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-T.
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It was hard to believe eight weeks had passed. They had gone by relatively uneventfully for Han. He might even go so far as to say they'd been boring, but for once the smuggler felt like a little boring now and again was a healthy thing, especially considering the alternative. Anyway, his job was to keep an eye on Luke. The Princess was paying handsomely for this little babysitting gig, and it didn't bother Solo that no Sith lords or bounty hunters had made an appearance in the whole time they'd been here. Sure there was mud to contend with, and Kreth knew Solo hated snakes more than he hated anything, and, sure, their supplies were getting pretty low, which meant Han was going to have to start taking lessons from Yoda on cooking with the local cuisine.
And sure, Luke seemed more and more insular the more he trained with the small green Jedi master.
The kid trained ceaselessly. He was always running - with Yoda riding on his back - climbing vines using only the strength of his arms, wading hip-deep through fetid swamps, working out the finer points of lightsaber technique, practicing jumps, flips and turns for hours. Other times, to Han's disbelief, he was balanced in a handstand, eyes closed, lifting stones and logs with that Force of his. The kid never complained or argued, though the arduous workload obviously wore on him some days. But Solo noticed he never smiled anymore either. He had grown older, more serious in the past weeks.
It probably didn't help the things old Yoda was teaching the kid: The danger of showing emotion, of having attachments; the threat of being swallowed up by the 'dark side', which was presumably what happened to turn Luke's father into Darth Vader; the role of Jedi Knights as guardians of peace and justice. As if the kid needed a bigger savior complex.
Luke absorbed all of it, very serious, very intent on doing it right. He seemed focused, unafraid. He gained endurance and the musculature of a professional soldier, all hint of teenage gangliness and gaunt features from his illness completely gone.
But Han noticed things. Noticed Luke's cheek twitch and jaw tighten if ever the discussion turned to his father. Solo woke more than once to the sound of Luke's nightmares from the bunk room. The first time he'd bolted up in a panic, having heard frantic shouts, not sure what was wrong, stumbling in the dark to the cabin, hitting the lights. Luke had been half-sitting in a cold sweat, eyes wild, hair in complete disarray, chest heaving with frantic breaths.
It was just a dream, Han had reassured, more out of his own relief than to calm Luke who was already apologizing for waking him, features strained, face flushed with embarrassment.
Luke started spending more nights on the floor of Yoda's hut. Solo wasn't sure if the reason was because the nightmares abated there, or he was so spent with exhaustion from a long day of training that he didn't have the energy to stumble back to the ship. Or perhaps the young man was starting to prefer the elfin Jedi's company to Solo's and Chewie's. Han didn't know.
One such morning, when Luke hadn't come back, Han was working on his latest project on the Falcon - rebuilding the backup hyperdrive motivator - when he passed the com terminal and noted with surprise that they had a message from the Princess. He read it, read it again, and frowned. They had not had much communication in the last weeks, agreeing that com silence would be the best security measure. He read the message a third time.
The Alliance has had a change of heart. They want to negotiate for Luke to come back. The Aurel sector, 3rd moon from Tintian 4. Neutral place.
Still frowning, Solo closed the message, walking slowly back to the maintenance pit, catching a greasy rag from the edge to wipe his hands on.
The Alliance wanted the kid back. Just like that, as if they'd never plotted to capture and kill him. It could be a trap, of course. That would be Han's first suspicion. A way to lure the kid in with the promise that everyone was friends again, old wounds forgotten.
Of course there was also the possibility that the offer was genuine, that someone had talked some sense into Mothma or Cracken, or whoever the idiot was that thought Luke should be assassinated. Possible that they realized belatedly that having a Jedi on their side was not a bad thing - could be the very thing that won them the war, in fact - and they needed him again.
He wondered how Luke would react. He'd noticed the kid was pretty touchy about the idea of anyone - even the Jedi - using him for their war machine, to promote their agendas. Han couldn't blame him. He would feel the same in the kid's shoes. In fact, if he were in Luke's position, he would have washed his hands of the whole business. Look out for himself and no one else.
A stray memory flared: Luke standing in the hangar at Yavin IV, gussied up in his new Rebel flight suit, ready to take on the Death Star in his newly minted X-Wing. Take care of yourself, Han. I guess that's what you're best at.
No, Luke wouldn't thumb his nose at the Alliance if they gave any hint of wanting him back. He was too duty-driven, too anxious to connect to his fellow Rebel pilots and the Princess, save the Galaxy and all that.
Han expelled a noisy sigh of frustration, tossed the rag to the deck as he climbed back into the pit. It was hard to keep someone alive who had little to no sense of self-preservation, always rushing from one danger to another. He wouldn't keep this information from Luke because he'd already seen the unintended consequences of people lying to him in order to protect him. He'd promised Luke he would always tell him the truth, adding of course that he would also always give his honest opinion, whether the kid asked for it or not.
And oh, he had some opinions about this.
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He meandered casually to Yoda's small hut, which was nestled under a large twisted tree, near a green pond of open swamp water. He was actually surprised to see Luke and the old green Jedi sitting in silence outside the entrance, Luke cross-legged, eyes closed, brow furrowed, hands resting lightly on his knees; Yoda, leaning on his stick, his own eyes also closed.
Han stood there for a moment watching them, uncomfortable with the stillness, wondering irreverently if he jumped out of the bushes and tried to scare them, if he could break their concentration. He cleared his throat instead.
When that didn't work, Solo spoke, first quietly, then a little louder.
"Luke."
The kid didn't even flinch.
"Hey, Luke, I need to talk to you."
No answer. Han was starting to get kind of creeped out.
Solo stepped forward, shook the kid's shoulder. "Luke, wake up."
Luke hitched a sudden breath like someone surfacing the water off a still lake, his eyes snapping open, limbs coming to life. Solo jerked back a few inches, startled in spite of himself.
"Han?" Luke frowned. Both their gazes went to Yoda, still immersed in his trance, unfazed by his surroundings. "What is it? Is something wrong?"
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They stood in the galley, next to the com terminal, eyes on the message. Chewie growled softly and Luke looked automatically to Han for a translation.
"He said something doesn't smell right," Han supplied.
Luke blinked, his gaze tracking the message again, expression unreadable.
Solo dropped his hand from his hip, lip curling. "I say it smells like a trap."
Luke moved to sit at the holochess table, running a thumbnail over the scuffed edge, his expression distant. "Yoda wouldn't want me to leave in the middle of my training. He says not finishing would make me open to the Dark Side."
Solo shrugged, moved carefully to sit across from the kid. He might not agree with everything the old Jedi was feeding the kid, but remaining on Dagobah was infinitely preferable to walking into a trap set by the Alliance. "Maybe you should listen to him then."
Luke's eyes flashed to Han and back to the table. He shrugged, unsure. "But if the Alliance needs me…"
"Then you'll let them...?" Han supplied, trailing off.
Luke's expression hardened suddenly as he glanced back up to Solo, his voice taking on an edge, a challenge for the smuggler to finish saying what they were both thinking. "Let them what?"
Solo shrugged, unafraid of Luke's sudden burst of hostility. It was good for Luke to show a little emotion once in a while, instead of bottling it all up, waiting to explode. "Let them use you," he replied with another noncommittal shrug. "First they want to kill you, then suddenly they say they're sorry, they don't really want to kill you - if you'll just come back, help them win the war they suddenly can't fight without you. Like an old girlfriend who just wants to use you for a free meal."
Luke arched his eyebrows. There was a glint in his eye now, the hostility momentarily forgotten. "This sounds like you're speaking from a place of experience."
Han grimaced. "Maybe I am, junior," he growled, feeling exasperated that this conversation was taking a sudden turn to the problems in his love life. "The point is, don't just jump back in their arms because they act willing to take you again."
The half-amused expression was still on Luke's face. "It sounds like I need more advice from the Love Guru - " He jerked out of the way but not fast enough to avoid Han's whack on his arm.
"Knock it off, kid."
Luke became serious again, as if remembering that emotion for the Jedi was frowned upon. His glance back at the com unit told Han the Princess's message was on his mind. "The meeting date is…?"
"Three weeks from now."
"How far is the Aurel sector?"
Solo shrugged. "Two days, give or take."
Luke nodded, pushing to his feet now, heading back to his endless Jedi training. "That gives me time to think about it, then."