AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing!

"Change"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 6

Once again, Han was waking up hazy with his limbs stiff and his doctor leaning over him as if she expected him to snap any moment. Every blink wanted to send him back into blackness, but he fought it, forcing himself to look up at the doctor.

"Did I do it again?" he mumbled after his dry throat swallowed several times.

"Yes, you did," Doctor Graynar said in a no-nonsense voice. "And this time, you fell over."

"I what?"

The doctor held up her hands, palms out, as if shielding herself. "Luckily, you just got a few bruises, but it could have been serious. Falling like that could damage your life support."

The sound droned on as Han's eyes flicked around, searching his arms for bruises and finding a purplish mark near his left elbow. "So lemmie guess, my arm cushioned the fall?"

"Not totally," said Doctor Graynar, a wry smile forming on her face. "Your legs helped too. No broken bones, fortunately – but next time you might not be so lucky."

Han groaned, leaning back into his pillow. "Who says there's gonna be a next time?"

"Well, I don't imagine you want to live the rest of your life in bed, do you?"

Han groaned again. "Where's Leia?"

"Somewhere," said the doctor. "I don't exactly keep track of where all the visitors go when they leave the hospital, but she should be back soon." Her mouth twisted as she sat in a chair next to the bed that she must have set up when Han was unconscious. "Han, we need to talk."

"Yeah yeah," said Han. "You don't need to tell me, I know I got that PTSD stuff."

"Yes," said the doctor, her fingers interlinking each other, "but it's not just that. Han, you can't stay here forever – you need to regain your independence." She sighed through her nose. "And if you can't walk without triggering an episode, then I'm gonna have to insist that you start counseling."

Han's teeth rolled over his tongue, then his lip, then his tongue again as he tried to push out the bad memories of counseling after Ben's fall to the dark side, how counselors insisted that he would just have to deal with it and that everything would heal with time. "Yeah?" he finally said. "And what if I refuse?"

Doctor Graynar sighed. "I'm afraid that's not an option at this point."

"So you're forcin' me?"

"It's for your own good," the doctor said in a firm voice.

For his own good. The sound's volume seemed to increase, pumping into his ears. How the hell did he end up like this?

"Our psych ward has several good counselors," Doctor Graynar continued, pushing a strand of red hair out of her face. "I'll set you up with someone I think will be a good match, but if you don't like that one we can try another one. If necessary, they can also prescribe medications."

"Yeah," Han said in a bitter voice. "Go ahead, use meds to manipulate my brain chemistry into thinkin' everything's all right when it's not." He held up his artificial hand. "Dope me up enough and I could start thinkin' this is my real hand."

"Han . . . this is to help you."

"Well maybe I don't need that kinda help."

The doctor sighed again. "Han, you are physically able to walk – your muscles have pretty much gotten over their atrophy. The thing keeping you from walking is mental."

. . .

Rey knocked on Finn's door, her hand still trembling. "Finn?" she called in a small voice. "Finn, are you here?"

Finally the door slid open and revealed Finn, lifting his eyebrow at her. "Rey? What's going on?"

"Can I come in?" Her words were so rapid that they almost ran together.

"Uh, sure." The former stormtrooper let the former scavenger into his tiny apartment, where they sat next to each other on the bed. "What's going on?"

Rey gulped. "I . . . I visited my cousin this morning."

Finn's eyes bulged. "You . . . you need a hug or something?"

Rey swallowed again, her breath still escaping in pants. "I think I could use one."

With that, Finn wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her close to him. "Why would you do something like that?"

"I don't know," said Rey, resting her head on his shoulder. "Maybe because my father's been showing me what he used to be like – maybe some stupid part of me thought that if I reminded him of it . . . but then he charged at me, if there hadn't been a forcefield between us . . ."

"Hey, hey, shhh," Finn whispered, gently patting her back. "It's all right."

"I didn't ask for this." Rey felt herself sniffling. "I didn't ask for any of this . . . one minute I'm a nobody scavenger and the next I'm Luke Skywalker's daughter . . . "

"Hey," Finn repeated, pulling out of the embrace and looking into her eyes, "I didn't ask for any of this either. One minute I'm a stormtrooper identified by a number, the next I'm wearing a Resistance jacket and I've actually got a name." He gave her a tiny grin. "Sometimes I wake up thinking I'm still a stormtrooper."

Rey managed to smile back, but only for a moment. "Well, you're not Kylo Ren's cousin."

"No," said Finn, wrapping his arms around her again. "But I'm your friend." He ran his hand up and down her back. "Tell you what, if you want to visit him again, I'll come with you if you want."

"No, I don't think that's a good idea."

Finn shrugged. "No, probably not, but it's what friends do."

. . .

Leia's lullaby was playing again in the afternoon sun as Han lay in his hospital bed, trying to sleep. His legs were stiff from the physical therapy session Doctor Graynar had run him through and his body wanted to sink down into oblivion, but his mind kept wandering to the past.

When Ben was little, his naptimes were spent on his parents' bed with Han lying next to him. Sometimes a datapad would be softly playing Ben's favorite lullabies in the background. The child often complained about having to take naps, but most of the time he'd agree to settle down if Daddy would take a nap with him. So they'd lie together, Han sometimes stroking his son's back in rhythmic motions to get him to relax. Most afternoons Han would drift off to sleep along with his son, lulled by Ben's slow, soothing breath.

Nothing like the sound that forever plagued his ears now.

"Ben . . ." he murmured, only vaguely aware that he was doing so, his mind floating between sleep and wakefulness, ". . . don't be afraid . . ."

Finally he fell asleep, swirling into dreams.

And there was Ben.