Star Wars: Back to Bespin

Chapter 1

A/N: Hello! This is my first Star Wars story on this site, though I started writing Star Wars fanfiction thirty-seven years ago on my manual typewriter before anyone ever heard of the internet. It is a joy for me to be writing for these beloved characters again. This story takes place immediately following Return of the Jedi, and is my attempt to fill in the blanks between Episodes VI and VII. Canon for me will be mainly the movies, so if there is something out there that has already been done in a book or comic, I probably don't know about it. Also, I haven't read much fanfiction in this fandom, so any similarities between this story and someone else's are purely coincidental. Thanks for giving me a chance. I hope you enjoy it.

Star Wars VI.i: Back to Bespin

Chapter 1

Han Solo made his way through the dark forest to the clearing Lando had described, his hand light guiding him farther away from the chattering voices, flickering torches, and constant drum beats that accompanied an Ewok celebration. While he was anxious to examine the Falcon after her recent battle with the second Death Star, it was also good to have some time alone to decompress from his own fight here on Endor. It had been a good day for the Alliance, but a revelatory one for him, the ramifications of which would require some time to process.

Lando had helpfully left on the running lights of Han's ship and the entry ramp down (though he would clearly have to talk to the man about his casualness when it came to his baby's security), and after he moved aside the limb of a pine tree, the Millennium Falcon rose suddenly before him, like an ancient monolith in the midst of the primeval forest. Luke would get a kick out of that characterization, he thought in amusement. The kid never seemed to tire of pointing out how battered and old his ship was.

Before Han went inside, he shone the light around the sides and top of the ship, frowning at the dark laser marks that spoke to near-misses, at the few new scrapes across the beloved grey metal, but, most disturbing of all, the missing sensor dish that had once been lovingly installed on the top hull.

"You're gonna pay for that one, pal," he said aloud, though he'd left Lando back at the Ewok village, gnawing on the roasted leg of some unfamiliar bird, Chewie beside him, working on his third. With a last shake of his head, he trotted up the ramp. Fortunately for Lando, inside he found nothing amiss, and he entered his trusty cockpit, where he fell gratefully into the pilot's chair that perfectly conformed to his backside. He leaned back and closed his eyes with a sigh, reveling in the familiar comfort. This would always be home to him, the place where he did most of his deepest thinking. Naturally, his thoughts drifted immediately to Leia.

The last he had seen of her, Luke had drawn her away from the party to speak with her in private, and it was a relief that for once he felt no jealousy where the younger man was concerned. He and Luke had shared an understanding smile, and rather than dwell on the loss he felt as Leia left his side, he took that time to attend to his own personal business. He knew Leia had many questions for her brother.

Her brother.

It boggled the mind.

Han had had his own time alone with Leia after the battle, when he'd insisted the medical droid attend to her wounded arm beyond Han's rudimentary field dressing. He'd come with her to the privacy of the hut the Ewoks had lent her for her personal use, had helped her off with her Alliance uniform shirt. She'd barely flinched with pain. He'd suffered plenty of his own laser blast wounds over the years, and he knew they hurt like hell. His princess was a brave soldier though, and had only squeezed his hand once as the droid spread bacta gel on the black hole in her upper arm. A shot of painkill did the trick though, and the lines between her brows smoothed considerably. The droid finished up with a fresh bandage, leaving Han alone with Leia in an enticing state of undress.