Life During Wartime CATEGORY: Hurt/Comfort
by KovacsSUMMARY: Just before the Battle of Hoth, Leia visits a recovering Luke in the med wing.
SEQUEL/SEQUENCE INFO: Part two in the Luke/Leia trilogy The Good Soldier
RATING: R
PAIRING: Lu/Le, m/f
WARNINGS: None
AUTHOR NOTES: Thanks to Tabitha-Jane Russell for beta reading
DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
He dreamed of sandstorms, dune seas shifting underneath him. He was slipping dizzily, his head lolling. No, he wouldn't vomit again. Luke forced his eyes half-open, pushed sweat-damp hair blindly off his face and turned, trying to find a cool patch on the pillow. Focus on it. Smooth material against your cheek. The faint current of air from the overhead vent. Sense the cold. You're light-years away from the desert; you never have to see another sandstorm. Think of cool liquid around your entire body, the bacta flowing...but he was sliding under again, and this time he felt swamp-mud sucking him down into murky water, filling his mouth. He fumbled for an image to pull himself back from the nausea. You can stop this, you can control your mind. Visualise a pale blue glow, right there, beckoning you upwards. Rise up to meet him. Focus on Ben.
"Luke..."
He swallowed, ran his tongue around his mouth. "Ben," he croaked, his eyes still clamped shut.
Cool fingers brushed his forehead. "Just rest, Luke..."
"Leia." He twisted his head, blinked. He should have sensed her there without hearing her voice - even now he caught her familiar scent, the faint edge of her perspiration and the traces of the Alderaanian perfume she still wore. But it had felt as though Ben was there with him; the same aura of comfort and gentle reassurance. Just the delirium, he told himself; he'd even mistaken Han for the old Jedi back out there.
"I said rest." She'd dropped into that tone of command, her senator-voice, but it was softened with affection. "Don't open your eyes, they'll still be sensitive to the light."
He let his head fall back, relaxing slightly. "I must look like a Rodian on a bad day," he managed. She chuckled, and the sound made something flutter in his stomach.
"You look great. Considering." She leaned a little closer, conspiratory. "How many men do you think I've wanted to kiss recently?"
"You mean apart from Han?" It came out as the boyish whine he hated. Okay, Luke, you've blown it, you stupid farmer.
Leia said nothing for a moment. He sensed her move back, wondered what she was thinking. "You're right," she said levelly after a while. "I guess it's that obvious."
"Look, forget it, Leia, I shouldn't have said anything. You know, if you two want to..." He waved his hand blindly, indicating a vague world of possibilities. "...well, I won't get in your way."
"Luke..." He heard her shift again, felt her breath closer to his face. "Luke, this is a strange time for all of us. We're in the middle of a war, you know that better than anyone. None of us know how long we have before that probe droid brings Vader to us." She saw him shiver, and touched his cheek. "I'm sorry."
"No, it's...it's my ribs. I just got a, you know, kind of twinge. Just shot up me."
"Here." She pulled the covering down from his shoulders; he shivered again, hoped he could pass it off as the cold air hitting his skin. "You're soaked, Luke. I should have gotten 2-1B to change this to a microfiber. Hold on, I'll call a med droid."
"No, don't." His hand was suddenly on her wrist and she looked down in surprise, because his eyes were still closed. "Don't. Just stay here with me."
"Alright." Her voice was softer. He released his grip and she ran her hand gently down his damp chest. "It's healed up well. The external damage is almost invisible, there's just some bruising."
"It's not just that."
"I know, but the scan showed your ribs and hip are set again. I know it'll cause you pain for a while, but -"
"It's not just that."
The words were the same, but this time she almost seemed to feel his voice right inside her head. She put a hand to her own temple and massaged it with a finger for a moment. "Tell me," she offered.
He took a long breath. "I failed out there. I should have been able to handle it. I got myself lost, and I got myself strung up like meat by some dumb animal and I would have frozen to death if Han hadn't turned up to save me."
"Luke -"
"Again", he added, swallowing hard; he felt the tear pooling up in the corner of one eye but couldn't bring himself to wipe it. Let her see it: let her see what an idiot kid he really was. "Once again, Han turns up to save my neck. I'm nothing but a stupid, helpless little -"
Her mouth had covered his, and his breath was snatched away. The fingers were back on his chest, lightly sliding over his nipple; the tip of her tongue touched his, and then she pulled away an inch to look down at him. "Commander Skywalker," she growled softly, "Shut up. That's an order."
Her lips were parted wider this time, her tongue sliding into his mouth. He let his hand rest on her shoulder as she leaned over his bed. She was still wearing the padded fleece jacket he remembered from her last visit; he was wondering how he might get it off her when she shifted her weight and pulled down the zipper herself, letting it slip open as she returned her mouth to his. He took the invitation and touched his fingertips to her neck, waiting for her to pull away as he edged his hand slowly down, feeling the rise of her breast under her top. She didn't pull away. He sensed every detail now; the slightly-ribbed texture of the material, the soft give of her breast through the fabric, the slight catch in her breathing as her tongue continued to slide against his. Her fingers slid down from his nipple, over his bare stomach, under the cover towards his hip.
"I'm not hurting?" she asked suddenly, almost whispering.
"No, just...no, it's fine."
She kissed his neck, nuzzling up to his ear. "I don't want to hurt you."
"I'll tell you, okay?"
"Okay."
He became awkwardly conscious of the hand inside her jacket; it was cupping her breast, but he didn't know if he was supposed to move it.
"Uh, am I...is this fine?" he tried.
She kissed his lower lip, sucking it in and nipping gently. "That's just fine."
"I mean..." he mumbled, "you're dressed."
"And you're not." Her fingers circled his hip, trailed down. "Aren't I a lucky little princess?"
"You're a beautiful princess." She kissed his mouth again and he could almost feel her smiling. "No, I mean it. Ever since I first saw you..."
"You're a beautiful knight." Her lips on his neck, then his collarbone; he allowed himself to relax, his hand moving back to her shoulder. Her tongue circled his nipple, flicking it lightly as he toyed with the coils of hair at her neck. "And I'm glad you like me too," she added, glancing up at his face.
"I do like you, it's more than liking, I -"
"Oh, I can tell," she murmured, her hand sliding down to brush over the front of his shorts. "I can tell you like me a lot. And I'm very glad I have that effect on you."
Her fingers trailed the outline of his hardness through the shorts; she felt him tense despite himself. This would be reward enough, she thought: for now. She wanted to give him this. He needed it, the sweetheart. As for herself, that could wait until they were back on the Falcon.
He wasn't at all bad, she mused. He was clumsy, but he'd have the energy; she could just straddle him right now, sink down onto this...she shifted, feeling her own wetness. It was tempting. She eased the top of his shorts down.
"Leia..."
She dipped her tongue to his chest again.
//Leia//
Her head snapped up. "Luke, what -"
He lifted his own head, struggling to open his eyes. "What, why did you -"
It had been inside her head, there was no mistaking it this time. Deep in the echo station of her mind, resonant and deep. Nothing like Luke's normal voice, though: oddly, chillingly reminiscent of -
"Oh." She straightened, involuntarily wiping her mouth. "Oh, Luke, I'm sorry, but I can't -"
"What, you...what?" he flustered, still blinking wildly. She pulled the covers up to his shoulders and tucked them in briskly.
"I'm sorry. We can't do this right now, okay?" Her voice was uneven, however much she tried to force it back into the command tone. "You stay there."
A distant rumble; she blessed the distraction for its perfect timing, even as her mind raced ahead and away down corridors and into control rooms. A dusting of ice fell from the roof. They both glanced upward.
"Looks like we're getting company, flyboy. Look, I have to get back to the comm center, maybe we can intercept -"
"Leia." His tone was steady, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were pale and watery but he held her gaze. She knew the question he was going to ask, knew the answer she'd give.
"You heard him too, didn't you."
She paused. "Yes."
She closed her eyes for a moment, suddenly aware that she was in danger of crying. How long could this go on for? Every night she told herself she wouldn't dream of it, that she could fight the voices out of her head, control the flashbacks; and it worked, sometimes. Sometimes she could go for five or six clear nights before she saw the hateful little sphere of a droid buzzing next to her face, the needle hovering, the black mask with its blank, insectoid eyes close enough to reflect her own.
Force it down. You are at war, Leia. People are depending on you to lead them.
She opened her eyes, cleared her throat. "I want you in uniform by the time their troops touch the snow, Commander."
And she turned and strode out of the med bay into the flickering light of the hall, leaving him to grit his teeth and brood over his plans for revenge.
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