AN: I still don't own Star Wars. Well, here's a sequel of sorts to my story "Without a Heart." Best to read that story first or else this one will leave you pretty confused. Anyway, this probably won't be very long and instead of a big plot, it will focus on Han and the other characters adjusting to the changes in their lives from the previous fic.

"Change"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 1

"Are you ready?" asked Doctor Graynar, Han's physical therapist.

"Come on, you old pirate, you can do it!" called Lando.

Han rolled his eyes. He hadn't exactly planned on taking his first steps with an artificial foot in front an audience – he had only expected Leia, Chewie, Luke, and maybe Rey to be there, but Rey told Finn and Finn told Poe and Poe told BB-8 and BB-8 told R2 and R2 told 3PO and someone told Lando. Why Lando wanted to see this, he had no idea.

"Well," he said, turning to the doctor, "all those knee-bends and leg-lifts you made me do had better be worth something, so let's do this."

Doctor Graynar stood on his left and Leia stood on his right, both ready to hoist him up. For maybe the five hundredth time, he wished he could take a deep breath and wondered how long it would be before he stopped missing the ability to breathe. After imagining the feeling of taking a deep breath, he wrapped one arm around the doctor and the other around Leia.

"Good," said Doctor Graynar, firmly gripping his artificial hand and pressing it against her shoulder. "Let us know when you're ready."

The toes on Han's real foot curled. "Okay . . . I'm ready."

Bit by bit, Leia and Doctor Graynar eased Han to a standing position, which sent a wave of dizziness through his head.

"It's all right, Han," Leia whispered. "We've got you."

Han bit his lip. Learning to walk again in his sixties sure wasn't something he had imagined happening in his old age – but then again, he hadn't imagined that he would spend his old age with his hand, foot, and heart missing either. He certainly hadn't imagined that a lightsaber through the heart would make him dependent on a machine embedded in his chest to do his breathing for him.

The machine's weight already wanted to pull him down and the artificial foot . . . the artificial foot felt like it wasn't actually part of him. His ankle stump felt like it was precariously resting on something foreign to his body.

"Good job," Doctor Graynar was saying in that silky voice she probably used with all her patients. "Nice and easy, nice and easy."

"Yeah!" Poe called as BB-8 merrily beeped in agreement.

Leia squeezed her husband's real hand. "Are you ready for your first step?"

Han swallowed several times, feeling everyone's stares, his stomach in a knot. Again the device in his chest seemed to want to pull him down.

"Come on, Han!" shouted Finn.

Han concentrated on his wife's touch, again wishing he could take a deep breath. All he had to do was lift a foot and take a step, something he'd been doing his entire life. One foot being artificial now shouldn't make too much difference . . . right?

"It's all right, Han," Doctor Graynar was saying, "take as much time as you need."

Which foot to use first? Lifting his real foot meant putting his weight on the artificial one, which still felt like it wanted to slide out from under him. However, lifting his artificial foot meant lifting it and he wasn't sure if his leg was strong enough to lift that heavier weight.

He finally decided to start with his real foot. Grinding his teeth, he carefully, carefully, carefully lifted it up, which immediately caused his artificial foot to wobble.

"Good job," said Doctor Granyar, tightening her grip on him as he quickly put his real foot down. "Good job. Think you're up for another one?"

Han swallowed. The artificial foot wanted to tilt from side to side under his stump. Was his leg strong enough to lift it?

"Oh my," 3PO was saying. "General Solo, should you experience discomfort, perhaps it is best if you return to bed for the moment."

Chewie roared at 3PO to shut up.

"Come on, Han!" Lando repeated. "Show 'em what you got!"

Han gritted his teeth. Lift the foot. Lift it. He focused on the spot where his flesh ended and the cyber foot began, the stump where the cybernetics dug into his innards. Lift the foot.

Finally, with his knee straining, his muscles working to the point of pain, he raised the foot.

"WOO!" shouted Lando. He began slow clapping. "Han, Han, Han, Han . . ."

In another second the whole audience had joined in, slow clapping and chanting his name as the foot came stomping down, making the floor vibrate under it.

"Han, Han, Han, Han . . ."

"Great work," said Doctor Granyar. "Do you think you have another one in you?"

The foot that wasn't his still wanted to slide out from under him, but he gritted his teeth again and inched his real foot off the floor.

"Han, Han, Han, Han . . ."

The last time he stood, it was on the bridge in Starkiller Base . . .

"Han, Han, Han, Han . . ."

"I'm being torn apart. I know what I must do, but I don't know if I have the strength . . ."

As the real foot came down, the artificial one wobbled again.

"Han, Han, Han, Han . . ."

"Can you help me?"

Now both feet were wobbling.

"Han, Han, Han, Han . . ."

"Thank you . . ."

With that, both the feet slid out from under him, leaving him dangling from the two women's shoulders.

"Han?" Leia exclaimed. "Han, are you all right?"

His arms were shaking, his legs were shaking, everything was shaking. The sound of his mechanical breath blared in his ears, in, out, in, out, and there was Ben thrusting the lightsaber through him, the red light, the red light . . .

There were voices in the distance . . . somewhere . . . somewhere beyond the sound, that breath, that awful breath, the breath he would listen to forever . . .

"Ben . . ." he whispered, seeing his son's face in his blinks while the rest of the world was a blur. "Ben . . ."

Something lifted him up and laid him down, the voices still came from somewhere . . . if only that sound didn't get in the way . . .

"Ben . . ."

Certain words made their way through the jumble of voices – "wrong" . . . "stress" . . . "sedate" . . .

"Ben . . ." It was the only word his lips could form, the only clear image he could form . . .

"Han," said one voice out of the torrent – Doctor Granyar's? He wasn't sure. "Han, can you hear me?"

The red light piercing his chest, his son's face . . . "Ben!"

"All right, Han," the voice continued, "you're going to feel a tiny stick now and then you're going to take a little nap. You'll feel better when you wake up, okay?"

"Ben!"

The prick came into his still-shaking arm and almost immediately his eyelids started drooping, but that only made his son's face sharper, the eyes always staring directly at him, alternately pleading and glaring.

"Ben . . . Ben . . . Ben . . ."

. . .

Han didn't know how long he'd been sleeping, but he knew he didn't want to wake up. Consciousness meant acknowledging the jabbing ache in his head, the soreness in his legs, that damn sound . . .

"Feeling better, Han?"

His crusty, sticky eyelids peeled open and he found himself looking up at Doctor Graynar's face from his hospital bed. The sky was dimming outside and the overly-bright hospital light gave a sheen to the doctor's red hair.

"What happened?" he asked in a slow voice. "Where'd everyone go?"

Doctor Graynar gave one of her "doctor smiles," the smiles she seemed to use when she wasn't sure how to explain things. "Visiting hours are over – but of course we'll make an exception if your wife comes by as always. I suspect she'll rush over here as soon as she finishes her dinner down in the cafeteria." Her smile twisted to one side. "As for what happened . . . well, you kind of had a nervous breakdown and I had to sedate you."

"Nervous breakdown?"

The doctor nodded. "Don't be ashamed – it's to be expected from someone who's been through what you've been through. In fact, I was expecting the post-traumatic stress to show up much sooner."

"Post . . . traumatic . . . stress?" With every word it felt like a rock was settling in Han's stomach.

There was the "doctor smile" again. "Don't worry, episodes like yours are common for people who have been through extreme trauma."

"Episodes?" Han exclaimed. "So you're tellin' me that's gonna happen again?"

Finally the "doctor smile" faded. "It's very likely. In fact, they might very well get worse, but fortunately we have excellent counselors here who can help you."

"Counseling? Look, Leia and me went through counseling after we lost Ben and it did crap!"

Doctor Graynar sighed and shook her head. "It's your choice, of course, but I would highly recommend counseling after what happened today."

Han licked his dry lips, gazing past the doctor to the rapidly darkening sky. "I take it, that sleepin' drug lasted a while?"

"Not too long," said Doctor Graynar. "It's not too late for dinner – would you like me to get the menu?"

Han wanted to sigh, but once again he remembered that he couldn't. How the hell long would it be before he stopped missing his old breath?

"Fine," he said.