Life Debt

Chewbacca had finished making his rounds in the cantina, he kept an ear open for anybody who might be willing to hire them to haul cargo or smuggle something to the other side of the galaxy. Nothing. Also nothing new. Business had been slow for a while, at this rate Han Solo wasn't ever going to get his debt paid to Jabba the Hutt. If nothing popped up soon, they'd take off tomorrow and try to find another moon that might prove more prosperous for them.

It was late, the cantina was starting to empty, people of all species were going home, or somewhere else for the night, and quite frankly, the wookiee wanted nothing more than to get back on the Millennium Falcon and call it a night himself.

A sudden, but not entirely foreign sound, got his attention, and he groaned. The sound of somebody, who had drunk too much, falling off a bar stool.

He made his way to the front and pushed past the remaining crowd that hadn't left yet. Yep, it was his human.

Han drank often, almost every day, sometimes to excess, but not usually to the point of drunkenness. This apparently was an exceptional night.

The Corellian smuggler was sprawled on the floor, gazing towards the ceiling but his eyes were barely even open, a low gurgling sound rose up from his throat. Aside from standing around looking, nobody in the cantina paid any mind to the scene before them. One by one they scattered to go home for the evening, until just Chewbacca stood over the heavily inebriated man, who right now couldn't stand up to save his life.

This wasn't the first time Chewie had seen Han like this. He would prefer it if he never saw the man like this again. But he knew that wasn't too likely, so he did what he knew had to be done. The wookiee got down on one knee, still towering over Han, and got to work. He straightened the human's legs, pulled Han's right arm to a right angle, brought his left arm over his chest, placed the back of that hand against Han's cheek, pulled Han's left knee up, rolled Han on his side, bent his leg at a right angle, tipped his head back so his chin was lifted and his mouth was aimed downward to the floor, and none too soon. A couple minutes after he did, Han threw up most of what he'd had to drink that night on the floor.

The bartender was hollering at the two of them, demanding Chewbacca get Han out of there. The wookiee waved him off with a dismissive grunt. He waited until he was sure Han was done vomiting, then reached his huge fingers into the inside of Han's vest. The bartender was yammering at them again, and Chewbacca barked back, before he found what he was looking for, and stood up to his full height and dropped a few coins on the counter to pay for the drinks, and a couple extra credits to make up for the mess. Chewie grabbed the bar rag, knelt back down and used it to wipe off Han's mouth, then he tossed it back onto the bar, picked the unconscious human up in his massive furry arms, and carried Han out of the cantina and over to the bay where the Falcon was docked.

Han was a dead weight in the wookiee's arms the whole walk back to the ship, he didn't move and only occasionally let out a soft groan, that was the only proof he was actually still alive. Chewie got them onto the ship, turned on the lights and made his way to the bunk room. He kept Han balanced with one arm and used his free hand to pick up the blanket that had been haphazardly discarded on the bed that morning. Easing the smuggler down on the bunk, Han seemed to come a little more to life as he felt the pillow and mattress under him, his moans became louder as his head slowly lolled to the side. Chewbacca chattered to himself as he draped the blanket over Han, who suddenly reacted like he was freezing, he shivered and grabbed two fistfuls of the fabric and wrapped it tight around himself as he curled into a tight ball.

Chewbacca stood over Han and watched him for a couple minutes. Letting out a small almost whining howl, he reached one huge hand down and lightly patted the back of Han's head, and to his surprise, the smuggler seemed to lean back against it in his sleep, before gravity won over and he fell back against the pillow.

The wookiee stared down at the human and shook his head. He had known Han for several years, he knew more about the Corellian than anyone in the galaxy, and yet for all that, there was much in Solo's past he didn't even tell his best friend about. Chewbacca knew about his courtmartial from the Imperial Navy, of course, that in particular haunted the smuggler constantly, though he tried to act like it was buried in the past. It was obvious though, even before that, probably long before that, Han had a whole other set of demons to keep him busy. Chewbacca could tell somebody somewhere had done something to Han, what it was, he wouldn't hazard to guess, and until the day came, if it ever actually did, that Han decided to confide in him, officially it wasn't any of his business. It didn't mean he didn't hate seeing Han get like this. Clearly whatever had been done to him before, all this accomplished was Han beating himself up all over again.

Humans were a strange breed of people. They only lived about a quarter as long as wookiees did, at best, and once they even got to a quarter of that quarter, they thought they knew everything. Han was somewhere between a third and a half of an average human lifespan, by human standards he had lived a long time, he was old enough to know so much...in wookiee years, he was still a baby, and whether he appreciated Chewie pointing it out from time to time or not, it showed.

Chewbacca had a life debt to Han, where the Corellian went, so did he, he was willing to kill, or die if need be, for his friend. On occasions though, it started to occur to the wookiee, that part of that life debt also meant protecting Han from his own self.

That night, Chewie lay in the next bunk, he slept lightly, waking every so often to check and make sure his human was okay.

Han groaned long and loud the next morning before he ever tried opening his eyes. The side of his face was buried in his pillow and his whole body hurt before he even tried moving it. His eyelids felt like they weighed two tons each, he probably spent about five minutes just trying to work them open. When he did, the first thing he saw was a big blurry image covered in brown fur. He blinked his eyes a few times to try and get them to focus, after a while Chewie started to come in much clearer.

"Ha...how much did I drink last night?" each word forced itself out of his throat and felt like it was pounding directly on his skull. His stomach felt like it was doing a few acrobatics itself.

Chewbacca's answer came out in a soft wookiee chatter, but each syllable still resonated deep in the Corellian's head like a drum. Still, he tried to act unfazed as he weakly forced out the words, "That much, huh?...new, personal best."

He pushed the blanket back and tried to stand up but he lost his equilibrium as soon as he set one foot on the floor and fell back against the bunk. Chewie grabbed his arm and jerked him to his feet, forcing him into a balanced stance. Now he was definitely awake, but he still didn't feel quite all there.

"I'm..." he had to think for a minute to even put the words together, "gonna...get a shower...and a cup of caf...and then...w, we'll...get out of here..."

Han shuffled one foot in front of him against the floor, then the other, and after a few more steps, he was able to pick one foot up without falling down, then he was able to pick up the other one and actually walk. He moved slowly, gathering up a change of clothes to take into the fresher. When he finally found everything he needed, he turned to leave the room, then turned around towards the wookiee and said, "Oh...Chewie..." his bloodshot eyes looked up into his best friend's and he said plainly, "Thanks, pal, for everything."

Chewbacca chattered in response, a weak smile formed on the smuggler's face as he patted the wookiee's furry chest and headed for the fresher.