Chapter 13

Ana couldn't speak as Leia retreated to join the small group currently huddled around Finn, needing a moment to recover from the shock of precisely what her Aunt had said. Frustration suddenly coursing through her, Ana couldn't help but storm off herself, intending to head deeper into the Base, tugging her life-support unit irritably off her flightsuit as she went. It was a low trick, Leia throwing out that the girl might be a Force-user in order to distract her—that it had worked was beside the point—but Ana could tell there was still more to it than that; something that Leia didn't want to talk about. She barely made it halfway across the room before a voice calling her stopped Ana in her tracks, banishing all thought of the girl from her mind.

"So, they finally let you up in a fighter, did they?" Ana smiled at the familiar voice, no matter that it was more gravelly than she remembered, "that was some nice flying, Kid." She looked up to see her Uncle grinning crookedly back at her, "but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, should I." He caught up to her, an arm encircling her shoulder in a loose hug. She returned the gesture, squeezing an arm around his waist before pulling away. She shrugged lightly as she continued walking, Han falling into step beside her.

"Ah, it was nothing. Just a trick some old smuggler taught me." She grinned cheekily up at him. He made a face, but the grin tugging at the side of his mouth betrayed his pride.

"I've never seen that move used in an X-wing before. Well done." Ana couldn't help but bask in his impressed praise. When it came to things like flying, Han rarely minced words.

"Well, it took a little bit of work to figure out, but it was so worth it," she couldn't help but boast. Han chuckled before looking down at her.

"So…how're ya' keeping?" he asked quietly, though he tried to keep his voice light. His hand landed heavily on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. His eyes had turned serious.

Abruptly she knew what he meant by the question. Her pace faltered, her grip tightening on the FreiTek unit in her hands. Han paused next to her. Ana shrugged again, trying to keep up the cheerful demeanor. It didn't entirely work. He knew she'd seen Kylo Ren just as he had. The Base was already buzzing that the mysterious masked First Order agent had been on Takodana. He knew her well enough to know that seeing him again would have gotten to her, bringing back every painful emotion and memory she tried to bury since that awful night.

"Well enough," she answered, desperate to change the subject, "you? I noticed you got the Falcon back." It helped. Han grinned happily before the grumpy scowl took over. Ana frowned herself, though it didn't quite dim her own smile. He dropped his hand, starting forward again, Ana following beside him as the mood lightened.

"Yeah, I got her back—she was on Jakku, of all places; sounds like Unkar Plutt stole her off the Irving boys who stole her off Ducain—but she's been neglected and mistreated, poor old girl. Some idiot got the bright idea to give her some new mods. Someone's done something that lights the Falcon up like spotlight on even civilian-grade scanners; a beacon or locator or something when the sublights are running. And a fuel pump! Who puts in a fuel pump? Whoever worked her over made an outright mess. I mean, who in their right mind would put a compressor on the ignition line?!" Ana nearly growled herself, genuinely outraged at the idea.

"What kind of moron…that'd put too much pressure on the hyperdrive," she blurted out before she could help herself, "what were they trying to do, scatter pieces of her across two systems?" Han's sullen expression showed that he very much agreed with her. He then shot her another grin, though this one she couldn't quite decipher.

"You know, you're not the only one to say that," he said. Ana scoffed.

"Well, anyone with even a basic understanding of hyperdrive systems, especially ones like the Falcon's, should be able to figure that out," she seethed. He chuckled at her fervent assertion.

"Yeah, well, not everyone has your sense, it seems," he soothed, "or your experience with her." She nodded, happily ceding that he was right about that. Then she turned to him with a cheeky grin.

"So, what this I've heard about you falling back on smuggling full time?"

"You've been talking to Reem, haven't you," he grumbled, earning an impish chuckle, before launching into an abridged—and heavily edited and exaggerated, if she knew him at all—version of his last few adventures. Han was brought up short though, when Chewie's faintly amused voice broke in behind them, lightheartedly correcting his old friend on a point or two. Unable to help smiling widely, Ana accepted the wookiee's proffered hug, having missed burrowing into his warm, albeit hairy, embrace. It had been one of her favourite things to do since she was a kid; Chewie just knew how to give good hugs. As she pulled away, though, she noticed his right arm was bound with a crude bandage.

"Did Uncle Han get you shot at again?" His chuffing laughter broke up his account of what happened between them, KanjiKlub and the Guavian Death Gang—something that Han had most certainly glossed over—and brought an indignant look to Han's face. It also earned them both a reprimanding look from Ana. She narrowed her eyes at her Uncle.

"You two are going to get yourselves killed, you know that, right?" she said reprovingly as Chewie's story wrapped up. Ana peered at her Uncle; he looked entirely too relieved that Chewie was done telling her about their most recent daring escape. The wookiee had left something out. Her Uncle shot her his crooked smile. Yup. Hiding something. Probably something he didn't want getting back to Leia.

"Hey, I always get us out of those sorts of messes," Han said with his unwavering sense of confidence before Chewie contradicted dryly, bringing back Han's indignant look, "do so!" All that earned the old smuggler was a barking admonishment that suddenly had Ana's eyes going wide as she turned sharply to her Uncle. Han, at least, had the decency to look abashed when he realized he'd been caught out.

"Woah, woah! Rathtars?! Are you insane?!" she burst out. Han shrugged, that cocky smile attempting to make an appearance. Well, it wasn't quite so confident under Ana's incredulous scrutiny.

"Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time…" he said defensively. Ana whirled around to Chewie, the wookiee wisely flinching in the face of her forceful glare.

"And you went along with this?" Chewie also had the sense to look contrite, before muttering that it was Han's idea and he figured he had little choice but to go along with it to keep Han from getting himself killed. Han shot his co-pilot an accusing look.

"Traitor," he muttered. Chewie threw his own insult at Han before sulking off to get his arm looked after. Ana was nearly tempted to roll her eyes.

Instead she threw up her hands in exasperation: "you're insane! Both of you!" Suddenly the crooked smile was back. Ana made an exasperated sound to hide her chuckle, starting again on her path through the Command Centre.

"It's part of our charm, Kid," Han said cheerily as he fell into step beside her. This time Ana did roll her eyes, poorly restraining the resurgent urge to laugh, causing her Uncle's smile to widen as he continued. "It's served us well so far."

As her uncle spoke, Ana and Han passed by Poe, who was standing with the Finn, Admiral Statura, Snap…and General Organa. Han's eye was immediately drawn to his wife, something Ana didn't fail to notice. All of them were listening intently as the former Stormtrooper spoke, looking over the coordinates he seemed to be punching into the tactical display; the location to the First Order's new weapon, most likely, Ana mused. Even as they passed, Snap was nodding to the General and ducking away after taking one last look at the coordinates; off on a recon mission, she imagined.

As her eyes flicked to Poe, his own gaze met hers, a faint, mischievous grin playing about his lips even as he turned his attention back to the display. As she and Han passed, she couldn't help but steal a quick glance over her shoulder, fighting back a grin of her own when he did the same.

"So, how long has that been going on?" Ana started, jerking her eyes away from the Commander. She could feel her cheeks warming. She hazarded a look at her Uncle. There was an amused glint in his eye as he looked down at her.

"How long has what been going on?" Han raised a skeptical eyebrow at her attempt at ignorance. Ana tried to look unaffected…it didn't work. Han gestured back behind him in Poe's general direction with a thumb.

"You and that Hotshot back there." Ana struggled against the urge to nervously clear her throat.

"What? I'm sure I have no idea what you're on about," she said casually, pasting a guileless smile on her face. Han was abruptly trying not to laugh.

"Nice try, Kid. But even if I didn't recognize the look on your face, I'd recognize the one on his." He paused, his demeanor shifting. Ana stopped avoiding his gaze, looking up into her Uncle's thoughtful expression.

"You know, your mom always got that same look you just had when she looked at your father," he grinned nostalgically then, the expression almost but not quite sad. "You've got a lot of her in you, you know. Back there? With Chewie about the Rathtars? I remember her giving us that exact same scolding look a hundred times over," he said with laughter in his voice at the memory. A smile tried to pull at her lips, but the tremoring pain in her chest chased it away. She remembered. Ana couldn't help it, and at once her shoulders were tensing and the playfulness she felt bantering with the old smuggler began to fade. The edge of her life-support unit was digging almost painfully into her hand, the corner stabbing into her opposite palm.

"Hey," Han's hand landed on her shoulder, pulling her to a stop as he drew her around to look at him, "I know you don't like to talk about her, or about—" he faltered, his voice growing rough and pained. Ana's chest clenched, her eyes traitorously beginning to blur. She knew exactly what he couldn't say. But he cleared his throat and pressed on. "And I know you really don't like talking about Luke, but you can't go trying to pretend they didn't exist, either." Ana clenched her jaw, biting back the series of impulsive retorts that part of her longed to fire back at him…including that he sounded like Reem. She dropped her gaze, focusing on an oil spot on the duracrete floor to avoid showing him the turmoil she knew would likely be in her eyes. Slowly, her agitation bled out of her, leaving her feeling only tired.

"It still hurts too much, Uncle Han," she finally whispered back, unable to manage anything louder. She looked up at him as he reached out to gently brush back a strand of hair that had escaped in the gentle draft wafting past her. A sympathetic look had appeared on his rugged face. She hadn't realized until that moment just how the years and the guilt and grief had aged him.

"I know, Kid. Don't I know it," he answered back, his voice little more than a low rumble as he laid his hand briefly against her face. After a moment he cleared his throat, his gaze wandering again to Leia. Despite the low mood that had suddenly overtaken Ana, she couldn't help but smile. There was no doubting her Aunt and Uncle still loved each other deeply. Somehow, that cheered and reassured her more than just about anything Han could have said. It was something stable and familiar that never changed even though they'd gone their separate ways. His hand clapped on her shoulder again, as though he'd thought about saying something but changed his mind. He glanced down at Ana, but he barely seemed to see her and he was soon looking back to his wife. Ana could tell from his look alone that he wanted to talk to Leia badly, but was anxious to do so. She bit back an affectionately exasperated grin.

"Go talk to her," she said softly. Han looked down at her for real this time. She nodded in her Aunt's direction: "Go." He hesitated. Ana nearly scoffed at his reticence. "You obviously want to."

He made a noncommittal sound. "She's pretty busy with Resistance stuff; I probably shouldn't bother her right now. And I should really work on the Falcon," he said, his nervous tone not convincing Ana in the slightest, "someone needs to find whatever's making it so easy to track her even when you're not looking for her." Ana crossed her arms, fixing him with a firm look. He drew back, looking faintly wary of the look she was giving him. Across the way, BB-8 was chortling something off to Threepio, sounding rather dejected, sincerely tempting Ana to distraction, but she maintained her position staring down her Uncle.

"Chewie should be just about finished with his arm, plus, if you're that concerned, I'll go take a look myself. I'm sure between me and Chewie we'll find whatever it is in no time. But you need to talk to her." He started to object, but Ana held up a silencing hand before pointing toward her Aunt. "Nah, go." Finding himself unable to argue, resignation settled over his features. Though he did give her a scowl for good measure.

"Just like your mother," he grumbled. But his eyes shone fondly.

Ignoring the shard of pain, she simply smiled sweetly back at him before turning and heading back up toward the landing pad, practically hearing him steel his nerve before he headed over to talk with his wife.

Only her Aunt Leia could get Han so nervous.

She couldn't hold back her chuckle at the thought.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoyed!

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