A Change of Plans: Chapter 8
"Get clear, Wedge! You can't do any more good back there!" Luke's voice crackled through the comm.
"Sorry."
Han glanced around to see that he was back aboard the Millennium Falcon, blasting away from Yavin and listening to the transmissions from the Rebel Squadrons on the Death Star's surface. He had his cargo of precious metals, and nothing was going to stop him from delivering them to Jabba the Hutt. Perhaps now he could get back into that slimy slug's good graces. He'd been in the hot seat since he'd had to drop that last shipment. This time, it would be smooth sailing for him and Chewie. He looked over toward his copilot's seat with a grin, only to find it empty.
That was right. He'd left Chewie back on Yavin to help these stupid Rebels out in their pointless attack. He'd tried to convince him that it was never going to work. He'd tried to get Chewie to come with him, knowing only too well that the jungle moon was about to suffer the same fate as Alderaan. Stolen plans or no stolen plans, snub-fighters didn't stand a chance against that monstrosity. Hell, he'd been on board that thing along with the others. Why couldn't they see what he could?
Instead, they had refused to open their eyes to the futility of this whole attack, and he had left.
"Hurry, Luke, they're coming in much faster this time. I can't hold them!"
"Artoo, try and increase the power!" Luke's voice sounded panicked.
Han shook his head. "Well, I'd be panicked, too, kid! You're about to be shot down by Imps!"
"Hurry up, Luke!"
Han couldn't see what was going on down there, but he had a pretty good idea.
"Wait!"
Static filled the headset where that other voice had once been. Sounded like Luke was the only one left. Poor kid, he didn't stand a chance.
"His computer's off. Luke, you switched off your targeting computer. What's wrong?"
Now what was the crazy kid up to?
"Nothing. I'm all right."
Han shuddered against the knowledge that this was a suicide mission. The kid was about to get himself killed, and everyone on that moon was going to go down with him.
"I've lost Artoo!"
Han shut his eyes, every fiber of his body suddenly aching with loss, as he knew that they were all as good as dead. Pain filled him, and he knew he couldn't let this happen! This wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to let this happen! He had to do something!
Opening his eyes, he seized the controls, preparing to go back into the fray. He had to save them before it was too late. Luke. Chewie. Leia. They were all going to die unless he rescued them. Glancing at the control panel in horror, he realized that it was completely frozen. The ship was headed out into space, and he couldn't turn around. He reached for the intercom, trying to shut if off so he wouldn't have to hear the inevitable. It, too, refused to budge.
A scream filled his ears. Luke's scream. The kid was dead.
"The Death Star has cleared the planet. The Death Star has cleared the planet."
No. This wasn't supposed to happen. The kid was too young to die!
The others!
Suddenly he was watching the control room of the rebel base. He could see Chewie wrapping his protective arms around the tiny princess, her face etched with grief and terror. She knew it was over, as did the Wookie. No, not them! Not them! He couldn't be left alone! The viewscreen showed a discharge of energy from the space station a split second before the scene in front of him disintegrated in a grisly spectacle of fire.
"NO!"
Han jerked awake, gasping for breath as he tried desperately to orient himself to time and location while shaking off the aftereffects of the dream. Looking about, he realized he had fallen asleep in the cockpit of the Falcon. Blinking his eyes, he rubbed a hand across his face and was not surprised to find it drenched in a cold sweat. Nightmares were certainly not his thing, and this had been a horrible one. As he sat, trying to get his heartbeat back to normal, he wondered what had caused it. After all, why rewrite history in such a way that it became a moment of tragedy instead of one of triumph? And why make him the culprit?
Was it some kind of sign? A message even?
Han shook his head and mumbled to himself, "Don't go thinkin' like Luke, now."
Running a hand through his damp hair, he rose and walked out of the cockpit. It had been over a day since he'd brought Her Worshipfulness out here, and he hadn't seen her since. Although, to be honest, he wasn't real keen on seeing her at the moment. He'd helped her back to her quarters and she had proceeded to shut the door in his face. Since then, he'd immersed himself in putting his ship back together and trying to forge some kind of working relationship with his still angry best friend. Chewie was keeping to himself much of the time, and Han was left alone to dwell on his own misfortunes.
It was no wonder he was having nightmares. His whole life was a nightmare right now. He'd managed to alienate just about everyone in the course of two days. The only person who didn't hate him to some degree at this moment was Luke. And, last he'd heard, the kid was still fighting Corellian Influenza in the medcenter.
Well, sighed Han to himself, maybe it was time for him to do some good for someone around here. After all, if he believed the whisperings he'd been picking up lately, they were heading for an evacuation of the base in a few days. Might as well try to be a help to somebody instead of the hindrance he'd somehow turned himself into lately. Throwing on a clean shirt, he headed over to the medical center to talk to the one person who knew about nightmares and was in no shape to kill him if he said the wrong thing.
*****************
Han entered the medcenter and paused before heading for Luke's room. Just what had he come down here for? He wasn't even sure of the shape Luke was in right now. Was he up to talking? Would he be whiny and cranky like he was on the Falcon? And why did he want to talk to the kid in the first place? He shook his head and leaned against the wall. When had life gotten so complicated? He pondered these things as he stared at the hallway to Luke's room. Figuring that the answers would probably make themselves known eventually-and at the most inopportune time, no doubt-he proceeded down the hall. As he neared the door, he noticed a dark-haired kid was just leaving. Pausing a moment to try to see who it was, Han grinned when the kid turned around and he was able to recognize him. Two smug Corellians in small corridor? What were the odds?
"Captain Solo," Wedge said with a smile as soon as he spotted Han. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Just checking up on my cargo," Han replied with a gesture toward Luke's room.
Wedge laughed. "Well, I've seen better, Captain."
"Hey," Han countered with a wink, "I got 'im back here in one piece, didn't I?"
"Barely," groaned the younger man. "We're gonna have to evac with one of our best pilots down, thanks to you."
"Hey, it ain't my fault your guys never did their job in makin' sure this kid got all his shots." He paused. "So they're really going to evacuate the base?"
Wedge nodded. "That's the word. The shield generator has gone faulty since the crash, and we don't know how long it will keep running. Blue squad picked up a fleet of Imps moving just outside the system, so it doesn't look good. With the generator acting up like it is, who knows what kinds of signals the Imps are picking up."
Han frowned. "Doesn't sound good at all."
"I'd say we'll be out of here in three days."
The older Corellian whistled in amazement. "That soon, huh?"
Wedge nodded again. "Expect a scramble once it's announced."
"And the kid?" asked Han, indicating Luke once more.
"He's out for a week, at best," replied Wedge.
"A week?" Han couldn't believe that. "You're joking."
Shaking his head, Wedge explained, "This is Corellian Influenza we're dealin' with here. And Corellian diseases are like Corellian drinks: they knock you off your feet for a while."
"He's no better at all?"
"Well, he's a lot better than he was when you first brought him in here, that's for sure," Wedge agreed. "But, then again, he was just this side of death when you brought him in, too."
"He was still alive, though, and that's what matters," Han retorted.
"Yeah, but we're still short a pilot," Wedge countered with a laugh. "Not unless you want to fill in for him."
"In one of those X-wings of yours?" Han snorted. "Not on your life."
"Too comfy with your ship, eh, Captain?"
Han grinned. "Nah, I just don't trust one of yours."
Laughing, Wedge clapped him on the back. "Well, see you around, Captain."
Han nodded and headed for the door to Luke's room.
He entered to find Luke resting limply on the bed, grumbling some form of complaint as a 4-1B droid took blood samples from his arm. Han grimaced as he noted that the kid certainly didn't look any better than he had the last time he'd been by. In fact, he looked slightly thinner and paler than he had the other day. The blue eyes that frowned up at the droid were dull and lifeless. The only thing that reassured him was the distinct whine that accompanied Luke's scratchy voice.
"Ow. Is this really necessary?" the kid complained to the droid.
"Yes, sir," the droid calmly replied, continuing its task.
"Ugh," Luke groaned. "This whole situation is bad enough without you jabbing me with a needle every few hours."
"Sir," the droid spoke, "we need to constantly monitor your white cell count, your enzymes, and . . .."
"Yeah, I know," interrupted Luke weakly.
"Not happy with the room service here, kid?" Han broke in.
Luke turned his head toward Han's voice. A thin smile formed on his lips at his friend's humor.
"I'm not sure I should criticize while he holds a needle in my arm," Luke replied.
The droid lifted its metallic face toward the two men. "Wise decision, sir."
Han stared dumbly at the droid for a moment, then laughed. "Since when did they program these things with a sense of humor?"
Luke gave a wry grin. "Sadistic streak is more like it."
"I am finished, sir," the 4-1B commented as it turned away and bustled out of the room with the blood samples.
"Thank the Force," Luke sighed. He leaned back on the pillows, pulling his right arm back under the covers with a slight shiver.
"Cold, kid?" Han asked with concern. The figure in the bed before him seemed fragile and almost translucent in his pallor. Hardly the energetic farm boy who'd run headlong into a prison corridor to rescue a princess.
"Not bad," the kid replied with a slight shake of his head.
Han studied him for a moment, noting that he still seemed to be trembling slightly and hugging his arms to his chest beneath the blankets that covered him. Reaching toward the foot of the bed, Han snatched the folded blanket that rested there and draped it over Luke's shivering form. Luke half-smiled, an expression that conveyed both gratefulness and embarrassment.
"Just in case," Han remarked lightly, his voice sounding more carefree than he felt at the moment as he sat at the foot of the bed.
"Thanks," Luke whispered. He lay quietly for a moment before he added, "I guess you were right."
Han was puzzled. "About what?"
"About me being sick," answered the kid with a weak smile. "I am."
Han smiled at his slight joke. "You can say that again." He placed a hand on Luke's shoulder. "But couldn't you have come down with something a little less dramatic than Corellian Influenza?"
"Leia joked that she was worried I'd come back from the trip with some of your worse Corellian traits," Luke replied. "They don't get much worse than this."
"Boy, you said it, kid," Han remarked with a shake of his head, glancing down at the hand that rested on the kid's shoulder. Even through the blankets, it was too thin. "They feedin' you much in here?"
Luke grimaced. "IV drips, mostly. The fever is still coming and going, and I'm having a hard time getting anything down and keeping it there." He took a deep breath, as his voice was getting noticeably weaker. "But they're pumping me with enough stuff to keep me going."
Han nodded mutely. The kid was in bad shape, that was certain.
Luke seemed to notice Han's concern. "But at least the fevers are lessening," he explained, apparently hoping to alleviate some of Han's worry. "And the periods in between are growing."
Han rolled his eyes. Leave it to the kid to put his worry for others before himself. If anything, these last two months had shown him what a selfless person Luke truly was. And that was rare. At first, Han thought it was all an act, that this kid was too caring to be real. Once he realized that it wasn't an act, it became annoying to watch this kid put others before himself time and time again. He needed to be tougher than that to survive. How would he ever make it in this world without being just a little selfish?
"You're hopeless, kid," was all he said.
Luke started to laugh. His laugh turned to a weak cough, however, which he had to struggle to bring under control. Feeling momentarily helpless again, Han moved to try to assist him in some way, but Luke waved him off. After a few moments, he regained his voice. "So what does that make you, Han?" he asked in a whisper.
"At least I know when to put myself first," Han countered.
Luke smiled at him, a knowing glint the first sign of life in his tired blue eyes. "Well, then you haven't been doing a very good job of listening to yourself, have you?"
Han gave a dry smirk. "You know, I came here to cheer you up, pal. Not to get picked on by a sick kid who would make me feel guilty if I did follow my gut instinct and retaliate."
Luke gave a slight chuckle. "Retaliate away. I've got sadistic droids poking me, and Squadron pilots dropping off silly get-well gifts. Did you see the latest?" He reached over toward a small shelf by the bedside and pulled out a cloth doll, designed to look like a Red Squadron pilot. But with one slight modification. "Apparently somebody got their information wrong and drew measles spots all over it. The guys were in hysterics for who knows how long." He tossed the doll weakly to Han. "Believe me, I can handle any of your remarks."
Han picked up the doll and couldn't help laughing as he stared at it. "This is pretty bad."
"Tell me about it," Luke groaned.
Han put the doll back on the shelf with a barely suppressed snicker and turned back to regard Luke. To Han's surprise, the kid was watching him intently. His eyes still looked tired, but they also looked almost worried. It was disconcerting.
"What?"
Luke frowned. "There's something really bothering you, isn't there?"
Han sighed, working to convey more irritation than he felt. "Are you always this annoying, or only when fighting a serious illness?"
Luke only shivered and pulled the covers up tighter around him, never taking his gaze off Han.
Han looked away, shaking his head and rising to leave. "You need your sleep, kid."
"Han," Luke's weak voice called. "You came here to talk to me because something is bothering you. What?"
Han turned to glare at him. Was the kid reading his mind or something? "You know, it's really creepy when you do that, kid."
Luke blinked at him for a moment, then rolled away onto his side with a tired sigh. "Fine," he muttered just audibly enough for Han to hear.
Han stood staring at the back of the kid's head for a moment before anger caused him to sit down again. He wasn't going to be blown off by a third person! No way! Both Leia and Chewie had stormed off and given him the silent treatment. Was he going to allow a bed-ridden kid to do the same?
"All right," he fumed as Luke turned his head and glanced back at him. "You wanna know what's bothering me? Make yourself comfortable, 'cause it's a long story." He tried to ignore Luke's smug expression as he searched for what it was that he actually wanted to say. His jumbled up mind latched onto the first idea that came to him.
"You ever have nightmares?"
Luke raised an eyebrow incredulously and stared at Han for a moment. "No, never," he remarked sarcastically.
Han felt momentary irritation at Luke's reply, but he figured he'd deserved it. "Well, I usually don't, kid," he began explaining. "But just a little while ago, I woke up from one that really left me rattled."
Luke rolled partially onto his back and stared up at him. "What was it?"
It took a few moments before Han could find the words to describe the dream. "Well, kid, I was back on board the Falcon during the attack on the Death Star. Only Chewie had stayed back on Yavin with Leia, and I never turned back around to shoot that TIE off your back in the trench. You got shot down, and then I watched as everyone on Yavin blew up, including Leia and Chewie." He paused. "And then I was all alone."
Luke was silent for a moment before he said softly, "You know, two months ago, I would have said that was a Han Solo fantasy, not a Han Solo nightmare."
Han narrowed his eyes at Luke. "Not cute, kid."
The kid smiled. "I wasn't trying to be funny."
"Then what?" Han snapped with growing irritation.
"Maybe," Luke began, keeping a steady eye on Han, "the dream was a way of telling you that you're not quite the same Han Solo that you were two months ago. That maybe you don't really want to be totally alone anymore."
Han put forward his best sabacc face, trying not to let Luke see the emotions going through his mind. Disbelief at the kid's words was being pushed aside by the nagging sense he'd had since returning from Ryall that things really were changing. But he wasn't ready to admit that. Not yet. "Is that what you think, Junior?" Han finally replied, harsh tones forged by his inner struggle embedded in his voice.
Luke gave his best shrug and a weak smile, albeit one completely devoid of any humor. "I'm only a kid from a backwater planet. What does it matter what I think?" Again, he rolled over onto his side, leaving Han to stare at the back of his head.
Han didn't stare for very long. Glancing down at the polished duracrete floor, he slowly processed Luke's words. What did it matter what the kid thought? It was Han's dream for cryin' out loud. The only person who could really hope to find an explanation for it would be himself. Yet, the more he thought about it, the more Luke's explanation seemed the most probable. Hell, he'd put himself heart and soul into repairing the Falcon all day yesterday because it took the edge off the loneliness. Chewie wasn't talking to him, and Leia wouldn't look at him. And now he was sitting in an uncomfortably sterile medcenter room to talk to the one person who he knew would be his only captive audience. He looked back up at Luke's tousled hair. For a dumb kid from a backwater planet, he sure did have a lot of insight.
"For what it's worth," Han sighed quietly, "it matters, kid."
Luke didn't turn back, but he shifted slightly. His muffled and hoarse voice spoke a few seconds later, "You know, Leia's feeling really bad about the whole thing between you two."
That bit of news was unexpected. "She is?"
There was a slight movement that Han interpreted as Luke's nod. "She said so yesterday."
Han continued to stare at the back of Luke's head, trying to decide what to make of this. Did that mean she was sorry about what she'd said, or was she upset at what he'd done? After all, he had gotten her drunk. But it was for a good cause. It managed to cheer her up for a short while, anyway. "Did she say anything else?" he asked, tentatively.
"No," Luke replied a moment before he seemed to tremble slightly.
Han immediately leaned toward him in concern. "You okay, kid?"
A weak cough answered him as Luke began to shiver in earnest under the covers. Han placed an uncertain hand on the kid's shoulder and could feel the slight quaking. He also felt the warmth that was beginning to radiate from it.
"Hey, kid," Han said worriedly, "you want me to get the droid or somethin'? Looks like the fever 's kickin' back in."
Luke shook his head slightly. "It's not bad," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Han removed his hand from the kid's shoulder, but continued to look at him doubtfully as Luke drew his knees toward his chest in obvious discomfort.
"You know," Luke began, so quietly that Han almost missed his words, "at least your dreams aren't real."
Han straightened in confusion. What was he talking about? "What do you mean?"
The figure in the bed hunched his shoulders and trembled before answering. "Imagine having to relive the worst moment of your life in your dreams each and every night."
Han stared at him. He had, in fact, done that very thing. A long time ago. He hadn't had those nightmares for years. But he remembered them distinctly, and the feelings they produced. "I've been there, kid."
"I don't like going to sleep anymore," Luke whispered, his voice breaking, though Han couldn't tell if it was from emotion or illness.
"What do you see in your dreams?" Han asked cautiously.
In response, Luke drew his knees up closer to his chest. "I watch the stormtroopers raid the farm. I see them kill my family. And there's nothing I can do to stop them."
Han stared at the kid. He knew Luke had lost everything and everyone before leaving Tatooine, but the details were sketchy. And he'd never thought to ask the kid or Kenobi about it. "Where you there, kid?"
A slight movement suggested the shaking of a head. "No," Luke replied, his voice even more hoarse and cracked than before. "I found them. Or what was left of them. I wasn't home when it happened. Ben and I had learned about Artoo, but I realized that my family was in danger too late. By the time I got to the farm, it had been destroyed. Gutted. And they were . . ." His voice trailed off.
Han looked down at his balled fists, not realizing he had been clenching his hands as Luke spoke. He knew only too well the violence of the Empire. "I'm sorry kid."
Luke laughed weakly then, a sound Han was far from expecting at that moment. When the kid spoke, it was with false poise. "Well, I wouldn't be a rebel if it hadn't happened. The story seems to be a familiar one among the ranks here, wouldn't you say?" He paused, losing the fight to sound untroubled. "So why am I having such a hard time dealing with it?"
Han glanced back at Luke. He knew exactly what the kid was going through. "Because it's your loss, kid. Yours and yours alone. Knowing that other guys have experienced the same thing doesn't make it any less yours. Or less painful. Believe me, I've been through it, kid, and I know." He stopped for a moment. "People just deal with it in different ways. Some cry, some fight, some get drunk and try to drown it. Some talk about it until the pain goes away. And others push it to the backs of their minds and pretend it isn't there. Like you, like the Princess. Like I used to. And then when you're asleep and your guard is down, the pain creeps back on you. 'Cause it ain't gonna just go away until it's good and ready, no matter how far back you try to push it or how deep down you try to bury it."
Han stopped and looked at the kid, wondering what effect his words would have. He hoped it was good, because he didn't know what else to say. He'd said it all. In fact, it was the very thing he wanted to tell Her Worship yesterday, before she'd slammed the door in his face. He'd hoped she'd be able to deal with her pain and her loss and stop running around like a demented droid on autopilot, hoping to fix each and every little thing, whether it was in her power or not. She was too young and had too much life in her to wear it out that way. And he was pretty sure she was having nightmares, too.
Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed the increased trembling in Luke's shoulders. Alarmed, he grabbed his shoulder again. "You okay, kid?"
In response, Luke weakly reached out a hand and brushed Han's hand away before drawing the covers up tightly around his face. "I'm fine," he croaked.
Growing more worried, Han shot back, "Kid, you're not fine. Look at you. You're shaking."
"Han, it's nothing." The kid's voice was sounding worse, and Han was really starting to get concerned.
"Then, look at me, Luke."
When Luke didn't respond, Han stood and headed toward the door. "I'm grabbin' that droid."
"Han, don't," Luke cried weakly as he rolled back over onto his back.
Han turned and stared at him in disbelief. What he saw had a slight smile tugging at his lips, even though he was trying desperately to hide it to ease the kid's embarrassment. The kid's eyes were red and puffy, with a trail of tears that ran across the bridge of his nose and down his right cheek. Combined with his now reddening nose set in the middle of his pale face, the effect was ghastly. Han glanced downward at his feet guiltily, still fighting the perverse urge to laugh. The last thing he'd intended to do was to make the kid cry.
Luke sniffled, rubbing a pale hand across his face to remove the residual dampness from the tears. "Don't laugh, Han."
Not trusting himself to speak, Han merely shook his head.
Luke was quick to try and explain himself. "Han, it isn't . . .. I mean, I don't usually . . .it's the fever that's . . ."He sighed, bringing both hands up to his temples. "Oh Force! People from Tatooine don't cry!"
Han merely raised an eyebrow.
"I don't cry," he added as emphatically as he could.
Han tried to bite his lip, but it was no use. His lips curved upward and it was all he could do not to laugh at the poor kid. He immediately saw Luke's irritation and quickly moved back to his side to ease the situation a little. "Hey, it's okay, kid. I understand."
Luke didn't look convinced.
Han sat back down on the edge of the bed and patted Luke's arm. "You're sick," he said by means of excuse, suddenly noting the increase in temperature that seemed to be emanating from Luke's weary form. "And you're hot."
Luke grinned wryly at him, his self-consciousness replaced by a glint of humor. "Thanks Solo, but you're not my type."
Han shook his head with a smirk. "Tryin' to be funny, Junior?" He stood, noting the increase in Luke's pallor in spite of his mirth. "But seriously, that fever's getting pretty high."
Luke waved him off. "It'll be fine. I'll just sleep it off." Even as he spoke, it was clear to Han that the kid was practically kicking him out. Han briefly wondered why. Until Luke spoke again. "Go make your peace with the Princess, Han."
Han laughed at that remark.
"You two need to start getting along," Luke explained. "And I still think that she needs you."
Han threw a questioning glance at the kid, but Luke merely shut his eyes and drew the blankets up to his chin. Slightly confused, but unwilling to say another word, Han nodded silently and turned toward the door.
"Just watch you don't get too close while I'm out of it," he heard Luke's voice murmur light-heartedly behind him.
Han turned, about to make a remark about the chances of a princess and a farm boy being no better than a princess and a smuggler, when he noted that Luke seemed to have dropped off to sleep at that very moment. A slight snore could be heard from the bed, and Han chuckled.
"Pleasant dreams, kid," he whispered, and stepped out the door.
"Get clear, Wedge! You can't do any more good back there!" Luke's voice crackled through the comm.
"Sorry."
Han glanced around to see that he was back aboard the Millennium Falcon, blasting away from Yavin and listening to the transmissions from the Rebel Squadrons on the Death Star's surface. He had his cargo of precious metals, and nothing was going to stop him from delivering them to Jabba the Hutt. Perhaps now he could get back into that slimy slug's good graces. He'd been in the hot seat since he'd had to drop that last shipment. This time, it would be smooth sailing for him and Chewie. He looked over toward his copilot's seat with a grin, only to find it empty.
That was right. He'd left Chewie back on Yavin to help these stupid Rebels out in their pointless attack. He'd tried to convince him that it was never going to work. He'd tried to get Chewie to come with him, knowing only too well that the jungle moon was about to suffer the same fate as Alderaan. Stolen plans or no stolen plans, snub-fighters didn't stand a chance against that monstrosity. Hell, he'd been on board that thing along with the others. Why couldn't they see what he could?
Instead, they had refused to open their eyes to the futility of this whole attack, and he had left.
"Hurry, Luke, they're coming in much faster this time. I can't hold them!"
"Artoo, try and increase the power!" Luke's voice sounded panicked.
Han shook his head. "Well, I'd be panicked, too, kid! You're about to be shot down by Imps!"
"Hurry up, Luke!"
Han couldn't see what was going on down there, but he had a pretty good idea.
"Wait!"
Static filled the headset where that other voice had once been. Sounded like Luke was the only one left. Poor kid, he didn't stand a chance.
"His computer's off. Luke, you switched off your targeting computer. What's wrong?"
Now what was the crazy kid up to?
"Nothing. I'm all right."
Han shuddered against the knowledge that this was a suicide mission. The kid was about to get himself killed, and everyone on that moon was going to go down with him.
"I've lost Artoo!"
Han shut his eyes, every fiber of his body suddenly aching with loss, as he knew that they were all as good as dead. Pain filled him, and he knew he couldn't let this happen! This wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to let this happen! He had to do something!
Opening his eyes, he seized the controls, preparing to go back into the fray. He had to save them before it was too late. Luke. Chewie. Leia. They were all going to die unless he rescued them. Glancing at the control panel in horror, he realized that it was completely frozen. The ship was headed out into space, and he couldn't turn around. He reached for the intercom, trying to shut if off so he wouldn't have to hear the inevitable. It, too, refused to budge.
A scream filled his ears. Luke's scream. The kid was dead.
"The Death Star has cleared the planet. The Death Star has cleared the planet."
No. This wasn't supposed to happen. The kid was too young to die!
The others!
Suddenly he was watching the control room of the rebel base. He could see Chewie wrapping his protective arms around the tiny princess, her face etched with grief and terror. She knew it was over, as did the Wookie. No, not them! Not them! He couldn't be left alone! The viewscreen showed a discharge of energy from the space station a split second before the scene in front of him disintegrated in a grisly spectacle of fire.
"NO!"
Han jerked awake, gasping for breath as he tried desperately to orient himself to time and location while shaking off the aftereffects of the dream. Looking about, he realized he had fallen asleep in the cockpit of the Falcon. Blinking his eyes, he rubbed a hand across his face and was not surprised to find it drenched in a cold sweat. Nightmares were certainly not his thing, and this had been a horrible one. As he sat, trying to get his heartbeat back to normal, he wondered what had caused it. After all, why rewrite history in such a way that it became a moment of tragedy instead of one of triumph? And why make him the culprit?
Was it some kind of sign? A message even?
Han shook his head and mumbled to himself, "Don't go thinkin' like Luke, now."
Running a hand through his damp hair, he rose and walked out of the cockpit. It had been over a day since he'd brought Her Worshipfulness out here, and he hadn't seen her since. Although, to be honest, he wasn't real keen on seeing her at the moment. He'd helped her back to her quarters and she had proceeded to shut the door in his face. Since then, he'd immersed himself in putting his ship back together and trying to forge some kind of working relationship with his still angry best friend. Chewie was keeping to himself much of the time, and Han was left alone to dwell on his own misfortunes.
It was no wonder he was having nightmares. His whole life was a nightmare right now. He'd managed to alienate just about everyone in the course of two days. The only person who didn't hate him to some degree at this moment was Luke. And, last he'd heard, the kid was still fighting Corellian Influenza in the medcenter.
Well, sighed Han to himself, maybe it was time for him to do some good for someone around here. After all, if he believed the whisperings he'd been picking up lately, they were heading for an evacuation of the base in a few days. Might as well try to be a help to somebody instead of the hindrance he'd somehow turned himself into lately. Throwing on a clean shirt, he headed over to the medical center to talk to the one person who knew about nightmares and was in no shape to kill him if he said the wrong thing.
*****************
Han entered the medcenter and paused before heading for Luke's room. Just what had he come down here for? He wasn't even sure of the shape Luke was in right now. Was he up to talking? Would he be whiny and cranky like he was on the Falcon? And why did he want to talk to the kid in the first place? He shook his head and leaned against the wall. When had life gotten so complicated? He pondered these things as he stared at the hallway to Luke's room. Figuring that the answers would probably make themselves known eventually-and at the most inopportune time, no doubt-he proceeded down the hall. As he neared the door, he noticed a dark-haired kid was just leaving. Pausing a moment to try to see who it was, Han grinned when the kid turned around and he was able to recognize him. Two smug Corellians in small corridor? What were the odds?
"Captain Solo," Wedge said with a smile as soon as he spotted Han. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Just checking up on my cargo," Han replied with a gesture toward Luke's room.
Wedge laughed. "Well, I've seen better, Captain."
"Hey," Han countered with a wink, "I got 'im back here in one piece, didn't I?"
"Barely," groaned the younger man. "We're gonna have to evac with one of our best pilots down, thanks to you."
"Hey, it ain't my fault your guys never did their job in makin' sure this kid got all his shots." He paused. "So they're really going to evacuate the base?"
Wedge nodded. "That's the word. The shield generator has gone faulty since the crash, and we don't know how long it will keep running. Blue squad picked up a fleet of Imps moving just outside the system, so it doesn't look good. With the generator acting up like it is, who knows what kinds of signals the Imps are picking up."
Han frowned. "Doesn't sound good at all."
"I'd say we'll be out of here in three days."
The older Corellian whistled in amazement. "That soon, huh?"
Wedge nodded again. "Expect a scramble once it's announced."
"And the kid?" asked Han, indicating Luke once more.
"He's out for a week, at best," replied Wedge.
"A week?" Han couldn't believe that. "You're joking."
Shaking his head, Wedge explained, "This is Corellian Influenza we're dealin' with here. And Corellian diseases are like Corellian drinks: they knock you off your feet for a while."
"He's no better at all?"
"Well, he's a lot better than he was when you first brought him in here, that's for sure," Wedge agreed. "But, then again, he was just this side of death when you brought him in, too."
"He was still alive, though, and that's what matters," Han retorted.
"Yeah, but we're still short a pilot," Wedge countered with a laugh. "Not unless you want to fill in for him."
"In one of those X-wings of yours?" Han snorted. "Not on your life."
"Too comfy with your ship, eh, Captain?"
Han grinned. "Nah, I just don't trust one of yours."
Laughing, Wedge clapped him on the back. "Well, see you around, Captain."
Han nodded and headed for the door to Luke's room.
He entered to find Luke resting limply on the bed, grumbling some form of complaint as a 4-1B droid took blood samples from his arm. Han grimaced as he noted that the kid certainly didn't look any better than he had the last time he'd been by. In fact, he looked slightly thinner and paler than he had the other day. The blue eyes that frowned up at the droid were dull and lifeless. The only thing that reassured him was the distinct whine that accompanied Luke's scratchy voice.
"Ow. Is this really necessary?" the kid complained to the droid.
"Yes, sir," the droid calmly replied, continuing its task.
"Ugh," Luke groaned. "This whole situation is bad enough without you jabbing me with a needle every few hours."
"Sir," the droid spoke, "we need to constantly monitor your white cell count, your enzymes, and . . .."
"Yeah, I know," interrupted Luke weakly.
"Not happy with the room service here, kid?" Han broke in.
Luke turned his head toward Han's voice. A thin smile formed on his lips at his friend's humor.
"I'm not sure I should criticize while he holds a needle in my arm," Luke replied.
The droid lifted its metallic face toward the two men. "Wise decision, sir."
Han stared dumbly at the droid for a moment, then laughed. "Since when did they program these things with a sense of humor?"
Luke gave a wry grin. "Sadistic streak is more like it."
"I am finished, sir," the 4-1B commented as it turned away and bustled out of the room with the blood samples.
"Thank the Force," Luke sighed. He leaned back on the pillows, pulling his right arm back under the covers with a slight shiver.
"Cold, kid?" Han asked with concern. The figure in the bed before him seemed fragile and almost translucent in his pallor. Hardly the energetic farm boy who'd run headlong into a prison corridor to rescue a princess.
"Not bad," the kid replied with a slight shake of his head.
Han studied him for a moment, noting that he still seemed to be trembling slightly and hugging his arms to his chest beneath the blankets that covered him. Reaching toward the foot of the bed, Han snatched the folded blanket that rested there and draped it over Luke's shivering form. Luke half-smiled, an expression that conveyed both gratefulness and embarrassment.
"Just in case," Han remarked lightly, his voice sounding more carefree than he felt at the moment as he sat at the foot of the bed.
"Thanks," Luke whispered. He lay quietly for a moment before he added, "I guess you were right."
Han was puzzled. "About what?"
"About me being sick," answered the kid with a weak smile. "I am."
Han smiled at his slight joke. "You can say that again." He placed a hand on Luke's shoulder. "But couldn't you have come down with something a little less dramatic than Corellian Influenza?"
"Leia joked that she was worried I'd come back from the trip with some of your worse Corellian traits," Luke replied. "They don't get much worse than this."
"Boy, you said it, kid," Han remarked with a shake of his head, glancing down at the hand that rested on the kid's shoulder. Even through the blankets, it was too thin. "They feedin' you much in here?"
Luke grimaced. "IV drips, mostly. The fever is still coming and going, and I'm having a hard time getting anything down and keeping it there." He took a deep breath, as his voice was getting noticeably weaker. "But they're pumping me with enough stuff to keep me going."
Han nodded mutely. The kid was in bad shape, that was certain.
Luke seemed to notice Han's concern. "But at least the fevers are lessening," he explained, apparently hoping to alleviate some of Han's worry. "And the periods in between are growing."
Han rolled his eyes. Leave it to the kid to put his worry for others before himself. If anything, these last two months had shown him what a selfless person Luke truly was. And that was rare. At first, Han thought it was all an act, that this kid was too caring to be real. Once he realized that it wasn't an act, it became annoying to watch this kid put others before himself time and time again. He needed to be tougher than that to survive. How would he ever make it in this world without being just a little selfish?
"You're hopeless, kid," was all he said.
Luke started to laugh. His laugh turned to a weak cough, however, which he had to struggle to bring under control. Feeling momentarily helpless again, Han moved to try to assist him in some way, but Luke waved him off. After a few moments, he regained his voice. "So what does that make you, Han?" he asked in a whisper.
"At least I know when to put myself first," Han countered.
Luke smiled at him, a knowing glint the first sign of life in his tired blue eyes. "Well, then you haven't been doing a very good job of listening to yourself, have you?"
Han gave a dry smirk. "You know, I came here to cheer you up, pal. Not to get picked on by a sick kid who would make me feel guilty if I did follow my gut instinct and retaliate."
Luke gave a slight chuckle. "Retaliate away. I've got sadistic droids poking me, and Squadron pilots dropping off silly get-well gifts. Did you see the latest?" He reached over toward a small shelf by the bedside and pulled out a cloth doll, designed to look like a Red Squadron pilot. But with one slight modification. "Apparently somebody got their information wrong and drew measles spots all over it. The guys were in hysterics for who knows how long." He tossed the doll weakly to Han. "Believe me, I can handle any of your remarks."
Han picked up the doll and couldn't help laughing as he stared at it. "This is pretty bad."
"Tell me about it," Luke groaned.
Han put the doll back on the shelf with a barely suppressed snicker and turned back to regard Luke. To Han's surprise, the kid was watching him intently. His eyes still looked tired, but they also looked almost worried. It was disconcerting.
"What?"
Luke frowned. "There's something really bothering you, isn't there?"
Han sighed, working to convey more irritation than he felt. "Are you always this annoying, or only when fighting a serious illness?"
Luke only shivered and pulled the covers up tighter around him, never taking his gaze off Han.
Han looked away, shaking his head and rising to leave. "You need your sleep, kid."
"Han," Luke's weak voice called. "You came here to talk to me because something is bothering you. What?"
Han turned to glare at him. Was the kid reading his mind or something? "You know, it's really creepy when you do that, kid."
Luke blinked at him for a moment, then rolled away onto his side with a tired sigh. "Fine," he muttered just audibly enough for Han to hear.
Han stood staring at the back of the kid's head for a moment before anger caused him to sit down again. He wasn't going to be blown off by a third person! No way! Both Leia and Chewie had stormed off and given him the silent treatment. Was he going to allow a bed-ridden kid to do the same?
"All right," he fumed as Luke turned his head and glanced back at him. "You wanna know what's bothering me? Make yourself comfortable, 'cause it's a long story." He tried to ignore Luke's smug expression as he searched for what it was that he actually wanted to say. His jumbled up mind latched onto the first idea that came to him.
"You ever have nightmares?"
Luke raised an eyebrow incredulously and stared at Han for a moment. "No, never," he remarked sarcastically.
Han felt momentary irritation at Luke's reply, but he figured he'd deserved it. "Well, I usually don't, kid," he began explaining. "But just a little while ago, I woke up from one that really left me rattled."
Luke rolled partially onto his back and stared up at him. "What was it?"
It took a few moments before Han could find the words to describe the dream. "Well, kid, I was back on board the Falcon during the attack on the Death Star. Only Chewie had stayed back on Yavin with Leia, and I never turned back around to shoot that TIE off your back in the trench. You got shot down, and then I watched as everyone on Yavin blew up, including Leia and Chewie." He paused. "And then I was all alone."
Luke was silent for a moment before he said softly, "You know, two months ago, I would have said that was a Han Solo fantasy, not a Han Solo nightmare."
Han narrowed his eyes at Luke. "Not cute, kid."
The kid smiled. "I wasn't trying to be funny."
"Then what?" Han snapped with growing irritation.
"Maybe," Luke began, keeping a steady eye on Han, "the dream was a way of telling you that you're not quite the same Han Solo that you were two months ago. That maybe you don't really want to be totally alone anymore."
Han put forward his best sabacc face, trying not to let Luke see the emotions going through his mind. Disbelief at the kid's words was being pushed aside by the nagging sense he'd had since returning from Ryall that things really were changing. But he wasn't ready to admit that. Not yet. "Is that what you think, Junior?" Han finally replied, harsh tones forged by his inner struggle embedded in his voice.
Luke gave his best shrug and a weak smile, albeit one completely devoid of any humor. "I'm only a kid from a backwater planet. What does it matter what I think?" Again, he rolled over onto his side, leaving Han to stare at the back of his head.
Han didn't stare for very long. Glancing down at the polished duracrete floor, he slowly processed Luke's words. What did it matter what the kid thought? It was Han's dream for cryin' out loud. The only person who could really hope to find an explanation for it would be himself. Yet, the more he thought about it, the more Luke's explanation seemed the most probable. Hell, he'd put himself heart and soul into repairing the Falcon all day yesterday because it took the edge off the loneliness. Chewie wasn't talking to him, and Leia wouldn't look at him. And now he was sitting in an uncomfortably sterile medcenter room to talk to the one person who he knew would be his only captive audience. He looked back up at Luke's tousled hair. For a dumb kid from a backwater planet, he sure did have a lot of insight.
"For what it's worth," Han sighed quietly, "it matters, kid."
Luke didn't turn back, but he shifted slightly. His muffled and hoarse voice spoke a few seconds later, "You know, Leia's feeling really bad about the whole thing between you two."
That bit of news was unexpected. "She is?"
There was a slight movement that Han interpreted as Luke's nod. "She said so yesterday."
Han continued to stare at the back of Luke's head, trying to decide what to make of this. Did that mean she was sorry about what she'd said, or was she upset at what he'd done? After all, he had gotten her drunk. But it was for a good cause. It managed to cheer her up for a short while, anyway. "Did she say anything else?" he asked, tentatively.
"No," Luke replied a moment before he seemed to tremble slightly.
Han immediately leaned toward him in concern. "You okay, kid?"
A weak cough answered him as Luke began to shiver in earnest under the covers. Han placed an uncertain hand on the kid's shoulder and could feel the slight quaking. He also felt the warmth that was beginning to radiate from it.
"Hey, kid," Han said worriedly, "you want me to get the droid or somethin'? Looks like the fever 's kickin' back in."
Luke shook his head slightly. "It's not bad," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Han removed his hand from the kid's shoulder, but continued to look at him doubtfully as Luke drew his knees toward his chest in obvious discomfort.
"You know," Luke began, so quietly that Han almost missed his words, "at least your dreams aren't real."
Han straightened in confusion. What was he talking about? "What do you mean?"
The figure in the bed hunched his shoulders and trembled before answering. "Imagine having to relive the worst moment of your life in your dreams each and every night."
Han stared at him. He had, in fact, done that very thing. A long time ago. He hadn't had those nightmares for years. But he remembered them distinctly, and the feelings they produced. "I've been there, kid."
"I don't like going to sleep anymore," Luke whispered, his voice breaking, though Han couldn't tell if it was from emotion or illness.
"What do you see in your dreams?" Han asked cautiously.
In response, Luke drew his knees up closer to his chest. "I watch the stormtroopers raid the farm. I see them kill my family. And there's nothing I can do to stop them."
Han stared at the kid. He knew Luke had lost everything and everyone before leaving Tatooine, but the details were sketchy. And he'd never thought to ask the kid or Kenobi about it. "Where you there, kid?"
A slight movement suggested the shaking of a head. "No," Luke replied, his voice even more hoarse and cracked than before. "I found them. Or what was left of them. I wasn't home when it happened. Ben and I had learned about Artoo, but I realized that my family was in danger too late. By the time I got to the farm, it had been destroyed. Gutted. And they were . . ." His voice trailed off.
Han looked down at his balled fists, not realizing he had been clenching his hands as Luke spoke. He knew only too well the violence of the Empire. "I'm sorry kid."
Luke laughed weakly then, a sound Han was far from expecting at that moment. When the kid spoke, it was with false poise. "Well, I wouldn't be a rebel if it hadn't happened. The story seems to be a familiar one among the ranks here, wouldn't you say?" He paused, losing the fight to sound untroubled. "So why am I having such a hard time dealing with it?"
Han glanced back at Luke. He knew exactly what the kid was going through. "Because it's your loss, kid. Yours and yours alone. Knowing that other guys have experienced the same thing doesn't make it any less yours. Or less painful. Believe me, I've been through it, kid, and I know." He stopped for a moment. "People just deal with it in different ways. Some cry, some fight, some get drunk and try to drown it. Some talk about it until the pain goes away. And others push it to the backs of their minds and pretend it isn't there. Like you, like the Princess. Like I used to. And then when you're asleep and your guard is down, the pain creeps back on you. 'Cause it ain't gonna just go away until it's good and ready, no matter how far back you try to push it or how deep down you try to bury it."
Han stopped and looked at the kid, wondering what effect his words would have. He hoped it was good, because he didn't know what else to say. He'd said it all. In fact, it was the very thing he wanted to tell Her Worship yesterday, before she'd slammed the door in his face. He'd hoped she'd be able to deal with her pain and her loss and stop running around like a demented droid on autopilot, hoping to fix each and every little thing, whether it was in her power or not. She was too young and had too much life in her to wear it out that way. And he was pretty sure she was having nightmares, too.
Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed the increased trembling in Luke's shoulders. Alarmed, he grabbed his shoulder again. "You okay, kid?"
In response, Luke weakly reached out a hand and brushed Han's hand away before drawing the covers up tightly around his face. "I'm fine," he croaked.
Growing more worried, Han shot back, "Kid, you're not fine. Look at you. You're shaking."
"Han, it's nothing." The kid's voice was sounding worse, and Han was really starting to get concerned.
"Then, look at me, Luke."
When Luke didn't respond, Han stood and headed toward the door. "I'm grabbin' that droid."
"Han, don't," Luke cried weakly as he rolled back over onto his back.
Han turned and stared at him in disbelief. What he saw had a slight smile tugging at his lips, even though he was trying desperately to hide it to ease the kid's embarrassment. The kid's eyes were red and puffy, with a trail of tears that ran across the bridge of his nose and down his right cheek. Combined with his now reddening nose set in the middle of his pale face, the effect was ghastly. Han glanced downward at his feet guiltily, still fighting the perverse urge to laugh. The last thing he'd intended to do was to make the kid cry.
Luke sniffled, rubbing a pale hand across his face to remove the residual dampness from the tears. "Don't laugh, Han."
Not trusting himself to speak, Han merely shook his head.
Luke was quick to try and explain himself. "Han, it isn't . . .. I mean, I don't usually . . .it's the fever that's . . ."He sighed, bringing both hands up to his temples. "Oh Force! People from Tatooine don't cry!"
Han merely raised an eyebrow.
"I don't cry," he added as emphatically as he could.
Han tried to bite his lip, but it was no use. His lips curved upward and it was all he could do not to laugh at the poor kid. He immediately saw Luke's irritation and quickly moved back to his side to ease the situation a little. "Hey, it's okay, kid. I understand."
Luke didn't look convinced.
Han sat back down on the edge of the bed and patted Luke's arm. "You're sick," he said by means of excuse, suddenly noting the increase in temperature that seemed to be emanating from Luke's weary form. "And you're hot."
Luke grinned wryly at him, his self-consciousness replaced by a glint of humor. "Thanks Solo, but you're not my type."
Han shook his head with a smirk. "Tryin' to be funny, Junior?" He stood, noting the increase in Luke's pallor in spite of his mirth. "But seriously, that fever's getting pretty high."
Luke waved him off. "It'll be fine. I'll just sleep it off." Even as he spoke, it was clear to Han that the kid was practically kicking him out. Han briefly wondered why. Until Luke spoke again. "Go make your peace with the Princess, Han."
Han laughed at that remark.
"You two need to start getting along," Luke explained. "And I still think that she needs you."
Han threw a questioning glance at the kid, but Luke merely shut his eyes and drew the blankets up to his chin. Slightly confused, but unwilling to say another word, Han nodded silently and turned toward the door.
"Just watch you don't get too close while I'm out of it," he heard Luke's voice murmur light-heartedly behind him.
Han turned, about to make a remark about the chances of a princess and a farm boy being no better than a princess and a smuggler, when he noted that Luke seemed to have dropped off to sleep at that very moment. A slight snore could be heard from the bed, and Han chuckled.
"Pleasant dreams, kid," he whispered, and stepped out the door.
