Archive of Our Own

Leia swore and turned her commlink off, barely resisting the urge to toss the damn thing as far as she could. But then it would be as stuck in the snow as she was, with her broken ankle and bleeding brow and shattered speeder. She glanced to it, nose-dove off of a bluff, and cursed its crumpled shape for the sixth time in the past ten minutes.

She tried the comm again. “Han Solo! Pick up! Get in range!”

Five seconds passed before she groaned. Unable to reach her speeder, she was stuck with the tiny commlink miles from base, freezing and stranded. The sun was still high in on the horizon, but that didn’t account for a possible storm. And even if a search party was sent out, her white clothes would prove camouflage on Hoth. That meant her hope was with Han, the only person who had ventured in a similar direction when they’d gone out into the ice.

If only he’d hear her.

She looked down to her ankle, twisted oddly, and tried to move again. The sharp spark of pain made her wince. She hissed, glanced in the direction she thought the base was. She’d have to limp miles to get back.

Static broke through for a moment. “Leia? Have you been-“

“Han!” she shouted, not bothering to let him finish. “I crashed. I need a pickup.”

She could hear him chuckle, and she considered cursing him out and telling him not to come. Her ankle protested. “How’d you manage that?”

“I didn’t see- Unimportant. My ankle’s broken, and I hit my head.”

It took him a beat to respond. “Where are you?” There was something new in his voice, now, though she chose to blame it on some kind of transmission issue.

“You know the cliffs, the little ones, northeast from base? In there.”

“You go over a cliff, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, maybe,” she muttered. “Are you coming?”

“Of course I’m coming. Ten minutes.”

She set the commlink down and settled back, heart rate slowing to something more comfortable. She wouldn’t freeze here, on this place that was so much colder than home.

She bit down on her lip to keep from thinking of it, to keep the deep ache from creeping into her throat. That wouldn’t help now.

Before long, she heard the telltale whirring of a speeder over snow. She glanced, moved as much as she could to see. “Down here!” she called.

Han soon slid carefully to her, taking a moment to kneel in the snow next to her. “Kest,” he swore, looking at where the blood had run from her split brow. He took his glove off, and before she could remind him of the frostbite risk, he wiped away the trickle with his thumb. “You’ve hurt yourself pretty well, haven’t you?”

The touch as almost too intimate, but she didn’t find herself pulling away. “I didn’t see the cliffs.”

He smiled to one side. “Looks like it.” He looked down to her ankle and winced. “Shit, Highness.”

“Shit indeed.” She moved her leg and cursed again at another pang of pain.

“Hey, stop moving,” he muttered. “You’re only going to make it hurt worse.”

“Really?” she snapped. “Thanks. Didn’t know.”

He huffed and rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna be a pain in the ass at medical.”

Leia went stiff, blinked, saw half a moment of a Death Star cell and an interrogation droid and its long, long needle. She touched where she’d been injected, and when she blinked again, she was back in the snow. It took her a moment. “I’m not going to medical.”

His brow furrowed. “What, are you gonna-“

“Han,” she began, energy in his name, “you wouldn’t be able to drag me in there.”

He watched her carefully. It took him a moment to say anything. “Leia?”

She met his eyes with a fierce commitment, but he seemed to see the quiet memory of fear in her eyes. “It’s too much like...”

He softened, his expression going a little slack. He looked her over for a moment, then nodded and moved to help her up. “I’ll fix you up on the Falcon.”

She raised a brow. “Fix a broken ankle?”

“You don’t know what I’ve got on my ship, he mumbled. “And if it doesn’t work out, I’ll get Luke to... Force heal you or some shit.”

She laughed a little, light and sweet. “Sounds like a plan.”