Sometimes, when the day's work is done, you need a drink.

For Princess Leia Organa, who'd just spent the day haggling for electronic supplies for the Alliance cells scattered throughout the Half Moon sector, now was one of those times.

The Vandalians had driven a hard enough bargain, allright--that was why her steely determination was needed for this particular
negotiation--but her present irritation seemed to stem more from a certain light-brown-haired, hazel-eyed Corellian.

Captain Han Solo had been assigned to pilot her to Vandalia, which in itself she was certain was some sort of sick joke on Alliance Command's part. How they loved to throw her and Han together just to watch the reaction. Her fellow officers were as bad as kids in a chem lab that way; didn't they have a rebellion to run?

Worse than her pairing with Solo, though, was his constant meddling that day--asking all kinds of technical questions, playing with the electronic parts, yukking it up with the engineers that had made them. He seemed in his natural element with this equipment--she realized that's really why Command had assigned him to her--and he was all the more annoyingly attractive for it.

Several times that day she'd glimpse him in his usual pilot gear and find herself entranced, unable to take her eyes off of him. He'd catch her staring sometimes and give her a wink, as if they'd just shared a private joke. Quite involuntarily, her stomach would do a flip and she'd wish they had just shared something. Or maybe they actually had. Something about him was so familiar to her, as if they'd known each other forever instead of having met in a corridor outside her detention cell on the Death Star a couple years ago. But there was another part of him that was so chaotic, so uncouth, that she didn't know at all and didn't want to. So why did she find him so...damn...handsome? That ruffled brown hair. Those eyes that you never knew which shade of hazel they'd be when you looked into them. That broad mouth underlined by that mysterious scar on his chin.

Leia was reviewing the album of snapshots her mind's eye had unconsciously taken of Han that day when he walked in on her taking stock of the boxes of electronic supplies he and his wookiee copilot Chewbacca had just finished loading into the portside hold of the Millennium Falcon.

"Hiya, beautiful," Han said brightly as he tugged off a pair of gloves. "Chewie and I are goin' down the street for a drink and maybe dinner. Why don't you call it a day and join us?" He leaned against a wall and admired the back of Leia's white thermal overalls and gray shirt, the way her high ponytail swung when she turned to face him with datapad in hand.

The Princess was alternately thrilled and annoyed by his offer. There was a genuine tone in Han's voice when he called her that particular nickname, and she could really use that drink. But it would have to be with the man who'd driven her to it. But hadn't she just been daydreaming about him? Her thoughts and feelings were a jumble. She was so tempted. For the sake of the Alliance as well as her own mental health, she'd vowed not to get romantically involved with Han or Luke, the other man she'd met on the Death Star two years ago and spent most every day with since. It made no sense whatsoever to mix business with pleasure, especially when the business you were in was a matter of life or death. But just one night...just one drink. It couldn't hurt, could it? "Thanks, Han," she said with a surreptitious smile, "I'd love to join you."

The intent behind her smile did not escape Solo, whose stomach did a flip of its own when she'd answered in the affirmative. "Well, great," he said, his face lighting up. That was easier than he thought it would be. Leia was a walking contradiction in his eyes--a pacifist Alderaanian who was good with a blaster; a Princess who not only didn't mind but actually seemed to prefer to get her hands dirty; and a person who could just as effectively shut you down with a withering insult, sum up the irony of a situation with one quick sarcastic sentence, inspire the masses with an insightful observation or visionary plea, or comfort you with a simple heartfelt phrase or gesture. He'd never known a woman like her before, not one even ten years older than him let alone ten years younger. And he hated to admit, but he liked her. Liked her a lot.

He hated to admit it because it was her privileged upbringing that had given her the freedom, strength, and opportunity to become what she was, while his "upbringing" had been anything but privileged. So did that make privilege wrong? It was capable of producing individuals like her. No, it wasn't wrong. In his logical mind, he knew that. But he had another mind that remembered what being unprivileged had forced him to do to survive--to live on the wrong side of the law for most of his life. But the law, Imperial law, wasn't right anyway. That was ultimately why he was with the Alliance right now. That and because of the woman standing in front of him.

Each interaction with her was a struggle for him: the truth was he wanted her, for her contradictions as well as the strong will and need for independence they shared. But he resented the privilege that she was a product of. What he typically ended up saying to her, then, was an honest expression of admiration and interest that sounded more like an insult. But he was really just daring himself to make a serious move for her. Well, he'd just made a nice simple request to spend time with her, and she'd just made a nice simple reply. Yes. Maybe tonight would be the night it all began.

Leia was crouched over a large, heavy box, inching it side to side along the floor, when Han came out of his reverie.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he walked up behind her and stretched his arms around hers to lift the box out of the row it sat in. "Let me help," he said behind her ear. Normally Leia would have shoved him away, but now she played it cool. What was he going to do next? What did she want him to do?

Han answered her questions by stepping away. "There," he said and added with a knowing grin, "need anything else moved?" Distracted by what she saw behind the box they'd just lifted, she let his double entendre fall to the floor.

"Oh, no," Leia groaned, "there's a whole section here I've missed on the list!" She hated when she did that.

"No problem," Han said. "I'll help count it."

"That's OK, Han," Leia said apologetically as she stepped forward to inspect the boxes. "I'd hate to have you do this. You and Chewbacca have earned more than that drink with all this loading. Go on ahead with him. I'll see you later." Maybe her oversight was a sign that she oughtn't have that drink with this dashing Corellian after all.

"Don't back out now, Princess," Han said, shrugging off her concern. "You said you'd have a cocktail with us, and you will. We'll just go a little later. I'll let Chewie know," he said as he headed for the ring corridor. "Be right back," he turned and added with a wink.

Leia flashed him a small smile that grew wide as she turned to look at the boxes in front of her. Her heart leapt; she couldn't believe how civilized they were being to each other! It reminded her of how nice Han could be when he put his mind to it, like he had that night on the Falcon at the old base on Brisben. 'Tonight should be interesting,' she thought as she began to inch another large box out of the way. 'Don't let it get too far, though, Organa,' she warned herself. 'Just a drink and hopefully a few warm fuzzies. That's it!' Couldn't let herself have too much fun. But why?

Unable to answer her own question, Leia looked down in frustration at the box she was struggling with. She couldn't seem to move whatever the obstacle was between her and a romantic relationship with Han--or Luke for that matter--but she could move this box, dammit. With a sigh she bent down, spread her arms wide around the box, and lifted it...then suddenly felt a sharp twinge deep at the base of her spine. Crying out, she dropped the box, felt sharp pains rip back and forth across her lower back, and fell to the floor on hands and knees. The impact sent a spike of pain up her spine to the base of her skull, and she gasped and toppled to her side. She fought to think beyond the blinding pain, but she couldn't get past a sentence that kept repeating itself in her brain: this must be what it feels like when your back goes out.

"...and this was all over the comlink!" Han's voice could be heard exclaiming as he and Chewbacca approached the hold. The wookiee whuffled then whined inquisitively. "He was calling from Dala Wera--can you believe that?!" Han answered. The two were in mid-laughing fit when they strode in and discovered Leia on the floor.

"Holy--! Leia!" Han shouted, rushing to kneel at her side. Chewbacca roared and scanned the room for intruders.

Leia had been trying to get up, but every move seemed to send another searing twinge of pain from her lower back. "It's OK," she struggled to say. "I think I threw my back out."

"Threw your back out?!" Han repeated incredulously. "How'd you do that?!"

"I picked up that box," Leia answered and raised an arm to point at it.

Han looked at the box then shook his head. "Oh, sweetheart, that weighs almost as much as you do," he said sorrowfully. "You just couldn't wait for me to get back, could you?"

"I didn't think it would do any harm," Leia began to argue, lifting her head then wincing at the pain the movement shot down her spine.

"Take it easy, Princess," Han said soothingly as he patted her shoulder. "I know. You never think it'll do any harm until you end up down for the count for a week. I've been there myself."

That was a nice bit of information for the Han Solo file, but it wasn't easing Leia's pain! They looked at each other and knew it.

"Let's get you off the floor and into bed," Han said, doing a double take to apologize for the unintentional double entendre. "Can you lie on your back?"

"I'm afraid to move, Han," Leia admitted. "I haven't felt pain like this since...." Nerve torture on the Death Star. Han knew what she was thinking, grimaced, and nodded. "It'll be OK," he said. "You just stay on your side. I'm gonna pick you up."

He slid his arms under and curled them around her shoulders and knees; there was hardly anything to her. Slowly, he stood up with her in his arms. As he walked with Chewbacca behind them to the medical bunk, she closed her eyes and held her breath with the effort of keeping her head straight with her torso. The slightest movement forward or backward brought another shot of pain.

The next moment Han was carefully setting the Princess down on her side on the bunk. "Chewie, get the cophine," he muttered over his shoulder. The wookiee opened the medpac on the wall, ran a furry paw through it, then let out a brief bark.

"Whaddya mean?!" Han said, turning to stand and root through the medpac himself. "Aww, Kreth. Workin' this Rebellion gig is more painful than I realized. We'll have to stock up once we get back to Hoth. Minophen will have to do for now. Can you get some water for her, Chewie?"

The wookiee walked off as Han opened a bottle of pills and dropped a couple in his hand. Two was the regular dose, but she was so tiny. Leia gasped as she tried to roll onto her back. He decided she could use two anyway.

Chewbacca returned to stand next to Han with a short glass of water. "Thanks, pal," the Corellian said softly. "OK, Princess, we're gonna have to get you vertical so you can swallow this stuff."

Leia nodded solemnly. "How do you suggest doing this?" she asked. He'd gone through this before, right?

"Can you prop yourself up with the arm you're lying on?" Han suggested.

"OK," Leia answered tentatively. Trembling in pain, she slid her arm up and out from under her, then pressed the hand of her free arm to the bunk to lift her torso up and rest the weight of it on her elbow. Silently, she held out a shaking hand for the pills. With furrowed brow, Han pressed the tablets in his hand to hers. She raised her hand to her mouth, drank from the glass Chewbacca offered her, then gingerly lowered herself back down to the bunk.

Han reached for a small pillow on the rack above them. "Here," he said, "let's put this between your knees. It'll keep some pressure off."

"Whatever you say, doctor," Leia said with a faint smile, lifting her free leg ever so slightly so Han could wedge the pillow between her knees. She felt the improvement immediately.

"More like past patient," Han said with a smile of his own, he was so happy to see hers. Unconsciously he rubbed her thigh. The gesture was comforting, and the heat of his hand felt good. She didn't ask him to stop.

Leia moved her eyes from Han to Chewbacca to Han again. "Thanks, guys. That was a foolish move on my part. Sorry for the trouble," she said. "Why don't you go on out, and I'll finish inventory as soon as these pills kick in."

Han and Chewbacca exchanged frowns. "Nothin' doin', sweetheart," Han said. "We couldn't have fun knowing what shape you're in back here. Besides, those pills aren't gonna do that much for you. They don't have cophine in them, and you need to take them before the pain starts for them to be really effective."

Leia rolled her eyes. "What, are you supposed to wait for a Force vision to tell you you're going to be hurt, then take them?"

"I know," Han smirked, shaking his head. He really loved her sense of humor, when she used it. "This stuff probably works for the kid, though. It oughta come in a bottle with a non-Jedi-proof cap."

The three of them began to crack up, then Leia moaned in pain. "Oh, Han, don't make me laugh," she pleaded. "It feels like my back's going to snap in two."

"Sorry, honey," Han said, sobering. "Then you definitely do not want to sneeze." Good to know, she noted.

Han looked to Chewbacca, then drew a breath and set his hands on his hips. "We'll let you rest now, and go take care of that inventory," he said.

Leia was touched by their forfeiting the evening to stay with her. Plus, she didn't have the energy to argue. "Thanks again, guys," Leia said weakly. "You've been very kind."

Han's heart skipped a beat when he saw she actually wasn't going to fight him on this. Could their battle of wills finally be coming to an end? Regardless, she was gracious enough to let someone do something for her when they really wanted to, and he appreciated that. Just one more reason to like her. Like her a lot.

"You've got your comlink, right?" Han said, walking backward after Chewbacca out of the room. "You just call if you need anything. We'll be back in a little while." Leia smiled at the mother hen an injury brought out in the Corellian. "Don't go trying to move by yourself either, OK?" he mock-admonished as he wagged a finger at her.

"OK," she mouthed to him.

Han winked, waved his hand over the light control to dim the room, and disappeared toward the hold.

* * * * * * * *

When Leia awoke several hours later, she didn't know what was worse: the pain that had spread to her thigh and insides, her frustration at having ruined a pleasant if not platonic evening with Han, or her need to go to the bathroom.

The lost evening wasn't the only reason she was frustrated, of course. She was frustrated because she had tried to lift that box to begin with. Frustrated because she'd caused extra work for Han and Chewbacca. But, yes, frustrated most of all because things had looked so promising for her and Han that night. He was being nice, and she was being nice back. Now she could barely move, and would have to depend on him--have to feel the heat of his body, hear his voice on her--without being able to do anything about it, whether it was pushing him away or pulling him closer. She didn't know which she wanted, but she found she'd become addicted to the game. Stang. Leia heard Han's footsteps growing louder in the corridor.

The hall light outlined Han's tall, lank form in the doorway. He stopped and saw Leia's eyes shining in the dark of the room.

"How are you doin'?" he asked softly as he walked in to stop beside her with a glass of water.

"Terrible," she answered truthfully.

"Sounds about right," he said with a sardonic grin to himself in the dark, remembering his usual pattern of back pain. "Ready for another dose?"

"Absolutely," she answered. They went through the same routine as last time with the pills, except she didn't lay back down.

"Han," Leia hesitated, "I have to use the bathroom."

"Yeah, I thought you might," he replied, trying to mask any reluctance in his voice. He wanted to help her, but he knew how difficult this would be for her. She was a proud person; the last thing she wanted to do was to make anybody a part of something so private, especially when that anybody was him. "Ready for a walk?"

Leia laughed, then winced at the pain of it. "I'm sure I'm not," she answered, "but I've got to start somewhere, right?"

"That's the spirit," Han said encouragingly. It was her spirit that had first attracted him to her, after all. "Where do we start?" she asked grimly, anticipating his proximity as well as the pain.

Han laid a hand on her calf. "Move your legs to hang over the bunk," he said. She began to move them and grimaced in pain. "Keep them together," he advised, watching her face. "Now I'm going to lift your upper body so you can sit up."

Leia felt his large hands grasp her sides, felt his breath on her neck, as he picked her up. Her lower back spasmed but she fought it off. She simply had to make this trip, and she had to ignore how good he felt close to her.

Han held out a hand. "Put your weight on me as you step down." Looking into his eyes, she placed her hand in his and absorbed his warmth. Did he feel hers too? Probably not. Her hands were always cold.

Leia placed one foot on the floor. So far so good. Down went the other. Then came that familiar dreaded twinge that made her knees buckle. With lightning-quick reflexes Han caught her other hand and helped her stand up as straight as she could. The right side of her lower back had swollen, which twisted and bent her over to the left, putting pressure on her internal organs and pinching the nerve than ran down her left thigh. Her entire left side throbbed in pain and she shook with the effort of keeping her head and shoulders straight. "I feel awful," she said behind clenched teeth.

"I know, sweetheart," he said dolefully and squeezed her hands. "It'll get better though. Trust me...Ready?"

"Ready," she replied.

Han started walking backwards, leading her step by tiny step through the ring corridor to the portside hold. Leia kept her eyes over his shoulder to guide him, which conveniently relieved her from having to make eye contact with him. Han kept his eyes on her, making sure she stayed steady, feeling her pain with every stiff step she took. At last they arrived at the dimly lit bathroom. Facing it, Leia realized she'd even need help getting in there. Her humiliation was complete.

"Nothin' to be embarrassed about, Princess," Han soothed, seeing Leia's expression turn positively grim. "Chewie's had to do this for me more than once." Leia gave a close-mouthed smile, then took her hands from his to grab and lean up against the sink. "Thank you, Han," she said, figuring courtesy was her last shred of dignity. "I'll be fine."

Han nodded and stepped behind her to leave, then caught a glimpse of their reflection in the mirror above the sink. He'd never seen a holo of them together; the image was arresting. He stood behind Leia in this living picture, watching her stare gravely down into the sink, waiting for him to leave. So why didn't he leave? He wanted to touch her, to see himself touch her. He wondered what they might have done if they'd made it out that night. Maybe dancing after drinks and dinner? Slowly, he reached out and set a gentle hand on her back, then started to massage it ever so lightly.

Leia closed her eyes at his touch. The heat of his hand felt so good on her throbbing back. He saw her reaction in the mirror, and wanted more. He moved to stand directly behind her, put his other hand on her back, and began massaging in opposite directions. She gasped, but this time in pleasure instead of pain.

Han watched her intently in the mirror, saw Leia's lips part. At the same moment her eyes opened languidly. She blinked when she saw the reflection of his smouldering stare. It all seemed so familiar--his hands on her; the way he was looking at her; this floating, blissful feeling inside. Had they done this before? Would they do this again?

Han's blood pounded. All of a sudden he wanted to let her hair down and bury his hands in it; slide the straps of her overalls over her shoulders and press his body to hers; lose himself in the softness of her lips, those lips that still hung parted, waiting for him to--

'Wait a minute!' Han shouted to himself and lifted his hands off of her as if they'd been burned. 'She can't even walk and I'm making love to her in this mirror! Get a grip, Solo!'

Leia felt his hands leave her abruptly and caught his look in the mirror. 'He's repulsed by me, isn't he?' she asked herself, mortified at his seeming rejection. 'Look at him--he's horrified to have touched me!' She watched his silent reflection leave and heard the door close behind it. Tears sprung unbidden to her eyes, and she turned the faucet on to drown out the sound of her sobs. Han hadn't warned her that it would hurt to cry, too.

* * * * * * * *

Slowly the bathroom door opened. Leia stood leaning on the sink. Han walked up to meet her. "Ready?" he asked. "Ready," she answered. For once disgusted with themselves rather than each other, they silently made their way back to the medical bunk.

"Thank you, Han" Leia said in a small voice as she set her head down and he set the pillow between her knees. "You've been incredibly tolerant and helpful."

Han was still censuring himself. "Please don't thank me," he said resignedly, glad that the dark of the room hid his chagrined expression. "You deserve a lot more from me than you get."

As Leia began to process this rare cryptic comment from a man who was otherwise delightfully if not painfully direct, Han bent down and kissed her forehead. "We'll be back on Hoth soon and set you up with some real painkillers. Sweet dreams. Call if you need me."

With that he was gone. Leia fell asleep remembering the warmth of Han's soothing hands on her back.

* * * * * * * *

The Alliance base on Hoth eagerly awaited the return of the Millennium Falcon that morning. Pilots were waiting for Han to help them with the trickiest of the necessary repairs to their ships. Command was waiting for the electronic supplies the Falcon was carrying for the Rebel cells in the Half Moon sector. Luke was waiting for his three best friends, though it was Leia's face he missed most. And everyone was waiting to see at which stage of meltdown the pirate and Princess were at. When Han came striding down the Falcon's ramp with Leia in his arms and Chewbacca fast behind, all bets were off, and all types of new bets were made.

"What happened?!" Luke shouted as he joined the threesome on their way to the medical center.

Leia turned her head to him, and he knew she was OK. "I put my back out," she said contritely. "I'll be fine."

"How'd this happen?" Luke asked, his soft blue eyes turning from her to Han and Chewbacca.

"Tryin' to move something too heavy for her out of her way instead of waiting for me to do it," Han drawled. Luke gave him a dubious look, and turned to Leia for the real story.

"That's about right," Leia said with a smile to herself, remembering what had motivated her to lift that box to begin with. If only Han knew he'd just made another unintentional double entendre. She looked up at the triangle of Han's chin above her and saw him wink at her. Hmmm. Maybe that entendre wasn't unintentional after all.

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