Into the garbage chute, flyboy!

"I'm doing quite well, General," She said his title slowly, but full of the pride she had in him.

Han grinned up at her, but he still didn't put her down.

"Um, Han?" Leia questioned.

"Yes, Leia?" He batted his eyes at her not-so-innocently.

Leia raised one eyebrow, bracing one of her hands on his shoulder for balance, "Are you going to put me down?"

"Now why would I do that?" Han did an about face, Heading in the direction of the Falcon, still holding Leia. She almost fell, if it weren't for Han's hold on her, or her grip on his shoulder. 

"Han!" Leia flushed, waving her datapad as others who had tried to offer her and Han privacy at their reunion looked back and started to titter amongst themselves.

"Yes, dear?"

"I have to finish these inventory reports!" She sputtered.

"Great! You can start with the inventory I just brought in!" Han ducked, being sure Leia wouldn't hit her head on the hull as he started up the boarding ramp. The halls of the Falcon barely facilitated Chewie's height, let alone Leia's stacked on top of Han's, so he was forced to set her down once he was assure she wouldn't bolt like a fathier's colt. 

"If you wanted my company you could've just said so," She shook her head, pulling up the manifest on the supplies Han was supposed to have brought in. the hold of the Falcon that had boasted so many late-night conversations and shared meals between Han and all their friends was stuffed to the brim with crates and boxes that were sparsely labeled. Leia got to work.

"Fuel cables?"

"Check."

"Fusion lathe?"

"Right here."

"Electro-mag pulse disruptor?"

"I swear it was just right- Give me a second," Han tore open one of the ambiguously marked boxes and tossed aside the packing insulation, looking for the tool. Leia watched him, her mind running a hundred miles a minute.

"Found it!" Hen held up the disruptor to for proof, but she didn't mark it down on her datapad.

"What is this?" Leia asked.

Han held up the box he thought she was looking at.

"I think it's a pair of 'spanner extensions."

"No, not-" Leia stumbled over her words.

"Yes, I need to know what those are called," She made the note in her datapad, "But what is this?" She motioned between Han and herself, "What are we?"

Han looked at her, silent for once. 

He looked her up and down, and Leia tried to meet his gaze, but her eyes fell to a fraying stitch on the shoulder of his vest. It felt wrong to question it, to question Him, after everything that they had been through. After everything Han had done and sacrificed for the Rebellion- for her -Did she deserve to question him?

"I love you," Han said simply, but with such conviction it finally made Leia look up at him. 

Han kicked aside a box with one unnaturally long leg that reminded Leia of the heigh difference between the two of them, taking a step closer to her and rest his hand on her cheek.

"That's what this is. This is love," Han said, "The truest, purest form of love I've ever seen."

And once again, he understood her without Leia having to spell it out. 

"Boyfriend and girlfriend sounds much too juvenile after everything we've been through," She laughed nervously.

Han chuckled, "And here I thought you said I was too immature."

"Occasionally. When you're acting like a scoundrel." 

Han unclasped Leia's hand from the datapad she was clutching, bringing her knuckles to his lips for a featherlight kiss.

"What about husband and wife?" He asked, but the teasing lilt in his voice had vanished. 

Leia took a sharp breath.

"I...I don't know. It's too soon, there's too much happening. We're trying to rebuild the galaxy and-"

"Hey, hey," Han said, running his thumb along the back of her hand, "You don't need to stress it. If you'd rather I not bring it up, then I won't."

"No!" Leia said quickly, then shook her head.

"I-" The words lodged in her throat, and she forced them out. "I don't want to worry about...that yet. Not right now. But that doesn't mean I never want you to bring it up again."

Han nodded, and squeezed her hand, "Got it. Not right now."

His lips pressed against her forehead this time, and Leia felt any remaining anxiety vanish into thin air. Not even the force could do that for her.

She sighed, "I suppose 'partner' is as good a word as any to use in our situation."

"Hey, I like it. Sounds like we're in a shootout in some backwater cantina."

"Han," Leia said, halfheartedly scolding.

"No, just think about it," Han shifted to stand behind her, spreading his arms as if to illustrate a holoscreen, "The fastest blasters in the outer rim, The Crook, The Wook, and Me."

"Who's the Crook in this one?"

"Have you seen your wanted posters? Your reward is at least three times what mine is."

"Was," Leia reminded, "There's no Empire to pay up on any bounties anymore."

"See? They'll never expect it!" Han wrapped his arms around Leia's waist and swayed her back and forth between all the crates they had yet to inventory. But that could wait another moment.

"I love you," Leia said as her eyes fluttered closed, "I'm glad that's what this is."

Leia wasn't the type to whimper. He was half-certain that she'd never been scared before, and definitely never where someone could see.

Then again, they'd never shared a bed before.

Han froze for a moment as Leia's brow creased in her sleep. When she was awake, it was a cute little tell that Han liked to tease her about, but here he could tell that she was having a nightmare. That thought made his stomach churn more than the stale rations they'd been living off of for the past month.

Leia kept whimpering, as if she was trying to suppress any other reaction she may be experiencing. Han pressed his hand against her cheek. It was only his intention to soothe her in her dream, rather than wake her from the precious sleep that constantly seemed to evade her, but as his calloused thumb ran over the chapped skin of her cheek, her eyes fluttered open.

"Han-" She gasped, blinking back the tears in her eyes.

"It's okay," He said immediately. "You're here, you're safe," He whispered, over and over again, like a spell weaving around them in his cabin.

He didn't know what it was that made her snuggle into his chest when just the other day she was trying to bite his head off in the south corridor, but none of that mattered.

All that mattered was that she was here, and she turned to him for comfort.

One of his arms wrapped around her waist, tracing the folds of her borrowed shirt, and as she clutched at the fabric of his undershirt he brought his other hand to the back of her head, running his fingers along her braids.

He closed his eyes, trying to savor this moment and appreciate how much Leia trusted him. Not even Luke had seen her like this. Luke would pity her, suggest to command that she needed a break, which was Leia's greatest fear.

But Han knew she was strong, stronger than most of the rebels in their ranks. And probably the only person in the rebellion as crazy as one of those old Jedi Luke was always studying.

"What did you dream about?"

And just like that, the moment was over. Leia stiffened for a moment, then released his collar.

"Nothing," She lied, "Nothing at all."

She turned over, facing the wall away from him. It wasn't the least bit convincing and they both knew it.

Han didn't say anything, but he slipped one arm between the mattress and her side, meeting the other arm in a circle around her torso. He pulled himself closer with his chest pressing against her back. He gently kissed her cheek and rested his head against her hair. He felt her sigh, a long and heavy sound as if she were trying to inflate a decorative balloon.

"You wanna know what I dreamed about?" Han asked. He didn't plan on waiting for an answer but her head shifted, as if she were cocking her head to the side with interest.

"I was eating a nerf steak, just like this one that Malla made me when we visited Kashyyyk once: cooked rare and seasoned to perfection. But it just kept going and going, and no matter how much I ate there was still more steak on my plate."

Leia huffed a laugh, "Sounds to me like you bit off more than you could chew."

"Probably. By the time I woke up it just tasted gross and bland, because I had too much."

Leia chuckled again, "Dreams are strange."

"Because that's all they are. Dreams," Han said. He used one hand to trace Leia's arms down to her fingers, entwining them together.

"They can't hurt you," he said.

Leia squeezed his hand tightly. She didn't disclose her dream, and she didn't have to. How could it matter when she was here in Han's arms?

Leia sighed again, but this one felt lighter in her chest.

"Thank you, Han," She whispered. Han's fluttering heart tugged his lips into a grin, hearing his name from her mouth devoid of iciness or sass, just sincere gratitude, and maybe even something more.

"Anytime-" she'd already told him to stop using "Your Worship," but even though "Sweetheart" wasn't entirely off the table, he thought better of it.

"Anytime, Leia." And something clicked into place, like the right bit for a hydrospanner. He wanted to sing that name forever.

Leia glanced at him over her shoulder, catching sight of the goofy grin.

"Nerf-Herder," she mumbled against the pillow.

"You love it," Han teased.

His eyes heavy with sleep, he kissed her cheek one last time, but waited to hear her breathing even out before he let them close.

Lando’s hyperdrive solution was, apparently, more of a temporary fix than anything. Only about an hour after having tucked into bed with Han, Leia felt the ship jerk, then heard Chewie’s roar of frustration echo. Silently, she cursed, looking at the still man in front of her.

Han was sleeping, heavily, laying on his stomach but one arm was stretched out across her shoulder. Carefully, and slowly, she extracted herself from his grip, ensuring the blanket was pulled up to his chin. She shuffled around the cabin, finding a pair of her pants she’d stored there, and shoved them on. Before shuffling out of the room, she ghosted her fingers over Han’s forehead.

Warm, a little, but nothing like it had been when they first left Tatooine. She probably needed to find him some fever tablets, and some pain medication likely wouldn’t hurt either. She cringed when the door to his cabin slid open, checking to ensure he was still asleep before she snuck out, padding on bare feet down the cold metal hallway. Chewie passed her quickly, storming in the direction of the engine room with Han’s bag of tools. She stuck her head into the cockpit to see Lando holding his, dark space spotted with stars that seemed to wink at her from the windows.

“Did I feel us slowdown?” She asked, and Lando picked his head up.

“Hyperdrive failed.” He sighed. “Again.” He turned his body back towards the control panel, addressing a few blinking lights with some taps on the keys. “Chewie’s going to see what he can do, but we’re looking at three days to get back to base with regular space travel.” Leia’s heart did a somersault.

Three days..

That meant three days until Han could be seen by a medical droid or any of the trained staff on base. Three days where they had to rely on the meager supplies in the Falcon’s med kit. Three days of not knowing how hard the hibernation sickness was hitting him except for vague forehead checks. She swallowed, feeling it catch on the metal band around her throat.

Maybe even three days until that could come off. She didn’t know what locking mechanism was on it, only that it felt like smooth metal all the way around, no hinge that she could detect.

Lando said something, shaking her from her thoughts, and she looked up at him. “What?”

“I said I’m sorry, and asked how Han was.” His gaze was gentle, though she could see the frustration built up there. Two months of living on this ship while he infiltrated Jabba’s palace, she could read the tension in his shoulders, the way a vein popped out on his forehead when he was stressed. Weirdly, he probably knew how to read her just as well. He’d been there when Jabba had her re-clothed. He’d seen more of her than either of them had ever intended. She crossed her arms over her chest at the memory, feeling the welts and sores catch on the fabric.

“He’s getting better, but three days until the med center might be pushing it.” She gazed out into empty space, silently cursing the infuriating piece of machinery that kept them from rocketing across the stars. “I’d wait until tomorrow to see him, he mentioned something about wanting to punch you — again.”

Lando let out a strangled laugh. “He’s real scary when he can’t stand up straight.” His gaze turned back out to space, as if he could see all the way to the rebel base. “We got enough rations for the four of us and plenty of power, if we can keep him alive ‘til we land.”

As much as a pragmatist as she was, speaking Han’s death into existence felt like a tempt of fate they didn’t have the leeway for. Her eyes hardened.

“We can hope.”

Leia had been steadily feeding Han fever tablets every eight hours, and waking him every four for the pain medication. He slept almost the entire first day, which made her antsy and on-edge. She’d snapped at Chewie and Lando more than she’d meant to, and had to completely power Threepio off before she launched him into empty space.

Logically, she knew his body needed the rest, that sleep meant healing, but she couldn’t help but worry. She checked his forehead at least once an hour to ensure there was no new breakthrough fever, even through the night.

At least one of them was getting some sleep.

Chewie and Lando had been in the engine room all day trying to find a way to fix the hyperdrive, but it was becoming increasingly clear it was a parts issue. Not something they could solve in the vast, black emptiness that surrounded them. They were stuck until they reached base, which they’d hopefully do before anyone from the Empire found them out here, alone and vulnerable.

The second day in space, Han was more awake. He’d declined to take any more pain medication, but let Leia continue to force fever tablets on him. His sight had mostly returned, though he said things were still bleary and fuzzing around the edges. He tried to get into the engine room with Chewie and Lando, convinced he could solve the issue, but his body wasn’t ready for him to be crawling all over the floor, hoisting himself between the various pieces of machinery that made up the underbelly of the Falcon. After Lando and Chewie had to haul him back to his cabin, sweaty and out of it from the heat of the machinery, he too had come to the same frustrating conclusion that they would simply have to wait.

It would only be one more day.

Along with Han’s improved sight also came his anger. She wouldn’t typically describe Han as an angry person, per say, but his temper was almost as quick to ignite as her’s.

In hushed whispers, Leia had explained everything that went down at Jabba’s palace. Lando’s infiltration, her disguise, Luke’s appearance. And how it had all gone south so quickly. She’d explained what happened when he and Luke were taken away, how she was stripped down bare in front of Jabba and his entire crew. She skipped over the details, the fingers that had drug across her skin while they dressed her, the talk of who got to take their turns with her, Lando’s wide eyes in the back of the room unable to do anything to help.

Han listened without interruption, eating up the information to fill in the blanks of his own memory. When he couldn’t see them, Leia guided his fingers to the small welts and sores on her body, they were already beginning to heal. But, when his sight had almost fully returned by the end of the second day, and he saw them on her, saw the discarded metal garments, and saw the thick band around her throat, it was a different kind of anger.

A quiet kind of anger.

Leia had learned, in the years she’d known him now, that silence, at least around her, was a bad sign. She’d seen him angry before, sure, but if he was slinging insults and come-backs, it was an anger he could deal with, he could process. But this? This silent, stoney way he looked at her. This was the kind of anger that festered under the skin, eating you from the inside out. She saw it bubble to the surface anytime his hands brushed across the wrong part of her skin, or she tugged at the edge of the collar, or even when he saw Lando. A quiet anger with him was dangerous, like they were all on a ship with a ticking time bomb.

She just hoped when he exploded, it was under the supervision of a medical droid.

By the third day, Leia had enough.

It was suffocating her, squeezing the life from her. She couldn’t think, she could hardly breathe with its constant presence.

Both Lando and Chewie had looked at the metal collar still encircling her neck. They had been able to get the extra links of the chain off without much of a fight, but still couldn’t identify where the opening to unlock the collar was. It was smooth, uninterrupted metal. Not even a divet for a fingernail to dip into. For all they could tell, it looked as if it had been forged around her neck. Lando kept saying that it had to have a way to come off, he’d watched them clamp it on, there must be a break in the metal somewhere.

She was becoming less and less convinced.

They were even desperate enough to power back on Threepio briefly, to ask him if he knew anything about that kind of technology. They were staunchly reminded that he was a protocol and etiquette droid, who had no knowledge of the barbaric enslavement techniques of the Hutts. He was shut off again shortly thereafter.

Leia was sitting in one of the chairs in the cockpit, loudly debating with Lando and Chewie the safety of trying to cut it off, when she saw Han’s lumbering form landing against the doorway. She’d left him only an hour ago, still asleep fitfully in the sheets. Now, his arms were crossed, and he had that look of quiet anger in his eyes. Eyes that, besides some light sensitivity, seemed to be mostly back in working order.

“It’s ‘cause ‘ts not designed to come off.” He said, interrupting Lando’s chatter with Chewie, the only sound being the spinning drill with a cutting disc attached still in Lando’s hand. All three sets of eyes turned to Han while he stepped into the cockpit, scowling at his friend. “Turn that thing off, you’ll drill straight through her neck.”

“Well we tried to get a barrier under it.” Lando explained, but quickly trailed off when Han’s glare turned to him.

Her face heated, mostly with frustration. She was at her wit’s end with this damn collar, she didn’t care if they had to drill into her neck to get it off, at least she’d be free of it. It had started to feel like some sort of cosmic revenge for the way she’d killed Jabba. Like the galaxy was punishing her with her own form of prolonged strangulation.

Lando put the drill down, raising his hands in surrender as he backed off, eying Chewie. The Wookiee was instead looking at Han, roaring something about what they’d tried so far. Han listened but waved his hands in the air when Chewie started rambling about the impossibility of it.

“Get my wiring kit.” He snapped at him, and Chewie responded with some sort of rebuttal she didn’t catch all of. Still, he lumbered down the hall after Lando who’d snuck out and around them while Han and Chewie were discussing the collar.

Han’s eyes were on her, but not really. They were staring at her neck, one of his hands brought to his face as he scanned for possibilities. She squirmed under his gaze, used to it being more playful, more curious, more lustful. Now, it was the same look he got whenever the Falcon made an unidentifiable noise.

A problem for him to solve.

Her hands balled into fists in her lap. She hated this feeling, when she was out of her element. She could command armies, she could lead a rebellion, hell, she could pilot the Falcon. But a stupid band of metal was getting the better of her? Hot frustration burned behind her eyes and lodged in her throat, stuck on that stupid fucking collar.

Chewie stomped back into the cockpit, shoving some sort of leather roll of tools in Han’s hand. He took it, but never averted his gaze from her neck. Chewie said something else, but was speaking too fast for her to keep up with it.

“I got it pal, go get some rest. I’ll watch the ship.” Han’s voice was low, more gentle than when he’d rudely asked for his tools, but there was a tone of pride there. She knew how much it had bothered him, having to step down and let Lando and Chewie take over flying the Falcon while he couldn’t. He wasn’t completely in the clear, but he didn’t shake when he stood and his forehead no longer felt warm to the touch. Chewie said something in protest, reaching for the kit he’d deposited in Han’s arms.

Han tore it away, finally fixing the Wookiee with a stare. “I said I got it, Chewie. Go help Lando or something.” He waved the Wookiee off, who gave him an earful about respect, but disappeared around the corner anyways.

“He’s just trying to help.” Leia found herself saying.

“He’s bein’ a pain in my ass. I’ve never met such an overbearing mother-porg.”

Her lips perked up at that, happy to hear at least the semblance of a joke come out of his mouth. “He’s just worried, like all of us are.” Han made some noise of agreement, pulling a step stool up to the chair she was perched in, setting it directly in front of her.

“Han, if Lando and Chewie couldn’t —”

He made a shushing noise, sitting on the top of the stool and looking at the gleaming metal up close. He lifted his hands to inspect it, but flicked his gaze over to her first. She nodded, biting the inside of her cheek to keep the rising panic at bay. Slowly, gently, his fingers traced around the circle, looking for the same connection point that had eluded the rest of the members of the ship.

“I can wait until we land. I can still breathe, it’s fine.”

“‘t’s not fine.” He said, his hands falling back to his lap. “I‘ve seen this before. Quick-welded it shut after they put it on you.” He looked briefly at her face, where she was doing her best to mask the fear of that statement. She felt the need to rip it off double, nearly making her gag with the intensity. She couldn’t wait until they landed, it had to come off, now.

“Cut it off.” Her words were coming out through her teeth now, her brain trying to reel her back into the horrid memory of getting the collar put on in the first place. She was digging her heels into the present moment, refusing to be pulled under the water of trauma. She focused on the way her lower back was strained keeping her sitting upright, she focused on the whoosh of recycled air traveling through the ducts, she focused on anything besides what was currently around her neck, and how it got there.

“Can’t do that without hurtin’ you in the process.” He unrolled his wiring kit on his lap, which Leia saw was mostly made up of tiny versions of his normal tools. “Pretty sure Mothma and Reeikan would string my ass up if you returned with a hole in your neck.”

“I don’t care, Han. Cut it off.” She didn’t hide the desperation there, especially with Chewie and Lando out of earshot. She needed him to know to do whatever was necessary, despite her previous blaise words.

He looked at her, mouth tightening. She felt her eyes burn again, the anguish crawling up her throat like bile. She’d kept control over the panic for the last two days, busying herself with caring for Han, trying to help fix the hyperdrive, piloting while Chewie and Lando slept. She’d purposefully kept herself as distracted as possible, but none of it was working now. Every swallow, every breath she felt it pushing against her throat, threatening to cut off her air supply any moment. She’d woken up clawing at it, her neck was angry and red from both her nails and all their attempts to release her from its grasp. Han reached towards her again, and her body jerked in the opposite direction.

“Would you jus’ let me look at it for a second?” His impatience was another thing she’d bitten her tongue about this trip, not something she was in the practice of doing. But, he was sick, and they were all short on tolerance by this point. She glared, making her distaste for the comment known, but didn’t move when he reached back up to reexamine it.

She dug her fingernails into her palms, every instinct in her screaming when his hands were around her neck. The marks from the chain had faded at this point, but she felt the ghost of them biting into her skin. She squeezed her eyes closed, feeling her entire body tense.

She heard him sigh, and sensed that he’d let his fingers fall. “Sweetheart.” He murmured, voice low and smooth, he must have realized he was snapping at her. “You gotta relax your neck. I can’t get under it when it’s tight like that.”

Leia could have laughed despite the more gentle tone he’d adopted. Asking her to relax while he tinkered around with it might as well have been a sisyphean task. All she could feel was Boba Fett’s gloved hands there, clasping the ring around her neck with a clang, forever chaining her. It would never come off, it wasn’t designed to.

A warm hand fell on her shoulder, causing her body to jump in fright and her eyes to fly open.

“You know ‘m not gonna hurt you, yeah?” His eyes softened, though she still saw the frustration that was there, too, being shoved down for her benefit. “Mostly ‘cause Chewie’d kill me. But, you play nurse pretty good, too.”

He put on one of his half-smiles, which she could clearly see was forced, but appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. She brought her hand up to cover his on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“I know.” It was more an exhale of breath than it was fully formed words, but he seemed to get it. She wasn’t purposefully trying to keep him away from it, as much as he was still recovering from Jabba’s, she was too. His thumb reached over to brush against the metal, and she felt everything from the shoulders up tense.

With effort, she shut her eyes and began to breathe deeply.

The therapist Carlist had ordered her to see after the destruction of Alderaan encouraged her to try and live inside of a happy memory when she was at the edge of a breakdown. She remembered laughing at the suggestion, thinking it a trick for younglings, not adults who have lived through what she did. At the time, she couldn’t derive any happiness from her memories of her childhood on Alderaan, too tainted by the Empire’s destructive action. The Alliance had its moments, sure, but it was always clouded by the heavy shadow of war. She had hope, but hope wasn’t happiness.

It was better, now. With enough time, she began to love and appreciate her memories of home more and more, as opposed to dreading their inevitable resurgence. And Han, as much as they’d been through, they also had enough happy memories that it had surprised her when she reached for them. Seeing him go back for Luke during the Battle of Yavin, Luke destroying the Death Star, their celebration afterwards. Hell, even all of those small moments stuck together on their way to Bespin.

Han put his hands back on the collar, rattling her out of her thoughts. She took a deep breath in, trying to imagine the room she grew up in in the high tower of the royal palace of Alderaan, to take her far away from this chair. She remembered the window seat she’d spent hours in, gazing out at Appenza Peak. And the balcony with the chipped stone where a sparring match as a child had gotten away with her. She remembered the mantle where she stored her keepsake chest, including a baby blanket made of gillendown and a music box.

She was racking her memory for the song the music box played when she felt something cold and sharp scrape along the bottom edge of the collar. With an intake of breath her mind raced back into her body, and she yanked her head away, again, eyes flying open.

Han didn’t look surprised, eyes meeting hers with his hands still held in the air, one of them holding a small, flat screwdriver he must have used.

“You good?” He asked.

She took a moment, but nodded her head, straightening her body. Another deep breath, another memory to dive into.

Alderaan might be too tainted for this particular moment. Anytime she couldn’t remember something, the truth of her planet’s obliteration hit fresh and new. If she couldn’t remember the song from the music box, it was lost forever. Turned into space dust alongside everyone she’d ever loved. Instead she steered her mind towards one of the only happy memories from the war, shortly after she’d first met Han and Luke.

The moment Luke had made that impossible shot, the proton torpedoes sinking into the exposed underbelly of the Death Star, it was the biggest moment of triumph she could remember. That night, the Alliance celebrated a win that was years in the making, a win that was desperately needed. She’d never seen so many smiles on the faces of solemn rebels before. And when Skywalker landed, she thought her heart would burst from her chest with pride. Luke had provided them with something that had felt impossible at the time, after the destruction of Alderaan, after the construction of the Death Star. Something she’d had, and lost, and then he gave it to her again.

Luke gave them hope.

She felt the cool metal of the screwdriver on her neck again, but managed to shove down the instinct to pull away. It was gentle, dragging around the perimeter of the collar before it stopped at the left side of her neck, something barely perceivable catching on the end.

“Gotcha.” She heard Han mutter, scooting the stool around so he could better work at the back.

“You found the opening?”

“Where they quick-welded it shut. It’s a start.”

It was further than her, Lando, and Chewie had gotten in the past several days, so she’d take it. She didn’t know what about Han’s mechanical knowledge let him see faults in machinery that others couldn’t, but she was thanking the stars for it now. Her eyes shut again, searching her brain for another moment that could take her away from right now, help her ignore the pull on her skin as Han worked his tools under the metal.

To help her ignore the instinct to bolt out of there rather than let someone have their hands around her neck.

To help her ignore the way it felt like it was getting tighter, her skin raw and chafed underneath.

To help her ignore the feeling that it might never come off, it might have to be a scar of Han’s rescue she’d have to wear for the rest of her life, however short that may be.

Leia didn’t realize her chest was heaving until he pulled his hands away, and she took a greedy breath. Her eyes blinked open to see Han staring at her collar, brows furrowed and bottom lip stuck between his teeth.

“‘m gonna have t’try and melt the solder they used. It’s gonna take my torch and some time.”

The idea of a torch so close to her neck sent goosebumps down her arm, and in the back of her head she wondered if his sight was still too off for work like this, but found herself biting down on that question. Of all the people on this ship, she didn’t want anyone else that close to her throat with a weapon, as much as she did adore Chewie.

“Do what you have to do.” She finally said, seeing that he was waiting for her reaction.

With a nod, he disappeared down the hallway, boots scuffing against the floor. While he was gone, she felt along the side to try and feel what he’d found. She ran the pads of her fingers along the smooth metal, then her thumb nail, waiting to see if she could detect any change of texture.

Nothing. It was seamless.

Han stomped back into the cockpit, his hands full of another wrapped leather pouch, a pair of goggles, gloves, and the torch. There was also some sort of heavy canvas material slung over one shoulder, which he unceremoniously dumped on the floor with the rest of his bounty. She eyed it all warily as Han began to open his other kit, digging around.

Han yelled for Chewie, who roared back to him from somewhere else in the ship.

“Yeah I know what I said, get in here!” He vollied back, taking the heavy canvas material and straightening it out. The Wookiee appeared around the corner, as usual on surprisingly light feet. He asked Han what exactly he wanted him to do.

“Cut a two centimeter hole in the fire-blanket. And you gotta hold it over the princess.” He said this while affixing the goggles to his forehead. Chewie complained, but she managed to understand the concern behind it.

“She’ll be fine, relax.” He told the Wookiee, pulling the gloves on. “It’s called a fire blanket for a reason.”

Chewie roared again, but padded over to snatch the fabric from Han, along with a pair of cutters, slicing a small hole in the center of the material. Her eyes had followed him, so it wasn’t until she turned her head did she see Han sporting the goggles, a torch in one hand and the small screwdriver in the other.

The laugh bubbled up and out of her chest before she could stop it. She’d forgotten how ridiculous he looked in those. They were much too large for him and obscured more than half his face with their oversized eyeholes. She had to bring her hand to her mouth to cover her smile, Han merely crossed his hands over his chest, looking comical in his heat-protected get-up.

“Yeah, laugh it up your worshipfulness. Not like I’m gonna be shootin’ thousands of degrees close to your jugular or anythin’.” Chewie barked something back, something with the word princess, and Han turned to him. “It was a joke.” The Wookiee merely gave him a look. “Well ‘ts not like I did it to her!”

Chewie made another round of growls and roars she couldn’t translate, to which Han just waved off.

“Jus’ hold the blanket over her and stop complainin’, will you? Didn’t see you comin’ up with a different plan.” The last part was muttered, but Chewie did what he was asked, giving Leia a warning before he stretched the fire blanket over her person. It took some maneuvering to line the hole up with the section of the collar Han had identified. Chewie stood to her right, holding the fire blanket up so it covered both her head, shoulders, and chest. He gave Leia an encouraging look.

“Gonna feel some heat.” Han said, his voice muffled from the other side of the blanket. She heard the torch flip on.

There was no distracting herself from this. Immediately she felt the heat on her neck, and it took every ounce of mental fortitude she had not to cringe away. She heard the torch eating through the accelerant, the sound echoing in her ears and bouncing around the inside of her skull. Something hot and liquid started to melt down her left side, flowing under the hole in the fabric and burning her neck. She sucked a breath in through her teeth, lifting an arm to try and wipe it away without affecting Han’s work.

“Chewie! Hold it tighter!” The sound of his voice was suppressed through the roar of the torch and the cover of the canvas, but Chewie did pull on either side, hopefully closing whatever gap the melted solder had snuck through.

Her fingertips burned from where she’d tried to wipe it off, and she found already hardening, silver droplets on the pads of her fingers. She flicked them off, feeling the metal of the collar start to heat. It was primarily on the left side, she was sure she’d probably have a welt to match her others.

As long as the damn thing came off. She’d treasure that welt.

It was another minute or so of trying to stand the heat, Han barking at Chewie to keep the fabric taut whenever Leia flinched away from more melted solder flowing down her neck. She heard the torch turn off and Chewie pulled the blanket off of her.

Han had his goggles up on his forehead, his face lined with two circles from where they’d dug into the skin. The left side of the collar was hot, damn near burning. She had her lips pressed in a thin line and teeth clenched to keep from crying out or burning her hands to try and rip it off. Han beckoned Chewie over to his side.

“See that lil gap, right there?” He pointed at something with the tip of the screwdriver, Chewie murmured a response. She felt the sweet sensation of relief at the edge of her awareness, the word gap flashing in her mind. “That’s the opening. All the solder is gone so you just gotta grab either side and bend it enough for her to stick her head out.”

Chewie roared, Leia’s eyes bugged open.

“Chewie’s going to yank it off?” Images of arms pulled out of sockets played behind her eyes, not afraid to admit her slight terror at the Wookiee’s strength.

“Only he can.” Han supplied, shucking the gloves and goggles off onto the floor. He showed Chewie where to place his paws on the front and back of her neck, careful to avoid burning himself on the heated metal.

She sucked in a breath, feeling whatever flicker of relief she had die away as she felt Chewie’s fur tickle her neck and collarbones. Another set of hands around her neck, as trusted as they were, filled her stomach with hot, molten dread.

To her surprise, Han found her hand once Chewie was in position, giving it a gentle squeeze. Her eyes were shut tight, inhaling deeply to attempt to keep her own panic at bay, half wondering what the hell they were going to do if this didn’t work.

“Do it, Chewie.”

Leia felt as Chewie grasped for perchance, having to pinch the collar with his fingertips since it was still too tight on her neck for him to get a proper grip. Still, his touch was surprisingly gentle for a being so large and powerful. With strength that astounded both her and Han, Chewie managed to pull either side apart, bending the metal at the right side to leave an opening big enough for her to slide her neck through.

The metal collar clattered to the floor, broken.

For a moment she just stared at it, the opening black from the torch’s efforts. Her hands ghosted to her neck, where she felt a band of irritated skin and a welt on the left. Her gaze flicked over to Han, who was still staring at the collar on the floor.

“Chuck that out, never want to see it again.” Han grumbled to Chewie, who moved to retrieve it.

“No.” Leia interrupted, bending down and snatching the broken metal circle in her hands. “I want to keep it.”

“Keep it?” Han asked incredulously.

“Yes, keep it.” She gave him a sour look. “It’s a good reminder.”

“Of Jabba>?”

“That I killed Jabba.” She corrected, running her nail over the blackened edges of the metal. “And that no one can keep me chained.”

Neither Han nor Chewie had a response to that. The latter began to collect the various tools Han had splayed out on the floor, grumbling a complaint about a clean working environment. Han stared at her, and she finally flicked her gaze up to meet his.

Relief, the feeling that had previously eluded her, was plain to see on his face. Maybe even stronger than her own. The anger she’d seen building there for days seemed to ease out of him like a deflated balloon. She watched his shoulders curl forward, the dark sensation behind his eyes lightened. He hated it just as much as she did, and it had perhaps been the source of his mounting frustration over the past few days.

She swallowed, feeling the freedom of it not catching on anything, a smile stretching across her face.

“Thanks, Chewie.” She said sweetly, fixing the Wookiee with an appreciative stare.

Anything for you, she caught in Chewie’s native tongue, though he simplified it and slowed it down for her rudimentary grasp on the language.

“Hey! What am I, chopped Tauntaun?” Han complained from the floor next to her, though she saw the smile hidden under the faux annoyance. With a roll of her eyes, she jumped to her feet. She held out her hands to them, wiggling them in her still glee-stricken state. He eye’d her warily, but put his hands in hers, letting her help haul him up to his feet. She balanced on her toes, reaching up to plant a quick kiss to the side of his cheek. It was the lightest she’d felt since escaping Jabba’s palace. He hummed, forcing down the smirk. “Fine, gratitude accepted.”

Lando came around the corner, then, holding several small packages in his hands.

“Han got it off?” He checked for confirmation before revealing his stash.

“Chewie, technically.” Leia teased, Han’s face whipping in her direction. Lando grinned, extending his hands.

“Thought you could use these, found ‘em in the back of Han’s medicine cabinet.”

“You went in my cabin?” Han seethed, but Lando seemed content to ignore him. He handed Leia several bacta-patches, which already felt cool to the touch. She beamed up at him, happy to see him looking happy, something that had been rare in the past several months. She reached up and landed a kiss on the side of his cheek, too, her gratitude feeling infinite now that she wasn’t constricted by that stupid band of metal. “So what, we’re jus’ given’ those out for free now?” Han continued to complain.

She didn’t care.

She was free, they were free, Han was free. Nothing chained her to Jabba’s palace except mutual memories, ones she didn’t mind sharing with the two men and Wookiee next to her.