Time had seemed to slow down. During the rescue, during those moments that they had stared down the barrels of the blasters before them and gripped each other's hands as though life itself would let them go if they were to loosen their grip on each other. And then the shadow of the /Millennium Falcon/ had covered them as cannon fire rained down in front, an X-wing following suite in it's wake.
It had been surreal for Han as he stood there, the /Falcon/ landing in front of him and his sons running out to meet him. He could still see the looks on Luke and Lando and Chewie's faces as they came toward him and Leia in the clearing.
He hadn't really woken up until nearly a week later, as he sat in the Hodan village, leaning up against a tree with Leia asleep in his lap and the warm bonfire raging several meters away as the Hodans danced around it. The New Republic had put an end to the harassment of their people by Han and Leia's captors, and they hadn't stopped celebrating since. It was then that he finally realized where he was, or rather, in a certain sense, *who*.
He'd been fighting for years, fighting time, fighting change. He wanted to live in a past which he could have, he wanted to go back and start over. He'd fought against everything that might change him because of pride and arrogance, and all he'd done was altered himself into some ridiculous old and useless man, full of nothing but anger and regret.
Fighting change only soured it. He had wanted things to stay the way they were and so he pulled away, escaping to the outskirts of the New Republic's borders, far away from what he loved, into a situation he could control, the farthest from anything he'd have to care about as he could possibly manage.
And then he was there, existing in that controlled atmosphere where there was nothing for him to risk, nothing for him to gamble his emotions on, because Han Solo didn't have them, he didn't need them or want them so they were expelled long ago. So, if this was what he wanted, where was that contentment, that little "I can live with this" feeling he had expected for so long?
He'd dwelled on the past for so many years that he hadn't seen his future crumbled into dust around him, taking his present with it with every passing breath. He'd wanted to change what he'd done so many years ago, the mistakes, the foolish actions that had gotten him onto a Star Destroyer in the middle of nowhere reading data reports on clouds of inter-stellar dust that he couldn't care less about.
Then he'd seen her again. He may have wanted to change the past, but he didn't want to face it. He'd hated her, loathed every thought of her, if only too keep from wanted to rip his own heart out because it hurt like all nine Corellian Hells. And those feelings of affection creeping up on him were not helping his cause.
With all that hate and aggression leading up to the present, it was almost laughable how quickly it all melted away.
Despite all the attempts to change the past, despite every attempt to maintain a state of stationary existence, time had brought them full circle. Ten years later he was starting over, facing the same crossroads he had before, only now he knew what one road might lead to. And it was so simple.
Time was funny like that. Allowing you the privilege of a look back at all of your failures, your stumbles and your falls, though it knows you can't go back, you can't alter what you've already done. But in that there is some hope, some little possibility which lingers in the mind as one scans the horizon and the sun sets on a time that has gone without much notice. There is a new destiny to create, a new life to live when the sun rises once again, and endless potential for that path up ahead.
It was with that epiphany that he closed his eyes, the knowledge of some small truth making his breathing a little easier:
~You can't change the past, but it's not too late for the future.~
It had been surreal for Han as he stood there, the /Falcon/ landing in front of him and his sons running out to meet him. He could still see the looks on Luke and Lando and Chewie's faces as they came toward him and Leia in the clearing.
He hadn't really woken up until nearly a week later, as he sat in the Hodan village, leaning up against a tree with Leia asleep in his lap and the warm bonfire raging several meters away as the Hodans danced around it. The New Republic had put an end to the harassment of their people by Han and Leia's captors, and they hadn't stopped celebrating since. It was then that he finally realized where he was, or rather, in a certain sense, *who*.
He'd been fighting for years, fighting time, fighting change. He wanted to live in a past which he could have, he wanted to go back and start over. He'd fought against everything that might change him because of pride and arrogance, and all he'd done was altered himself into some ridiculous old and useless man, full of nothing but anger and regret.
Fighting change only soured it. He had wanted things to stay the way they were and so he pulled away, escaping to the outskirts of the New Republic's borders, far away from what he loved, into a situation he could control, the farthest from anything he'd have to care about as he could possibly manage.
And then he was there, existing in that controlled atmosphere where there was nothing for him to risk, nothing for him to gamble his emotions on, because Han Solo didn't have them, he didn't need them or want them so they were expelled long ago. So, if this was what he wanted, where was that contentment, that little "I can live with this" feeling he had expected for so long?
He'd dwelled on the past for so many years that he hadn't seen his future crumbled into dust around him, taking his present with it with every passing breath. He'd wanted to change what he'd done so many years ago, the mistakes, the foolish actions that had gotten him onto a Star Destroyer in the middle of nowhere reading data reports on clouds of inter-stellar dust that he couldn't care less about.
Then he'd seen her again. He may have wanted to change the past, but he didn't want to face it. He'd hated her, loathed every thought of her, if only too keep from wanted to rip his own heart out because it hurt like all nine Corellian Hells. And those feelings of affection creeping up on him were not helping his cause.
With all that hate and aggression leading up to the present, it was almost laughable how quickly it all melted away.
Despite all the attempts to change the past, despite every attempt to maintain a state of stationary existence, time had brought them full circle. Ten years later he was starting over, facing the same crossroads he had before, only now he knew what one road might lead to. And it was so simple.
Time was funny like that. Allowing you the privilege of a look back at all of your failures, your stumbles and your falls, though it knows you can't go back, you can't alter what you've already done. But in that there is some hope, some little possibility which lingers in the mind as one scans the horizon and the sun sets on a time that has gone without much notice. There is a new destiny to create, a new life to live when the sun rises once again, and endless potential for that path up ahead.
It was with that epiphany that he closed his eyes, the knowledge of some small truth making his breathing a little easier:
~You can't change the past, but it's not too late for the future.~
