Han Solo sat alone in the crowded, seedy bar on the planet of Jikyusk with a cup of strong Corellian whiskey in his hand. He probably couldn't have tucked any further into the shadows if he'd tried, but he'd give it the old academy try, anyway. Jikyusk, lodged in the extreme range of the Loitene System, was the latest of many of the Rebel Alliance's staging areas, not unlike the roles played by Hoth and Yavin. They couldn't stay on Endor after the Death Star's destruction... that would be the first place the remaining Imperial forces would come. This planet had something of a bustling native population as opposed to the deserted wildernesses of Hoth and Yavin, but the locals didn't seem to mind the added company. They were what most Rebels called Fencers; they took a politically neutral stance on the war between the Rebel Alliance and the Empire... the planet probably would have allowed Imperial troops on their soil just as nonchalantly. The native people were so well suited to their environment as to be capable of completely disappearing into the outskirt swamp lands so well that neither side could track them down. It afforded them an apathy to the conflict most systems couldn't get away with.
Han took another hit from his half-empty cup, wincing as it burned its way down his throat. A quick but fierce scuffle broke out near the entrance to the bar, drawing nothing more than a casual flicker of a glance from Han. The place reminded him of the Mos Eisley cantina on Tatooine.
Han frowned darkly to himself as he traced circles on the table top with the bottom of his cup. He hated that this place reminded him of Tatooine, which in turn reminded him of Luke. Han had been trying for three days, since he'd dropped Luke and Leia off at Mon Mothma's personal landing pad in the central city, to avoid thinking about either of his friends at all.
Unfortunately, he also wanted some time alone, and a place as unsavory as this fringe bar was the only place he could secure that. Anywhere else he would be accosted by Rebel fighters, some just to gawk and slap the shoulder of General Han Solo.
No one would think to look for a respectable hero of the Rebellion in a place like this.
Han took another swallow of whiskey, disappointed that the drink seemed to burn less on its way to his stomach. He'd have to crawl out of his hole sooner or later; people would worry. He hadn't even told Chewbacca where he was going when he decided to wedge himself into the underbelly of the planet. The Wookie might rip his arms off when he got back just to teach him a lesson about disappearing without telling his first mate where he was going.
Han had spent days to himself, trying to figure out how to handle what he knew about Luke and Leia, but he still had no idea how to put the knowledge into any perspective that sat well with him. Of all the people in the Rebellion this could have been, why did it have to be Luke and Leia? Why his friends?
He knew it shouldn't make a difference. Neither Luke nor Leia had been raised by Vader, didn't even know they were his children until the end... they were the people that others, not Vader, had raised them to be.
Han grimaced to himself. It came down to the age-old question of nature versus nurture. Han had always thought that environment played a bigger part in shaping a person than genetics, but that was before Vader was thrown into the equation. Darth Vader made it an entirely different matter.
Han would have to face them sooner or later. The Rebellion was big, but it wasn't THAT big. Besides, hiding wasn't his style.
Something moved collectively through the patrons at the bar, knocking the noise in the establishment down a notch as everyone turned to look toward the door.
Han pulled his eyes up to the entrance just as everyone else did.
A dark figure, draped in a black cape and hood, moved into the room. The obscuring clothes didn't work worth a damn; everyone recognized something powerful had come among them and inched back to give him room. Some might even recognize the bearing of the arrival as that inherent to a Jedi. Han knew it was Luke in a split-second. He didn't waste time with trying to evade being discovered... Luke probably knew Han was inside before he'd passed through the door.
Han had to turn his eyes away from the frame of his friend. The dark robe created too unsettling a resemblance, and Han was having trouble enough as it was. He locked his eyes on his glass with a resigned stare, waiting for the inevitable.
Luke made his way silently through the crowd (which had returned to their own concerns after the pause to consider Luke's arrival), stopping at the booth where Han had taken up temporary residence.
Han gave a lackluster wave with his hand, not bringing his eyes up to look at Luke.
Luke's voice was calm and measured as it ever was, as it never used to be before he was a Jedi, "There are a lot of worried people looking for you."
Han shrugged and offered in a flat, flippant tone, "The burden of being a celebrity."
Luke stood there a moment then quietly slid into the seat across the table from Han. He pushed back the hood of his robe then laid his hands on the table before him, looking like he was settling in for a good long while.
Han finally brought his eyes up to him, conflicted inside when he looked at his old friend. How many times had they saved each other's skins to come down to this... uncertainty and even, yes, fear?
"How's Leia?" Han found himself asking in genuine curiosity.
Luke answered slowly, "Busy. Still adjusting... and worried about you."
Han didn't have anything to say in his defense so he didn't even make the effort.
Luke looked around the bar a moment, taking it in in a fleeting glance. "Charming place you found." If he saw any resemblance to Mos Eisley he didn't mention it.
Han snorted, "Yeah, my kind of scum."
Luke looked back at Han, taking in his mood and demeanor.
"Why don't you ask me?" Luke asked.
Han looked up, confused. "What?" he queried, disturbed by the thought Luke had responded to something Han might have only been thinking to himself.
Luke clarified, "You must have questions, answers you're desperate to find. If having them will help, if I know the answer... if anything I can do will help..."
"You know," Han commented almost to himself, "it's funny because I've been sitting here a long time, been thinking on this for days, and Leia was right. She said I didn't want to know what was on her mind, and I can't tell you how right she was."
Luke's mouth tugged down in a frown.
"So," Han slumped back in the booth seat, "I guess you're here to take me back."
Luke shook his head, "No. I don't want to push you, and quite frankly, if you're not ready to handle this maturely then Leia and I don't need you around. We're both having to deal with this, and it's hard enough without our best friend watching us like we've turned into plasma bombs."
Han wanted to refute the harsh judgment but stopped when he realized that was pretty accurate of how Luke and Leia had come to seem to him. And a lie wouldn't work on Luke.
Han watched Luke and before him the collected Jedi seemed to crumble bit by bit, subtly such that no one else who didn't personally know Luke would notice. Han pulled back from his self-important moping when looking at Luke showed Han for the first time how difficult this had been on Skywalker.
"I don't want to think like that," Han finally confessed, leaning fractionally closer (but not too close), "if there's anything you can say that makes it any better I'm all ears."
Luke hesitated before saying, "I told Leia... but I don't think anything I explained to her would help you."
Han leaned back again, dejected.
Luke offered, "Let's go somewhere and talk. We both have to face this, and... Leia misses you."
Han felt his throat tighten and he fought to swallow.
Luke put in matter-of-factly, "You know that she had us tell you in the first place because she loves you."
Han couldn't find words for a long time, torn inside, then nodded, "All right, Luke, let's talk."
Luke and Han together slid out of the dingy booth and headed for the exit in search of some place to talk that might offer them privacy.
Dusk on Jikyusk found Han Solo and Luke Skywalker on the rooftop of an abandoned building. The sky had turned shades of topaz and teal as the sun began to sink behind the horizon, the swamp land animals of the night beginning to stir and fill the air with their strange, exotic songs.
Han Solo was pacing the perimeter of the front edge of the building quietly, picking up pebbles at his feet and casting them out into the approaching darkness. He half expected the kid to say something to him about throwing stones, that he might injure someone on the street, but Luke hadn't said a word about it.
In fact, he hadn't said a word about anything. Luke had found their current little corner of the universe then stood back passively, patiently, while Han ran through nervous energy.
He picked up another stone and tossed it over the edge of the building, stopping in his pacing and heaving a sigh.
Luke apparently took Han's stationary position as some form of cue and stepped forward from his motionless stance and ventured, "So... is this it?"
Han knew exactly what Luke was talking about... for all he knew the Jedi might have pulled the question from the smuggler's own mind. Did they part ways after this? Would Han drop his cargo and run at the first sight of trouble?
Han thought of Leia. Of every stolen kiss, ever fiery look in her eyes, every heated argument and electric touch. Every moment she'd said 'I love you' and every time he'd had the courage to say it back.
Han Solo didn't run anymore. The old Han that had worked for low-lifes like Hutts would have cut his losses and fled, but the Han of the Rebel Alliance didn't tuck tail and run. He met his problems with a fully charged blaster.
Trouble was that the 'problem' this time wasn't a squad of nasty stormtroopers but the best friends he had outside of Chewbacca... and that with the children of Darth Vader his blaster was probably less than useless.
"This ain't over, Luke," Han resolutely said, then his voice lost its confidence, "I just don't know where it goes from here. You got any insight on that?" he finally looked over at Luke standing beside him. Luke's arms were folded into his dark robe, the hood dropped around his shoulders so the wind could tousle his blond hair. It had lost some of it more golden hues so many years out of the desert suns of Tatooine.
Luke's eyes had glazed over and his eyelids partway fell. When his vision came back to the physical world before him he shook his head, "That depends on you."
'Yeah, lay it all on me,' Han thought, and Luke's lips twitched in a smirk.
Han frowned, moments away from jumping into another friendly mock-fight like he'd engaged in with Luke often, but the shadow of Darth Vader was looming too heavily to allow for humor and banter.
Luke took in a slow breath and the air around them seemed to pause in waiting for him. "We're not our father, Han."
Han hooked his thumbs into his belt when his hands had the urge to anxiously fidget. He scuffed the adobe-like surface of the roof under his feet with his boot. "Yeah... I know that. You'd be surprised how little that helps."
"Probably not so much as you'd think."
Han glanced over at Luke, both at his statement and at the low, melancholy tone in his voice. Luke turned his blue eyes over to Han, meeting his friend's gaze directly and with more longevity than the Corellian had been able to tolerate since he found out.
Han asked, "When did you find out?"
Luke cast his eyes slowly out over the quickly darkening cityscape, considering his response before replying, "When I came to Bespin to help you and Leia. It was during my first saber-fight with Vader; he told me the truth right after he cut off my hand."
Han listened in grim fascination, then the wheels began to spin in his mind. It was like pegs laboriously falling into place. He'd been freed of the carbonite to find a very different, much more somber and self-mastered Luke Skywalker had replaced the wide-eyed youth Solo had known before. Han had chalked it up the the Rebellion, the kid finally getting a dose of life and reality under his belt to sober him, but Han realized now that in that time Luke had come to accept he was the son of Darth Vader. Luke had accepted the identity of his father, and that he would still have to face him in battle.
'No wonder the kid grew up so much so fast,' Han mused to himself, hoping Luke hadn't been paying attention to his thoughts at that moment. Luke wouldn't want pity and Han wasn't one much for handing it out.
Luke pulled free from the folds of his robe his right hand. He held the black-gloved hand before him, staring down at his palm in silence. He curled his fingers into a fist then unfurled them again, the soft sound of mechanical gears emitting almost imperceptibly from the appendage.
Han was watching him without realizing it when Luke said in a soft voice, "I wonder if it started like this for him. The machine replacing flesh until..." Luke's voice trailed off. He lowered his hand to his side again, quietly tucking it back into the protection of his robe.
Han found himself reminding Luke, "You're not him, kid, you said it yourself."
Luke's lips tightened fractionally, "No... but I can't know that that won't be what someday becomes of me. The Dark Side is strong. Once," Luke's face seemed to retreat behind a mask, "I thought I might fall. It's not over; I still could go to the Dark Side, it's a possibility, and I have to just accept that. But that is the life-long battle every Jedi takes on when they embrace the Jedi way of life. Until death it is our test, our cross."
"Luke, you're scaring me."
"It scares me, too," Luke said in return, cadence to his voice heavy and resigned. Luke seemed to gather strength in a single breath, deflated frame filling as he looked toward Han and said, "but I don't know any other way to be. I was born for this; I was meant to be a Jedi. I don't know if it makes sense but this was my path even before I chose it. I can't explain how, but I know."
"What about Leia?" Han asked with trepidation.
Luke grew pensive again, for a second his gaze flickering into an unseen distance before he said, "Leia has to choose her own path, but for people like us there is one already laid... it depends of whether or not she decides to walk it."
"She doesn't have to be a Jedi?" Han asked, surprised he was hopeful the answer would be no. He'd wanted to forge a future with Leia, maybe marry her some day if she'd allow herself to be caught and wrangled down, but somehow the image of his wife a Jedi Knight threw Han's plans into chaos. He didn't want that for Leia, he discovered. He'd seen how much grief it had caused Luke and he didn't want to see Leia go through that as well. One of his friends was enough to give to the 'Knighthood'.
Luke dropped his eyes sagely, words cold like the rising wind as he answered, "I don't foresee there being much of a choice for her."
"Why not?" Han's voice was tinged with indignation.
Luke was clearly disheartened as he said, "I'm the last Jedi. Obi-Wan and Yoda have died, Anakin is gone... there's only me. That makes Leia important... more important than she knows she is."
Luke brushed his fingers thoughtfully over the hilt of the lightsaber clipped to his belt, continuing, "I told you that the lure of the Dark Side will always be a temptation I will struggle against. If I fall to Dark Side as it is now there is nothing to protect the galaxy from me." Luke cast a slow look at Han, almost as though to convey he was sorry as he said, "Leia must be trained so there is someone else. She has to have the training and knowledge to stop me."
Han mused aloud, "It means she has to become a Jedi."
Luke nodded.
Han looked out at the dark city, windows glowing with warm light while the stars overhead began to glitter in the spreading black canvas of night.
Luke turned to Han, facing him more directly than he had all night and said, "I can't change any of this, Han. Leia's destiny, what could happen to me, who our father was... it's set and there's nothing anybody can do about that."
Han frowned heavily and unhappily when he admitted to himself that Luke was right.
The young Skywalker pressed more gently, "But it would help if we didn't have to lose our best friends."
Han knew that it had come down to his moment of decision. Could he handle friendship with Luke and Leia knowing what he did? Knowing who they were?
He thought back, unbidden, to that night on Endor. Luke returning to them the worse for wear but victorious. Han remembered with vivid clarity Leia's smile as she hugged her brother, Luke's grin to be back among friends, the sincere and heart-felt embrace he and Luke had shared by the fire and ale. Comrades, friends, brothers in arms. It had been so simple, so clean. They had won the war together, a team of underdogs who bested the odds. They had been strong, bonded... and not a thing was different on that night than it was on the rooftop of Jikyusk except Han. Han and his unfair, unwarranted, cowardly fear.
Han felt certainty infuse him, and after so long absent it felt like he became invincible. Han began aloud, "This is probably going to be pretty tough on Leia."
"It will be."
Han reached over and settled his hand on Luke's shoulder, "Then who am I to make it worse?"
Luke's face broke into a smile, for all their dark topics so innocent and bright, and Han asked himself how he could have ever looked at Luke differently. Under the guise of the Jedi Master was still the tow-headed farm boy that Han had taken on his first wild and crazy adventure in the galaxy. And Leia, insufferable, difficult, stubborn, beautiful Leia Organa. He was anxious to see her face again... if she would still have him.
Luke, as though reading his thoughts, angled Han toward the stairs to the bottom level of the building and said, "Leia will be happy to see you."
Han chuckled to himself uneasily. He wouldn't be surprised if Leia chewed him out for acting childish and giving her more trouble than he was worth when he saw her again. He might have a string of unpleasant, trying days ahead of him making up for his behavior with Leia. All he said of these concerns was, "I hope you're right."
"I am," Luke said, flashing a more subdued, slightly enigmatic, but still reassuring smile at his friend and added, "Trust me."