AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Sorry it took so long to update this (again). Real life has a way of interfering with fanfic life.
Oh, and the new trailer for The Force Awakens is FREAKING AWESOME!
"Defenders of the Force Episode 6: The Fading Spirit"
By EsmeAmelia
Chapter 3
The smell was once again familiar, but this time it was a dusty, musky smell that Han automatically recognized. This time he could tell where they were without even opening his eyes.
The Falcon.
He opened his eyes and for a moment the Falcon's lounge let him relax, but then seeing himself took away whatever comfort he might have felt. His eyes bulged and probably remained open longer than they could have if he were awake. His double was slumped over the game table, wearing a robe over pajamas, his hair mussed, a glass of whiskey in his hand and a forlorn expression on his face.
Han couldn't stop staring at his double. It wasn't like looking in a mirror or even like looking at a hologram; it was like . . . being separate from himself.
"You remember this, don't you?" Rya asked.
Han shrugged. "I dunno, there were a lotta nights in the lounge with whiskey."
But then came another figure, also clad in a robe thrown over pajamas, her long brown hair mussed in a similar fashion.
"Hey," said the Han of the past. "Can't sleep either?"
"What makes you say that?" asked Leia.
"It's the middle of the night and you're up."
Leia rubbed her lips together. "Well, maybe I had to use the refresher."
"Then why'd you take a detour to the lounge?" Han said matter-of-factly. "C'mon, have a seat. We can be a couple of insomniacs keepin' each other company."
Leia rolled her eyes, though she did slide into the seat across from him. "So," she said, "what's keeping you up?"
Han sipped his whiskey before answering, staring into the distance as he did so. "Thoughts . . . I guess." He shifted his head in her direction. "What's keepin' you up?"
Leia shrugged. "The same."
They were both silent for a few minutes, making the present Han's lungs tighten as the memory of what happened next crept into his head.
"So . . ." Han of the past said in a rather awkward voice, ". . . what thoughts were keepin' you awake?"
Leia stared off, looking like she was trying not to look at Han. "Well, what thoughts are keeping you awake?"
"I asked you first."
The present day Han's stomach flinched slightly at his past self's immaturity. It didn't help that his mother gave his shoulder a tiny poke either.
Leia was tapping her fingers on the game table. "I was just thinking about . . . what happened this afternoon."
Han ran his thumbs up and down his glass. "Look . . . we don't have to talk about it."
"Why not?" asked Leia.
Han took a gulp of whiskey, feigning disinterest. "It ain't like you're the first woman I've ever kissed or anything."
"I figured that," said Leia.
A sudden grin stretched across Han's face as a thought occurred to him. "But am I the first man you've ever kissed?"
Present day Han's eyes widened. "Is that the 'Han Solo smirk' Leia's always talkin' about?"
Rya gave him an oddly similar grin. "Perhaps. Now listen."
"No," Leia was saying. "As a matter of fact, you aren't."
"But am I the first man you've ever kissed like that?" Han persisted.
Leia's teeth gritted. "Who says I kissed you in any special way?"
"Ya think I haven't been kissed enough times to know when someone really likes a kiss?" The grin on Han's face was, if possible, even wider than it was before.
"You're impossible!" Leia growled.
Han's grin faded as he glanced down into his whiskey. "Yeah, I am. It's the sorta thing that happens when you're always on the run."
"Well you don't have to be impossible."
"Sweetheart, nice guys in my line of work usually end up dead." He gave a tiny sigh. "Specially when they've got a giant price on their head."
Leia's fingers were brushing uneasily on the table. "I thought you said you were a nice guy."
"I am," said Han, "but you don't expect me to go around showin' everyone, do you? Like I said, that's a great way to end up dead."
By now present day Han felt like something was squeezing his lungs, despite his mother rubbing his shoulder with that intangible ghost warmth.
"Well maybe that's your problem," said Leia, folding her arms and leaning back against the wall. "You're afraid to let anyone in."
There was silence for several minutes after that, during which Han gulped down the rest of his whiskey as if Leia's comment hadn't affected him at all. The older Han tried to remember what he was thinking during that moment, but he found he couldn't.
"She was right, you know," said Rya.
Han took a deep breath as he turned to face his mother. "Yeah, I know she was, but what's any of this got to do with me dyin'?"
Rya shrugged. "Maybe your subconscious is trying to remind you what you have to live for."
Han exhaled through his teeth. "I know I got Leia and everyone else to live for."
"Look, I don't control your mind," said Rya. "Why else do you think you might be seeing this?"
Han gritted his teeth, for he remembered what was coming next and had no desire to relive it, but here it came.
"Want some whiskey?" his former self asked.
"No," Leia answered.
"Why not?"
Leia raised a brow at him. "Do I need a reason?"
Han tilted his head at her. "Hey, just offering, but seriously, why don't you want some?"
"Well it looks like you've only got one glass," Leia said matter-of-factly. "Do you really think I'd want to drink from a glass that has your spit on it?"
Han rolled his eyes. "C'mon, you know I got more glasses."
"I still don't want any," said Leia.
"Hey, if you can't handle the stuff, all you need to do is say so."
Present day Han's stomach felt like a giant fist was trying to squeeze it into a tiny ball as Leia's face hardened into one of those glares. Those Leia glares that never failed to make him wish he could travel a few seconds back in time and stop himself from saying whatever it was he said. Her breath was coming out through her teeth in small, angry hisses. Without a word, she flew to her feet and stomped out of the lounge.
"All right, that's it," said present day Han, glaring at his mother. "Why the hell does my mind want me to see this again?"
"I told you, I don't know," said Rya. "Maybe your mind wants you to accept that this happened and accept that you used to be a bit of a jerk."
"I prefer the term scoundrel."
Rya rolled her eyes in a good-natured manner. "Yes, I know you like that term because it sounds sexy, but I think jerk is more appropriate."
Han's brow furrowed. "So you're gonna lecture me now?"
"Well, I didn't get to scold you for your entire childhood," Rya said with a slight grin.
Han sighed. "Forget it, let's go somewhere else."
"Not until you admit you used to be a bit of a jerk."
Han glanced back at his former self, who was resting his head on his hand and staring into space. What was he thinking back then? He thought he remembered being a bit embarrassed, but he also thought he remembered thinking Leia would get over it tomorrow. Did he ever apologize? Why couldn't he remember if he did or not?
"Come on," Rya coaxed. "Admit you used to be a bit of a jerk."
Han sighed again. "Fine, I used to be a bit of a jerk, happy now?"
"No," said Rya, "I'll only be happy if you wake up."
. . .
The men's refresher stank of excrement mixed with alcoholic cleaners. Ahsoka wrinkled her nose and tried to avert her eyes from the males of various species doing their business in the urinals. It would probably be only a matter of seconds before someone noticed the two women and screamed for security, but her Force senses told her that their fugitive was here.
"Jedi business," Master Uma suddenly announced, causing all heads to turn towards them. "Don't disturb our business and we won't disturb yours."
There were quite a few grumbles among the patrons, but to Ahsoka's surprise, no one directly spoke up against the two Jedi. "All right," she whispered to Uma, "I see Master Skywalker's taught the public to respect the Jedi, but we've still got a little bastard to capture."
"Little is right," Uma whispered back, though she gave no further elaboration.
Ahsoka took a deep breath, feeling the criminal's Force signature throbbing close to them. "I think he's in here," she whispered, tilting her head towards a stall.
"All right," Uma whispered back. "On three. One . . . two . . . three!"
On Uma's signal, the two women burst into the stall, hands on their deactivated lightsabers, ready to activate them at a moment's notice.
But the stall was empty.
. . .
The commlink at Leia's waist beeped and beeped and beeped, but she ignored it as she stared down at her husband. She didn't answer it until the eighth beep, and even then she raised it to her mouth in the slowest manner possible.
"Hello?"
"President Organa Solo?" came Mon Mothma's voice.
"Yes, what is it?"
"Your presence is required at the senate building," Mon Mothma said in a hasty voice.
"Later," Leia said immediately.
"No," said Mon, "you need to make a statement as soon as possible."
Leia snarled at the commlink. "What sort of statement? That my husband's dying? That the Revolutionaries apparently want to inject midichlorians into non-Force-sensitives?"
"They want to what?" Mon exclaimed.
"I'll make a statement," said Leia, "but not until Han's out of danger."
"President Organa Solo, as your advisor I must advise . . ."
"Your advice is noted," Leia interrupted, "but I'm not leaving Han until he wakes up."
"And what makes you think he will wake up?"
The words sent coldness down Leia's spine, but she still glared at the commlink. "If there's one thing my husband is, it's a fighter. He won't go down without a fight."
