"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Hey, I'm back! Thanks to all who reviewed while I was gone. Sorry it took so long to update - I participated in National Novel Writing Month and temporarily put fanfic on hold, but now I'm back.

Chapter 26

Though Leia gave some loud protests, Han insisted on using the Falcon for the attack. Despite all the talk about how only a small one-man fighter could get into that trench, Han wasn't comfortable fighting in one of those tiny X-Wings. Besides, he argued, the Falcon had far more firepower than an X-Wing. It could take out plenty of attackers while someone else destroyed the Death Star.

Han wasn't eager to get too close to that battle station anyway.

"Red Sixteen, standing by," he said into his headpiece, still not believing that he was actually doing this.

"Red Five, standing by," Luke's scratchy voice replied in his ear.

Chewie roared a hello to Luke through his own headpiece, even though Luke wouldn't be able to understand it. The Wookiee looked fully-prepared for battle, completely embracing the idea of flying straight into death's mouth for the sake of an ideal. Han didn't know whether to admire him or roll his eyes at him.

There it was. The gigantic gray sphere they were supposed to destroy. Han heard one of the pilots exclaiming, "Look at the size of that thing!" which seemed like vast understatement. This was insane. He tried to ignore his heart's speedy beating, tried not to think of how he may be in the last moments of his life.

Well Mom, you'd better appreciate this, he thought. I might be seeing you soon.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

They were attacking the station. The Rebels were more foolish than Vader thought. Did they honestly think they had a chance with their tiny ships and amateur fighters? It would be amusing if Vader didn't sense a distinctive Force signature among the attackers.

Han. Attacking them. Attacking him. Attacking his own father. The young man's mind was still twisted from Obi-Wan's influence. Vader's booted feet angrily scraped the floor at the thought. The old Jedi was dead, but his damage lived on.

Han, come back to me, he thought, cursing the fact that his son wasn't Force-sensitive and thus couldn't hear his message. The adult Han was haunting his mind. He now wore filthy clothes, his hair was a mess, he carried a blaster by his side, how could his little boy have grown into such a person?

But then again, his hair wasn't very neat when he was a child either. Vader remembered always struggling to pull tangles out of it, which usually resulted in the boy crying. Of course, that was always followed by enough kisses and cuddles to brighten his mood, and by then the tangles were usually forgotten.

He was a pilot now. His childhood dream fulfilled. So why did Vader sense so much unhappiness coming off of him? The Sith Lord shook his head, realizing that he already knew the answer to that. Han was just like his father - he had a dream when he was young only to be miserable when the dream came true.

Several TIE fighters were already launching to counter the attackers, which unexpectedly made Vader shudder. The largest and easiest target by far was the ship Han was flying - and its pilot meant nothing to any of the Imperial soldiers. They would shoot him down without any thought.

"I'm going to help the fighters," he told the nearest stormtroopers. "Cover me." Without waiting for their response, he headed for the flight deck.

- - - - - - - - - -

Luke was in the trench.

Han didn't completely understand everything the general said during that meeting, but he at least knew that the trench was long, narrow, and dangerous, with a target only two meters wide. Even if the kid did manage to hit his mark, would he be able to get out in time? Han tried not to think about that as he carefully flew the Falcon above the trench, ready to protect Luke from any adversaries.

Not that he knew exactly how he would protect him.

"Luke," he heard one of the other pilots say, "you've switched off your targeting computer. Are you all right?"

"What??" Han exclaimed.

"I'm fine," Luke replied calmly.

Han pressed his mouthpiece as close to his lips as it could get without going in his mouth. "What the hell do you think you're doin', kid??"

"Trust me, Han." Luke sounded as airy and overconfident as Obi-Wan had. "I know what I'm doing."

Han thumped on the control panel in frustration. He had vague memories of his father using that same tone...particularly when he said in complete confidence that his mother wasn't going to die, that he was going to save her and Han from a horrible fate

That was why he hated the Force.

"Kid, have you lost your mind?" he persisted.

"No..." Luke said dreamily. "...I've found it."

"What the hell are you talkin' about??" Han shouted, though he already figured that Luke wouldn't listen to him no matter what he said.

"Trust me, Han," Luke repeated. "Don't worry about me."

Han muttered a swear word that he hoped wouldn't be picked up by his mouthpiece.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Vader flew his TIE fighter directly below Han's ship, where the pilot couldn't see him. This put him in a good position to pursue the leading X-Wing heading for the thermal exhaust port. A blast at the exhaust port could be hazardous to the station, but Vader sensed that the X-Wing's pilot was inexperienced with both flying and fighting.

The boy who was with his son earlier...

There was still that familiar air in his Force signature, but once again Vader couldn't place it. Moreover, closer inspection of the boy's Force signature revealed something very interesting.

He was Force-sensitive.

Vader suddenly felt a slight apprehension. Even inexperienced, a Force-sensitive fighter might have a better chance of hitting his mark. Perhaps he could even...no, no, that was ridiculous. Force-sensitive or not, he was still a boy, not a serious threat.

The Sith Lord fired at the boy's ship, but he skillfully maneuvered his ship out of the way - the blast only hit the R2 unit sticking out of the back, which gave Vader an odd sense of satisfaction. He remembered all too well that he once had an R2 droid much like that one - but just like everything else in his old life, that droid vanished. It felt good to destroy something that reminded him of everything lost.

Suddenly, a blast hit the TIE fighter next to him, destroying it, slightly startling Vader. In his musings he'd forgotten to pay attention to the fight. He looked up to see that Han had fired that shot, sensing triumph and exhilaration coming from his son. His artificial hands gripped the controls tighter, firing rapidly at the boy in order to resist the urge to fire at Han.

But Han fired again, this time striking the TIE fighter on Vader's other side. That fighter spun out of control, ramming into Vader's fighter before crashing into the wall of the trench, which in turn sent Vader's own fighter spinning out of control. The Sith Lord fumbled with the controls, but all he managed to accomplish was steering up out of the trench, still spinning and tumbling with what felt like endless momentum.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

"You're all clear, kid. Now let's blow this thing and go home."

Han beamed as Luke fired the critical shot, hitting his target. The grin on his face felt like it couldn't be eliminated even if it stretched his muscles to the point of tearing. The sight of Luke's X-Wing pulling up out of danger just before the station exploded in a blinding blast seemed like the most beautiful thing Han had ever seen.

"Great shot, kid!" he exclaimed into his mouthpiece. "That was one in a million!"

He heard Luke give a long, loud sigh of relief. "Thanks for covering my back, Han. I couldn't have done it without you."