This short vignette takes place after the end of Balance Point

(major spoilers, btw). It's more or less a sequel to my fic "A Quiet

Moment."

All characters belong to George Lucas (of course!!). I wish I

could make some money here, but alas, I can't..........

 

Vigil

by Dant Solo

Han Solo sat at his wife's bedside, watching her sleep a highly

medicated slumber. He swallowed hard around the lump that had been in

his throat since Jacen had carried her battered body on board the Millennium

Falcon at Duro. Those bastards, those Yuzhan Vong atrocities, had

almost taken his Princess. First they had taken Chewie, now they had

almost taken Leia too. He realized his hands were shaking and clasped them

firmly together, trying to calm his grief and outrage.

Involuntarily, his eyes were drawn to the lower half of the blanket

that covered what was left of Leia's legs. His stomach turned, a molten pit

swirling violently within. He closed his eyes against the evidence of her

suffering. She didn't deserve this. This life, all she had been through.

Alderaan, the Rebellion, Vader, The Yevetha, Seti Asghad, now the Yuzhan

Vong. All of it. The galaxy owed her more than the hand it had dealt her.

In a sudden movement, Han pulled his chair as close to the medical

bunk as he could manage and rested his head on her shoulder, slinging his

right arm across her body in a gentle embrace. His left hand reached up to

tenderly stroke her cheek.

Of course, he himself had recently added to her pain. She had

forgiven him last night, before they lay in each others' arms, but that did not

mean he had forgiven himself. Guilt flared through him as he wondered if

things might have turned out differently if he had never left her. He stared

at Leia's features, recognizing that, no, most likely she would have done

things exactly the same way. She was the self-appointed guardian of the

galaxy, he mused, a soft smile crossing his face. She would most likely

laugh at such a statement, but it was true, in a way. She could no more

stand by and watch others' attempts to solve the Yuzhan Vong problem from

the sidelines than she could watch the suffering of her own children and do

nothing. It was who she was. It was her intense, fierce spirit to right the

wrongs of the galaxy. And he loved her for that. It was one of the things

that had made her irresistible to him from the beginning, even if he hadn't

truly admitted it for three years.

Han thought of the beginning of their relationship, how his insides

had turned to warm liquid at the sight of her, at the sound of her voice even.

Things had been so simple then. They had each other, they fought their

adversaries together, and nothing ever came between them. These days, it

was not so simple. But one thing remained.

She still took his breath away.

Yes, her chestnut brown hair had been streaked with gray before

it had been shaved off entirely. Yes, her eyes were crinkled with crow's feet

that had appeared there only recently. But the endless brown depths of her

eyes, the portals to her soul, still shone brightly with a youthful light. Up

until Chewie's death, a year ago, they had still glimmered especially bright

when gazing upon him.

His insensitivity, his inability to deal with grief, had dimmed that

light; but it had not gone out. Last night he had seen the glow re-igniting,

just for him.

And now....Han felt a sadness well up within him and fought to

keep it at bay. According to the medical readouts, it looked as if Leia would

survive. He rubbed a hand across his eyes, unable to imagine that she

might die. As it was, he did not feel optimistic about the prospect of her

keeping her legs. He didn't want to think of what that might be like for her,

being physically incomplete like that. It didn't matter to him, he just wanted

her alive, wanted a chance to make everything up to her. Of course, she

would be equipped with the finest of prosthetic legs, and they would be

indistinguishable from her real legs. But she would know, and that would be

the difficult part. To Han, nothing mattered but her very existence. She had

merely to survive, that was what mattered most to him. Her continued

presence at his side. He sat up and looked at her face again, studying her

beloved features. He had missed her face sorely these past few months, and

as he gazed upon her, it hit him again how close he had come to losing her

forever. He tried to drive the thought from his mind, but found it impossible.

I should have been there. I shouldn't have let her go. If it weren't for

Jacen...

His mind ran through all the possibilities of things he might have

done differently, things that might have saved his wife from this ordeal. But

he'd done nothing to help. Their son had rescued her, not him. And if Jacen

hadn't made it in time...Han felt a vise-like pain grip his heart. She would

have died. It was that simple. A few moments difference was all it would

have taken, and she would have been lost to him. His grief intermingled

with a new feeling of guilt, one that was different from the guilt of the past

year. I should have done something, I should have saved her from this,

it's my fault.

He felt a burning sensation behind his eyes and was surprised to

find that it was caused by tears. He bowed his head, willing the tears not to

come, but he could feel the undeniable moisture at the corners of his eyes.

Suddenly, hands firmly gripped his shoulders and Han's head

came up sharply. He craned his neck around to find his oldest son behind

him, a grim, sympathetic expression on his face. Han tried to smile

encouragingly but could not seem to bring up the corners of his mouth. His

lips and chin were on the verge of becoming a trembling mess, in spite of his

best efforts to stop it.

He saw understanding in Jacen's eyes. The Force, Han thought

wryly. Somehow, knowing that his son could sense what he felt made it

easier to allow it to brim to the surface.

With a quiet grunt of distress, Han stood and quickly embraced

his son in his strong arms, clasping him tightly. They stood that way for a

long moment, drawing on each others' strength. It struck Han suddenly

how their roles had changed. He remembered many nights during Jacen's

childhood when he had held and comforted him after a nightmare, a bad day

at school, during a childhood illness. His children were practically grown

now, and Han was the one who needed comforting. How ironic this all is.

By all rights, he should be the stronger one now, gathering his son to him to

ease his pain. After all, it was his mother lying there in that medical bunk.

But the galaxy had shifted around him, and here he was, seeking comfort

from his son.

"She'll be alright, Dad," Jacen whispered.

Han held him more tightly, wondering if Jacen had seen something

through the force or if he merely said the words to calm his distraught father.

 

A small groan came from the bed behind Han. Letting go his son,

he spun around to see Leia's eyes flutter open. He could see in her

expression the disorientation she felt. In an instant, Han held her hand in

his, gazing at her with fearful eyes. She looked up at him and a slow

realization spread across her features.

 

"Hey, Sweetheart," Han choked. She squeezed his hand in

response, her face lining with sudden discomfort. Han's stomach dipped

painfully at that look.

 

Jacen glanced from his mother to his father, then back again. He

leaned over his mother and kissed her gently on the forehead. "I'll see you

later, Mom," he said quietly. He squeezed his father's shoulder before

leaving them alone.

 

Han continued to hold her hand, but was at a loss for what to say.

He mustered a brave smile, although inside he felt anything but brave. He

felt as if his insides were being twisted into hard, tight knots.

 

Leia reached up a hand to softly touch the dampness at the corners

of his eyes. "Han Solo crying. There's a sight to behold." Her voice was

weak, but held a hint of humor.

 

Trying hard to maintain the lightness her tone implied, Han

responded in a shaky voice, "Crying?" He touched the moisture at his eye

with a fingertip and looked at it with wonder. "Oh, that. Just got some dust

in my eye, that's all." He forced a smile.

 

She almost smiled back, but then her face contorted in a painful

grimace.

 

Han's false good humor faltered and he leaned over her to carefully

stroke her forehead with his free hand. "I almost lost you, Princess," he

murmured softly. "Didn't I tell you I didn't want to lose you?"

 

She gazed up at him, her eyes filling with bright tears. "I guess I

wasn't careful enough."

 

"No, you weren't." He was silent a long moment. "I should have

been the one to save you," he whispered with regret.

 

"That doesn't matter. The only-"

 

"It does matter," he said more harshly, not allowing her to finish.

"You shouldn't have been in a position like that to begin with. I've hurt you

enough already, how could I have let-"

 

Now she cut him off, her voice stronger than she felt. "Listen to

me, Han Solo. What happened this past year is behind us. It's over. We

said goodbye to those sorrows last night. What happened to me now, that

has nothing to do with you. Don't blame yourself, for this or anything else."

Her words had little effect on him. He would suffer the burden of

this guilt a long time, regardless of what anyone else thought or said. "Yes,

Ma'am," he whispered to placate her. He looked into her eyes with a

seriousness that belied his teasing tone, then leaned over to kiss her, very

gently, on the lips. He felt her lips tremble beneath his, causing the tears in

his heart to threaten again. His hand moved to cup her face and he felt her

tear-stained cheek. When he broke the kiss, he brought his lips to her cheek

and kissed the moisture there. When he pulled back, he realized he had let

his own tears slip. They slid slowly down each cheek, resting at last upon

his lips.

 

He reached up and brushed them away quickly. "Damned dust

again," he managed to croak out through the tightness in his throat.

 

"It'll get you every time," she said softly, smiling through her own

tears. She sighed deeply and Han could see just how exhausted she was.

 

"You should rest."

 

"I'm okay."

 

"No, you need to sleep. Close your eyes. I'll be right here."

 

She smiled. "You'll be right here when I wake up?"

 

He pulled the chair back to her bedside and resumed his earlier

position: one arm wrapped around her slim torso, the other gently caressing

her cheek. "I'll be right here....always."

 

She allowed her eyes to droop a bit and smiled at him lovingly.

"That's all I need to know," she breathed. Then she closed her eyes and let

herself drift into darkness, the light of love permeating her soul.

 

Han watched his wife sleep, remaining at her side in devoted vigil.

  

 

END