Han had gotten used to the lack of adventure in his life, the lack of thrills and excitement, it had become an accepted thing for him now, to just patrol uneventful borders and scan the galaxy's edges for nothing but dust and stray matter. He'd been doing it for nearly seven years now, and with Jacen off at the academy most of the time, it was the best distraction he could find.
Being an admiral wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Han had always thought of the job as for those who couldn't fight face to face, those who had to tell others to do the simplest tasks because they couldn't be bothered to complete them themselves. After the Battle of Yavin he'd gotten some perspective, even admired a few of the commanders he'd had a chance to meet with since his "heroics" at the Death Star, and was glad to work closely with most when he was named a General in the New Republic fleet.
But these were wartime Admirals, men of logic, tactics, and honor, things that Han had never considered himself in great possession of. The difference between what those men had been, and what Han had become was as gargantuan as the distance from the Core to Tatooine. They had fought and won battles many times over, this was something to be put on a pedestal and trumpeted across the free worlds. These were the kind of men that Han would have thought the closest to nobles, the kind of men he now found himself seeing for the opposite side of the spectrum. The aspect of the lonely, the useless, the pathetic men who hold the title because of popularity of the people rather than their deeds for the New Republic.
This was how it was, this was something that had been for so long that Han had gotten over feeling sorry for himself, and hating what he had become, he'd just stomached his position and set his eyes to the future, where all he saw was growing old, growing into that old man he's always new he'd be eventually. Only the old man he saw now was small and withering, unhappy and dying with every breath.
He'd come to terms with this all so long ago. He saw himself as mature and accepting in that he wasn't going to fight what he thought as the inevitable. The truth that he wouldn't let himself think about was that he was giving up, and he had been for a long time. He'd started losing his determination when Bria died, robbing his son of the chance to know truly know his father just as fate had robbed the boy of knowing his mother. When he lost Leia, he simply gave up completely.
He hadn't truly lost Leia, though, and she hadn't left him either. It was the masquerade that had separated them, it was fear and guilt and responsibility to things neither of them could control. It was both there faults, and the fact that neither of them would risk so much for something they couldn't see the truth in, though they ended up risking happiness nonetheless.
Han blamed Leia outwardly, there wasn't anywhere else he could direct his anger if he didn't. It was himself who he despised in truth, and it was her he was angry about. His twisted logic allowed him to think that because she caused his to hate what he was, then maybe she deserved his anger, maybe he was right in hating her. This wasn't true, but it didn't have to be.
Anger and hate and guilt, those were all the reasons that he was who and what he was now. He was a father to a son he loved but hadn't allowed himself to be sincerely close to; he was an admiral who hadn't fought with his men in years and couldn't remember their names; he was a widow of twelve years who couldn't let go of his wife's memory even if it meant his and his son's happiness; he was already a stubborn old man who wouldn't let the past rest so he could begin a future.
That was why he'd lost his adventure: himself. Life had become one big distraction because of him, something to do so he wouldn't have to think about why he was where he was, or why he didn't want to think about it in the first place.
He knew now why he'd been avoiding his own thoughts for so long: they were all too painful and too truthful to take. If he thought about these things, then he'd know, then he'd be responsible to live with all the things he'd been shutting out for so long. Ignorance was bliss, and he wanted to remain in whatever state of assumed bliss he could manage.
The last eight hours had not afforded him that luxury.
After the jump, he and Leia found themselves falling towards the end of the waterfall, where it met with the horizontal surface of the water hole below. Once they made contact with the water and floated to the surface, they had had to move quickly to evade the guards which were no doubt coming around to meet them. The two diplomats found a cave behind the waterfall and several meters above the ground which gave them shelter though not much else.
They had to stay put, if they moved, the guards could track them by their footprints. All they could do was wait till the dispatched left, though they had no idea how long that was going to be.
That had been eight hours earlier, and with Leia off on her side of the damp cave, and Han unwilling to disturb her, he found himself with nothing to distract himself, nothing to shield him from his own thoughts.
Though the comforting thing was that now that he'd gone through his whole repertoire of enclosed thoughts, he now found a certain sense of peace, an inkling of closure. He could feel a tiny epiphany hiding in his head but waiting to present itself, and he was almost sure he had the patience to wait for it.
"They're leaving," Leia wispered, interrupting Han's musings.
Han looked up from his hands, his neck feeling a bit sore from holding his head in the same position for extended amounts of time, "Good."
He stretched his neck for a moment, his hand pulling on his shoulder, trying to loosen the knots that were popping up along his muscles. It was refreshing to think that they'd been out of the dank little outcropping in a few minutes after having breathed it's moist air for so long.
It occurred to Han that they still didn't have much of an idea as to who was after them, and though there was a lot of pieces in Han's head, he couldn't put them together right. The holonet report had said that there was no ransom, which meant that he and Leia would most likely be killed, but the minions who were sent after them had their blasters set on stun, meaning they didn't want to permanently harm them, so there had to be some reason to keep them alive.
"Leia?" Han asked as they climbed along the rocks and out from behind the gushed of water, making their way toward the grassy forest floor.
"Yes?" she said back to him as she hopped from the small ledge onto the ground.
"Can you contact Luke," He continued, "through the Force, I mean."
"Yes, it would take a bit of effort, but once we're somewhere where we can rest I was goi to give it a–"
"Don't," Han interrupted, "whatever you do, don't contact him."
"What? Why?" Leia asked, a little confused.
"Because he's the reason we're still alive," Han replied, "if you were dead, he'd feel it, right?"
Leia nodded.
"And he wouldn't come looking for us if he felt you go, cause he'd assume we were both gone," Han recommenced, "and these guys, whoever they are, they were after him too, and we're the bait until they catch him."
"And then we're all dead," Leia finished for him.
"That's the idea," Han replied.
"I think these guys are the ones who think that Luke and I are going to turn the New Republic into the Empire," Leia added, "They've been threatening me with stuff like this for ages, I never thought they'd go through with it." She put her hands on her face and rubbed her forehead a little, minding the cut which was still healing there.
"It seems to me like they were serious," Han said, leaning up against the rock wall to his side. "Alright, so we can't let Luke no where we are, otherwise he'll come, and there's no guarantee that he'd ever leave. So no Luke, and no Jedi, no kids, and no husbands, cause they'd all talk."
"What exactly does that leave us?" Leia asked.
"Chewie," Han replied, scanning the ground in front of him for a rock, then picking up a good sized one when his eyes fell on it.
"Chewie? I'd have about as much luck in contacting his through the Force as [i]you[/i] would," Leia said, almost laughing.
"Not the Force," Han replied, dusting off his stone.
"Then what are we supposed to use?" Leia asked.
"Grab a rock," Han said, walking past her and toward the direction the guards had gone.
"Did you hit your head?" Leia asked, though she still bent to pit up a rock and follow him.
"Just follow me," Han replied.
Leia picked up her rock and headed to catch up with him. "I'm afraid to."
Being an admiral wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Han had always thought of the job as for those who couldn't fight face to face, those who had to tell others to do the simplest tasks because they couldn't be bothered to complete them themselves. After the Battle of Yavin he'd gotten some perspective, even admired a few of the commanders he'd had a chance to meet with since his "heroics" at the Death Star, and was glad to work closely with most when he was named a General in the New Republic fleet.
But these were wartime Admirals, men of logic, tactics, and honor, things that Han had never considered himself in great possession of. The difference between what those men had been, and what Han had become was as gargantuan as the distance from the Core to Tatooine. They had fought and won battles many times over, this was something to be put on a pedestal and trumpeted across the free worlds. These were the kind of men that Han would have thought the closest to nobles, the kind of men he now found himself seeing for the opposite side of the spectrum. The aspect of the lonely, the useless, the pathetic men who hold the title because of popularity of the people rather than their deeds for the New Republic.
This was how it was, this was something that had been for so long that Han had gotten over feeling sorry for himself, and hating what he had become, he'd just stomached his position and set his eyes to the future, where all he saw was growing old, growing into that old man he's always new he'd be eventually. Only the old man he saw now was small and withering, unhappy and dying with every breath.
He'd come to terms with this all so long ago. He saw himself as mature and accepting in that he wasn't going to fight what he thought as the inevitable. The truth that he wouldn't let himself think about was that he was giving up, and he had been for a long time. He'd started losing his determination when Bria died, robbing his son of the chance to know truly know his father just as fate had robbed the boy of knowing his mother. When he lost Leia, he simply gave up completely.
He hadn't truly lost Leia, though, and she hadn't left him either. It was the masquerade that had separated them, it was fear and guilt and responsibility to things neither of them could control. It was both there faults, and the fact that neither of them would risk so much for something they couldn't see the truth in, though they ended up risking happiness nonetheless.
Han blamed Leia outwardly, there wasn't anywhere else he could direct his anger if he didn't. It was himself who he despised in truth, and it was her he was angry about. His twisted logic allowed him to think that because she caused his to hate what he was, then maybe she deserved his anger, maybe he was right in hating her. This wasn't true, but it didn't have to be.
Anger and hate and guilt, those were all the reasons that he was who and what he was now. He was a father to a son he loved but hadn't allowed himself to be sincerely close to; he was an admiral who hadn't fought with his men in years and couldn't remember their names; he was a widow of twelve years who couldn't let go of his wife's memory even if it meant his and his son's happiness; he was already a stubborn old man who wouldn't let the past rest so he could begin a future.
That was why he'd lost his adventure: himself. Life had become one big distraction because of him, something to do so he wouldn't have to think about why he was where he was, or why he didn't want to think about it in the first place.
He knew now why he'd been avoiding his own thoughts for so long: they were all too painful and too truthful to take. If he thought about these things, then he'd know, then he'd be responsible to live with all the things he'd been shutting out for so long. Ignorance was bliss, and he wanted to remain in whatever state of assumed bliss he could manage.
The last eight hours had not afforded him that luxury.
After the jump, he and Leia found themselves falling towards the end of the waterfall, where it met with the horizontal surface of the water hole below. Once they made contact with the water and floated to the surface, they had had to move quickly to evade the guards which were no doubt coming around to meet them. The two diplomats found a cave behind the waterfall and several meters above the ground which gave them shelter though not much else.
They had to stay put, if they moved, the guards could track them by their footprints. All they could do was wait till the dispatched left, though they had no idea how long that was going to be.
That had been eight hours earlier, and with Leia off on her side of the damp cave, and Han unwilling to disturb her, he found himself with nothing to distract himself, nothing to shield him from his own thoughts.
Though the comforting thing was that now that he'd gone through his whole repertoire of enclosed thoughts, he now found a certain sense of peace, an inkling of closure. He could feel a tiny epiphany hiding in his head but waiting to present itself, and he was almost sure he had the patience to wait for it.
"They're leaving," Leia wispered, interrupting Han's musings.
Han looked up from his hands, his neck feeling a bit sore from holding his head in the same position for extended amounts of time, "Good."
He stretched his neck for a moment, his hand pulling on his shoulder, trying to loosen the knots that were popping up along his muscles. It was refreshing to think that they'd been out of the dank little outcropping in a few minutes after having breathed it's moist air for so long.
It occurred to Han that they still didn't have much of an idea as to who was after them, and though there was a lot of pieces in Han's head, he couldn't put them together right. The holonet report had said that there was no ransom, which meant that he and Leia would most likely be killed, but the minions who were sent after them had their blasters set on stun, meaning they didn't want to permanently harm them, so there had to be some reason to keep them alive.
"Leia?" Han asked as they climbed along the rocks and out from behind the gushed of water, making their way toward the grassy forest floor.
"Yes?" she said back to him as she hopped from the small ledge onto the ground.
"Can you contact Luke," He continued, "through the Force, I mean."
"Yes, it would take a bit of effort, but once we're somewhere where we can rest I was goi to give it a–"
"Don't," Han interrupted, "whatever you do, don't contact him."
"What? Why?" Leia asked, a little confused.
"Because he's the reason we're still alive," Han replied, "if you were dead, he'd feel it, right?"
Leia nodded.
"And he wouldn't come looking for us if he felt you go, cause he'd assume we were both gone," Han recommenced, "and these guys, whoever they are, they were after him too, and we're the bait until they catch him."
"And then we're all dead," Leia finished for him.
"That's the idea," Han replied.
"I think these guys are the ones who think that Luke and I are going to turn the New Republic into the Empire," Leia added, "They've been threatening me with stuff like this for ages, I never thought they'd go through with it." She put her hands on her face and rubbed her forehead a little, minding the cut which was still healing there.
"It seems to me like they were serious," Han said, leaning up against the rock wall to his side. "Alright, so we can't let Luke no where we are, otherwise he'll come, and there's no guarantee that he'd ever leave. So no Luke, and no Jedi, no kids, and no husbands, cause they'd all talk."
"What exactly does that leave us?" Leia asked.
"Chewie," Han replied, scanning the ground in front of him for a rock, then picking up a good sized one when his eyes fell on it.
"Chewie? I'd have about as much luck in contacting his through the Force as [i]you[/i] would," Leia said, almost laughing.
"Not the Force," Han replied, dusting off his stone.
"Then what are we supposed to use?" Leia asked.
"Grab a rock," Han said, walking past her and toward the direction the guards had gone.
"Did you hit your head?" Leia asked, though she still bent to pit up a rock and follow him.
"Just follow me," Han replied.
Leia picked up her rock and headed to catch up with him. "I'm afraid to."
