Han had gotten the shelter up and turned on the tiny heater. It wouldn't provide much warmth, but it was something. He had left Luke inside the Tauntaun for the time it took, always keeping a careful eye over it and around him. He had no idea what it was that had caused Luke's injuries and he was hoping he wouldn't have to find out first hand.
Think Solo, did you pay any attention at all when they gave that first aid class? Looking through the remains of his survival pack, he though about what he needed. Inside he found some ration bars, a few stim-pills, a thermal blanket, a packet of instant nutrio (He remembered that the stuff was supposed to taste horrid but do the trick very well), some flares, and a very basic first aid kit.
Steeling himself for the next phase in 'the care and treatment of hypothermia patients', he ducked out of the tent and back into the terrible cold.
"Man, it's not possible, but this thing stinks even worse now." He gently pulled Luke out of the inside of the Tauntaun. "It's also a good thing you don't weigh much, kid."
Getting Luke inside was going to be interesting; the tent was low and Han didn't want to cause any more injuries than he had to. Solo had to resort to lying Luke down and rather awkwardly pulling him inside by his parka. It wasn't easy as Luke's clothes were now slimy from being in contact with the insides of the Tauntaun. The younger man was also started to shiver uncontrollably and kept trying to ball himself up. Han vaguely remembered shivering being a good sign, but it wasn't helping the cause any.
Han thought he was going to be ill from the smell. Maybe putting Luke inside the mount hadn't been the best idea he ever had.
"So we get these clothes off of you. I'd burn them, but I'd hate to think of that stench."
Han undressed Luke as gently but as quickly as he could, trying to give the normally shy younger man as much privacy as possible. Luke was down to his underclothes, wrapped up in the thermal blanket. Han put him as close to the heater as he dared, since the injured man's shivering might upset the unit.
Sliding back outside with Luke's castoff clothes, Han threw them as far away from the campsite as possible, then went back for the dead mount. He dragged the animal away, then stopped and undid the saddle, pulling the saddle blanket off the beast. It smelled a little, but much better than dead Tauntaun itself.

"Kid, you sure do know how to get me into messes, don't you?" Han asked, even though he knew that Luke didn't hear him.
The smuggler sat on the floor leaning against the tent wall, the shivering Luke lying semi-conscious on the floor beside him, his head pillowed on Han's thigh. He'd just given Luke one of the pain killers from the first aid kit, forced down with some of the horrid smelling broth he'd made out of melted snow and instant nutrio. Luke hadn't managed more than a mouthful. Han himself had gnawed down a ration bar from the emergency pack, and followed it with a stim-pill. He preferred not to take the things, but in this case, sleep was not an option. He needed to keep awake if he was going to avoid freezing to death. Staying awake was the only way he was going to save his friend's life.
His friend. How many of those did he really have? He had wondered tonight, as he headed out, why he hadn't hesitated to go after Luke when it became clear that the young rebel hadn't come back. Wasn't he about to leave? He had just said good-bye to the Princess and General Rieekan. He needed to go; he’d waited long enough to settle with Jabba, and maybe he'd come back after he was finished. If not for the Rebellion, at least to see Luke and Leia one more time. He wasn't going to think about the girl; Leia was probably worried sick, mostly about Luke, he was sure. But as much as he liked the spunky rebel Princess, she wasn't the real reason he'd gotten involved in the Alliance, the reason that he had stuck his neck out time and time again. Even the money offered – and taken – wasn’t the reason he’s come back, the reason he’d hung around.
No, the reason was an idealistic farm boy from a backwater planet.
He had done it again tonight. He had been willing to risk his own life, to freeze to death, just to bring the kid back. Why had he done that? Because Luke would do the same for him. It was just as simple as that.
He and Luke were friends, true friends, friends to the end.
"Even though the end could be tonight," he muttered to himself.
Han had never had a friendship like the one with Luke before. All his life, from his days struggling to survive on the streets of Corellia, to his brief military career, to his days as a smuggler, the people he had come into contact with had always needed something from him. Sure, he'd enjoyed the company of many of them, drinking, gambling, carousing, whatever. Some of them, he knew, would watch his back. But all of them were around because either he had something they needed or they had something he needed. Whatever it was money, knowledge, power, spice, ships, or even sex, there was always something. But not with Luke. The boy had originally needed him as a pilot, but that was a business transaction; it had nothing to do with their friendship. The kid needed nothing from him, asked nothing of him, and he needed nothing from the kid. Nothing but his company.
He was a true friend, the one thing that had been missing in Solo's life. Sure, Chewbacca was his friend, loyal, steadfast, and wonderful, and one Han wouldn’t trade in for the galaxy. But Chewbacca also owed him a life debt, something Han had repeatedly tried to release the Wookiee from. It was the thing that stood between them. Chewie believed he owed the human, and that would always be there. No matter how many times they would save each other's lives, it would be there.
Not so with Luke.
"Come on, kid," Han quietly urged. "I feel like a crazy man talking to myself and I need to stay awake. Say something."
Luke moaned. He muttered, his voice so low that Han had to bend over, words that sounded like, "Ben… Dagobah… Yoda . . .."
Han had no idea what that meant. "What happened to you, kid? What did this to you?"
Luke almost seemed to respond to that. "Creature… big."
Han chuckled, "Well, I sure hope he looks worse than you do."
But Luke didn't answer; instead he fell back silent and still. Han shook his head and leaned back against the tent wall, wishing he'd brought a game of pocket sabacc to keep him company.

After a couple of hours, Han leaned over again to check on his friend. The kid's breathing was shallow, but steady, which was a relief. His face, however, didn't look so good. The wounds weren't bleeding, but they were deep. Han doubted even the miraculous bacta was going to fix all of the wounds without leaving scars.
"Hey, scars build character, kid. Besides, women love them." Han said to the younger man with a chuckle. But then in a more serious voice, he asked, "Do you hurt much?" Han checked his chrono; it would be another hour and a half before he could give Luke any more of the painkillers from the first aid kit.
Luke didn't answer, not that Han expected him to. With a gentleness that surprised even himself, Han brushed the hair out of Luke's face to get a better look, but his hand stopped as it met cool flesh. Too-cool flesh. He frowned and laid a deliberate hand on Luke's forehead. Han was no doctor, nor had he had much medical training, but he didn't like the fact that Luke felt so cold, even out of the wind and wrapped in the thermal and saddle blankets.
Yeah, it was as cold in the shelter as Tatooine was hot, but still, out of the snow and wind, Luke should be warming up by now. This is not good.
"Come on buddy, I didn't almost become an icicle for you to die on me. It's only a few more hours more until daylight, and then we can get out of here. I just need you to hang on."
Han continued to hold his hand on Luke's forehead as if trying to pass some of his own heat into Luke. Although the smuggler had never stopped thinking of the younger man as 'the kid', in the years they had known each other, Luke had grown into a man. But tonight, he looked less like a seasoned rebel pilot and more like a young boy. A boy that had gotten beaten senseless by the neighborhood bully.
"Luke, you gotta just hang on. They need you back there. Lots of people. Your squadron, those crazy droids of yours, Leia, everybody." Han's voice cracked just a little bit before he blurted, "I need you too; so don't even think about leaving me alone out here. I've just gotten used to not being alone, you know?"
He wondered if Luke did know. Both believing in Leia’s idea of looking forward, never back, neither of them had ever really talked much about their pasts. Han knew enough, though, to imagine that Luke's life hadn't been any easier than his own. Han had spent enough time on Tatooine; he had heard about the rough and lonely lives of the moisture farmers, toiling day after day, just barely eking out an existence among the endless sand dunes. He also knew that Luke had lost the only family he'd ever known. Han thought back to one night merely weeks ago when he, Leia, Han, and Chewie had whiled away a boring night playing sabacc and drinking. Luke was bad at sabacc, Leia actually quite good. They had found out that all three of them were orphans. Leia had actually been adopted by the Organas when she was very small. Neither Han nor Luke had remembered their parents, birth or otherwise. Amazing that three completely different people could have such similar yet diverse backgrounds and become such good friends. Although, of course, the smuggler and the princess of the group really needed the farm boy between them to keep things civil. Han had learned that just that afternoon.
He decided to see if he could shock the farm boy into speech. "Luke, I got something serious to tell you. I told Leia this afternoon that I was leaving."
Han paused as if waiting for Luke's response. When he realized that nothing was forthcoming, he continued. "I have to, you know that. Jabba's put a death mark on my head. That bounty hunter on Ord Mantell was too close. Along with saving my own hide, I gotta think about you and Leia. She doesn't get that, but I'm sure you do. Wherever I am, my friends are also going to be marks. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if either of you got hurt because of me. I'm even endangering what you are doing here. And for whatever strange reason, I don't want that to happen. The Alliance is important and one smuggler's problems shouldn't bring it down. But you know I'm coming back to see you, right, Luke? I came back when you were facing the Death Star. At the time, I wasn't sure why. Oh sure, Chewie talked a good game and the idea of fame was a good draw. Even got a medal out of it, too, right there with you. But mostly it was for you. There's something about you, kid. You're like nobody I've ever known before. Everyone else has always wanted something from me or I've wanted something from them. That even includes Chewie and Leia, though we won't go into that. But you, you don't need anything from me. You're my friend, my best friend. I'm coming back; I'll always come back. That's why I'm here right now, because I couldn't leave you out here. I know you'd do the same for me. But, once we’re found and you’re safely back at base, I still have to go, I've stayed too long as it is."

Luke suddenly moaned, the first sound that Han had heard from him in hours.
"Luke! Hey, that's what I want to hear."
Luke barely opened his eyes squinting in the darkness. "Han?"
"Yeah, you gave me quite a scare there."
"Cold. So cold." Luke whispered. Then he began shivering uncontrollably once more.
Han looked around the tent. Luke was wrapped in the thermal blanket, with the saddle blanket from the dead lizard on top of that. There simply wasn't another thing to put over him except for Han's own clothes and he needed them if he was going to keep from freezing himself. Just one thing left . . ..
"Oh Sith." Han swore. "Just let it be known that I wouldn't do this for just anyone."
Still grumbling, Han took off his gloves, parka and outer layer of clothing and added them to the pile, then he slipped inside the wrap of blankets next to his friend. He swore again in Corellian; Luke still stank from the traces of innards and the saddle blanket. Off-hand he couldn't think of anything worse, except maybe that trash compactor on the Death Star. Luke was whimpering; a return of consciousness also became a return to the pain of his injuries.
Han wrapped his arms around his friend. It was awkward for him; demonstrations of affection were generally brief for him, except with Chewie and that was never his choice. But Luke had to get warm somehow. He drew Luke against his chest, holding the somewhat-delirious man close. Luke muttered names, some of which Han knew, some of which he didn't. Ben, Beru, Yoda, Camie, Leia.
"It's going to be okay, Luke, it's going to be okay." Han murmured over and over again until finally Luke quieted.
Warmer now, Luke fell into what Han hoped was sleep. His arms still firmly wrapped around his friend, the smuggler finally let himself drift off as well.

The stream of light coming through the tent walls, teased at the edge of Han's eyelids, finally awakening him. Morning; they had made it to morning! He untangled himself from Luke and the layers of bedding, and then checked on his friend. The younger man was still asleep, but he felt warmer, his breathing steady. He was going to make it. Han just had to figure out a way to get them back from wherever here was.
He turned on his commlink once more, trying to summon anyone, but again was met with nothing. Maybe if he went outside and lit the flares, a search party might find them.
But first, it was time to give Luke some more meds. Han filled up the little cup from the gear with snow and held the cup over the unit to heat. When the snow melted and the water seemed at least a little warm, Han carried it carefully over to Luke.
"Okay, buddy, time for your medicine." He gently woke the injured man. Setting the cup down, Han put his arms around his friend and guided him to a seated position. Luke seemed somewhat more responsive than last night and was able to swallow the pain pill with little trouble. Han sighed in relief and then gently set Luke down with a last ruffle to the younger man's hair.
He grabbed a ration bar, then hiked outside the tent with the commlink and the flares. He set the flares off around the tent, then attempted contact again.
After what seemed like ages, he finally got something, it was grainy and full of static but it sounded like "…Commander Skywalker, do you copy? This is Rogue Two."
"Good morning!” Han responded into the ‘link, letting a little edge of sarcasm come through. “Nice of you guys to drop by."
Han ducked back inside the tent. "Luke! Put on something pretty because company is coming."
Luke merely moaned in pain.
Han knelt by his friend. "They've come to get you. We'll dump you in some bacta and you'll be as good as new. It'll be all right. I'm going back out to wave them down. I'll be right back."
Suddenly Luke spoke, his voice weak but distinct. "I know you will be. You always come back for me."
The smuggler smiled. "You know I will."
"Thank you, Han," the farm boy whispered.
"Any time, old buddy, any time. Course, next time, find a warmer planet to get yourself lost on."
Han swore he heard Luke chuckle. Han gently rubbed Luke's head one last time. Then he ducked back outside to wave the pilot down.
We made it. And I'm not going anywhere.

The End