle waves of relaxation moving toward the Corellian like clockwork, dropping him in levels down toward his dream. Han's vocal silence draws Leia's attention and she stares through the crack in the door to watch his form twitch slightly on the couch. She stands perched on her side of the door, straining to keep herself from leaving the bedroom's confines to go to Han's side. Thoughts flicker within her mind now that hold more reason than before.. if she interrupts what Luke and Han are doing, it could ruin any progress Luke has made in whatever he's doing. (He has no choice -- he has to do what Grathix asks, for he can't let the hunters at his friends. Yes, blast it, he'll do the Run! He turns, expecting to call for the Wookiee, to stride up the entry ramp into the _Falcon_... but the Wookiee is gone, and he can't find his ship, his refuge. The ship is gone -- and with a pain that stabs through his entire body, he suddenly knows why, as he whirls again to find faceless, helmeted Espos briskly auctioning off twisted, broken pieces of a ship's control panel. _His_ ship...) Luke sighs with empathy toward the smuggler. He knows how much the Falcon means to Han.. suddenly he has a thought that Han just isn't Han -without- the Falcon.. the two linked in a symbiotic relationship.. her giving him the best and worst of performance.. puffing up his ego when she works, causing him to toss up the brash walls of defense when she gets cranky.. The Falcon.. as real an entity as anyone in Han's mind.. Where he lies on the couch, Han remains still now, a deep frown settled into his features as though engraved there, his unsteady breathing and an occasional jerk of his head the only signs of continued distress. (His ship is gone, and he feels her loss as though someone had sliced off one of his own limbs... and still he has no choice. He has to do the Kessel Run. Pained, battered, exhausted, he stumbles into the cockpit of another freighter... only to discover to his alarm that the controls are alien to him. All at once, he is unable to remember where the navigation computer is... the weapons controls... the gauges and lights and levers that _should_ have let him meld into harmony with the ship to fly it into the stars. He can't remember how to fly...) Luke leans forward slightly, peering with intensity at Han. He knows this must be awful for him.. Han Solo with a fear of flying? Yeah, all caused by the thought of being in a ship he doesn't know like the back of his hand but.. yeow.. Wrinkles begin to form in Leia's overly worried brow as her husband lays on the couch frowning. Her weight now leans forward, resting almost entirely on the hand situated upon the door frame as she gazes solidly into the main room, standing on tip toes to gain a better view of the two within. (They _know_. They know he can't do it, and they swarm with their weapons onto the ship -- and overpower him with ridiculous ease. No amount of struggle he can put forth prevents them from dragging him before the Hutts. And as they do, he catches glimpses of the walls of their audience chamber, grey, metallic walls, but oddly sculpted in places where they catch the light -- as though a hand there, a knee, a face have been caught in the middle of emerging from within the carbonite surfaces. Lando.... Luke... Leia....) Luke's face contorts as he gets the impressions from Han's dream.. a wave of reassurance moves toward the Corellian, assuring him that he can view this with security. On the couch, Han lies shivering more noticeably now, a sheen of sweat breaking out across his brow. (And within the dream, he whirls, horror-stricken, as he sees his friends hanging before him. _Chewie, you gotta get me outta here...!_ The Wookiee is his only hope now, his copilot, his trusted partner... his friend... but the Hutts are laughing, cheering now, as another trio of bounty hunters bursts into the hall. Their leader carries brandished in his hands Chewbacca's head -- carbonized. And the two behind them carry between them on a grav-platform the rest of the Wookiee's body....) Luke winces faintly, focusing on his breathing and the aura of Force that surrounds Han now. The sphere of protection across Han's thoughts ripples, nearly collapsing -- not from any lapse of attention of the young Jedi, but instead under the surge of raw panic and fury from the Corellian. Han's body lurches on the couch, almost throwing him off it to the floor. "It's alright Han." Luke reassures softly. Only now choosing to remind the Corellian by audible words that he is safely here, on the couch and can't be harmed by the images. Leia's light frame remains perched by the darkened doorway of the bedroom. From beyond the crack in the portal her worried brown gaze searches her husband's face, and her brother's..wishing she could help in some way, but not daring to move the door, much less open it and join the two where they work. She seems resigned to just stand and stare like an animal caught in a trap as her husband's body jolts on the couch and her brother moves to reassure him, fingers gripping the door tightly where they rest and a surge of inward panic and worry welling up inside of her as her concern for his safety and health take over her conscious thought. Does Han hear Luke? It's hard to tell, as the Corellian's head jerks once, sharply, from side to side, and his hands suddenly snap up reflexively, as though to shield his face... (... for the Hutts are throwing him into the carbon-freezing chamber. The liquid is hissing down on him, ice and fire, smothering him with its weight and trapping him in frozen darkness...)... then, suddenly, he almost sits up, his eyes flying open. Han_Solo fumbles at the back of the couch for support, his eyes wide and wild, his frame trembling violently. Luke speaks gently again, "Han.." his hands instinctively reaching out to his friend, again.. a reassuring gesture. "Han!" he says louder. Whether due to the exertion of the Force, or simply that Luke's voice is a familiar anchor, Han dazedly shoots his gaze around to the younger man and focuses on him with an effort. Leia starts at Han's sudden motion and her hands on the door's frame tremble as her own eyes go wide in watching the progression of events on the couch in the main room. Her heart pounds rapidly in her chest and she discovers she's holding her breath, at which point she makes a halfway concentrated effort to resume and steady her breathing which has returned to her in shallow puffs. Luke peers at the older man with concern, "You alright pal?" "I... I fell asleep," Han rasps, brow crinkling. "Dreamed." Luke stands, stooped over Han near the couch, "Listen.. just relax. Don't worry about any of it right now ok?" he straightens, "I'll just go check on the droids and then we can talk about it." he says, turning and moving off toward the room the two droids had holed themselves up in. Relax, the Kid says.... Han slumps back down along the couch, mumbling something resembling an assent, but eying Luke's back strangely as the younger man gets up. Leia nearly has to pry her fingers from the door's frame as she moves back some from the crack, convincing herself Han is fine, everything's fine, she should relax.. Luke would have said something if things weren't okay. Very carefully she moves away from the door, careful not to let the air disturbed by her motion brush the door as to make it creak in any form. She heads back into the dark recesses of the bedroom to lie down and contemplate what she saw as well felt during the emotional experience she just stood witness to. [And after a moment....] The door slides open, and his feet carry him into the bedroom, almost before Han really registers that he's gotten up off the couch. He can remember talking to Luke, and then the dream filling his head again -- but this time with an awareness that it _is_ just a dream, nothing to fear. The part of his mind long-practiced at ignoring fear -- and that part of him which was so rattled by something that _did_ deeply scare him -- is now vigorously seizing on the lack of fright, reminding him that this is how he should be. Another part of him, though, is pointing out that he is tired, bone-deep exhausted... and a third part, deeper still, is reminding him that somebody else needs to know that something has changed. So he stumbles into the bedroom, blearily rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes, scanning the room for his wife. Leia's petite form rests upon the bed, back turned to the door as she lies on her side atop the covers, apparently having laid down for a for a nap. A soft pillow has been drawn up beneath her head and her eyes remain closed as it rests there, but she doesn't seem fully relaxed as one who is sleeping normally is. Leia. Feeling a lump rising in his throat at the recollection that he hasn't exactly been attentive to his wife in the last week or so, Han crawls onto the bed, moves straight for her side, and slips an arm around her, drawing her close against his chest. Leia's arm slides up to rest atop Han's as her eyelids begin to slowly open. Thoughts of the family scene she witnessed just a few moments prior still linger in her head and the emotions envoked by the same continue to sit heavily in her heart; worried she may betray her guarded watch of the entire event, she doesn't trust herself to do more than intertwine her fingers with his and squeeze his hand lightly, comfortingly. Han's rich, low voice comes out of him in a plaintive whisper, as he murmurs into his mate's dark hair, "Leia." Leia squeezes his hand again and her voice answers his in a soft, comforting tone just shy of a quiet whisper, "I'm here, Han." He does not say anything else; that one word, breathed, relays much with its tone. The Corellian's fingers caress the smaller hand curling into his, and his mouth presses kisses along the back of Leia's head, just behind her ear, down her neck as far as he can reach. Leia begins to relax into her husband's caressing hold, letting his mere presence in this state of mind push her worried thoughts from her mind and from her heart. Perhaps Han senses the tension in the small form he is embracing; slowly, gently, he moves Leia around to face him, so that his arms can curl around her back, and his hands can stroke there, to soothe. He does not ask permission, as he had not done the first time he'd kissed her. Now, as then, he moves her with the same determination. Now, though, his face is different, and he looks down and over at her with eyes full of apology and exhaustion and yearning, all intermingled. As Han soothes the tension from her, Leia continues to relax beneath his touch, comforted by the return of a Han she hasn't seen in.. well, far, far too long. A slight relief flashes in her warm, brown gaze and the corners of her mouth turn upwards just a bit in a quiet smile. His tired features brighten a little at that smile. Weary as he looks, he keeps his eyes open, drinking in the sight of those delicate features, while his right hand methodically traces a course up and down a royal backbone. Long, strong fingers massage the muscles they touch, as though he intends to pull strife and worry out of the Princess by the strength of his own palm. As the worry drains slowly out of her expression, a hint of Han's tiredness seems to reflect in her own features. The deep and endless weariness is not present, but the lack of sleep seems to push itself through at the corners of her eyes and in a soft glint in those brown orbs. The comfort of Han's touch draws more of the smile to her face and Leia moves to wrap her delicate arms around her scoundrel. Whether because of her tiredness or his own, Han does no more than caress his beloved; when her arms encircle him, he exhales once, as though something pent up within him for far too long a time has been given release. Shifting Leia till her frame is nestled snugly against him, he finally settles down, his unshaven cheek resting against the top of her head. Leia sighs quietly against her husband as she begins to drift back off into a restful state, giving into the tiredness she holds while snuggled up closely to him. Her relief never fades away, any worrisome thoughts have been quelled by the return of a more familiar Corellian. Her final thoughts before she fades away into sleep are of contentment and a sound knowledge that, after all this time, she finally has her husband back with her.. not only in body, but in mind as well. Postlude: "Master Luke," inquired Threepio plaintively, "does this mean we do _not_ need to call the medical personnel for Captain Solo? His behavior has been most irregular, after all--" Back out in the living room, Luke did not need the Force, or even to see behind the closed door of Han and Leia's bedroom, to know where the Corellian had gone. Nor did the sight of the half-circle couch, now vacant, surprise him; the same familiarity with Han that had left him to the tavern before now told him, without doubt, that his friend had gone straight to Leia. But he stretched forth just enough of his senses, nonetheless, to confirm it... Yes. Han and his sister lay in the other room, twined in one another's arms now, and both drifting into sorely needed rest. _Good,_ Luke thought. It was high time that something went right for once. "_Will_ he be alright, Master Luke?" the protocol droid finished. Beside him, Artoo Detoo let out a tiny concerned warble. And the Jedi smiled, a small smile, much more apparent in the lightening of his blue eyes than in any curve of his mouth. Gently, he nudged the pair of droids towards the exit. "He'll be fine, Threepio, they both will. Come on -- let's let them sleep."
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