A/N: This was born from watching the new Star Wars preview and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade on the same day.
…
"Oh my God," whispered Han, staring at the ornate golden box.
"What?" asked Luke in confusion.
Han fell to his knees hand hovering over the shiny surface hesitantly for a moment before caressing it like a lover. He began to speak in a strange language that was not too unlike Standard, yet still entirely unintelligible.
Chewie roared softly in concerned inquiry, but Han did not respond—he simply continued to mutter in that odd language
"Force, he's speaking in tongues!" hissed Leia. "Luke, where in the name of the Force did you find this shiny box?"
"It was in an old deserted temple on some nameless outer rim planet! I don't even know if I could find my way back if I wanted to—I only landed on it to avoid an ion storm that was already threatening to cook my sensors. I found it in the back of the place I landed and it seemed too, I dunno, too much like treasure to leave behind. I figured Han would know what to do with it. I didn't expect…this," said the jedi, waving his hands at the smuggler, who had produced a magnifying glass and was inspecting a wing on one of the figurines adorning the lid, still muttering away.
Leia just shook her head, and knelt by Han. "Han, honey, don't you think we should open your pretty box? Maybe something in it has made you all spaced?" Her fingers crept towards the crack between the lid and the box.
"No!" snapped Han, snatching her fingers in a vice-like grip. "Don't do that sweetheart unless you want to spontaneously disintegrate!"
"Thank the Force! You aren't spaced!" breathed Luke, as Leia flung her arms around Han.
Chewie grumbled and poked Han's head.
"Knock that off, fuzzball," said Han, dodging the Wookie's big paw. He carefully extricated himself from Leia and ran his hands over the lid of the box once more, a wide smile on his face. "No, I'm not spaced. It's just been an unbelievably long time since I've seen this damn box. You sound you found this on a Rim planet? Wouldn't have happened to be out in the Western Arm?"
"The…what?"
"Right, right, kids the days can't navigate worth a damn. Nevermind. It's just—this box is older than the Old Republic. The planets out there, all of the little dustballs not even worth colonizing, those were once full of great civilizations with amazing cultures and technology that was the progenitor of everything from lightsabers to hyperdrives!" A rapturous expression crossed Han's face.
Luke's brow scrunched quizzically. "How do you know all of this? Have you been out there before?"
"Have I been out there? ' Have I been out there,' the kid asks me," laughed Han. He looked directly into Luke's eyes, and the Jedi had the strangest urge to flinch and look away. It took all of his training to meet and hold the piercing blue gaze. "Kid," said Han slowly, "I was born out there."
Luke broke the intense staring match and looked at a point on Han's shoulder, thankful for an excuse to look contemplative. "I thought…weren't you born on Corellia?"
Han actually looked conflicted for a long moment. "I…this…I don't know how to say this really but…" he looked down at the glittering box. "It's been such a long time…" he trailed off into silence, eyes fixated on gold.
"Han," said Leia quietly, "Maybe we should step away from the box? We can go sit on the bridge and relax for a little bit."
Han smiled weakly at her, before standing and offering her a hand, which she took, allowing him to pull her up too. "That's a good idea sweetheart. We can send Threepio for a cup of tea or muja juice or something. Maybe some brandy."
Luke and Leia gave identical gentle smiles and decided that brandy was an alcoholic beverage and this was going to be one heck of a story.
Han led the way out of the Millennium Falcon's hold towards the bridge, pausing at the galley and asking Threepio to make some tea and bring it to the bridge. The golden droid was overjoyed at being given a task remotely protocol droid-ish. "Even though it is a bit menial," he added primly before wobbling off.
On the bridge, Artoo greeted the humans plus Wookie with a beep and a whistle. "Stay at the helm," ordered Han as he slid into the pilot's chair. I just need to see the stars." Artoo beeped a cheery-yet-slightly-inquisitive affirmative, and the rest of the Falcon's crew settled down, Chewie into the copilot's seat and Luke and Leia seated on the floor. They were quiet as they watched Han watch the stars for a moment, his body relaxing into the worn seat like they were made for each other. Threepio hobbled in a moment later with a tea tray. Luke leapt up and handed a cup to Chewie and Leia and set Han's cup just in reach of the aparantly-not-a-Corellian. Han took it after Luke sat back down with his cup and took a long draught. Threepio settled back into the corner behind Artoo, content to watch. The cockpit had become positively cozy.
Finally, Han set his cup down and spun the chair around. "It's right that I tell this story here. The stars—some of 'em at least—have been the only witnesses to the story that I'm about to tell." He paused, and took stock of his audience, before letting out a long sigh. "Very well. Here goes. The story starts some thousands of years before I was born, with that damn box. The Lost Ark of the Covenant, it's called. For most of the thousands of years before my birth and probably a long time after that, people believed it to be a myth. It was a box that held two sacred stone tablets that had been handed directly to a man by the ultimate high power, on which certain laws were set to govern the man's people. The stones themselves were said to have held a terrible power, lightning and divine fire, that sort of thing. Well, the society the man's people built was taken over by another one, and somewhere in that muddle, the Ark that held the stones was lost, hence the name 'Lost Ark.' Well. I found it. In 1936." Here he paused at the befuddled looks on his friend's faces.
"You mean year 1,936 of the Old Republic?" asked Luke, trying to puzzle out Han's meaning. Time was difficult to track in the galaxy beyond the recent years because of the wars and changes and the fact that planets revolved differently in different systems.
"No, 1936 A.D. On Earth. The home planet of the entire human species."
"But humans originate from Coruscant!" exclaimed Leia. Luke nodded and even Chewie barked in agreement.
Han shook his head. "No. It would have been impossible for humans to evolve there—it was mostly sea in the beginning, before they began to colonize and build the towers."
"You speak as if you saw it," said Luke hesitantly, as if fearing the answer.
"You got it kid," said Han with a wicked grin, only made fiercer by the scar on his chin.
Chewie roared in denial, Leia sputtered, Artoo whistled high and loud, and Threepio gasped electronically and clutched at his shiny breastplate. Only Luke was calm, testing the Force. Truth rang back in his mind.
"You aren't lying," said Luke softly. "The Force names you truthful. Yet even master Yoda didn't see his thousandth year, and you haven't got midichlorians to help you touch the Living Force. How is this possible?" Leia pressed her hand to her mouth, looking at her brother in shock, and he gave her a measuring look. "You know it to be true too, Leia." She shook her head fiercely, dark lock bouncing, but she did not flee the cockpit, which Han and Luke counted as a win.
"It's true, sweetheart. And I know, your hocus-pocus lets you know that. It's not midichlorians that sustains me. See, not long after finding the Lost Ark, my father and I found the Holy Grail, a cup that grants eternal life when drunk from. Which I did. My father could not, even though it was his life's work to find the thing, because he'd been shot by a Nazi—kinda like an eviler version of an imperial. Yes, that's totally possible. I poured water from the cup over him to heal him, but the cup was lost before he could drink from it. Its… kind of a long story. But that was only my first brush with immortality. See, the problem was that even though the cup could make you immortal, it didn't grant youth if you didn't continue to drink from it. A good thirty years later I found the ultimate prize—the Fountain of Youth. I think that's a familiar story even today. Normally a person would have to keep drinking from the fountain, just as someone would have to keep drinking from the cup. But since I had drunk from both, I didn't have to. I became immortal."
"But the Force…" began Luke.
"Your Force doesn't know a thing, kid. I'm no billion year old jedi who drank extra strong midi-whatians. The magic I touched is of a far older sort, that harkens back to the creation of everything. I'm not that old, but still—I know when the Force was born, when the first Force-beings stepped into the planes of existence. I watched as the human race grew and grew, building the first faster than light engines for spaceships, sending the first explorers among the stars. I saw the death of the birthplace of the human race. I really was there when the first towers of Coruscant rose. Your little Rebellion is one of thousands I have witness, one of hundreds that I've deigned to take a part in. You might think that there is horror in blasting apart planet-sized ships? I have seen the death of gods." Something frightening had come over Han, and all of a sudden the normally youthful man seemed to be just as ancient as he claimed to be. Luke knew his words to be the truth not just because the Force sang the intent to be true, but because the Force did not know what to make of Han. He was something puzzling, something older than that which binds the universe together, a part of it by nature, but predating it. It should have been impossible, yet somehow, it wasn't. Luke met Han's piercing blue gaze head on this time. The instinct to look away was still strong, but overwhelming curiosity on part of the Force held Luke in place. Even the Force wanted to understand what Han was.
Han gave Luke a wan smile. "I've wanted to kill myself," he said hollowly. "Men weren't made to look upon eternity. I've always stayed my hand though. It's selfish, but I suppose I can afford it. Do you know what a falcon is?"
The nonsequiter was startling, and both Luke and Leia jerked, startled. Luke only just noticed the silver tear tracks running down his sister's face as a tear splattered on the durasteel floor with the force of her movement. "No," said Luke softly. "Just that it's the name of your ship."
"I thought so. Remember the language that I was speaking in before when we were looking at the Ark? That was English, my birth language. 'Falcon' was a word from my language that meant a type of hunting bird that was native to the place on Earth I was born. The type of falcons I knew were desert birds that could hurtle through the sky faster than what seemed possible at the time. When I was young, human flight capability had just been invented. The sky was unexplored territory still—people didn't dream of space travel until a good half-century later. My dog and I—a dog is a canine creature, the origin of nearly all canid creatures today—we would chase the falcons across the sky, explore where they nested. I imagined I had wings of my own. I was pinned down, see. You almost lucked out with your father, kid, Leia—at least he cared. My father was obsessed with finding the grail. I couldn't stand that single mindedness. I wanted to explore everything. I loved him, of course, and we reconciled in the end, but those sort of things stick with you. When I was older, I flew all around the Earth, searching out its mysteries out of rampant curiosity. We had a saying back then—curiosity kills the cat. In my case, curiosity made me live forever. When I learned how to pilot some thousands of years ago, I remembered the falcons of my childhood. I had finally learned to fly like one. So the name Millennium, for the thousands of years I have lived, and Falcon, for what I had become. Falcons never questioned why they lived or died. They just flew. I just keep flying. There's still so much to learn and see and do. I can't stop now. I don't think I'll ever stop."
Han leaned back in his chair, back of his hand rubbing at his eyes. He wasn't quite fast enough to catch the first tear, and it traced a glimmering path down his cheek. "You're the first people I've ever told all of this to. I never really thought about it before. I just moved from life to life, name to name. Seeing the Ark again, after all of this time—it's the same sort of magic that touched me, so I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, but still…that was from my very first life. From before I became immortal."
Chewbacca set a comforting paw on Han's shoulder, and barked a reassurance. "Thanks, Chewie, for understanding."
"Well I don't!" shouted Leia, standing suddenly. "I don't understand at all! You're a smuggler, a scoundrel! You're a Corellian. You're…you're Han Solo. You can't be some timeless immortal." She swept out of the cockpit faster than anyone could blink.
"Y'know, it had been going too smoothly," remarked Han sort of dreamily, as if he himself were having a hard time registering everything he had just laid out for all of them.
Luke stood and offered his hand to Han. "Well. I'm just glad that you haven't gone mad. And that you cared enough to help save the galaxy."
"Heh, yeah…I came close. I've seen plenty of hopeless causes, and I kind of wrote off yours as another. But in the end it was too much like being back on earth during the second war of my life time, which took place just after the whole Holy Grail thing. The people I fought then weren't so different from the imperials, if a little eviler. To be reminded of old enemies… I wasn't going to let a new hope die because I'd seen it all before."
"Then go tell Leia that. She thinks she's nothing now, just an interesting blip in time," said Luke, voice low and hard. "You might be ageless, but I'm sure a lightsaber to the gut can remedy that."
Chewie roared in laughter and so did Han. So did Luke, after a second of I'm-not-kidding seriousness.
"Wish me luck," said Han, heading towards the cargo bay, where he figured Leia would be.
He found her there staring at the Ark, fingers lightly tracing the golden embellishment, lingering over the gap between lid and box.
"Sweetheart, I was serious about what I said before. The stuff in there can kill you." She started, and looked up.
"So you said," she muttered, fingertips searching along the arch of an outstretched golden wing. He walked over and sat next to her, not quite letting their shoulders touch. "How is it that this…Ark…exists? You said that where it was made was destroyed?"
Han nodded. "Earth is gone, and I thought the Earth gone with it. Some things last though, much longer than you'd think possible."
"Like love," she murmured. Han turned and placed his back against the Ark so he could look her in the eye.
"Princess. Sweetheart. Leia. I have loved many women before. Truly, deeply, loved them. None of them were you. No one I love after you will be you. Everything about you I cherish, I hold dear to my heart. You really aren't an amusing aside in my long life. You see, you're right. I've always been as I am: a scoundrel, a ruffian. And I wouldn't—haven't—thrown away any of that for just anybody. I helped you and Luke save the galaxy all because I love you. You're right about love. What I feel for you will last much longer than you think possible." Gently, he pulled her into him, laying a tender kiss on her mouth. "We don't have forever together. But we have this, so long as you'll have me," he whispered into her ear.
Hot tears sank into his shirt as she buried her face in his chest. "Oh Han. I—I will. I'll have you. Just…don't change. I couldn't take it if you were suddenly someone else."
"I promise. This is me. I've always been this way. I'm not going to go change on you. My story—it's just a story. I live in the now, and my now is with you." He kissed the crown of her head, and she wrapped her arms around him, tilting her head back for a kiss. It was a fierce kiss he gave her, loving and possessive and wicked, and she knew that Han Solo would stay with her. They fell asleep that way, her in his arms, his back pressed against the Ark, the power inside it thrumming alongside his heart, bringing dreams of Nazis and Egyptian temples and of the first woman he truly loved, before fading into the mists of the past in favor of dreams of the woman in his arms.
The next morning Han woke in the cargo bay, slumped over, no Leia to be found. He left the bay and headed towards the kitchen in time to find Leia putting synthesized food onto plates. She handed him one with a warm smile, and they sat down together. Luke meandered in a few silent moments later and sat himself down next to Han.
"So what are you going to do with the Ark?" he asked casually, eyeing Han and Leia with a knowing smile.
They grinned back and Leia whacked Luke on the arm, but neither commented on what happened the night before. "Honestly, I don't know. I'd sell it, but something like the Ark really shouldn't be sold. Powers of divine destruction and all that. I'd say a museum, but we'd probably have the same problem. Maybe we should just jettison it while on the Kessel Run."
"You'd want to destroy it?" asked Luke and Leia simultaneously in a rare twin moment.
"I seriously doubt that something as mundane as a black hole will destroy it, honestly. It might just stay vanished for a while, probably just to resurface in another ten thousand years to freak me out all over again," replied Han with a shrug. "If it does get destroyed, then it won't be doing any destroying ever again. I don't know how many times that I'm going to repeat this: spontaneous disintegration has been known to happen around that damn box."
"Force," whistled Luke. "And this happened back when you were on Earth?"
"Yep, long before any non-divine method of disintegration was invented," confirmed Han.
"During your first life," clarified Leia.
"…Yes."
"What was your name back then? Or have you always been Han Solo?"
Han oddly felt like blushing. So that's what they wanted to know.
"My birth name was Henry Walton Jones, Jr. After my father. I preferred to be called by a nickname: Indiana Jones."
"Why Indiana?" asked Luke.
Han actually almost came really close to blushing, a feat for him. "Well, it had been the name of my dog."
Laughter echoed through the Millennium Falcon, bouncing off the bulkheads and resonating through the holds to where the Ark sat as it had countless ages ago on a pirate ship, glittering with divine and malevolent power. Past the Ark, sitting deep in the hidden smuggler's depths, there was another box. It hummed slightly in time with the pulse of the ship's engines, carefully controlling the enclosed environment to keep the object inside as good as new. Somehow, improbably, the object had survived the wearing currents of time without any help of divine intervention or the Force.
To this time, the object would be utterly alien with its peaked shape, wide brim, and silk lining.
To Han, it was a reminder of who he was and who he is—a fundamental part of himself no matter how anachronistic.
To the battered old fedora, it didn't matter where Indiana Jones landed in time.
It would always be there, waiting for the next adventure.