A SORT OF HOMECOMING
Behind locked doors, Leia feverishly wrapped packages for Life Day. It was tomorrow night, and she'd been so busy she hadn't had a chance to finish shopping till that day. Han had gotten some items for the kids while on his shipping runs, which had helped, but she'd only managed to pick up his gifts an hour before. The bed she and Han shared was piled with gifts, wrapping, ribbons, and fasteners.
She groaned as she looked at the mess in front of her. Wrapping had never been her strong suit; she'd been taught many things in her life, but that hadn't been one of them. She could present gifts to anyone anywhere; she simply wasn't able to make them look spectacularly surprising.
It wasn't, however, her inability to create packages that even remotely resembled anything she'd seen in the holocommercials that was causing her so much frustration.
She missed her eldest child. He was away at the Jedi Academy and wouldn't be home for Life Day, which saddened her.
Leia had been horribly worried about Ben for some time now. He'd been a difficult child, spectacularly moody and often surly, and while they hadn't planned on sending him to Luke's Jedi Academy till he was well into his teens, in desperation, and with some prodding from Luke, they'd sent him at thirteen.
Leia was wondering if that decision had been a disastrous mistake. The boy, now fifteen, was miserable. He was constantly homesick and comm'd frequently, begging to come home. She and Han had discussed it, and argued about it, and it had finally come down to Luke saying that he felt he needed more time to train Ben, that the boy would come along in time.
Leia wasn't so sure.
Now, she was furious with Han, too. Yesterday he'd claimed there was a delivery that simply had to go out, and that he wouldn't be home till early this evening. Leia understood the nature of his business, but in the past, Han had never accepted a job right before the holiday. He had always insisted that Life Day was to be family time, and both he and
Leia had vowed that it would always be so.
She sighed as she picked up a package and began wrapping.
01123581321345589144233377610987
The Falcon hurtled through hyperspace towards Coruscant. Chewie remained at the controls; Han, however, had more important things on his mind.
Ben was in the lounge, slumped over the dejarik table. Han observed his eldest. The young man was nearly as tall as his father, but right now he seemed more like a little boy. And Han was worried sick about him. From the moment he'd met Ben at the Jedi Academy, his son had seemed strangely without emotion, as if he were numb. He'd looked sick and exhausted.
Han had hoped they could talk on the journey home, but so far, Ben had remained silent. Han wasn't sure what his firstborn was feeling, but the vibe he was getting was significantly less than positive.
So he stood in the doorway to the lounge, just watching Ben, feeling utterly helpless-and Han Solo was not accustomed to feeling helpless.
He loved his son so very much. He remembered when Leia had given birth to Ben, how he'd come out pink and slippery and screaming, and how when Han had put the little boy against his chest, Ben had calmed. It seemed only yesterday that he'd held his baby son close, whispering calming words to the infant, and then Ben looking up at him with wide, trusting eyes, as if to say, you'll keep me safe, Daddy.
And Han had tried, though it often wasn't easy. Ben was hypersensitive to all kinds of sensations, and he was easily overstimulated. As a little one, too much of anything seemed to either infuriate him or incite him to burst into tears. Han could recall a lot of birthday parties that he'd had to pick up Ben early from.
But there had been so many moments of joy, too. Cuddling in bed with his young son, feeling his warm skin and soft hair. Ben grew to share his father's passion for smashball, although the Coruscant Killers were his team, and there was a lot of lively shouting and bantering when the two teams played each other. Family picnics, days at the beach, listening to his precocious boy chatter on about everything and anything.
The best times, though, were in the Falcon. From the time Ben was born, Han had taken him to the ship, where the little boy would watch his father at work, and as Ben grew older, he learned about the mechanics and repairs that were needed, and was remarkably adept at them, even at a very young age. And his piloting abilities were nothing less than stellar. Early on, Ben had told him that the only time he felt good was when he was flying.
At the start of this journey, Han had asked his son if he'd care to copilot for a while; Ben had silently shook his head in the negative. It made Han's heart break.
Han was hoping that his removal of his son from the Academy wasn't going to create difficulties between Leia and Luke. Han and Luke had argued; Luke was convinced he could turn the very Force-strong Ben into a proper Jedi. Han had countered that perhaps learning to use the Force wasn't in Ben's best interest. The two shook hands at the end, but Han knew Luke was unhappy. Han didn't press his brother-in-law too hard; he knew that Luke considered himself to have failed. Han assured him that he hadn't, that it wasn't personal. But it might take time.
Han had been grateful that their two-year-old, Kira, had no Force sensitivity. Ten-year-old Jana had it, but she was overall a calmer, more positive person than her older brother. She seemed strangely disinterested in her powers, preferring to concentrate on friends and schoolwork and sports.
Han wanted to take Ben in his arms and tell him that everything would be all right; he believed in his heart that it would be. But he also knew the road wouldn't be easy.
He turned, quietly heading back to the cockpit.
01123581321345589144233377610987
Leia was about halfway through wrapping when she heard a not-untypical sound from the other side of the door.
"Mom! When's Daddy coming home?" Jana complained.
"Soon, honey, soon," Leia assured her, hoping to all deities that the Falcon was on its best behavior. She liked Life Day-a lot. But this year, it seemed as if everything had gone wrong. Work had been busy,
with numerous emergency trips, and it seemed as if she was constantly shorting Han and the kids. Kira whined, Jana grumbled, and Han argued with her-not often, but when he did, it stung.
She had recently argued with Luke, too; she felt that his Force training was only making Ben miserable. Luke had rather pointedly reminded her that she'd yet to pursue her training and that she was subconsciously channeling her fears to her children. She still felt his irritation, and it left her with a sour taste in her mouth.
She worried and feared for her son. She didn't have an answer; it was going to be hard either way. Luke had insisted that a visit home for Life Day was not going to be good for Ben, and Leia still wondered if he was right.
Han, on the other hand, loved his son, and he'd made no secret of the fact that he wanted him home. And when Ben did comm them, the boy was always on edge.
Focus, Leia, she ordered herself. You have two children who deserve a lovely holiday.
01123581321345589144233377610987
"We're about to come out of hyperspace," Han said quietly, having returned to lean into the doorway to the lounge.
Ben lifted his head slightly, then slowly raised himself from the banquette near the dejarik table. He dragged his tall, slender frame to the cockpit behind his father.
Chewie patted the boy on the head. {You're just like your dad, all arms and legs,} the Wookiee told him affectionately. Ben didn't respond, but he didn't reject the gesture, nor did he make a snide remark.
Han could feel the pain radiating off from Ben and spearing into his heart. It was the hell of being a parent-knowing your child was in agony and that there was really nothing you could do. I'd take it away from you and suffer it myself, kid, Han thought sadly-and he gladly would have.
Right now, though, his primary function was to land them safely into the snarl that was Coruscant air traffic, and if he didn't, it would render
all else moot.
01123581321345589144233377610987
"Mama, want Dada!" Kira shouted from outside the door. Leia was putting the finishing touches on her last package, a gift to Han. It was a set of mini-hydrospanners, which he went through like crazy. It seemed every year Han wanted tools, and Leia was always happy to oblige him. Right now, however, her ire with her husband was growing by the moment. It was almost feast time, and if Han didn't show up soon, the meal would resemble the remains of the bunker on Endor.
"Soon, baby, soon," Leia called. "I'm coming out in a minute." She was still in her work clothes, and longed to get out of them. There was no time to shower, but she decided on a pair of plush black pants and a fluffy ruby-colored sweater. It was in keeping with the season, and a lot more comfortable than what she had on. A pair of soft black slippers, a gift from Han last Life Day, completed her ensemble, and she emerged from the bedroom at last.
Jana was now involved in playing Grand Theft Star Destroyer, and didn't bother looking up as her mother entered the room, but Kira came and threw her toddler-sized arms around Leia's legs. "Want Dada," she repeated.
Leia was about to lift her little daughter up when she heard the doors swish open.
"Sorry, sweetheart, but we got a little tied up in traffic," Han told her. Chewie walked in behind him.
Followed by Ben. Leia blinked to make sure she wasn't hallucinating.
She knew how teenaged boys felt about hugging their mothers, but she didn't care. She ran to him and threw her arms around him, tears welling in her eyes. Ben felt rigid as she embraced him, but when she didn't let go, he relaxed a little, and even returned the gesture.
Any irritation she'd felt with Han evaporated into a warm pool of love. She smiled at him, and he simply smiled back as if to say, I knew what you wanted for Life Day.
Rey and Kira were soon all over their big brother, and in contrast to
his silence with his parents, Ben seemed to delight in their welcome. He picked up Kira, and patted Jana on the head, and both were chattering to him nonstop. He'd never been a particularly good older brother; maybe now that might change.
There was much to be discussed, and their troubles were far from over. But right now, on the Eve of Life Day, they were a family, and they were together. It was enough.