Work Text:
Han squinted. His vision was fuzzy. Improving, but still fuzzy. He was… frustrated, to say the least. Leia had been at his side off and on, but now she seemed to be here beside him to stay. She strung an arm under his and let him lean on her for support. She felt good, warm. But something was wrong. His hand brushed cold metal around her waist.
“Leia, what is this?” He murmured under his breath.
“It’s nothing.”
He couldn’t see her face, but he could hear the tears in her voice. His mind worked furiously, piecing together a picture of what exactly had happened to her in Jabba’s palace. He had worked with Jabba for long enough to know the way he treated women.
The very idea of Jabba exploiting her the way he exploited all the others was unimaginable. The reality was unbearable. His hands balled into fists at his sides. Before long, he felt her warm, slender fingers gently uncurling his fingers and relaxing his hands again.
“Are you hurt?” He asked her weakly.
She smiled. “My dignity’s a little bruised, that’s all.”
“Are you cold?”
“Yeah, a little,” she admitted hesitantly.
“We’ll get you into something warm on the Falcon, okay?” He yanked his shirt over his head and handed it to her. “Put this on for now.”
She gratefully pulled the shirt on and rubbed her arms self-consciously. “Thank you.”
He gave her a gentle squeeze as she intertwined their hands. His vision had completely returned by now, but he kept his gaze on the ground.
“I’m gonna kill him.”
Leia chuckled lightly. “I hate to steal your thunder, but I, uh, I already took care of him.”
That got his attention. “You did what?”
“Well, while you laser-brains were off galavanting, I was conducting some heroics of my own. Jabba won’t be putting a price on anyone’s head for a good long while now.”
“That's my girl,” he squeezed her affectionately, planting a kiss on her hair.