AN: Nope, don't own Star Wars – I would've given Chewie a medal if I did. This was written in response to a prompt my friend RensKnight gave me – she requested a fic explaining just why Chewie doesn't get a medal

"Two Medals"

By EsmeAmelia

Dammit, why did Leia have to be the one to break the news? General Dodonna said it would be best if she did it because the newest Rebels knew here better than they knew him. Nevermind that she had only known them for two days – it was at least more than the few hours Dodonna had known them.

The temple was abuzz with celebration. Musically inclined Rebels had brought their instruments and had formed a makeshift band in the corner of the room. Someone had set up a snack table, on which there sat numerous foods and drinks – especially drinks. How did the various Rebels stash so much alcohol on the base when the commanders didn't even have enough material to make three medals? Still, she picked up a glass of Alderaanian champagne for herself – even she could use a drink after all that had happened today, and the spicy-sweet beverage brought her back to her homeworld, if only in her mind.

"Hey Leia!"

There was the hero of the night, still in that orange pilot's uniform. Leia might have thought that he'd have wanted to change into something more comfortable for the party, but then it occurred to her that he might want to keep the outfit he'd worn while saving the Rebellion.

"Leia, guess what!" Luke exclaimed in a rather giggly voice – Leia only now noticed the bottle in his hand. "R2's gonna be okay! He should be all fixed up by tomorrow!"

"That's great," said Leia, secretly wondering if this was Luke's first experience with alcohol. "Speaking of tomorrow, Luke, of course we have to leave for our new base tomorrow, but before we leave, the other commanders and I want to hold a ceremony."

Luke giggled again, bouncing his weight from one foot to the other. "Ceremony? That sounds like fun."

"Yes, it will be fun," said Leia, "but probably not as much fun as this party seems to be." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, Luke, since you destroyed the Death Star, you will be honored at the ceremony with a medal of honor."

The words medal of honor seemed to shake Luke at least a bit out of his drunken state – his eyes widened at Leia as if he thought she was playing a joke on him. "Medal of honor . . . really?"

"Yes," said Leia. "Were it not for you, the entire Rebellion would have been annihilated."

Luke shifted his eyes back and forth as if looking for something. "Well, if it weren't for Han and Chewie, I would've been annihilated before I could fire that shot, so are they getting medals too?"

"That's . . . complicated," said Leia. "Come on, why don't you help me look for them?"

Luke followed Leia around the various singing, dancing, and chatting Rebels, though more than once he swayed a little in his step. Leia was beginning to wonder if he would be hung over for the medal ceremony.

"Hey Han! Chewie!" Luke suddenly shouted, waving at a corner where Han and Chewie were sitting at a table with a bottle between them and each one holding a shot glass.

"Hey, kid," Han called back, sticking up a hand as Chewie roared what Leia guessed was a greeting. A grin spread across Han's face as he added, "Hey there, Your Royal Highness. To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?"

Leia ignored his sarcasm. "Han, Chewie, the Alliance is grateful to you both."

"We're getting medals of honor tomorrow!" Luke interjected with yet another giggle before Leia could finish.

"What?" Han reacted, dropping his shot glass to the floor, where it shattered. Chewie roared as he looked down at the broken glass, but Leia wasn't sure what he was saying. If they were going to stay in the Rebellion for the time being, maybe she could convince Han to teach her the Wookiee language.

"There's a bit of a complication with that," she quickly said. A rather embarrassing complication, she wanted to add, but she figured that wouldn't be a good idea. She took a deep breath. "We only have enough material to make two medals."

The two humans and one Wookiee all blinked at her like children who hadn't gotten the birthday present they wanted. "It's okay," Luke said after a moment. "Han and Chewie can get the medals – I don't need one."

"No," said Leia. "You're the one who destroyed the Death Star, so you absolutely get a medal."

"But . . ."

"No arguments," Leia said in her most authoritative voice, the one she had perfected during her time serving in the Imperial senate.

Luke didn't argue, but he took a sip from the bottle in his hand as if thinking that if he got a bit more drunk he'd have the courage to stand up to the princess.

"So what does this mean?" asked Han, his brow furrowing a little. "Are me and Chewie gonna have to share a medal?"

"If you want," said Leia. "However, I have to put the medal around someone's neck tomorrow, so who should it be?"

Han and Chewie looked at each other as if having a silent conversation, then after a few moments Han turned back to Leia. "Chewie should."

With that, Chewie looked at Han and roared like the smuggler had said something offensive.

"No, Chewie," said Han. "You're gettin' the medal."

Chewie roared again, after which Han abruptly stood up. "No, I ain't talkin' about it anymore." With that, he stormed out of the room before anyone could say anything.

. . .

Where was Han going? Who cared, so long as he got away from the others? He didn't exactly have the temple's layout memorized and the lightheadedness from the alcohol wasn't helping his sense of direction, but so what if he got lost? Better than further talking about medals of honor.

His legs were sliding this way and that – maybe he was more drunk than he thought. He leaned against a wall for support, trying not to think about medals. No, people like him didn't receive medals.

Scumrats didn't receive medals.

He gulped, his eyes closing as that word pounded in his head – the word that had defined him for half of his childhood, the word he had desperately tried to escape. He thought he had escaped it, yet there it was, labelling him once again as something worthless, something less than worthless.

Scumrats didn't receive medals.

Especially not cowardly scumrats who ran away to save their own skins.

[Han?] he heard Chewie call from somewhere down the hall, but he didn't open his eyes to see. Suddenly he lacked the energy to move. Scumrat, you're nothing but a scumrat, worth nothing, good for nothing.

"Han, come on, where are you?" That was the kid, which at least motivated Han enough to open his eyes in time to see Chewie and Luke heading towards him – along with the princess.

"Don't you guys know that when a guy storms outta the room, that means he wants to be left alone," Han grumbled.

"And don't you know that it's rude to storm out when we're discussing an important ceremony?" Leia snapped.

"I already told you – I ain't discussin' it," said Han, flicking his thumb over his shoulder to point at Chewie. "He's the noble one. He's the one who's got honor."

[Han . . .] Chewie started.

"You know it's true," Han interrupted. "Remember how you got a chance to fly away from Kessel with the other Wookiees and you told 'em no cause you wanted to stay with me instead? You think most people would've done that for a scumrat?"

He hadn't uttered that word out loud for years – why did it come out now in front of the kid and the princess?

"A what?" Luke asked, his boyish eyes wide.

Han inhaled through his teeth, wishing he could travel back in time a few seconds and stop himself from saying that word. "None of your business," he muttered. "Now leave me alone."

"Han, please," said Luke, grabbing Han's arm before he could leave. "Don't leave again."

"That's just it," said Han, yanking his arm away from the kid, "I leave. I run away like the coward I am. Chewie's the one who stays."

[I left with you,] Chewie argued.

"Only cause you got your big sense of Wookiee loyalty and you wanna protect me," Han snapped.

[You think I wasn't scared of attacking the Death Star too?]

How was Han supposed to answer that? He could feel the kid and the princess staring at him, probably wondering what the hell Chewie was saying and what Han meant when he called himself a scumrat. Why the hell had he blurted that word out? The princess was probably never going to let him live that down now. The kid and the princess – orphans like him, but one grew up with a loving aunt and uncle and the other grew up adopted by royalty.

They were never scumrats.

Even though that had both lost their adopted families only a few days ago.

"Han, what did you mean by scumrat?" Luke repeated.

Han's eyes darted downwards as Chewie ruffled his hair. [It's all right, Han,] the Wookiee said. [They're friends – you can tell them.]

Friends. It was dangerous to make friends. "Assume everyone will betray you and you'll never be disappointed." Han had never forgotten Beckett's long-ago words – maybe, even though Han hadn't believed them at the time, some part of him had internalized them since then, especially after Qi'ra flew away from him. When was the last time he'd trusted anyone besides Chewie?

Yet he had come back for these people . . .

"My parents died when I was a kid," he mumbled, "leavin' me out on the streets until a gangster took me in as one of her 'scumrats' – kids who stole stuff for her and made deals for her in exchange for food and shelter. Now I don't wanna talk about it anymore."

He still wouldn't look up at them as they said the required I'm-sorry-Han-I-had-no-idea even though saying that did nothing to change his childhood.

"I said I don't wanna talk about it," he replied.

Chewie was ruffling his hair again. [Han, I'm serious, you should get the medal. You're the one who came back.]

"You wouldn't have left in the first place if it weren't for me."

[Maybe, but you're still the one who came back.]

Han still couldn't bring himself to look up at his new friends – yes, they were friends, he realized, even if the princess yelled at him some. Friends he had betrayed . . . but also friends he had come back for. Beckett would have left them to their fate. So would Qi'ra.

"You are the good guy . . ."

Han gulped as Qi'ra's words entered his head. Wait, what was happening? A pair of arms was wrapping around him – no, two pairs of arms. Finally he looked up and realized that both Luke and Leia were hugging him, sandwiching him between them. For a moment he didn't know how to react, then he figured that it would probably be polite to hug them back, so he wrapped one arm around each of them.

"You're not a scumrat, Han," said Leia. "You never were."

Then Chewie joined in the group hug, wrapping his big furry arms around the trio. [They're still here because of your decision to come back, Han. I want you to get the medal.]

"You are the good guy . . ."

Han felt his eyes starting to well up – why was he feeling safe in this embrace? He hadn't felt safe for a long, long time. "All right," he mumbled, "but it's still our medal."

. . .

Han felt dazed as he stood in front of the crowd; the medal felt foreign around his neck. Twice he discreetly pinched his upper leg just to make sure he wasn't dreaming and twice he felt pain. The applause seemed to linger on and on and on, but once it finally died down, he cleared his throat, ignoring the jumping in his stomach.

"Hey everyone," he said awkwardly, "I ain't much of a speech person, but I just wanna say that this medal ain't just mine." He held the medal up – it was cold to the touch – and pulled it over to the side, inviting Chewie to grab it as well. "It belongs to both me and Chewie. I know you guys think I'm the hero who came back just in time to save the day, but the real hero there is Chewie. If it weren't for him, I'd have become the sorta person who runs away and stays away." He glanced at Luke and Leia, who were smiling at him. "I thought I was that kinda guy for a while, but it looks like I ain't. Anyway, Chewie and me are sharing this medal, so give him some applause too."

The crowd burst into applause again as Han and Chewie held up the medal together, and Han thought this just might be the best moment of his life.

THE END