After two days, Ohnaka handed them the blueprints, insisted he wouldn't call them for more than the tiniest favour, and ushered them off into the stars again. Han liked him. He knew what he was doing, for once in this damn place.

Han, though, had no idea what he was doing. He questioned everything, constantly, but this was an all new low. He'd lived his entire life fighting off the galaxy's scum, and then Luke, out of nowhere, mentioned all the work he could be doing, all the knowledge he could be acquiring, and suddenly everything was upside down. Him, Force-sensitive? In their collective dreams, maybe. But, he always knew who to trust, who to confront without dying, who to back down from.

What the hell kind of chain had that farmboy started?

Han sat, but found himself unable to keep still. The ship's pilot needed a steady hand, and Chewie chided him for being careless, but he couldn't focus. Was it true? The old wizard had said the Force ran through all of them, but Han had been on his own until Chewie. He'd never felt a shared connection, not like the Jedi, with their bonds and their spirituality and their meditation.

Luke stared over his shoulder, out through the viewport. "You might make us all sick, flying like that."

He gave a tight smile. "That's not how artificial gravity works, Luke."

"All the same." Luke sighed. "Did I upset you earlier? Suggesting you should train with us? You're a valued member of this team, y'know, and-"

"It's alright, I'm alright. It takes a lot more than that to hurt my pride, kid. I know I'm not the strongest here, but I've got skills you don't. We've all got something different to put on the table."

"If you do have the Force, you've got better foresight than the rest of us, let me tell you. You do have something to offer, if you ever doubt that. We need you here. How else would we fly around so fast, anyway?"

It was oddly comforting to hear that. What had been squirming in his stomach settled, just slightly, and Han tried his best to project gratitude, not that he knew how in the nine hells to do that. "Thanks," he added, just to be sure. For good measure.

"Nothing to thank me for," Luke said. "It's the truth."

Base was hectic, but Han was tired. Dazed. They didn't register. Nothing registered.

Anakin eyed him with cautious understanding, and came to his side. "You alright, there, Han?"

"D'you think there's a chance I'm not completely Force-blind after all?"

Anakin blinked. "Sure. Sure, why not?"

"Real substantial answer."

"Sorry." A shrug. "It just doesn't work like that, y'know? It's up to you to unlock your potential in the Force; as much as we say that, it's true."

"You're saying only I know?" Han rubbed a hand across his forehead. "How do I know if I don't know what I'm looking for?"

"Just keep trying," said Anakin. "If it doesn't work out," and here, he was Vader for a brief moment, but calmly amused, "you still have your uses, Solo."

"What a pleasure to know."

Tano looked as if she hadn't slept in seventy-two hours, and something told him she felt like it, too, from the exhausted look on her face. Luke and Leia were gathered round her, huddling to listen, but even they were losing focus.

"I'm almost positive Marek knows something about the Second Death Star," Tano said, massaging her temples. "Now, we just need to get him to talk. Or at least confirm he has something to talk about."

"He's not exactly willing," Leia said. "You don't mean to-"

"Hurt him? No, not even if it would be fair pay for Luke's hand. But I do need him to tell me what he knows. This could save millions of lives."

"So tell him."

"Palpatine bred the conscience out of him, Leia."

"Did he?" Leia raised an eyebrow. "He stopped on Bespin. We managed to apprehend him only because he was hesitant."

"We made him question his loyalties, maybe," Tano allowed. "But change his nature? The Emperor made him an assassin. He shouldn't care about casualties."

Anakin shook his head. "No, that in itself is too unreliable. You could've said the same about me, once."

"You still had good in you," Tano snapped. "Marek isn't the original. Which means nothing, of course." She waved a hand. "I know clones, we all do. But he isn't one of the Fetts. Palpatine made him for one purpose and one purpose only."

"The Clone Troopers were made for that purpose, too, y'know."

She frowned. "But they weren't made to be soulless. Not until Palpatine decided to break them, anyway. Marek's clone, he's bound to be missing a few pieces of the puzzle. Pieces the Emperor had specifically selected for removal."

"I think you'll find he missed a spot," Anakin said, slow. "He always does."

Leia took the first interrogation shift. Marek took one look at the door, heard her footsteps, and knew she was a Skywalker, backing away like a kicked dog, hands raised.

"I didn't sign up for this," he said.

Leia had a chance to come into view, then, and raised a disapproving eyebrow. "You didn't sign up for anything."

"Exactly!"

"Except killing my family." She hummed. "Excuse me, trying to kill my family."

"What do you want?"

"Information. On the Second Death Star. Don't ask how we know. You know how well the Empire keeps secrets."

Marek opened his mouth to retort, said nothing, and then closed it.

"As I was saying," Leia continued, as if nothing had happened, "the Second Death Star. What do you know about it?"

"That the Emperor was building it? He doesn't trust me like he trusted- him. And he didn't."

"Do you know why?"

"You can figure that out for yourself," Marek spat, and sneered. Leia looked at him as if he were dirt, and Han was frankly impressed with the stern aura she projected. Marek was the rebellious type, and they rarely took orders well. Except from those they respected. "Fine. He intends to destroy all planets with known Rebel bases."

"All of them?"

"If it takes him time, energy, resources, he doesn't care. He only cares about eliminating the threats from the equation."

"Those threats being us."

"And all who sympathise with you."

Leia had her father's snarl. "If he murders millions of innocents because of what we've started here-"

"He won't," said Tano. "Do you really think we're going to let him?"

"And if we can't stop him in time? It takes months to evacuate an entire planet, let alone hundreds."

"If we can't stop him, we're all going to end up dead regardless," Tano said plainly. "What's a quick death by lasercannon to slow, agonising torture?"

"Very refreshing prospects," Obi-Wan cut in, dry. "Let's try to look at this with a keener, less panicked eye, shall we? It's too late to stop the Emperor from constructing the new Death Star, but it isn't too late to sabotage his efforts."

Leia sighed. "We'll have to tear down their factories, their bases of operation, everything."

"We have numbers," Luke said. "And our fear is greater than the Empire's. We'll all be more determined, won't we?"

"They may not see it coming," Anakin allowed. "Going on the offensive so suddenly."

"The sooner, the better," Leia finished. "We mustn't allow this to happen, under any circumstance. Too many people have already lost their lives to his hand."

She would know better than anyone.

"You should train with us," Luke said, his hands folded neatly on the only hologame board in the entire floating Rebel base. It remained unused. "I think it's a good idea."

Han side-eyed him, unamused. "I can already defend myself."

"Yeah, but you can always defend yourself more."

"Luke," Han began, and then stopped. Well, the kid had a point, if he thought about it. You could never be too prepared, especially when you'd incurred the wrath of an entire galactic empire. The Galactic Empire, in fact. "Fine. What d'you intend to teach me, anyway, huh? How to, what, knock people over?"

Luke winced. "I mean, obviously you're only a little, so you can't just-" He made a vague gesture with his hands, waving them around in circles like they could actually tell him something. "Boom. Like that. But you should have some telekinetic response if we try hard enough. And you can already read people pretty well; I don't even need the Force to know that." Luke held up his fingers, like he was counting. "Oh, and you should really be honing your precognition, that could save us thousands of lives."

"Way to put it lightly, kid."

"Well, it's true. You may not have stupidly overbalanced powers in the Force like my father, but if the Order were still around, I'm sure they could've used you."

"I'm not Jedi material, believe me."

"It's a lot to take on. I know you're not really all for that kind of thing. But everyone deserves a chance to maximise what they've got." Luke hummed, in thought, and then lit up, grinning brightly. "I've got it. You can have this. You're one of us now, so it should pass to you, and work for you well enough." He held out his old lightsaber, his father's, and then raised his new one. "I've got this now, so you can have my old one. You just have to promise not to break it, since it's been in the family so long. If I ever have kids, I want them to have it." He paused a moment. "I know, that means it's kind of temporary, even if you won't have to lose it for another decade or so. Don't worry, if you like using one so much, you can make your own."

Han blinked, and looked at the half-singed hilt like it was precious. "You'd give me this?"

"Well, yeah. I'm not gonna criticise your skills with a blaster, because they're practically invaluable now we all use 'sabers, but having your own once in a while might get you out of a few... sticky situations. I mean," and Luke went a little proud, a little smug at this, "they literally cut throughanything."

"But this, this is, what'd the old man say, part of you?"

Luke winked. "But you guys are all part of me, too. I'd say that counts, wouldn't you?"

Han set a gentle hand on Luke's arm. "Thank you, Luke. I'll do it - you - proud, you bet I will."

"I know you will, Han. Don't worry."

"You have to feel it, Han. You can't just think about it."

"It won't move. I think we gotta accept that, kid."

Luke shook his head, and repositioned his flight helmet again. "No, I know you can do this. It just takes practice, is all."

Han looked at him, sighed, and looked back to the helmet. It was like aiming a blaster through the gaps between a blastdoor. Impossible.

"Don't give up like that," Luke snapped, and Han realised he could probably read every thought that flitted through his head. Comforting.

He glared at the helmet, even though he knew it would have no effect. He was just so tired of trying to pick things up with his mind, sweet gods, this was ridiculous to even consider. He didn't have what they had. Maybe he could read people, sure, but he couldn't- whatever this was. Be what they wanted him to be. He was no Jedi, though they shared a keen eye for liars and a keener eye for lie detectors.

"I'm giving up because it's impossible," Han said plainly, and Luke huffed. He wore a frown disturbingly like his father's, though he was always in control. Still, there was that small glint there, of the harsher side of the Skywalkers, the signs he was in fact Vader's son.

"It isn't." Luke crossed his arms. "If you resist the idea, then obviously you'll get nowhere. That's not how the Force works. It's about belief in yourself. That you don't have to be limited by your physical body, that the Force will allow you to do more. Just let it go."

Han had let too much go in his life, but he shrugged, and thought about the Jedi, how they centred themselves. How Luke centred himself. He'd grown so much calmer, more at peace. If Han could find any thread of serenity in this dump, maybe he'd have a chance.

"You're acting like you're under pressure."

"I am," he replied simply.

"Don't worry about it. Picture things that make you happy. Use your positive feeling to fuel your ability."

Han had positive feeling when he got a paycheck. He had positive feeling when he wasn't being hunted, when he completed a job successfully, when he and Chewie played Dejarik into the early morning. And, he supposed, when people believed in him. Like Luke, apparently.

He let go.

The helmet rose, he panicked, and then it shot into the ceiling and bounced to the ground with a loud smack.

"That was weirdly fitting for your first attempt," Luke said, teasing, but a hint of curiosity sparked in his eyes, maybe even a little pride. "What'd I tell you? Now pay up."

"Pay up? We didn't bet on this, kid."

"Practically we did," Luke said, like that was an acceptable answer.

"Fine, fine. What d'you want for it?"

Luke smiled. "Your undying gratitude?"

"You have that a thousand times over, by now. How many times have you saved my ass?"

"How many times have you saved mine? It goes both ways, you know."

He doubted it. He could charm, but Jedi were more suited to wearing false masks. They all saw right through him, probably read his fears like a flimsi, first time they met him.

"It does," Luke insisted. "Don't do that."

"Let me wallow a little, kid. It's not easy when you owe debts to people who can read your mind."

"I don't. I wouldn't, without your permission. I just get a general idea of what you're feeling." Luke tapped his foot, thoughtful. "You can probably read me better than I can read you."

He felt a poke at his side, but there was nothing there. Then, he suddenly felt his chest float with light laughter, a strange kind of joy, even though it wasn't his own. He tilted his head.

"Told you," Luke said, and now he was absolutely, doubtlessly smug.

"Is that what you're feeling right now?"

"You tell me."

"I'm pretty sure."

Luke grinned. "You feeling happy? Then you're feeling what I'm feeling. I'm glad I could help you out, Han. Everyone deserves a chance at this, especially this."

Han tried projecting appreciation, this time. He hoped it might come across a little clearer, not so fuzzy, like a blurred holo transmission. "I owe you."

Luke shook his head. "What do you owe me? Besides your undying gratitude."

There was a quick, fleeting moment, where he felt a thought flashing past at lightspeed. Still, he caught it, and reeled back in confusion. I can owe you a kiss. How about that?

He didn't want to ask where that came from. The Jedi were perhaps too kind to be around for long. He didn't get attached. It was safer that way, and there was nothing in the world Han loved more than safety - keeping his own life tethered firmly to the ground. Attachment rarely flew streamline to caution.

Instead, Han leant forward to give Luke a brief hug, a pat on the back. Luke looked at him like he'd grown two heads. "Did you just-? No, nevermind, it's none of my business. You don't owe me more than what you want to owe me. And if you don't want to owe me anything, then you don't."

"I'll repay the debt, kid."

Luke laughed a little sadly, then. "Don't go out of your way for me, Han. I'm just a farmboy from Tatooine who's gotten himself deep into something he barely understands half the time." And suddenly Han knew that he knew. He'd heard that thought, or felt it, or something. Whatever it was, it was enough. "That debt you owe me? It's better given to someone else, who deserves it. I just told you a few things, you did the rest yourself."

"Couldn't have done it without you, Luke, and you know it. Damn well you do. Or, at least, damn well you should."

"Really-"

The reckless side of himself kicked in, no matter how hard he tried to push it away. It had its uses, but now was not the time. "I could prove it to you," Han said, stupidly. "How much it means to me."

Luke blinked, and Han saw a similar kind of rash, blind feeling in his eyes as they reopened. A Skywalker kind of rashness. That beat even his own. But there was confusion, too, and alright, maybe he didn't know. Somehow, that didn't make him feel any better. "Okay, then. I'm kinda honoured you're set on this, y'know." His mouth turned down, just a little. "I'm not like my father, I don't go around trying to get an even bigger head. You really don't need to boost my ego, it's fine."

"How about I do it anyway?" he asked, and Luke gave a tentative nod.

So Han pressed a gentle kiss to his lips and pulled back in an instant. That same stupid part of him clenched his eyes shut, and he covered his face with his hands. "Sorry, kid, that was - how'd one of you word it? Uncalled for. Completely unnecessary. Shit, I don't usually do this-"

"You're just as nervous as the rest of us, aren't you?" Luke was smiling, though, small but genuine. "You sure this isn't just out of a sense of gratitude? Or going really far to pay back your debts?"

"I owe about a million to Jabba, but you don't see me going around-"

"Okay, Force, I don't need to hear that. It's enough to have lived in Hutt space for two decades, let alone-" Luke stopped, and snorted. "Point taken." He tried not to laugh, and failed. "If you owe me a debt, then I owe you at least as many."

"Then, we're even, kid?"

"Even."

He went a little sly. "Then maybe it's a reward. For being such a good teacher. Following in their footsteps."

"It's more than just that-"

"I know." Han set a hand on his shoulder. "It's the same for me. And hey, added bonus. That whole Force-sharing thing seems to be working out great for your dad and the old wizard, huh?"

Luke's eyes were warm. He felt something reach out, offer a hand. Metaphysically, but still a hand. He took it. "Maybe we can work on that next," Luke said, with an equally matched slyness.

Author's Note: So, uh, I accidentally Skysolo. I ship Skysolo to the moon and back and then all the way to the moon again. I hope you don't mind its being here? A lot of this just goes on the metaphysical, digital paper entirely unplanned.

It may be way too fluffy. That may be a welcome relief? Things are about to get very unfluffy, considering the state of the Empire.