albinomilksnake | STAR WARS: possible spoiler warning

[ they've pulled the impossible and stolen victory at the last second. it might be thirty years ago. everyone aboard has some bone to pick with him. the sense of déjà vu threatens to knock him back.

if he could distance himself from the situation, he would understand. they've dealt a blow that the first order will be feeling for years. but the resistance is still struggling, crippled further by the loss of the republic. on board, they carry one of the key members of the first order, a powerful once-jedi who cannot be easily restrained and with whom half the passengers have a personal vendetta.

it had been an even half split, except han has never held to democratic ideals aboard his ship. he is captain of the falcon. what he says goes. anyone who has a problem with that can float home. finn and rey remained vehemently against the idea, finn more so. rey had looked between him and ben with sharp, seeing eyes in a way that made han certain she knew. han ignored them while he made the preparations for lightspeed, ignored chewbacca's soft grumbled questions. for once, he focused entirely on the controls wanting to get home.

he had lost everything: his son, his wife, his ship. then two crazy kids flew the falcon back into his hands. he reunited with his wife ( still as beautiful as she ever was and he still as big of a fool in love. ) and his son has returned.

the moment the ship makes the jump, he vacates his seat at the cockpit. he passes a hand along the walls while he walks. the falcon hums contentedly. the girl did a good job with her. with a little effort and a lot of love, the falcon will be flying as well as she ever did. it'll be something to keep them all occupied while they figure out their next move.

but he's getting ahead of himself. when he steps into the small space, han takes in ben's form. he had known his boy happy, smug, frustrated, angry. it was that last one that he could not handle, as quick to anger as he is and as impotent as he had felt to cut through that mounting rage. he thought nothing could be worse than to see his boy grow more and more discontent with each passing day. the little boy who was toddling after him as soon as he learned to walk, who would mimic him in all he did, whom he would sit on his lap aboard the falcon and guide his hands over the control panel so ben would love the rush of flying as much as he did.

that was before he came face to face with his son's anguish.

the hand that drops on ben's shoulder is heavily callused and not as strong as it once was. but the warm squeeze is as steady as the ship around them. han chooses to remain standing, silent a long time until, ]

I'm proud of you. [ abrupt. quiet. the words worn from the many times he turned them over, polished them, wished he had spoken them before. ] What you're doing…it takes a lot of guts.

[They're no longer in the moment; whatever hungry weakness sought out Han Solo's hand as a means to escape has passed, and his jaw winds up once contact is back on he table, contempt a bitter, bitter pill. Not for the weight of tired fingers, or for Han Solo, but for himself, and no amount of praise can act as a balm in the face of that fact.]

Don't.

[Snapped out, hands draped across his knees, face still angled downwards, tilting only enough to address the man standing just over his shoulder.] I have existed this long without your praise; I need none of it now.

[The ones that crave it are still keeping to the front of the ship - so eager for attention he hardly needs to lean on the Force to feel it.]

I know. [ sobered; almost an apology. ] It's still true.

[ as much as he wants to clasp ben to him again, han resists. he steps aside, his hand dropping. he finds a spot on a crate and sits heavily on it, head falling back against the wall with a small sigh. the space is limited; ben picked well. all that's missing is the "no soliciting" sign out on the wall. han's been in tighter spaces, however, and with worse company.

he isn't so oblivious as to think he's welcome. as far as han is concerned, ben can go on hating him the rest of his life. he has any anger well-earned. so much can still go wrong. the odds remain stacked against them, all of them. but seeing him on the ship, away from the first order, away from snoke, and seeing how much he's grown…

all he feels is content.

he had almost forgotten what that felt like. ]

[He can see it in Solo's eyes, hear it in his voice how brimming he is with contentment. A world of possibilities lying at an old man's fingertips-- few could truly say the same when life so often narrows the path once time has run its course.

His own lip curls, frown deepening. Rey has no reason to trust his intentions after everything she's seen (how competent she proved herself without so much as an ounce of training still sparks envy somewhere low in his chest) and FN-2187--

No. He rejects this happy fantasy, and he rejects the idea of what he's become - whatever his would-be father sees when he looks at him: overwhelming and insufficient all at once. He'll never be more than what he is, in that Snoke was correct.

But he protected the only thing that had ever truly mattered to Ben Solo. That's enough.]

He would have been relieved to hear you speak those words.

[Draw a line in the sand. Keep the man at bay; let him make no mistake that this is not his son.]

[ han recognizes the attempt for what it is. it isn't as upsetting as it might have been. what ben — kylo ren, whatever — views as a way to distance himself from the situation, han sees as further proof. and the emotion that flourished with reckless abandon in his chest isn't dented by the implied rejection.

elbows on his knees, he looks to the side. a hint of an ironic smile flashes across his face. leia may have been right about him being able to reach ben, but she's the good speaker. he usually just talks long enough to buy himself some time. leia is the vibroblade whereas he has always prided himself on being a hammer. it's served him this long. ]

You helped us escape. [ his eyes find ben's. ] Chewie and me will attest to that. When we get there, you can walk in and walk out same as us. Leia's going to want you close; she's dreamt of you.

[ he lacks the finesse for a subtle barb. instead, he says things as they are. call him the biggest fool in the galaxy, but he's not going to suffer anyone clapping binders on ben. ( whether anyone could get close enough is the better question, but he doesn't bother asking. ) if he knows anything about the general — there's plenty he doesn't know, but he prides himself on knowing her — she won't tolerate it either. he has the freedom to go wherever and do whatever…with only one obvious exception.

he splays his fingers, palms up. ]

It's up to you.

[She's dreamt of you - his eyes snap up, all pretense lost in some brief show of unguarded sincerity where his expression is too open, too--

He doesn't know. Cynicism and bitterness were his only truths for what feels like ages. Long enough for his father to grow old, for the whole world to turn upside down and leave him here in some too small space with emotion welling like a knot inside his chest.

If he sees her, he'll never want to leave; it's a dangerous gambit.

He swallows, dry and audible.] You've stayed by her side.

[It's a compliment. The only one he can manage to put to words, even if it doesn't sound like it - he never imagined Han Solo could well and truly function without false freedom. He was wrong.]

[ old losses shutter his expression. he studies some point in the air. the ghosts of years linger at the edges of his vision. ]

Not as long as I should have. [ those first few years had been awful. not like the ones that followed were any better. but those ones right after… luke, vanished. ben, responsible. they, made to look at themselves and wonder what went wrong. if only they hadn't sent him away. if only they had understood him better. if only.

if he had a credit for every what if he nursed, he could buy his own system. han shakes his head as if trying to disperse the memories. ]

It would have been longer if it hadn't been for that droid. [ "that droid" that needs no name. only half the galaxy was looking for it. ]

--what? [Snapped out, every bit as demanding as he'd ever been wearing the mask of Kylo Ren, though it's all blatant confusion painted out across his expression. He doesn't know what some BB-8 unit could have possibly done to bring them both together (or was it the other way around?) outside of its immediate relation to Skywalker or how it's meant to be relevant to him. And, predictably, his only consistent response is to angrily hunt down a more appropriate answer.

At least he's not choking anyone.]

Edited (It's 3am ) 2016-01-15 12:28 (UTC)

[ #growth

han greets the reaction with as much bewilderment. ]

The BB unit. It was aboard the Falcon when I took her back.

I know what droid you meant-- [His jaw is unnaturally tight, stare entirely narrowed. He remembers Snoke having told him the unit was in the hands of Han Solo-- remembers the twisted, searching expression he wore as he hunted for a reaction. His own face feels hot; he's folding his arms and it's a more viable option than letting his fingers curl or reach for what they instinctively want to do.]

You left her, didn't you.

[For once in your life Han, speak plainly.]

[ oh. ]

Yeah. I left. [ he leans back, visibly chagrined. this is not a conversation he thought of having with his son. ever. ] I was stupid. I thought she'd be better off somehow.

[ he claps his hands over his knees, elbows jutting out. it had felt necessary. he couldn't stand the eyes with which leia looked at him: grieving and wanting and full of something he didn't peer at too closely because that meant taking a longer look at himself. running was always easier. ]

[If he was reasonable he'd see the truth: they both had, in their own ways, for their own reasons. But he's not reasonable. And the last time he was-- if he ever truly was-- he can't remember it. Can't care enough to. So assumptions come full circle, and he stands, stiff and irritated, transparent in every way when he hones in on his father with his own accusations:] You only came back because of Skywalker.

[For Leia, for him. Skywalker is always the root of every problem, every needling sliver of anger that he can't suppress.]

No, [ firm. despite the limited space, han is on his feet. not angry yet, though the sharpness of his assertion would make anyone unfamiliar with him think so. ]

You think if I only cared about Luke, I'd go back? [ he points out as if bb-8 will come chirping around the corner. ] I had the droid! I could have pulled it apart for the map, stuffed the rest of it in a pod and shipped it back to Jakku! Let the Resistance and the First Order waste their time looking.

[ he lets his arm drop with a tired sigh. his exhaustion is bone-deep and not for the amount of running he has had to do in the last twenty-four hours. ]

I went back because it was time for me to go home.

[To which he says nothing, jaw working only a beat later as he swallows. The silence is deafening - the falcon's engine humming so loudly nearby that it might as well be part of the room, her ventilation system rattling like something old and wounded, still carrying on after all this time.]

Snoke could not say the same.

[Obsessed as they both were with laying waste to the last of the Jedi, it's a tangible line in the sand, splitting apart everything he ever thought he wanted.

He only needed to hear it from Han Solo himself.]

Snoke, [ he sneers. the little smile that crosses his face is brimming with barely repressed fury. ] No, he couldn't. He uses everything around him, then throws it all away.

[ he still can't believe the truth. or rather he believes it — it explains so much he had no answers to. but that leia could have kept it secret for so long. that snoke had been watching their boy since he was born. that he was in the shadows, twisting events to his advantage. he orchestrated the fall. what anger han may feel to leia was blunted by the years, their shared losses, and the love between them that never waned. besides, he has a perfect someone to hate.

he thought he'd hated vader in his time. but snoke went after something far more precious. ]

[He blinks too rapidly; his breathing's too tense. There's distance between them and in that moment, watching his father's expression twist-- the picture of sincerity through passion (that he understands, his truest form of communication where Luke always wanted to suppress it, cast it aside)-- he's relieved for it.

Strange, to think after all this time he might find some amount of comfort in the parallels between them when before this point he'd have been disgusted (distantly he still is, but it's lesser now: small and nearly forgotten). Like the idea of Snoke inevitably pressing in again, Ben opts to keep it at arms' length.]

They're taken with you. FN-2187, the girl.

[Is that an attempt at conversation? A compliment? Possibly.]

[ he rolls his eyes to the wall where after the central hub and a stretch of hallway lies the cockpit. they'll still be grouped there. chewie and he have been together so long they don't need to talk to communicate. chewie knows better than anyone, better than han himself honestly, how much he needs privacy now. ]

Don't ask me how. I was gonna kick them off the moment I found them hiding under the floors.

[ he's gruff, but less so than is his wont. somewhere along the chaos, they endeared themselves to him too. they remind him of another pair of kids thirty, forty years ago. ]

I don't need to ask how.

[It's easy to follow where his heart would have gone soft. For a liar and a thief, Han Solo was rarely any good at keeping his foot down. And while the memories are all faded at the seams, Ben remembers there was a great deal he was capable of getting away with as a child for that fact alone.

His mouth pulls upwards just barely at the corner; he's hiding it, turning instead to slowly run a few fingers across the instrument panel nearby.]

[ if that's a crack about his not-so-secret bleeding heart…

well. that's pretty legit.

han misses the change in expression, but he follows the hand drifting over the panel. that more than anything centers him in the moment. allows him to shed a little of the tension still coiled in his muscles.

one of the very first things he did as a newly minted and more excited than reasonable father was to pack his newborn on the millennium falcon for a short rendezvous. leia almost had his head for it — mostly because he forgot to tell her before they left — but han shrugged it off. the falcon had been his first love. she'd saved his life more times than he could count and he owed a good deal of his luck and success to the ship.

his son, he'd decided early on, was going to love her as much as he did. ]

She's going to need a lot of work. [ he pats a wall a couple of times for emphasis. after so long apart, he still needs the reassurance that the falcon is again with him where she belongs. ] That dirtball let her go to hell.

[ the outer appearance does not worry him. it's to their benefit that others think the falcon junk. even when they know the ship and its reputation, most tend to underestimate her. that suits han fine. it's the damage to the interior, to the years of careful repairs and alterations, that that junker did that sets his teeth on edge. ]

[Another breath and his hand goes still, attention drifting over to Solo instead. There's life in the machine, it's easy to feel - easier to understand and more sturdy than the flow of the Force beneath his fingertips. Artificial, weighted thrumming like the hum of his lightsaber pressed neatly in his palm. Not perfect, but beautiful in its own right.

Still it's been ages since he set himself to so technical a task. Not as long as he'd been away, but enough that even briefly considering it all feels like straining for something in the dark. Knowing where, only not exactly: half-blind, half-fumbled.

He remembers the switches, not their functions.]

Where do you keep your maintenance equipment?

[If he is to stay committed to this course, he'll need a purpose. Amongst the Resistance there is no place for him, and Skywalker--

This is better. This would suit him.]

[ he tips his head to the doorway. ] Lockers are this way.

[ he retrieves the toolboxes from where chewbacca had stowed them before they left. the various welding tools, cutters, spanners and wrenches among others would be chaos to anyone else. but to the falcon's usual crew, it's an organized chaos.

after laying them out, han kicks at the grating at his feet. ] Help me get this up. I want to check on the motivator.

[ chewie can pick up the thick metal cover like it's made of flimsiplast; han needs a second pair of hands. ]

[He says nothing throughout, quietly observing-- occasionally assisting with hauling a few of the heavier toolboxes (he's not blind to his father's age, after all)-- before stooping down opposite Han, tall enough that it takes him nearly squatting to lock his fingers between the grating.

Strong enough that he likely almost drags Han along for the ride when he pulls on it without warning (because cooperation through communication is for babies and stormtroopers).]

[ thanks for the warning, greatly appreciated. #get a cookie

to han's credit, he doesn't drop his half of the thing, which would have bene very loud and potentially very painful if it landed on any feet. once it's safely on the floor and out of the way, he drops into the space, crouching low to scrutinize the hyperdrive.

he straightens with a noise of disgust. ] It's holding — barely. It'll be fine this trip, maybe a couple more. [ if he has to replace the motivator again, the entirety of jakku is going to hear him. ]

[Ben watches him from his higher vantage point, expression as impassive as ever, though he occasionally shifts his chin from left to right to try and get a more enlightening view of what exactly it is that's being pulled at or appraised.]

I have contacts.

[The First Order's reach, after all, is long: there are a thousand creatures scattered amongst at least one hundred planetary systems he could call on for parts in an instant. All of them would likely break themselves hoping to prove useful in restoring the falcon - and all of them would also likely report news directly to the First Order itself.

A problem that could easily be solved by cutting them down the moment they fulfil their end of the bargain, before they think to check in.]

[ the specifics of ben's considerations may be lost on him, but he still has an inkling they may not be the most trustworthy contacts. not that he can talk. his have to be paid well to keep them quiet; even then, they could pass word along. part of the reason he and chewie did the bulk of the repairs themselves.

then again, if ben's are all terrified of him —

han kills that thought abruptly. in answer, he nods. ]

Once we've landed, I can run full diagnostics. We'll know what parts we need. [ a beat. ] Thanks.

Throw me a servodriver.

STAR WARS: possible spoiler warning

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)