Author's Note: Yay! Twelve reviews! Thats a record for one chapter. :) Reward: a long(er) chapter.

Neassa: Lol, more like she was accidently told. :D
MissE: Thank you:) The slave trader's son? ... Huh. Never thought about that. Maybe. I'll see what I can do. Not quite sure, though, because this story's getting long enough. xD I'll think about it for a while, but don't be too dissapointed if I decide not to do it.
K'bish: Haha, thanks for finally reviewing:) Lol, thank you, I'm attached to my characters, its great to hear a compliment on them. :DDD
GreatOne: Lol, he did. Sortah lost track of what he was sayin'. :D Yup, Leia's pretty good at that. Dunno why. You'll find out about Chewie in... a bit. Maybe next chapter. But I have to sleep a bit before I think about how the Big Conversation is going to go. - is 3 AM, has a knack of writing in the early morning - Lol, I don't worry about Marsha. Its not a big deal; she was insulting the summary, not the story. Not like I care about that. :D
ccp: Thank you!
anna: I suppose you'll have to keep reading!
Dovasary: Lol, he did. Poor Lukie boy probably got a big bad bruise on his forehead from banging it against the wall so many times. Oh, come on, not to LL - she goes much longer (but her chapters are wa-ay bigger, and I love 'em) - and I was in SC in a RETIREMENT COMMUNITY. Stupid grandparents.--; Lol, Han giving birthday spankings is a nice gift. :) But I'll stop talking now. Or typing. Or whatever.
Crazy1 (C):Lol, thank you. Buuuut, you'll have to keep readingtill next chapter for the Big Conversation.
Jaina Solo Potter: Thank you! Here's another update!
leias girl: Thanks! Yeah, I didn't want Luke to find out so early, and it didn't feel right for Syrmé togo blabbing his buisness to everyone. That'd something Janson would do in NQLL. And thanks, I liked that little touch I did. - is not modest at all-
pip: Thanks a bunch!
High Admiral Thorin: Thanks! I'm glad you started to read it, and that you reviewed it, too. Started up a whole account! Wow, you could have always left an anonymous review. :) But thanks again!

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I can't face him, I'm having trouble staying in the same room with him, and I sure as hell can't talk to him.

For the past week, he has been here. And it's been killing me. It's keeping me up at night, and it's waking me up every few rare hours of sleep.

He's noticed, definitely. And he's retaliated with stony silence and expert use of ignoring. Which makes it that much easier for me, at least he's not nagging me and following me around everywhere, whining.

When we arrived last week, a few hours after escaping the slave barge (an event that feels like years ago), I overheard (eavesdropped on) this conversation between Uncle Luke and him:

"What d'you mean? You can't just pick up and leave!"

"Watch me."

"Wh – what? No. Stop. Stop! Han, don't leave! There are things left to be said!"

"So?"

"So? Aren't you interested at all in hearing what Leia has to say?"

"Honestly, I don't give a damn what Her Highness has to say."

"Please. Stay. For a week, I promise. You can both explain your… reasons; from what Syrmé tells me - "

"Oh, I see, now she's sproutin' my secrets?"

"She only told me that you had a good reason."

"Huh. I thought she turned mute."

"What?"

"Don't tell me that you didn't notice with all that Jedi-crap that you have. She was avoidin' me the rest of the flight after all that fightin' you two were doing down the hall."

"You… ah… heard that?"

"It was so loud I'm pretty sure Leia heard that. What'd you not tell her?"

"Maybe you'll find out if you stay until Leia gets better."

"No."

"Stop being so stubborn."

"No."

"What kept you from leaving Hoth?"

(Here there was stony silence.)

"Exactly. Just a week. That's all I ask."

"…"

"Please?"

"Fine."

So he's been staying in my house for the past week, in one of the three guest bedrooms.

Also turns out that since I've left, Mom and Leo (that feels so weird, a man I used to call 'dad') got separated: seems that Mom took to heart about her living a better life when being freed from the clutches of a pointless marriage. So now he's living with that blonde chick, and he's visited once. We had a talk. He knew all about this, too, and had offered to help her.

The rumors about their divorce hadn't been confirmed yet, but media is everywhere. It's annoying. Funny, because my mom hasn't been a Senator for sixteen years, she's just been unofficially helping the President.

Back to now, I could tell Han is getting ready to leave. It's been seven days and mom hasn't woken yet; Luke only asked for a week, and he's being held tightly to his word (possibly down to the minute, but I wouldn't know). So nothing's really been resolved. Not even between Han and I.

Funny how the man's my father and I can't seem to call him that. It's surreal when I think about him being in love with my mother. But that was in the past. If he still feels that way now, I, again, wouldn't know, because I'm refraining from even looking at him.

It all makes sense now, though. Nearly everything. That one time I meditated on the charter (one time; pathetic), the whole thing makes utter sense. Mom's stubborn reservation about him. My comfort around him - I usually don't take well to strangers old enough to be my father (Haha. Get it?), especially on Coruscant. I suppose I really didn't take to him so well at first after all, but I swear that I'm usually more polite.

After a sigh and a glance outside, I heave myself out of my bed and stretch my limbs, then go to my bathroom and absently run a brush through my hair, failing to remember to tie it behind my neck. Without bothering to change out of my pajamas (a pair of old sweatpants and a tank top), I go downstairs, past Luke and Mara's bedroom that they had stayed in for the past week, and into the kitchen. As I start to breakfast on a piece of fruit without really tasting it, I glance out the window and to the front yard.

Han and Luke are outside, engaged in what is clearly a heated argument. From what I observe, Luke's asking him to wait a little more while Han is blatantly refusing.

I haven't looked at him for so long since I've found out he was my father. After watching him argue with Luke at a distance, it's easy to vision him as that man in the holo arguing with my mother about giant nerf slippers. I wonder how I couldn't have figured out before.

Then again, the holo was fuzzy and dusty. And its not like I was looking for Han Solo; he was dead then.

I refocus my eyes on my faint reflection in the window, and study my face. My mother's eyes, no doubt about that. I scrutinize myself for a moment, then focus back on Han, now jabbing his finger into Luke's chest.

Yep. That's kinda obvious, too.

A faint memory comes back to me, so fuzzy and blurry that I was either drugged or half-conscious (or it's all my imagination) when it was said:

"Guy next to her was doin' more damage, intil she went down. Reckon 'e's 'er dad?"

(I'm supposing this was somewhere on the slave barge, but it means that our resemblance was somewhat obvious to other people, too.)

Suddenly, all my senses are on alert. There's a weak Force vibe coming from my mother's room.

She's awake.

Without a second thought, I tear up the stairs, wheel around the corner, and barge into her room, just as her eyes start to flicker open.

"…Syrmé."

I lower myself in a much-used chair by her bed, suddenly feeling my eyes start to burn and my vision blur.

She's awake.

I turn my head away from her, determined not to let her see tears. But it's too late. She weakly (yet strongly, somehow) uses one finger to turn my chin.

"Baby, I'm fine. Just a little Stun."

"Mom," I start, after a breath so my voice wouldn't choke. "You were out for a week."

"I… what?" she glances around, realizing she was back on Yavin. "Oh. No one died, right?"

She seems completely unconcerned that she's practically been in a coma.

"…Everyone's fine."

"Good. Well, I'm okay now." she smiles weakly. "Don't worry, I'm not old enough to die. Yet."

I shrug, then decide to change the subject.

"…Dad's here." I struggled to say the first word.

"Is he? What's he doing here?"

Let's see how long it takes her to catch on…

"Waiting for you to wake up."

"Oh. That's nice of him."

"He's leaving now. Do you want me to go get him?"

She seems to sense my reserve, the fact that I'm upset. And not about her waking up, either.

"No, that's okay." she waves a hand dismissively. "I'll talk to him tomorrow, I suppose." She studies me for a moment. "Did Luke tell you…?"

"Yes."

She laid her small hand on my arm, smiling uncertainly and sympathetically, as if I was going to start yelling. "…I'm sorry I couldn't tell you myself, hun. We just didn't have time in those few minutes on Mot'n's barge - "

"But you did have plenty of time to tell me in these past fifteen years. …But you seem to have failed to do that as well."

She removes her hand from my arm, frowning at me.

"What are you…?"

Then I watch the horror dawn onto her face.

I swallow, struggling to not let my eyes water again.

"Syrmé - "

"I know, you would have eventually told me." I mock Luke's voice.

"No – please." she wipes at an eye. "Syrmé – I was scared. And weak. I… I couldn't - " she swipes a finger under both eyes.

Then I understand. I'm still mad as hell at her for lying, but I understand. She's fearless, yet there are some parts of her life where she's as cowardly as a baby Jawa in the middle of a hostile Tusken camp. And I'm one of those parts.

But we don't have time to talk now.

"He's leaving now." I repeat.

She stops stuttering, then looks at me like she couldn't believe it for a second, then smiles. "Take me to him."

"I'll go get him - "

"No. Help me up, Syrmé."

I sigh. "I'll just - "

"No. I'm going to him. Now help me."

Well, whatever the sickly woman wants, I guess…

I stand, then hold out an arm that she grips, dragging her legs under the covers until her bare feet rest against the floor. Then, leaning on me, I sense her drawing power and energy from the Force around her, she stands up, taking a shaky yet firm step in front of her.

I can hold him for a few more minutes.

Luke's voice bursts clearly into my head, making me realize that he had sensed my mother waking up as well. I send an affirming message to him, then return to help my mother.

It takes about a minute to get from the side of her bed to the top of the stairs, and then another two down the stairs. Thirty seconds from the foot of the stairs we are at the door, and I open it, stepping onto the porch.

Luke seems to have been barely retaining Han, probably trying to re-argue old points. Han, clearly, is pissed off. His back is turned; Luke was probably attempting to block his way. Then I glance at my mother for a moment, before she takes two more steps and I help lower her into a hover-chair.

Then, with powers unknown, she manages to stop everything with two syllables:

"Flyboy."