Work Text:
Don't Let Go
It didn’t matter now that he’d been wrong.
There wasn’t much point in assigning blame when the bridge was crumbling beneath them and Leia was hanging over a ravine by one hand.
Still, Han couldn’t help thinking, If we get out of this alive, she’s gonna kill me.
“Han?”
Her voice trembled.
His grip tightened instinctively around her wrist.
“Leia.”
He made her name sound calm. Easy. Like he had everything under control.
He didn’t.
She’d wanted to go around the ravine, take the longer path that would’ve added several hours to the trip. He’d insisted the bridge was faster.
Safer, even.
The bridge apparently had opinions on that.
Another section of stone broke loose somewhere beneath him. Han heard it strike the cliff face once, twice, then nothing.
He looked down.
Bad idea.
Leia swung below him, boots scraping uselessly against the rock. Beyond her was open air and, impossibly far beneath that, a thin ribbon of ground.
“Don’t look down,” he said.
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
“I can hear you looking down.”
Despite himself, the corner of his mouth twitched.
Even dangling over certain death, she could still find time to criticize him.
Then her hand slipped.
Only an inch.
It was enough.
His other hand shot forward, catching her forearm, and for one sickening second all of her weight pulled against him.
“Han.”
Fear this time.
Real fear.
He flattened himself against what remained of the bridge and locked both hands around her wrist.
“I’ve got you.”
Her face tipped toward his.
“Don’t let go.”
She said it softly.
Not an order, not really.
And somehow that was worse.
He knew she trusted him. Completely. Irrationally, considering the bridge had been his idea, but there it was.
Han opened his mouth, ready with something reassuring and appropriately irritating.
What came out instead was:
“Never.”
The word hung between them.
Han went very still.
Never.
Not I’ve got you.
Not Hold on.
Not even Don’t worry, sweetheart.
Never.
Something tightened painfully beneath his ribs.
Because it hadn’t sounded like an answer about the ravine.
Not to him.
Leia was staring up at him.
Had she heard it?
Really heard it?
For once, he couldn’t read her expression.
Han swallowed and adjusted his grip, buying himself a second he didn’t have.
He should say something.
Make a joke. Tell her she owed him one. Tell her she was heavier than she looked and watch indignation replace whatever was in her eyes now.
Anything.
Instead, his fingers tightened around hers.
“Never,” he said again.
Quieter this time.
And this time, he knew exactly what he meant.