Log Date: 6/4/97 Log Cast: Han Solo, Leia Organa-Solo Log Intro: The life of just about every former Rebel hero is a busy one; the life of Luke Skywalker doubly so, Jedi that he is. On a return trip to Calamari, Luke has been startled and pleased to discover that his friend Han Solo has been recovered from Tatooine... though Luke's been equally dismayed to find out that Grathix, the man with whom Luke had been negotiating over the recovery of alledged Force artifacts from Mandalore, was responsible for Han's latest disappearance. But Luke has been even more worried to find Solo a sleepless, short-tempered, exhausted wreck, obsessed with trying to find out what happened to Chewbacca and the _Millenium Falcon_ even as his own physical and emotional state makes it impossible for him to effectively search for his lost friend and craft. To Luke's surprise, however, Han confesses to him that he's been suffering recurring bad dreams... and the young Jedi promptly offers to help his Corellian friend. In the safety of Han and Leia's suite, Luke exerts just enough of the Force to let Han's weary mind face his dreams as what they are -- dreams, nothing more -- and Han's normally resilient psyche does the rest, leaping on the chance to send Solo into a desperately needed slumber. [NOTE: Actual RP dates notwithstanding, this log takes place, IC, after 'nightmare.txt' on the Solo log archive.] ---------- It's been over half a year since Leia Organa's bed has seen its other occupant; now, with Han Solo returned to it, it's suddenly a smaller place to be, but a warmer one as well. For the first time since his return to Calamari, Han not only occupies the bed he shares with his mate, but _sleeps_ in it, the deep and thorough slumber of a man who's finally come back to the safest place in his personal universe. Leia has been awake for some time now, lying close to the warm body of her husband. She makes a conscious effort not to stir; whether by recent habit due to the many restless nights since his return or just because she's enjoying sharing a rare peaceful moment with the man she loves is unclear. Judging how soundly he's sleeping, however, it looks as if a herd of Bantha could stampede through the residence and he wouldn't notice.. and her own mentality feeds off of his deep slumber, reviving it of the stress and fatigue previously harbored within from worry. At some point during the hours he's been down, Han has turned over on his back, rumpling the covers beneath him, further rumpling his clothes. He lies on his back now, head tilted towards Leia. In slumber he's always looked boyish, a full decade dropped off his features; now, though, he looks simply more... relieved than youthful, the subtle signs of weathering and strain only muted, not entirely vanished. His white shirt has come open at his throat and chest, leaving exposed a stretch of his breastbone and the very top of a white slash across his skin. As her mind soaks up the quiet restfullness radiating from the room, Leia's warm, brown gaze softly looks upon the form of her sleeping husband. It's been a while since she's been able to just watch him lie there, so quiet and peaceful.. a long while. Too long, in fact; she'd forgotten how much she'd missed this. Absorbing his features, her gaze slowly trails to his neck and chest as she shifts her body ever so slightly to better watch his entire resting form.. and a brow quirks curiously as her attention is drawn to something she's never noticed before, originating beneath the collar of his shirt. Han is still thinner than he should be, and the planes and lines of his face remain in sharp relief, softened only by the shadow of a days-old beard along his jaw; his hair has grown positively shaggy, and in one or two places, findable only by Leia's lovingly attentive gaze, there can be found one or two strands of silver in the midst of the brown. Down along his sternum, though, is that white slash, peeking up from under his shirt -- a scar, perhaps recent. Certainly paler than the old one across Han's chin, as this one's not had time to return to his normal skin tone. This one, too, might be thicker. Leia's curiosity slowly shifts into concern, and she reaches a hand out.. fingers holding the intention of placing themselves upon it before her mind hushes them, causing them to curl up and away from the target they almost absently intercepted. Having been halted, the arm eventually recoils itself back to her chest, fingers closing to a soft fist which rests at the base of her throat as she stares at the odd scarring peeking from beneath his clothing. Whatever it is, that slightly puckered line of white clearly tracks down under Han's shirt -- under both sides of the fabric, where it's come unfastened. The shirt itself looks rather worse for wear, too; he'd forgotten to undress before collapsing onto the bed beside his wife. Continued study of this discolored line across Han's chest brings further worry into Leia's gaze; she has to really work to not reach out and move the shirt to see how far the line extends, though her gaze clearly attempts to peek as far as the fabric allows her to see. It was probably no knife blade that left that scar -- nor was it a blaster burn. Something must have hooked into Han's flesh, though, and sliced him open; from the thickness of that puckered line there, whatever it was must have cut deeply. Leia flinches at the sight before her, the deep, wrenching marks laid upon her dormant husband's chest. She looks for a moment as if considering waking him.. but, in letting out a quiet sigh, gives that idea up rather quickly; despite not wanting to wake him from his well needed slumber, Leia knows if Han hasn't mentioned this before.. he obviously wasn't eager to show her in the first place. To rouse him from a peaceful sleep and confront him over.. whatever it was that caused this, whatever it was he hadn't told her about.. well, it isn't something Leia particularly wants to do. Instead, she resigns herself to simply study what she can see for as long as she can stand to stare upon something which must have caused the man she loved so much pain. Undisturbed, then, Han sleeps on, and as hours begin to creep by into a day, his body clearly having finally seized the opportunity to make him get caught up on his sleep, he barely twitches where he lies ungracefully sprawled along the bed. Only an occasional shift of his arm, a play of his hand across Leia's form as if to assure himself in his subconscious that she is present, and the slow rise and fall of his... scarred chest indicate that he is only sleeping, and not comatose. As much as she wants to remain close to his side, finally Leia can take no more of watching her husband and this unknown marking upon his chest; Leia does her best to carefully slip off of the bed, attempting to do so without stirring the sleeping scoundrel. As she slides her feet silently to the floor, she takes a few steps over to stand beside the window, allowing her gaze to slip out to the vast oceans of Calamari beyond the thick glass and making an effort to clear any unsettling thoughts from her mind. Leia's slight soft motion brings barely more than a breath of a sight out of the Corellian; he rubs his hand against the place where she'd lain for a moment, before subsiding once more. But eventually... Even before he is fully awake, it seems to Han that he feels... strange. He can't quite put his finger on it, and only after his languid mind has turned it over a few times in consideration does it finally occur to him that he is relaxed -- and aware in a way he immediately marks for its lack of nervous tension. _I fell asleep_, he realizes, then in wonder adds on, _And I didn't dream..._ Foggy with the lingering weight of slumber, he stirs, lifting a hand, scrubbing it across his still-closed eyes. Leia continues her quiet vigil at the window, her mind trying to cleanse itself by becoming immersed in the view of the stretching planetary oceans. The movement of her mate does cause her to glance over to the bed in a flickering motion.. eyes of brown unsure whether or not they should rest upon her husband or return to the casual glance through the window and beyond; her husband wins this internal battle rather easily, and she watches him stir in bed with a silent gaze that, while perfectly content to focus upon Han, is well prepared to shift back to the window should he catch her watching. He does not immediately see the slight small figure at the window; Han's hand drops heavily away, his hazelish eyes blinking muzzily towards the ceiling, while he tries to orient himself. That same hand fumbles around the bed again, and he murmurs slurrily, "Leia?" With a soft smile and equally soft words, Leia's voice reassures as it answers her husband, "Han.. I'm here." She takes slow and measured steps over to the bed, moving to sit upon it's edge with a motion so slight it can barely be felt upon it's surface. Han turns his head towards the sound of those words, and although his gaze is ever so slightly unfocused, ever so slightly drowsy, it is still oddly clear, as though a light that had gone out behind his eyes has been newly rekindled. A lopsided quirk of his mouth slowly broadens into a lopsided grin, and he says huskily, "Hi there, Your Worship..." That brings a serene grin softly upon Leia's features, a grin that hasn't found a home in her expression in a long, long time. With her warmth of gaze envelopping her husband, Leia just watches Han in a peaceful silence, enjoying every moment of his presence. "How long've I been asleep?" Han stares up at Leia longly, as though reminding himself anew what she looks like. "A few hours longer than usual.. " she intones quietly while the pools of brown embedded within her features continue to soak up Han's very presence, "Perhaps longer." The Corellian smirks, lightly, shaking his head to clear it, propping himself slowly up on his elbows. "Feel like I've slept a week." An added brightness filters its way into Leia's smile as she replies, "You came pretty close." Han grins faintly, rubbing the back of his hand across his face; realizing he's not only stubbled, he's well on his way to a beard, he peers down at himself and smirks again before returning his gaze to his wife. "Surprised you let me into bed like this," he murmurs lightly, his tone holding just a touch of sheepishness over his rumpled state, but far more pleasure than anything else. Leia moves a hand to rest on Han's leg, patting it twice before leaving it to rest there, a slightly playful tone creeping up in her voice, "Hmm, I am, too." "I do look a little, uh... scruffy," he says gruffly, even as his gaze on Leia warms. Leia smiles and nods shortly, "Just a little bit." She raises her hand in front of her, showing about half an inch of distance between her forefinger and thumb in demonstration. "Maybe," Han suggests with a glint in his eyes that turns them grey-golden, "you could tell me if I oughtta keep the beard, Your Highnessness..." Leia smirks gently and lowers her hand back to rest on Han's leg, "It's certainly an.. interesting.. look." "I look interestin' from the chin down, too," Han murmurs, lifting a hand of his own, drawing his fingertips along the top of the small hand resting there on his thigh. Leia mmnhmms quietly and squeezes her hand on the leg where it rests, resigning herself to not say anything; her eyes do flicker to the neck of his shirt, however, for the briefest of moments. When her gaze returns to her husband, not a second after it had shifted to the upper portion of his chest, she has to work a little to keep the smile on her face and to push the concern out of her eyes. Han pushes himself up slowly into a sitting position, though, his lopsided smile turning somewhat sheepish. "Don't wander off, okay?" he says softly, almost a plea. With that, he rises, pulling off the rumpled white shirt, and heading for the refresher; perhaps, then, Leia can see that the scar she'd glimpsed is actually _three_... long and jagged, slicing across Han's chest before breaking and picking up again on either of his upper arms. Eyes of brown widen as Han's lack of shirt reveals scars in greater length and magnitude than she'd feared hours ago upon first notcing just the tip of the proverbial iceberg jutting from beneath the rumpled neckline of his shirt. She does her best not to simply stare at Han's now exposed upper body and it's 'additions', but concern gets the best of her and her gaze lingers on him far longer than diplomacy would normally allow. Han, however, does not appear to notice, as he vanishes off into the refresher, stripping out of the rest of his clothing and tossing them into the bin to be washed. He does turn at the door, though, and flick Leia another crooked grin, offering, "Shower's big enough for two..." The sound of Han's voice does much to shake the worry out of Leia's mind for a brief enough moment to allow her to grin slightly and raise a brow. She states rather factualy, but with a light teasing tone, "And you're filthy." "Help clean me up?" asks the Corellian, eyes warming again, his gaze very direct. A smirk forms softly upon Leia's features as she considers, then leans slightly towards the head of the bed, taking a hold of the corner of a pillow and tossing it at the door the Corellian stands by, demanding in a light, kind voice and with a smile, "Go bathe, you scruffy nerfherder." Pretending to look indignant, Han retorts, "Who's scruffy-lookin'?" before vanishing into the refresher room. From within eventually come the sounds of running water -- this being Calamari, there's more than enough water to go around, especially in the bathroom of the Solo suite. [End log.]