Chapter Twenty-One:
It was several hours into their flight to Alderaan when Han entered the passenger compartment where everyone was seated. It was there he found Chewbacca playing a game on the holo chess table with Threepio.
That droid had to be the most annoying mechanical Han had ever met, and he would be glad when he no longer had to listen to his prissy prattle.
So, tuning out the droid's voice, Han instead set about his favorite past-time when transporting passengers: trying to figure out each individual.
Gazing about the hold, Han took in each occupant as he came upon them.
There was the old man, who was aggravating to Han, with his know-it-all disposition and obvious desire to be in charge— or at least, that was how Han saw it. And yet… he somehow commanded a degree of respect from the smuggler. Ben was definitely a man of business, Han could tell, and when he was in combat mode Han knew he'd be a force to be reckoned with, old age or not.
Then there was the blue and silver astromech. Han did find it rather amusing how the squat little unit always seemed to tell off his golden friend. The droid was no doubt hard-working, but also seemed to innately understand the people around him better than his counterpart, which was ironic considering Threepio was supposed to be good at that.
As for Threepio, Han didn't waste any more time than to second his own notion that the droid was just an accident waiting to happen.
When his eyes turned to the smaller form sitting on the couch, who was staring with a child's equivalent of subtlety at Chewbacca, Han actually smiled. She was cute, he'd give her that much. Her raven hair was almost bone-straight, even while pulled back into her ponytail. She had a nice tan under layers of dirt and— was that soot?— that had been given to her from time under a pair of suns. But her eyes… they were an intense blue that was almost unsettling, yet captivating and open.
But it was her personality and utter innocence that Han found most appealing. It was refreshing to meet such a soul, child or not, and to know that there were still sweet people to be met in the galaxy at large.
Now, for her father… that man was certainly an enigma to Han, and as his gaze shifted to where the man should have been, he frowned.
No Luke.
Thinking that he had somehow missed the younger man, Han perused the entire hold again, but came up empty. Pursing his lips, Han stood quietly and searched the remainder of the vessel.
He found Luke in one of the smaller cargo holds, shirt off, and trying unsuccessfully to dab ointment onto some nasty-looking burns on his back.
"Hey, Kid," Han asked, watching Luke jump. "What happened to your torso?"
"What?" Luke asked once he'd recovered, and then he looked down. "Oh. Shmi was stuck inside our… our home when it was attacked."
Frowning, Han moved closer. "Attacked?"
"Yeah," Luke replied softly. "I don't know exactly what happened, because I wasn't there until after it occurred, but when I got home…" he blinked back sudden tears. "It was to find that my aunt and uncle had been burned alive, and Shmi stuck inside the still-flaming house."
Han was dumbstruck, partially at the horror of this kid's back-story, and partially at the raw emotion in Luke's gaze. Luke, realizing that Han was probably uncomfortable with heart-to-hearts, offered an apologetic look.
"I'm sorry, you probably didn't want to know all that," he murmured, trying again to nurse his own injuries. "It's just… I don't know, nice to get it out."
Han chewed his lip. He really hadn't been opting for the buddy-talk, but he had asked how Luke got the burns.
"Don't worry about it." Han sat down behind him. "Here, let me help."
"Thanks." Luke relinquished the ointment.
"So," Han remarked while he worked. "What's that cylinder on your belt?"
"Hmm?" Luke asked, looking over his shoulder.
"I saw it while you were boarding the ship, and I just wondered what it was." Han shrugged.
"It's a lightsaber," Luke answered.
"A lightsaber?" Han was surprised. "Don't tell me you're a Jedi?"
"You know them?" Luke asked eagerly.
"I know of them, but none personally," Han corrected.
"Oh." Luke looked a little downcast. "No, I'm not a Jedi… well, not yet anyway. Ben's going to begin my training."
"The old hermit?" Han snorted. "Right."
"He is!" Luke insisted. "He used the Force to get us into Mos Eisley."
"If you say so, Kid." Han was still dubious. "There, all finished."
He stood before Luke could fire away with another question.
"Thank you for the help." Luke put his tunic back on. "And… thank you for taking us to Alderaan."
Han watched, slightly befuddled, as Luke nodded and left the hold. Sitting on the crate he'd used moments earlier, Han let his thoughts wander.
Luke was definitely an interesting character: hot-tempered one minute as if he were still an unbridled teenager waiting to be let loose; then well-mannered and steady the next. Han was certain that the catalyst for this was Shmi.
Luke was certainly a loving father, even Han could tell after only knowing them a short time. It was absolutely clear to Han that Shmi and Luke had an unbreakable, ever-present bond.
But then there was this whole Jedi business. Something told Han that Luke was the kind of man who would stick to his ideals, no matter the cost to himself. He was certainly strong-willed in his own right.
But to believe in the Force? That just didn't quite sit well with Han.
With a sigh, Han shook his head to clear it and left the hold as well.
00000
Luke smiled at Shmi when he settled beside her, but his grin faded when he noticed that her face was wet, and she seemed to be trying not to whimper.
"Shmi, what's wrong?" Luke dropped to a knee before her. "We're safe, there's nothing to fear."
She nodded, noticing the Wookiee's gaze had shifted to her.
"I'm not afraid, Daddy," she whispered.
"Then why are you crying?"
"… my arm hurts."
Luke's gaze dropped to her sleeve, which was charred and blackened from the fire. Had she been burnt too?
With a growing sense of dread, Luke held out a hand. "Let me see it please."
Shmi sniffled and did as he asked, offering her arm. Luke carefully rolled up her sleeve, and gasped to see several burn spots on her tender flesh.
"Sweetheart, why didn't you say anything?" Luke exclaimed.
"I don't know," she whispered.
"Come here." Luke looked to Chewie. "Is there somewhere Shmi can get cleaned up please?"
Chewie whuffed gently and led them aft. A surprised Han met them halfway.
"What now?" he asked, noticing Shmi.
"I'd like to give Shmi a bath if you don't mind," Luke requested.
"Sure," noticing the girl's arm, Han's eyes widened. "She's hurt too?"
"I was trapped in our house!" Shmi told Han with a sniffle.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Shmi," Han told her softly. "But it's a good thing your father loves you so much."
Shmi hugged Luke's leg. "I love him too!"
Han smiled at her and nodded to Chewie, who finished guiding Luke and Shmi to the refresher. He motioned to the shower and then grabbed a towel from the cabinet for them to use.
Before he left, however, he bent down to look at Shmi, whose gaze widened, but she stood still.
Luke watched, fascinated, as the Wookiee gently brought a giant furry paw up to her face, and gave her a playful shove. Shmi giggled bashfully, and then reached out a hand.
"Mr. Chewbacca?"
The Wookiee growled gently.
"May I… touch your fur?" Shmi inquired with all the tact of a four year old.
"Shmi…" Luke began, but the Wookiee cut him off with a nonchalant gesture, and held out his arm to the child.
Haltingly, Shmi brought a flat palm to the arm, and touched it to his fur. She gasped at the texture and then ran her hand over it a few times. Her smile widened when Chewie patted her head of hair in return, winking at her.
Shmi belly-laughed then, making Luke's heavy heart soar.
Then the Wookiee stood with a nod to Luke.
"Thank you, Chewbacca." Luke whispered to him.
Once the door was closed, Shmi turned bright eyes to Luke, eager to share her discovery with her father.
"His fur was so soft, Daddy! And long!"
Luke chuckled as he listened to her tale, working to strip Shmi from her dirty clothes and giving her a careful inspection for any other burns or injuries. Thankfully it was just her arm that had been affected.
He gave her a gentle sponge-bath, being extra careful near her wounds. Luke watched the dirty water slurry from her small frame to the drain in the shower. He reflected on how the scene marked the end of their days on Tatooine.
They were now homeless.
Trying to hide his sullen heart, and refusing to drag sweet Shmi down with him, Luke put on a happy front for her.
He completed her bath and then gave her the towel.
"Sit down please." Luke helped her onto the counter, and then drew her injured arm from the folds of the towel.
Tenderly, Luke dabbed ointment onto her injuries and wrapped them. Shmi watched him work, and when he finished, he blew several kisses to her arm.
Shmi smiled brightly at him, and Luke returned it with all his love. Then he frowned as he realized that Shmi had nothing to wear save the grungy clothing she'd just been taken out of.
Biting his lip, Luke perused the refresher for anything she could possibly wear, but turned up nothing. Sighing heavily, Luke returned to her clothes and, after contemplating them for a time, had an idea.
"Wait here Shmi," Luke instructed.
"Okay Daddy."
Luke went to find Han, and was glad to find that he was alone in the cockpit. "Hey Han."
"Hi." The smuggler eyed him. "How's the girl?"
"She'll be good to go, thank you," Luke replied. "How long until we reach Alderaan?"
"About ten hours more," Han answered.
Plenty of time for washed clothes to dry.
"I hate to ask more from you, but…" Luke hesitated.
"What?"
"Would you happen to have a long shirt Shmi could wear so I can wash and dry her clothes?" Luke inquired gingerly.
Han gazed at him for long minutes, and Luke had to force himself not to shift. Why did everyone just stare at him now?
"Sure, I can let her borrow something." Han stood and led Luke to the captain's cabin. "Just promise not to judge."
"Deal."
Han entered the cabin, and returned shortly with what had obviously once belonged to a woman. Not that it was skimpy, but Luke was surprised at the garment.
"Are you married?" Luke asked.
Han snorted. "No. But I have had a girlfriend or two."
"Oh. Well, thank you." Luke offered a grateful smile and returned to Shmi.
True to her word, she hadn't moved an inch. Luke held up the nightgown and slid it over her head. Shmi gazed in amazement at the silky material, running her hands all over it.
"Daddy, w-where did you get this?" She looked to him with mouth slightly ajar.
"Captain Solo let you use it." Luke tipped her chin fondly. "You look lovely in it."
Shmi giggled and watched as Luke took her clothes to wash. After a moment, Shmi stood and walked over to the mirror to view her image. The nightgown ran well past her feet to pool on the floor, and the shoulder-straps kept slipping, but his daughter's overall modesty was assured.
When he finished, Luke hung the garments out to dry and turned to face her. Lastly he combed her hair with the only brush he could find, being careful not to pull too much to hurt her scalp. When he was done, he kissed her forehead.
"There. All clean, bandaged, and ready to settle down," he told her, offering his hand.
Shmi attempted to walk, but found it quite a challenge due to the copious amounts of fabric about her feet. Luke snickered gently and picked her up, carrying her to the passenger compartment.
Han had returned and was flipping through some holo files on his computer.
When Luke settled Shmi back onto the couch, she began to shiver.
"Its c-cold Daddy…" she said through chattering teeth.
Chewbacca harned softly and produced a blanket from somewhere, folding it over the child.
She smiled warmly at the Wookiee. "Thank you, Mr. Chewbacca."
The Wookiee shook his head with a soft bark, and Han translated.
"He says to call him Chewie."
"Okay." Shmi caught his hand before the Wookiee could move it away too far, and kissed it. "Thank you Chewie."
Luke pretended not to notice Han's reaction to that sweet, innocent act. But inwardly he smiled.
Maybe there was indeed more to Han than his smuggler's 'I-don't-care' persona.