Know what?
Right now, he knew nothing, not a Gods damned thing, except that he needed a drink. A very strong drink. He shoved the ring back on his hand. Well, if this was supposed to be his life, his home, it should at least have a well stocked liquor cabinet.
The bedroom door swished open quietly to reveal a landing and a wide curving staircase. Reaching the bottom, he glanced around him, noting a long hallway to his right, with – from what he could see – had four closed doors. To his left was an open sitting area, formfitting couches circled a holocentre, frames sat on end tables, and a collection featuring seemingly random pieces of Alderaanian art decorated the walls. Immediately in front of him was a wide, archway. A kitchen, he guessed. He was almost inside the archway when something suddenly moved in front of him, glimmering in the darkened room.
"Master Solo?" A high-pitched metallic voice startled him, he jumped, hand flying to his thigh again on impulse, and again, he found nothing.
"I am excessively sorry Sir; I did not wish to startle you." The voice came into view, a human sized golden droid. A protocol droid.
"It's fine." He growled. He hated droids.
"May I be of any assistance, Sir?"
"What?"
"Is Mistress Leia in need of anything?" The droid's head tilted, as if to portray concern. Han could only stare at him. Leia? Leia! That was her name. His wife name was Leia. He didn't know a Leia. The name was familiar though, he had heard it before – somewhere.
"No. I mean, yes. Leia's fine. I just need a drink." The droid seemed happy with this response and nodded stiffly.
"Very good Sir, if you are not in need of me, I'll power down again."
"You do that." Han turned, waiting for the droid to potter away, before coming to a rest at opening of the long hallway.
He rifled quietly through the cupboards until he found whiskey, he poured himself a glass, a tall glass, put the bottle back and set off towards the sitting room. The lights, set to auto, came on to bathe the room in a soft light. A large glass shelving unit was built into an outcove along the short was littered with frames, cards and small collectables. He toyed with the glass for a minute, looking the shelves over. One photo had him leaning, his back against a railing, and the high tops of Coruscant's buildings behind him, cradling Leia in his arms. She was smiling, so was he. They were happy. There were many more like this one, him and her. Together and alone.
His eyes traveled to another photo, this one of a young boy with piercing blue eyes. The young boy was grinning up at the camera, while sitting in what looked like a gun turret. He was holding an adult headset placed awkwardly over his ears.
Beside it was another young boy, seated beside a young, blonde-haired man playing at a holochess table, ghostly images of monsters moving in front of them. He didn't recognize the young man, but the boy looked just like he did at five years old. The holochess table looked familiar; he peered at it, trying to decide where he had seen it. More than seen it; where he had sat at it before.
The next photo stopped his heart. In it, he was sitting at the controls of a freighter, laughing, with a little girl on his knee. His little girl. She couldn't have been more then three years old. She was reaching forward to grab the yolk, sheer glee radiating from her. It was sweet, but his mind wouldn't focus on that. He grabbed the photo, eyes glued to the control panel his little girl was so desperately trying to reach.
He knew that ship. He had wanted that ship from the first day he laid eyes on her. Could this mean she was his? Could the Millennium Falcon really be his? Hand trembling, he gripped his glass tighter. He wanted to go find her. Walk around her. Sit in the cockpit, feel the controls. Find out what he had done to her over the years. He had had so many plans for improvements, how many had he done?
Looking up from the photo, he glanced around the apartment, and took a sip of his drink. Well, he thought, That's not the hardest thing to believe. He would find her tomorrow, he would find his ship.
Han smiled, eyes starting to wander again over the display. He picked up a card, it was a small child's birthday card signed Happy Birthday Little Jedi! You are so special to us! Love, Mommy & Daddy
"Jedi?" He asked the card. Wasn't that just a folk legend? Jedi were extinct, if you even believed they had ever existed in the first place. The handwriting was small, cursive, straight; very unlike his quick, slanted scribe.
He stood that way for a long while, holding the card in one hand, whiskey in the other. This was his life. Or maybe this could be his life. He wasn't sure. Sighing heavily, he set his glass down, climbed the stairs and slipped into bed beside Leia. She murmured something, turned towards him, dragging an arm across his chest, she nestled into his shuolder. At least now he knew her name. "Leia" he breathed quietly, her lips turned with the hint of a smile, she did not wake.
It was rather frustrating, he concluded, being a stranger in your own life.
