Good Kids
"Who's the girl?" Maz asked in a hushed toned, her eyes narrowed.
"Name's Rey," Han answered. He reclined in his chair, wincing as he felt a sharp pinch in his lower back. "Scavenger from Jakku, apparently. That's about all I know."
"Hmm." Maz nodded slightly, her eyes peering somewhere past him as if she were deep in thought, pondering the information. Or pondering something else entirely. It was difficult to tell with Maz.
"Not a bad pilot or mechanic either," Han continued. He paused to take a swig of his drink. "I was actually thinking of bringing her on as a second mate, someone to help out Chewie and me with the Falcon, but..."
She'd seemed so excited at first. A little too excited, perhaps. The way her eyes lit up like two shining stars and she smiled with more joy than anyone would think possible for a scrappy, half-starved scavenger from a desolate, junkyard planet – he would've been lying if he claimed it hadn't stirred up something in his heart, however worn out that old thing was. Light seemed to radiate from the girl, warm and bright, reaching out and encompassing everything and everyone around her. But there was something else, something holding her back, something darker and colder beneath all that light, and Han knew exactly what it was.
He saw the sadness and longing in the young girl's eyes. It might not have been noticeable to the average passer-by; her bright smile and shining eyes hid it well. But he could see it. He recognised the exhausted look of someone who had experienced more hardship than a person their age should have. He recognised the pained expression of someone who had experienced loss and abandonment. He recognised the hopeful, aching gaze of a youth searching desperately for their place in this great big galaxy, wondering endlessly if the familiar was better than the risk of the unknown, or if their purpose did lie somewhere beyond the stars they saw at night, out there in the depths of space.
Han felt a dull ache deep in his chest.
"... I don't think she's too keen on the idea. Reckons she's gotta get back to Jakku."
But there was no one on that wretched planet waiting for her, was there? Or no one to wait for. No one coming back. Poor kid was so stubbornly full of hope she couldn't see it, or perhaps she didn't want to. Sometimes it was better that way. Denial and hope could keep a person going, give them a reason for survival, a reason to live. It was better than succumbing to hopelessness. Better than falling into a pit of despair and seeing no reason to go on.
"You've got a soft spot for her." Maz's voice cut through his thoughts, dragging his mind back into the cacophony of the castle. She was staring at him with a knowing look in her eyes and a grin on her wrinkled face.
"She's skilled," Han reasoned, forgoing the sentimentality. "Gifted."
It was a logical arrangement, really. He needed a crew, needed the extra pair of hands. This girl was the first pair of hands he'd come across, with the skills to do the job, that didn't come with a personality he couldn't stand. Rey, if she decided to leave that junkyard behind, would need a job and a place to stay and people to stay with. Han needed a hard-worker willing to hang around and put up with him and Chewie. They would be helping each other out.
Maz adjusted her goggles and peered at him more closely. Han tensed. He knew exactly what she saw.
She saw right through him, like she always did.
He sighed heavily. "She deserves better than that damned hellhole."
Not that what he had to offer was luxury, but it was better than nothing. Better than Jakku.
At least she wouldn't be alone.
Maz let out a light chuckle of satisfaction, then pointed a slender finger at him. "Just like I said, the same eyes in different people."
Han raised an eyebrow.
"You see the eyes of a young one," she explained, "alone, fighting to survive, matured by the harshness and cruelty that surrounds them, beaten down and worked into the ground, longing for something more. You see what you once were. You see yourself."
Right through him. Like he was made of transparisteel or something.
Han sighed. "Kid deserves a chance." If only she'd just take it...
Maz nodded sincerely. "I see it too," she said, then her expression shifted, her wrinkled face consumed by a sort of mysterious wonderment, and there was a spark glinting in those small, brown, thousand year old eyes. "I also see something else."
Han waited for her to elaborate, but instead she let the remark hang in the air, with all its baffling ambiguity.
"You gonna tell me what that is?" he asked impatiently.
Maz contemplated for a moment. "Hmm, no."
Han rolled his eyes. "Oh, great." Clear as mud in the marshlands of Mimban.
Maz sighed. "There is more to her that you don't see. More that you don't feel." She reached across the table and poked a bony finger at his chest.
"Well I did only just meet the kid. Cut me some slack, would ya?" he retorted. "Hasn't exactly been time for a heart to heart between the gangs and escaped rathtars."
Maz laughed and shook her head. "Ah, you are right back in the mess, Han Solo," she drawled. "You've done it again, and you don't even realise it."
Han frowned, bemused. "Done what again?"
Maz did not answer. She shook her head again, her lips pressed firmly together in a thin-lined smile.
"What about the boy?" she asked instead.
"What about him?" Han spoke casually, determined not to raise suspicion. Ex-stormtrooper. Han knew. He could almost guarantee Maz did too, but regardless, he wasn't about to blow the kid's secret. Besides, one could never know who was lurking and listening in a place like this.
"Would you bring him onboard too?"
Han shrugged. "Sure, if he wanted to." He turned to look over his shoulder to where Finn and Rey stood. He couldn't hear their conversation, but he observed the exchange of words and pleading gazes. Secretly, Han hoped they both would stay, though given Finn's adamant stance and the look of sorrow on Rey's face, he didn't like the odds. The dull ache returned to his chest, this time more painful than before. It was a shame, really. The two of them seemed to make quite the pair. Both filled with the same sort of compelling light and energy that struck him as familiar, yet unique and precious all the same. In all his years, Han had seen scum and wretched villainy in just about all the varieties the galaxy had to offer – he knew good hearts when they crossed his path.
Two bright sparks, both formed in places of such cruelty and despair. He marvelled at the irony.
The two of them stirred a warmth in his heart, which he honestly hadn't thought possible after... everything. The thought of parting ways with them cut at him deep and stung more than he'd expected.
He sighed.
Leia would adore them.
"He's a good kid," Han said at last, swallowing to rid his throat of the tightness forming. "They both are."
Maz nodded. "Yes, they are," she said, with something cryptic and unsaid hidden behind her wonderment that Han had given up trying to interpret. "They most certainly are."
He turned back to face the table, rubbing the back of his now aching neck. "Chewie likes them too," he added.
Maz smiled. "That Wookiee's got good taste."