Han was not looking forward to this year's Mischief Night. The big public bash his wife was throwing as a community event promised to be a headache. He never was one for the holiday, anyway. It hadn't been much fun for him as a kid. It was the one night where being smeared with dirt and begging for food actually got him some, but the food was candy and it wasn't very filling. And then too, there were the bags full of it he stole from the kids just old enough to be out alone but still young enough to beat up. Hunger ruined everything.
Mostly, he didn't think of that. He'd grown up, and he'd grown out of that situation. He had his own children now, and they were secure and loved, and their excitement for holidays was infectious. But this year they were old enough to go mischiefing on their own and he was stuck at home, greeting diplomats and watching other kids have a good time.
And when your wife was Senator Leia Organa everything had to be done above and beyond. She had a heart that was a bottomless pit, and her goal was to give the community a Mischief Night they wouldn't forget. She ordered amazing decorations, had bowls of expensive quality candy, the grounds were filled with games station for the little ones, and their house was open to all. That was the worst part.
"You work for the good of the galaxy," Han told his wife for the third or tenth time, flicking sticky webbing off his fingers. "Got to set limits, starting with your front door. Never let a neighbor in."
Leia, however, didn't see it his way. Never had, Han knew, and that's one of the reasons why he married her. Why she married him he had no idea, but until she woke up and kicked him out, he was sticking around.
She let him draw a line, though, and that's another reason he married her. "We're letting the neighborhood in, but if you don't want to wear a costume that's fine."
"Thank you," he said, relieved she'd listened at least to one of his complaints, but then she smiled that vixen smile and he knew he was in trouble.
"You can go in military dress," she said. "This is an official affair, General."
He didn't like hired help stomping around his home. He didn't trust them. You never knew who was secretly taking pictures, leaking them to the press. It meant he had to do a lot of the decorating himself, and running into town picking up the food, and he had to get extra webbing when his older son wrapped the youngest up in it and stuck him on the wall. Plus, he enlisted the help of those he trusted. Chewie was coming with his family, Luke with his. Lando Calrissian didn't know he would be manning the punch station, but he'd find out when he got here.
Chewie, Malla, and their little cub arrived in naked wookiee glory. That meant all one could see was their thick coat of fur, but still. "Where's your costume?" Han asked Chewie.
*I am a costume* Chewie stated with dignity. *I am sold in all the stores. I see you dusted your identity off.*
"General is not my identity. Just my job. And I do my job well; I just don't dress like it. It's uncomfortable."
*You have a reputation as eccentric.*
"Just for that you're on door duty."
*I came to have fun* the wookiee protested.
"It's fun," Han promised with a lie. "They shout Mischief Night and you give them candy."
*I don't support the eating of candy. It ruins your teeth. Look at mine.* Chewie bared his fangs. *White and sharp. I never touch the stuff.*
"I know, pal. Sorry. You can roar and scare them away."
The wookiee straightened, his sense of mischief wrinkling his nose. *I can?*
"Sure! Just throw some candy at them first."
Then Han helped his children with their costumes. His eldest boy, Jacen, wasn't too enthused, but at age fourteen, Han understood that maybe the holiday of dressing up as a pretend scary thing was losing its appeal.
"Everybody else went to some effort, you know," he told Jacen.
"What's wrong with dressing as a Jedi Master?" the youth demanded to know.
"That's what you wear to school. Where you're learning to be a Jedi Master."
"Anyway," Jacen grumped with the surliness only a fourteen year old can muster, "it'll be years before I'm a Master. Uncle Luke's gonna teach us forever. Besides, the Nons don't know what a Master looks like."
Han pointed to his chest. "I'm a Non and don't you forget it. Besides, with that attitude, Uncle Luke had better take a lifetime before he grants you the title of Master."
Jacen's twin sister Jaina had at least tried with her costume. She'd used green skin tint, attached wiggling springs to her headband, glued suction cups onto a pair of rubber safety gloves, and wore a monochrome jump suit. She looked like a girl who had glued things to her clothing and had a bad reaction to some fructose, but she'd had fun putting it together.
"How do I look, Dad?" she asked, wiggling her suction cups.
"Like a Rodian," Han congratulated. "Nice costume, little P."
She wore a doubtful expression. "It's kinda warm."
"Yeah," Han agreed. "You'll cool down when you're outside. Although," he reached out and snatched his youngest son, who was racing down the hall wearing a long white sheet and brown ear muffs. "Chasing this one- Oh, it's my Princess," Han said in a phony voice, and puckered his lips at his son. "Give me a kiss, beloved wife-"
"Dad, I'm Anakin! Not Mom!" the young boy wriggled out of his father's arms.
"Be still my heart," Han teased. "Coulda fooled me. Make sure you stay with your brother and your sister," he cautioned like a father. "They come home without you I know it won't be their fault."
Elsewhere deep in the apartment, Han heard the chime of the door and the roar of a wookiee. He grinned to himself and opened his bedroom door. "Senator Sweetheart, beings are arriving. Time to greet your masses." Then he let out a cluck of appreciation. "Who are you?"
His wife Leia was certainly playing mischief with her appearance. High-heeled shoes brought her up to his chin, a very nice angle, Han thought, and the high slit in the dark green gown hinted at a whole lot of leg. Her long hair was down, swept off her brow, and a red streak was dyed down the center.
"I'm the Witch of the Forest," she said. "An Alderaani folk tale. She lured travelers off the trail."
"And did what with them? Ate 'em?"
Leia frowned. "Just made them disappear, I think. It's funny what a child knows and doesn't know. Just thinking there was a dangerous witch in the woods leading people astray was frightening enough. I didn't have to know more. But, if you leave her a sweet cake she will let you pass."
"A sweet cake, huh. Think I played Witch myself when I was a kid."
"There was a Corellian Witch of the Forest?"
"No, it was me. I was hungry. Only I was witch of an alley."
Leia reached up her hands to smooth the shoulders of his uniform. He rarely shared details of his broken childhood- holidays seemed to bring them out- and they always made her sad. She wished it could have been different for him, but then maybe he wouldn't be the same person she married. "I'd have left you a sweet cake," she murmured, stepping on her toes to kiss his cheek.
"I'd have gobbled you up," he said, trying to nibble on her neck.
She wriggled out of his embrace with a smile. "It might take you three years," she took his hand and they went to start the party, "but eventually you'd wear me down."
"In any universe, sweetheart."
Han locked their bedroom door. Open House did not mean open house.
The being drifted along the streets. It was dark now, but for Mischief Night the city turned off the lamps. He saw dark forms, all sizes, and when he got close he saw the grotesque and the macabre, but it was all in fun. Costumes. He smelled candle smoke and burnt sugar. There were a lot of beings strolling slowly, making their way door to door in the upscale neighborhood with large lawns, and he found it easy to follow along, close enough to look part of a group but far enough without raising suspicion. The children wore disguises and this was his night, where he didn't need one.
He had been patient. The timing hadn't been right for so long, but patience was his fortitude. The accumulation of events had led to this glorious night, and he would win all he needed, all he wanted. All he had lost.
He followed a group of children to a house. "Mischief Night," they sang out. "Throw us a treat and we'll treat you right." They held open sacks or baskets and the beings in the house smiled and identified the costumes. Oh, goodness. Darth Vader. Now there was a scary one! Be safe!
"And who are you supposed to be?" an adult human asked as he stepped up.
He held out his hand and grinned, showing decayed teeth. His fist clenched. The beings's eyes widened with an uncertain fear and their hands went to their throats.
"Join me, or die."
Luke Skywalker observed the games station. The sprawling lawn of his sister's residence was filled with children of all species and ages enjoying themselves. The night was warm, and all around there were flashes of holocamera and shrieks of youngsters.
"There's another Princess Leia," he commented to Han. "We're popular this year."
"Fifteenth anniversary, that's why," Han said. "Lots of commemorations. Why not a costume for Mischief Night?"
"Yeah, some are heroes rather than monsters. Anakin looked cute."
Han grunted. "Mischiefing as his mother. Something wrong with that. Where's Ben and Mara? I didn't see them."
"They are each an end of a Hutt," Luke said with a fond smile. "Ben's still not walking so she's dragging him around inside as the tail. He's been sleeping. Hope he doesn't sleep through all the mischief." Luke laughed and pointed. "And look there's you. Smuggler Han; not the general."
"But he's carrying a lightsaber!" Han exclaimed indignantly. "'Scuse me a sec, l'll set him straight."
Luke grabbed his brother-in-law's sleeve. "Leave him, General. Instead, accept my compliments on your game station. Pretty great idea."
Han's booth was Design A Pulp-O'Lantern. Kids got to decorate the hard gourd by firing a paint pellet at it.
"Only problem is everyone keeps missing and Threepio is the one getting colored, not the gourds." Han shrugged, unconcerned. "They get three tries though."
"Where's my booth?"
"Storytime is under the lindra tree," Han told him.
"It's not just a story," Luke said placidly. "I want to introduce everyone to the Force, even those who don't know it's there."
Jacen turned around again, taking attendance of his siblings. "Come on, Anakin, keep up."
The little boy dressed as Princess Leia raised his head from his sack. "I'm counting my candy."
"We'll get lots more, Nak, don't worry."
"Your name's Anakin?" a nearby kid asked. He was short but his voice seemed old and he wore an elaborate costume. From the shadow of a huge hood glimpsed a peek of a wrinkled face, with multiple bags under the eyes.
Anakin ignored the question of his name. "Cool costume," he said.
"Thank you," the boy answered. "You don't know how long I worked on it."
"I just grabbed a sheet and some ear muffs," Anakin shrugged.
Jaina put a hand on her hip, slighted. "I worked awfully hard on mine and it doesn't look near as good as yours," she observed. "Did you buy it?"
"Dad says that's cheating," Anakin declared.
"Have you been to the Senator's house yet?" the boy asked. "I really want to go."
"Uh," Jacen stepped forward as he knew his little brother would blab everything about their family, and on Mischief Night he thought they deserved the anonymity of their costumes. Also he had taken an instant dislike to the stranger, though he didn't know why. Uncle Luke would be disappointed in him, so he tried to do the right thing by the Force and also the right thing as the son of the overly suspicious and slightly paranoid Han Solo. "We're on our way there. You want to mischief with us? We know the way."
"I would like that," said the boy, and he cackled.
"Wow," Anakin said. "You really get into it."
"It's creepy," Jaina declared.
"Your face is melting," the strange boy retorted.
"So's yours. At least mine's from skin tint."
"Mine is mine."
"That doesn't make sense."
"Mischief Night!" the boy cackled again.
Anakin walked close to his big brother. "Jacen, I'm scared."
"It's just a costume, Nak. And a weird kid, but he's probably harmless enough."