Hello to one and all! I hope you all had a good Christmas and a happy new year to you all! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed or favourite or followed this story. I am absolutely floored by the response. Thank you all so much. And, since a couple of you have asked, there is a reason why this story is titled The Happy Potato which we all find out once the plot begins to pan out.
I do not own anything related to the Star Wars franchise and I do not make any profit from this story. I am just a huge, massive fan of the films and saga and so decided to finally write a story dedicated to it.
I hope you all enjoy this next instalment!
Chapter I.
When Kylo Ren took the first of many steps in reclaiming his long-identity and becoming the hero he was destined to become, he awoke to the sound of distorted chatter and an unexpected sight that had not graced his sore eyes since before Han Solo's death.
The Millennium Falcon was as graceful as it was reliable and the injured man found that it was in the exact same condition as it had been when his acclaimed First Order captured and detained it. Although, he absentmindedly noted for future reference, the prize ship was far more furnished than it had been upon presentation previously. The once infallible ship widely renowned for making the Kessel Run in "less than twelve parsecs" had been, at once stage, the centrepiece in Ben Solo's young life and he prided himself on being one of the lucky few that had the magnificence that was his Father's ship right, for lack of a better term, on his very doorstep.
But then he grew older and Ben Solo grew up and Kylo Ren happened and the ship was painted in a negative light from then on. However, no matter how old his age or the name he gifted himself, his childhood nostalgia never really went far away.
He shook himself from his inward musings with a disgruntled sneer. They were but the weak-minded thoughts of Ben Solo infiltrating his mind and interfering with his strategic planning. He was being Ben Solo when Kylo Ren was required. He could not be two people at once; he could not afford it.
Where am I? It was Kylo Ren's observations taking logical point now, having deftly sealed his previous self in the proverbial little black box to stop his imminent and daring escape. Why am here? Is this the First Order or the Resistance I am in the company of?
Logically, he found that the odds of the Millennium Falcon - the deceased Han Solo's pride and joy - being in the watchful hands of the First Order were slim at best. The little beast that never failed to accompany the ex-smuggler had been left upon Starkiller Base along, unguarded and on a rampant rampage after having wounded the Sith-in-training. It would be more likely that this was now a Resistance fighter once more; taking up arms against the "evil" of the galaxy to perish the oppression of the Sith again.
Kylo Ren would have snorted would the action not tear at his wounds. The Jedi Order had believed the Sith had been eliminated from the galaxy; they were proved wrong when Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader arrived on the scene. The New Republic and old Rebel Alliance had believed the Sith were now gone forever; they were proved wrong when both Supreme Leader Snoke and himself arrived on the scene. He sensed a recurring theme running along these beliefs. You cannot have one extreme without the other - the toss of a coin: heads or tails.
However, one pressing issue relating to the ship he was currently flying on pressed incessantly on his mind. The last time he had caught sight of Solo's pride and joy he had been noticeably alone.
And, judging by the raised voices and blurred arguments, he was positively certain the case was not true in this situation.
"...thought you said you two and those crazy robots of yours were the only ones..."
"As did I."
A pointed scoff. A roll of the eyes. Kylo Ren studied human behaviour vigorously during his training; he was confident in his knowledge of human attitude.
"Sure you did, old man. I have the utmost confidence in ya." Sarcasm dripped venomously with every syllable.
Scrapping of a chair. Enraged outcry to the contrary: "Don't snap at Uncle Ben, it wasn't his fault some stranger decided to pop up for a friendly visit," he huffed, "nor mine neither."
Some...stranger?
It took a frighteningly long moment for the turned Jedi to acknowledge they were referring to none other than him. He must have been out of practice.
To tell the truth, he felt almost honoured to have been occupying so much of the three men's - for it was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, three men present in the room, of that he was positive, he wasn't so slow as significantly impede his judgement - time and energy. Time and energy that would have proven better suited to more trivial tasks.
Except he wasn't.
Because he recognised the voices.
But surely that was impossible. Surely it could not be them. Han. Surely it was an illusion; it had to be. His brain conjuring mad, fanatical visions to simplify his passage to death and make him feel at home during his long, dark and arduous journey.
However, if this was anything to go by, then whatever the First Order or the Resistance managed to salvage from the remnants of his mind was scrambled. He would and never will consider these three common band of thieves, smugglers and rebels family nor the ship a home. For how could he care about the very people who betrayed him so murderously?
Which is why Kylo Ren made the relatively wise decision to keep very, very still and did not stir once. He doubted the viability of the identities of the men present for how could one who was dead breathe life into his soul? That was, of course, if Han Solo was deemed worthy of one. With little choice but to comply with his theory, he simply stayed put and allowed the drama to play out and unfurl, revealing its true intentions.
"I believe it is best if we all calm down. Everyone is confused and understandably so. But placing blame is not our job here." A pause. Ragged breathing. Tense stances. Eyes narrowed dangerously. Kylo could hear it all, like an audio on replay in his head.
Footsteps broke the standoff: angry and heavy and demanding. Only one man stalked like that. Particularly after a heated argument. He should know - he had been privy to quite a few of them in his short, young life.
"Yeah, and while you're at it, you can find out how, in all the hells I can think of, some pansy idiot manages to crash-land on to my ship. Isn't that right, Chewie?"
From somehow, a distinctive Wookie growl of agreement roared down the halls. Good that, the crippling blow the Wookie dealt him had almost slipped his mind - proof over how much his injuries have affected him. Kylo could still feel the rippling pain shooting up and down his spine, setting every one of his nerves on a never-ending fire.
Revenge would be sweet and swift and sudden.
"Now, what I wanna know is," Not-Han continued, edging toward the old man; the obvious brains of their operation, "how you guys know him. Don't try to convince me that you don't - you might feel others but you don't fool me. I ain't easily fooled and I ain't ever seen that look of obvious recognition pass a man's face for no apparent reason."
The Wookie roared.
"So you better tell me what the hell is going on or else I'm kicking you, your kid and your little friend here the hell outta here!"
Someone slammed their feet furiously against the cool metal grating, stomping with every fibre of their being. Kylo would have flinched had he been a lesser man. But he wasn't. And never would be.
"Hey! Don't point the finger at us like that! It wasn't our fault, I already told you, and if you can't remember that then maybe you're the one about to be kicked the hell out of here!"
"Oh, yeah, kid? Well, then, if that's the case, how come your old man here hasn't denied that he knows the fella at least?"
His not-uncle did not provide an auditory response, thereby backing up his not-father's point to a tee.
"Go on, kid. Enlighten me."
It was at this opportune moment which presented the old Jedi a convenient entrance into the conversation he had previously ignored. Kylo had to, albeit grudgingly, hand it to the Jedi: they certainly have a flair for the dramatics.
"Yes, you're quite right, my friend," he said, his eyes and voice both elsewhere, "I have seen him before."
A snap of fingers. A triumphant smirk. A gaping mouth.
"But not in the way you might expect," he continued with a small smile dancing about the corners of his aging mouth. "I am...familiar, shall we say, with him, if you will."
"Look, old man, do you know the guy or don't ya 'cause I ain't got the time to be hanging about here playing guess what."
His namesake smiled at the fury on the man's face. "I can feel his presence in the Force, binding his midi-chlorians together as one, much in the same fashion as I can feel your presence here beside me."
A pointed scoff. Three guesses to whom it originated.
It was Not-Luke who answered with an uncharacteristically enthusiastic joy: "Really? How? Will I be able to learn?"
"Yes, yes, yes. I am sure, in due time. Once you have trained, of course, and learnt how to manipulate the Force."
Kylo had heard this speech many times.
"And...what can you feel from him?"
A pause.
"I can sense great power in him. Enormous strength, great potential. He could be; great, that is."
"But?" Even the Master of Ren could identify the lingering clause attached to the man's - rather accurate, if he did say so himself, his strength was certainly not without merit - analysis of him.
"He is...full of fire and anguish and pain," he sighed. "Now, Luke, emotions can cloud your judgement at the best of times and his are so completely dark that I truly fear for the Force if he was left to tamper with it."
"Why?"
"Because I have seen his face before. It is one I recognise. It belonged to another."
Not-Han sneered. "Great. So you guys do know him! Anything else I should know, considering that I am your only ride and all?"
Old Ben Kenobi took in a deep breath, breathing in the Force, stretching and examining it to selfishly demand the answers he was determined to unveil.
"He is awake," he said at last and all eyes sharply twisted to the form of Kylo Ren.
It was Not-Han who attempted the first move, his Wookie apprentice finally emerging from the deep pits of their Millennium Falcon.
"Hey! Hey, you! We know you're awake. No need to try and fool us now."
"Y-yeah. Get up and face us yourself, you coward."
"Congratulations, kid."
"Really?"
"Yes, congratulations on being the first person to sound more terrified than the criminal."
"What the- Hey!"
Kylo Ren took this moment to stand up, doing his best to ignore the minute protests of lingering pain his limbs were crying out in, a malicious glint in his dark, dark eyes. It was times like these where the strong Force-wielder yearned for his blessed mask to conceal his identity and terrify his victims. He had concluded after numerous studies that people were more willing to negotiate terms on his turf when they could not hold his true gaze - he had to be more than a mere being. He had to be more.
Nevertheless, he tried his best to contort his face into a menacing tangle of evil representing the darkness he could feel swirling and shifting and adapting around him.
A warning fire of a blaster shot directly a mere hairsbreadth in front of him. He looked up. Not-Han.
"I am being very, very calm," he said; calmly. "I want you to know that. The reason I am being very, very calm is that I do not desire any bloodshed. The Millennium Falcon is truly magnificent and I would hate to mess her up."
If Not-Han or the Wookie were shocked of his knowledge of their ship, they did not show it. He had to hand it to them. They were good.
But certainly not good enough, the impersonators they were.
The Han imitator snorted. "And who are you when you're at home?"
Kylo gritted his teeth in aggravation but refrained from letting his anger spill. He could remain in control of his own self. He could.
"But what I want you all to understand is this, it's really rather very simple: I do not like liars." Liars meant traitors meant against him. "And I will not tolerate them."
Not-Luke shot the old man an uneasy glance at the dark promise underlying his thinly-veiled threat.
"So let us all start at the beginning, shall we? Who are you? Who do you fight for?"
"Look, pal, I don't want any trouble, I really don't, but if you don't stop threatening me then I'll be forced to do something I probably won't regret."
In retaliation against the slight - and certainly not at all down to the remarkably similiar features this man possessed that resemble a certain notorious smuggler whom had slighted him one too many times and would no longer -, Kylo Ren held up his right hand, poised to perfection, and clenched it.
The prideful man began to choke.
"You think you're so clever, don't you, Solo? You hold yourself in such high esteem and pride yourself on your imagined self worth. Unbeaten. No one would dare challenge the almighty Han Solo and live to tell the tale." He stalked over to the oxygen-starved man and sized him up, ignoring the futile cries of his furry carpet. "Do you want me to let you in on a little secret? It's all a lie. A clever trick of the light. You fear that you will never be good enough," he whispered mockingly, "and guess what; you're right."
"Let him go!"
To say the sudden shout originating from the eldest member of their party shocked him would be an understatement - the man was so old that it was hard to believe he had any voice left in him. But the shock did not begin to compete with the sheer surprise he felt when the old wizard began to perform an accurate counterattack on his Force-choke - and a strong one at that.
I know who he is.
Kylo released the man with a grunt as the sheer force of the Jedi's defence rendered his attack useless. Null. Void. Han Solo gulped in sweet, glorious air in a messy pool of sprawled limbs at his feet.
Exactly as it should have been from the start.
He barely acknowledged the enraged cry of the Wookie as it tenderly cared for its dear dear friend nor the startled intakes of his former Jedi Master.
He contended himself only with the omniscient look on the old man's face. All-knowing. Benevolent - for the most part.
"Luke," the Jedi said, not breaking the stare for dominance with the Dark Side user. "Why don't you take our pilot friend here out to the med-bay. And check on our course for Alderaan while you're at it," he added as an afterthought; "I have a bad feeling we'll be arriving there shortly."
The young man appeared rather bemused at being absent for their conversation; he only wanted some answers, but he reluctantly aided their smuggler pilot to his feet. The Wookie growled at what it perceived to be a threat and all but shoved Luke off of its friend, instead opting to help the unsteady man without any further assistance. Luke shot the Jedi a concerned glance before following the pair of them out.
The silence that dusted the room was stifling but Kylo Ren would not be perturbed.