SOMETHING OF A ROUGH START

Chapter 7

(Han)

This place is not going to be happy until they kill me.

I've just spent I don't know how long with a Wookiee who's been appointed as my 'physical therapist.' I've had less pain being tortured with electricity, which is one reason why I have less than fond memories of spending man time with my then girlfriend's dad.

Of course, I want out of here as soon as possible, so I subject myself to ongoing torture by Rrrrufrakka, whom I hesitate to piss off, seeing as he has my release date in his huge furry paws. I think there should be a law about not allowing Wookiee to become physical torturers - uh, therapists.

Leia's bringing the kids by in a little while. I've missed the little demons so much it's hard to describe.

My door bursts open, and with it a cacophony of voices. My spirits are lifted.

"Now remember, your dad's still in a lot of pain and needs healing, so try to be gentle," Leia instructs them, but it's too late. All four of them are all over me, and I've never been so happy to be mauled. I'll pay for it later, but I haven't seen my kids in a week.

Of course, my kids are anything but subtle. I think they may have rebroken my bones, but I'm so happy to see them I don't care. Even Jacen and Anakin hug me, and that's a surprise, since they're thirteen and twelve. Jarik has no reservations and Jaina, being my daughter and a daddy's girl, refuses to let go of me.

"You guys behaving yourselves?" I ask them.

"Of course," Jaina tells me, but her eyes are sparkling. She's such an imp.

"Take that with a grain of salt," Leia tells me.

"No, really, we've been good," Anakin insists. I have a feeling they have been, but now that they've seen that I'm not dead yet, they'll take up where they left off.

"When are you coming home, Daddy?" Jarik asks me.

"It better be soon," I tell him. He's curled up on the bed next to me and isn't, for the moment, crushing me.

"You gotta get home before last night of Winter Fete," Anakin tells him.

"I'm doing what I can," I assure him. "I have a Wookiee physical torturer who's trying, brutally, to get me on my feet." Chewie laughs out loud. Bastard. "It's not funny, Fuzzball!"

Leia and Chewie think it is, and so do the older kids. I get no respect. Of course, I don't get any respect when not sick or injured, so it's just part of the continuum. I wonder if I'd be disturbed if they suddenly started showing some; I'd think someone swapped out my kids.

They've been spending time at friends' houses, where they've been welcomed to join in the celebrations, which makes me glad. Be a drag if all they were doing was sitting round the apartment and being sulky. They don't do sitting around well. There's also a bunch of holos from our friends, wishing me a speedy recovery.

I'll recover much faster if I can do it at home, amidst my noisy children, my wife who's trying to take care of me, the kids and the galaxy at the same time, our various and sundry animals, and amongst Chewie. It's not exactly quiet in the medcenter, what with everyone's alarms going off, holos in each room with a ridiculously small number of channels - I can't even get the smashball games! - numerous visitors, and the droids coming in and stabbing everyone way too often. I want to be home in my Papa Bear chair (the kids are NOT allowed to sit in it, and I'll know if they did), I want to eat home cooking, hell, I'm even looking forward to cooking again, and I want 800 channels. And control of the remote. 800 channels are no good if you can't control the remote.

We talk about what the kids have been up to. There've been a few ice storms recently. Apparently, the latest craze is taking sheet metal, rolling up the edges so they don't bleed to death, oiling the bottom, and then racing down the various hills in Coruscant Central Park. Leia visibly cringes. I grin. Yep, they've got some of their father's genetic makeup. Leia looks at me as if she's going to kill me.

Ah, normalcy. Gotta love it.