Chapter 3 - A Last Hope

"That's right. Get it all out."

Han was bent double, retching into the sand outside of the Falcon. The blood from his sliced hand flowed freely, staining every patch of clothing he touched. Obi-Wan stood over him, patting him on the back.

"It's nothing I haven't experienced myself after enjoying one too many glasses of Corellian wine."

"Corellian wine? What the hell are you talking about?" Han said gasping for air.

"Well, I find, when one indulges in copious amounts of alchohol-"

"Not the damn wine. That! Up in the cockpit! For kreth's sake, is it just me or has the whole galaxy gone crazy?!"

"No, it's just you. It was just you. Up in the cockpit. Or was that not clear?" Obi-Wan said, a small smile playing on his lips.

Han turned away and retched again, pressing his hands to his knees. Obi-Wan chuckled but sobered up quickly, placing a consoling hand on Han's back.

"I'm sorry. That was in bad taste. I just couldn't resist. You set it up so well for me-"

"I'm dead." Han said, staring straight at the ground. "I'm dead. I died. I… I didn't survive the crash."

For the first time since seeing Han, Obi-Wan faltered, a twinge of regret flickering across his face. When Han looked up, however, moment was gone, and Obi-Wan met Han's gaze with a steady sincerity.

"That's right, isn't it? That's why I can see you."

Obi-Wan smiled, consolingly. "Well… yes. And no."

"Listen, old man" Han said, fighting an overwhelming instinct to punch Obi-Wan right in the Adam's apple, "I've had a long day. I screwed up a massive spice heist, I crashed my ship, I was greeted by a man I never thought I would see again in my life, which turned out to be true because, hey! I'm dead! And to top it all off, I've been treated to the lovely view of my own freshly burnt corpse while the ghost from my past gets all cryptic on my ass! So if you're going to be vague and mystical about anything save your breath, and please, kreth off. I'd rather spend an eternity in the afterlife alone than with a desert hobo whispering ancient alien secrets in my ear, all right? I'm not about that life and I never was, remember? Luke was the one who was into that… all that… mumbo jumbo… shit."

As the name from long ago left Han's mouth his chest seemed to sink into the sand below him, swallowed, like his ship, by the desert.

The kid. The Rebellion. The War.

Her.

They were all shadows of a distant life, a life he'd rejected, a life he'd chosen to leave behind.

Obi-Wan smiled. "Don't worry, Captain Solo. I fully intend to explain myself if you'll allow me. I'm afraid being 'cryptic' is an unfortunate habit developed from years of guarding other peoples' secrets. A loose tongue cannot protect the innocent and vulnerable. Nevertheless, as you say, I am aware that even during out brief encounter in the mortal world, you held everything to do with the Force, including myself, at an arm's length. Well, maybe two arms." He corrected.

"Yeah. Two arms and a leg." Han added, sarcastically.

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Well, be that as it may, Luke Skywalker was not the only one who could benefit from my, as you say, 'mumbo jumbo' despite what you may think. The Force is a power that surrounds all living creatures whether you believe in it or not. It is a part of you, as much as it was a part of Luke, and it can help you. It can heal you. Not your physical injuries necessarily," Obi-Wan said noticing Han's eyes as they darted to his still bleeding hand, "but the wounds from your past. Your life is still in motion, Captain Solo, and you still have a part to play in the greater universe. That is why I'm here. I'm trying to help you."

Han paused. He scanned Obi-Wan's face, searching. "Greater universe, huh?"

"Yes."

"Uh-huh. Right. And what's my part, exactly?"

Obi-Wan faltered and sighed. "Alas, the first question you ask, I cannot answer without being vague. Not because I wish to, but because I do not know."

"Perfect."

"I can, however, guess." Obi-Wan said, ignoring Han. "You see, many people have their destinies laid out before them. Luke was a man who's future and place in this universe was so clear, the path he had to go down could be seen by many others. Every person in the galaxy has this so-called 'fate'. A selection of pre-determined options, one of which must befall that individual in their lifetime. Most people take the most obvious path: the one that the Force, whether to their knowledge or not, attracts them to most naturally. For Luke, this path was so clear, his destiny became common knowledge to the people around him."

"Yeah, well, that didn't work out so well for him, did it?" Han snapped.

Obi-Wan turned his head to the ground.

Anger and hurt rising in his chest, Han continued. "What's the point of 'fate' if it's just gonna be cut short? He failed! They all failed. Luke's gone and I guess he took his destiny with him."

Obi-Wan sighed. "If I may, Captain, this is where you come in. You were never supposed to abandon the Rebellion, like you did."

"I never abandoned-" Han began, fuming.

"You did." Obi-Wan interrupted quietly.

Han gritted his teeth. "Explain."

"The Force had laid out numerous paths for you, some of which would have lead you to greatness, others which would have lead you to a quiet happiness, still others which would had lead you to be the protector of others, and see them rise above and beyond anything you could possibly imagine to save the galaxy. You did not choose any of these, nor any actual path laid before you at all. You abandoned every conceivable future for yourself and ran off the beaten path, tore through empty fields and got lost in the brush, and it affected many lives." He paused "Luke would still be alive if it weren't for your desertion."

"How DARE you!" Han bellowed, the dull pain he'd been feeling in his chest ever since Luke's name was mentioned erupting into a fiery chasm of anger, hurt and hate.

He lunged at Obi-Wan, eyes blazing, teeth clenched, not knowing or caring what he was about to do.

"I'm sorry Captain Solo, this is our last hope."

Obi-Wan stepped back. The sand began to swirl around Han, whipping at his body and blinding him.

Han opened his mouth to yell, but the dry sand swirling around him immediately began to fill his mouth and lungs. The curse of anger that had been playing on his lips changed into a silent cry of panic. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see. He couldn't speak. Choking on the desert, Han felt himself falling backwards, swallowed by the sand, until he was surrounded by complete blackness, neither awake, nor asleep.

Neither reality, nor fantasy.

Neither living,

Nor dead.