Remain in Light – Chapter 10: Han by Erin Darroch

Ratings/Warnings (this chapter): T; mild language; themes; angst
Note 1: At last...!
Note 2: As I've mentioned elsewhere, in my head this story takes place in the same slightly altered universe established by Susan Zahn (suezahn) because her version of how Han and Leia got together is now firmly my headcanon. This chapter, with her kind permission, borrows a bit from her concept of Ord Mantell and Han and Leia's adventures there, as depicted in her story, Mergers and Acquisitions

Chapter 10: Han

Part 1: The Approach

He could sense her long before he could see her.

The slender, golden thread of awareness was always with him now, the living root of it buried deep in the very centre of his mind, the other end firmly embedded in Leia's. Over the period of time when Han had been incarcerated at Avarshina Medical Station and in the days since his "escape", the astonishment and disbelief of discovery had given way to acceptance of the simple fact that they were connected through the Force. The sensation was deeply satisfying, as if he'd had some vital function restored to him that he hadn't even known he was missing.

Shifting restlessly in his acceleration chair, on board a shuttle bound for Ord Mantell, Han reflected for a moment on his former scepticism and habitual scorn for mystical nonsense beyond his comprehension. The cost of his stubbornness could be counted not just in many squandered opportunities over the last forty-odd years, but in terms of his relationship with his only son. He'd spent many long hours on this journey wondering whether he might have salvaged a shred of Ben's love and respect if he'd embraced that mystical mumbo-jumbo more willingly, accepted it more completely—and if he'd done so a long time ago. He'd always valued practicality and simplicity, and had assiduously avoided becoming involved with what he'd viewed then as mere superstition. He couldn't help but feel that his intransigence on the subject was at least partly responsible for alienating the son who'd valued the power of the Force above all other things.

Memories of Ben threatened to dim Han's enjoyment of the last leg of his journey towards Leia. With a jerk of his head, he silenced those dispiriting thoughts and focused for a moment on his environment. The shuttle he was travelling in was part of a fleet of similar vehicles that ferried passengers to and from the satellite world of Ord Mantell. The spacious vehicle had room enough to accommodate perhaps thirty passengers, although Han and his companions were accompanied by only a handful of others bound for the resort. The interior of the shuttle was in keeping with the resort itself; richly appointed with deeply-cushioned acceleration chairs and couches, thick, springy flooring underfoot, and sweetly scented, conditioned air. From hidden speakers fore and aft, the faint strains of delicate orchestral music filtered through the space. There were far worse ways to travel, Han reminded himself as he squirmed in his seat and tried to relax.

Glancing around the cabin, he took note of his companions. Poe was stretched out in one of the high-backed, reclining accelerator chairs, dozing with his arms clamped across his chest. Finn and Ensign Mellor—whose given name, Han had learned, was Arran—were deep in conversation over a strategy game embedded in a lacquered table, and Noal Astor was absorbed in reading a display on the small screen attached to his chair. The other passengers, a collection of beings from a variety of different worlds, were similarly engaged, sleeping, reading or talking quietly. Han turned his head to look through the viewport at the eerie, iridescent blackness that swirled outside the shuttle. Travelling in hyperspace was no novelty for Han, but doing so in luxury, with someone else at the helm, was a rare treat.

The last leg of the journey to Ord Mantell was definitely an improvement on the previous three they'd made since leaving Avarshina. As they'd zoomed away from the medical station, Han and Poe had been in complete agreement that returning to Lando's base on the Pujool moon was a bad idea. With regret for the cost to Leia's fleet, Han realised that they would not be able to retrieve the ship she'd provided for his rescue, because someone in Lando's compound was clearly taking pay from more than one employer. Phasma's level of preparation for their arrival at the docking bay indicated that she had been warned well in advance of the inbound extraction party.

Han would have to get word to Lando through Leia that he had a spy in the camp, as well as letting him know that they would not be returning with The Immortal Chance. He considered whether they would be able to work out a deal to get Leia's ship back, although they no longer had Lando's ship to exchange for it. Han had sold it in the shipyards of Ganthel for a fraction of its worth, the sad cost of selling a pricey asset of dubious origin when you were in a hurry. The resulting credits had been sufficient, however, to purchase clothing and other essentials, as well as their transport to Eufornis Major, where they'd booked passage on a cruiser headed for the Ord Mantell resort fleet station. From there, they'd purchased transport on this shuttle. And Han and the others still had healthy balances on their credit chips to see them home, so it wasn't all bad.

Han knew that his decision to ditch Lando's ship wouldn't win him any favours with Lando—or Leia, either, for that matter—but then neither would turning up at the new Resistance base with the First Order hot on their heels. It was a safe bet that the Chance had been fitted with at least one tracking device, and Han had neither the time nor the inclination to have it thoroughly scanned and cleaned. He would pay Lando back, eventually—and anyway, the price of replacing the ship was nothing to him compared to the cost of significantly delaying their journey. Han had never been a particularly patient man, but the forced inactivity of his incarceration and the subsequent tedium of travelling a circuitous route to reach their rendezvous point had only amplified his restlessness.

You're close... I can feel you.

Han turned his face to the viewport to hide his sudden grin. The sense of Leia's increasingly eager anticipation of his arrival was deeply gratifying, and matched his own. As keenly aware as he was of the potential for harm that was inherent in the use of the Force, Han was relieved to find that its effects could also be beneficial. In fact, his newfound connection with Leia was a magnificent sensation, easily as pleasurable as the most intimate physical union they'd ever enjoyed, albeit in a very different way. The fine filament, sometimes vanishingly faint, that quivered in the darkness while his mind was focused on something else, would swell and grow like a living thing when he reached for her, or she for him.

Briefly, he imagined combining the two forms of communication, the telepathic and the physical, with Leia in his arms. It was a notion that brought another broad grin to his face, but moved him in other ways, too. Shifting in his chair, Han resolved to leave that line of thought for the time being. Although he felt certain—more certain than ever—that things between them had changed infinitely for the better in the interval since their last meeting, he was mindful of the difficult terrain that still remained to be crossed. The emotions and imagery that could be shared through the Force nevertheless left them with much to discuss and, for some of it at least, they would require actual words.

For a start, the open threat of the First Order and the imminent return to full-scale war was something they could not ignore—that Leia alone amongst her New Republic colleagues had refused to ignore—and Han knew it meant she would be at the centre of it. She'd always been at the centre of the resistance, long before it had the name to match. She was relentless in her determination to thwart the machinations of those who would tyrannize the galaxy, subjugate the weak and abuse the powerless. She was a warrior, first and foremost, and it went without question that she would see the continuing conflict to its bitter end. And whatever that end might be, Han was afraid that, for them, there never could be any peace—not true peace—because ending the war would almost certainly necessitate ending their son's life.

That repugnant thought brought Han's mind back around to the painfully delicate matter of Ben—or Kylo Ren, as Han was trying to discipline himself to think—that still needed to be settled between himself and Leia. Their son had been at the centre of nearly every painful conversation, and every bitter disagreement they'd had in recent years, and it was the subject which had most deeply divided them. Scratching absent-mindedly at the scar on his chest, Han felt certain that Ben's corruption by Snoke was complete, that he was beyond saving, but it was a fact that Leia had struggled to accept, right up until the end.

They'd always bickered and squabbled over minor things. Banter and a battle of wills had long been their peculiar kind of foreplay, and they almost couldn't help themselves. But the devastation that Ben had wrought had made them fight—really fight—turning on each other with vicious words, when they should have been turning to each other for solace.

Han winced as he recognised how painful it would be to combine a fight like that with Force-fuelled telepathic communication. It was a terrible thought. But then another possibility drifted in its wake, something much more heartening to consider. Perhaps, he pondered, such dreadful scenes could be averted altogether. Where words had so often failed them, where their bodies could not navigate the complexities, perhaps the transcendental tether that connected them could stretch across the gaps.

As he mused with interest over those possibilities, the public address system chimed. Passengers were informed that they would soon be dropping to sub-light speed, and were politely instructed to prepare for the approach to Ord Mantell. Han tried to calm the rush of emotion that thrummed through him at the thought of seeing her again, touching her face, pulling her into his embrace, but the task was made difficult by the fact that he could sense Leia's emotions, too, and they were running along the same lines.

The approach to Ord Mantell seemed to take forever.

Part 2: The Descent

"What's a seriko?" Finn wanted to know. "It's on the list of amenities. Is it like a casino? Have you ever been to one? What's it like?"

The instant their descent was announced, Finn had renewed the enthusiastic questioning and excited speculation that he'd already indulged in at the beginning of the shuttle trip. With far more patience than Han could ever muster, Dameron, Mellor and Astor answered his many questions and obliged the younger man by recounting stories of their previous visits to Ord Mantell, as the shuttle began to make its long, slow descent to the colossal structure below.

Han's own most recent visit to Ord Mantell was lost in memory; he'd been to the luxury resort more times than he could count, starting from an even younger age than Finn. In fact, he'd worked the resort for a while, first as a legitimate freight captain—importing and exporting for considerable profit—and then, later, as a smuggler, when the growing power and reach of the Empire had squeezed small players like Han out of the picture. And although those trips were muddled in his mind, all blurring into one, there was one memory of a visit to Ord Mantell that stood out with crystal clarity: his first visit here with Leia some thirty-two years before.

His memories of those three days, although quite clear, were not all happy ones. He recalled with an inward smile the hours they'd spent together in leisure after Leia's business for the Alliance was done—walking hand-in-hand through the busy thoroughfares; stopping to listen to live music; Leia's body swaying against his until he'd felt almost intoxicated by her nearness. He remembered with warmth their first truly intimate hour together, back at their hotel, although they hadn't made it quite as far in that direction as Han had hoped they would. A far less happy memory intruded as he recalled how the trip had ended, with a desperate escape from bounty hunters intent upon claiming the bounty on Han's head. With a grimace, Han considered the convoluted path his life had taken, and marvelled at the fact that he was still alive to ponder it.

"Han." A voice interrupted his reverie, and he looked over to see Poe directing his attention through the viewport to a structure coming into view. "Look at that. Is that the Zakasu Tower?"

Han peered through the pane at the prominent, glittering edifice that jutted above the transparent dome encasing the outer layer of the resort. He nodded. "Yep. That's it. But if you're planning on going in there, better take all your credits with you. You're gonna need 'em."

His comment prompted more excited discussion between Poe, Finn and Arran Mellor about the fun they were planning to have—or the trouble they were hoping to get into—during their single night on the satellite world. Each man had on his credit chip a share of the proceeds from the sale of The Immortal Chance, and Ord Mantell was still hands-down the best place to go if you had money burning a hole in your pocket.

The business centre and resort had long been a favoured destination for the wealthiest denizens of the galaxy, renowned for its unparalleled selection of shops selling luxuries, rarities and precious items. It was also a centre for entertainment of every description, including live theatres, music venues, art galleries and casinos. Furthermore, the broad selection of cuisine from across a hundred different worlds was unmatched anywhere. Poe, Finn and Arran were looking forward to the evening with great enthusiasm.

Noal Astor was likewise going along for the night out, although he was slightly more subdued than the others. He'd left behind a family—a wife and a young son—on Keugo when he fled with Han from Avarshina Medical Station, and that fact was understandably preoccupying his thoughts. Although he'd managed to get a message to his wife, he'd decided to take Han's advice to lie low for a while with the Resistance until he could be more confident of returning to his home without facing immediate arrest. As far as Han knew, Phasma was still planning to pin the blame for his escape on the two medics, a fact for which he was heartily sorry. He'd promised both men that he would help them—or more accurately that he would convince Leia to help them—to recover some of what they'd lost. Considering the kindness and goodwill they'd demonstrated to him while he was under their care, including their efforts to help him escape, he felt he owed it to them. It was still a matter for debate whether the better plan would be to send someone to collect Noal's family and deliver them to the Resistance base until they could decide on their future steps.

Han's attention was brought back to the present by the metallic thunk of landing pads being deployed beneath them. As the shuttle drew nearer the mass of Ord Mantell, details began to be visible on some of the colossal structures that made up the surface of the wholly manufactured satellite world. It really was a stunning sight, and a unique construction in the galaxy, at least on this scale. But Han had seen it all before a thousand times, and his thoughts were elsewhere. Somewhere, deep inside one of the looming urban canyons that made up the "surface" of the world, Leia was waiting.

Han wondered if there were some significance to her choice of rendezvous point. He had no idea how well she remembered those events of their youth; it wasn't something they'd talked about in recent years, wrapped up as they were in their shared troubles. He hoped that, if she did remember it clearly, she remembered the wine and the kisses, instead of the brush with death his bounty hunters had visited upon them both. Han had seen Leia afraid for the first time here on Ord Mantell; truly afraid in a white-knuckled, nearly-hysterical, close-to-hyperventilating way. It was here, too, that he'd witnessed her fierce bravery asserting itself, had watched her overcome abject terror by sheer force of will. She had stared down her demons and saved his life. He wondered if some memory of those long-ago adventures had steered her choice of meeting place.

Or perhaps it had come down to simple convenience. Ord Mantell was in the Mid-Rim, and neutral. It had long enjoyed a reputation as a playground for the extremely wealthy, but most of those wealthy visitors had been Imperials. After the deaths of Palpatine and Vader, and the destruction of the second Death Star, most had fallen on hard times, and Ord Mantell's fortunes had declined with them. It was still a stunning construction and a hub for anyone looking to indulge in luxury and exciting entertainment, but it was far less expensive and more accessible than it had been in its heyday.

The tilt of the shuttle as it moved towards one of the gaps between super-structures made Han's stomach flip; the motion of the ship was no novelty, of course, but the reality of being so near to Leia after all that had happened in recent days was giving him a strange sensation. He felt like a teenager getting ready for his first big date. It was a ludicrous idea, considering that he'd been married to her for so long, but he supposed it made sense. He felt like a new man. The momentous things that had happened to him over such a short span of time—finding his daughter, confronting his son, and awakening to the very real power of the Force—made him feel as if he'd walked through fire and emerged on the other side in a new skin. And with a sense of amazed relief, he recognised that their relationship had not only survived intact, it seemed to have been rejuvenated, as well.

The shuttle banked right, then steeply right again as it angled for its final destination. Han could feel the connection between them intensifying and expanding, not because of the decreasing physical distance between them, but because of how intensely they both desired that distance to be closed.

When the shuttle dipped down to make its final approach to the designated docking bay, Han spotted her. She was standing amongst a small group of companions on the arrivals receiving deck. Han recognised the distinctive outlines of Sela Connix and Irina Domina, but not the two men. The deck was situated near the shield doors at the end of the long access pier to which the shuttle would soon be attached. Han swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on Leia's distant figure.

As they approached their designated docking bay, the shuttle banked to the right, turning Han's side of the craft away from the view of Leia. Unthinking, he popped his acceleration straps loose and stepped across the cabin, ignoring the faint alarm that sounded in response. Without a word, Poe released his own harness and traded seats. Han muttered his thanks and sank down next to the other viewport. Peering through the thick pane, he had to squint against the blue-white flare of macrofusers at work, and the animated amber twinkling of the landing guide lights. It was early evening on Ord Mantell and the light was growing dim.

Still, he found Leia's party again readily enough. They were still too far away to make out faces, but he would recognize her outline anywhere; it seldom changed. Seen from a distance in the fading light, she looked nineteen again. She still presented the same compact silhouette: her short, slim legs encased in trim trousers and boots; the cropped jacket over a practical, fitted tunic; her head wreathed in elaborate twists of silken hair. He smiled at the distant figure and sent her a kiss of sorts.

You look great.

Her response was a mixture of pleasure and wry humour, mixed with urgency, which he translated as something like:

Thank you.
You're delusional.
Hurry up.

Part 3: The Reunion

Han was well past the point of trying to play it cool. Before the shuttle finished its painfully slow docking manoeuvre, he was on his feet and standing at the hatch. The murmur of his travelling companions and fellow passengers receded into the distance, overtaken by the thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears. The golden thread that joined him to Leia pulsed with their mutual excitement, and Han put his hand on the padded surface of the hatch door.

Strictly speaking, visitors awaiting arriving shuttles were expected to remain in the designated waiting area for passengers to disembark, but by the time the far edge of the boarding ramp touched down and clamped into place, Leia was already in motion. Han stepped down the ramp to the pier in two strides and moved in her direction.

Her face was stark white, her dark eyes liquid in the fading evening light as she moved towards him. As Han strode swiftly to close the gap between them, he glimpsed those haunted eyes, and was suddenly reminded that—from Leia's perspective—he was a resurrected man. For days, Leia had suffered under the weight of believing that Han was truly dead, and that their own son had killed him. He could see the shade of anguish behind the shine of joy as she flew to him, and he saw her face crumple tearfully as she buried herself in his embrace. The mystical connection between them seemed to expand around them, engulfing them in warmth as he wrapped his arms around her for the millionth time.

"Okay, Sweetheart," he soothed, holding her close and cradling the back of her head with one hand as she trembled and wept silently against his chest. "I'm here. I'm alright."

They swayed together for a long moment, pressed together from shoulder to hip. Finally drawing a shaking breath, Leia lifted her head to look up at him. As she opened her mouth to breathe his name, he lowered his head and kissed her—the way he should have kissed her on D'Qar before he left; the way he used to kiss her when their passion had burned so hot; the way he knew, without a doubt, she wanted to be kissed now. For a long, thrilling moment, the only thing that existed was Leia in his arms, her warm mouth moving against his, and the flood of joy and relief that flowed between them. The pulsing light suffused them both and the world disappeared.

When they finally broke apart, Han felt Leia's cool hand on his face, her thumb reverently tracing the contours of his brow and cheek, lips and jaw. Drawing back so that he could see her face, he quirked a smile at the shine in her dark eyes and reached to thumb away a tear from her cheek. She pulled him down for another lingering kiss, and then another, before finally dropping her forehead against his collar bone, breathless and quivering in his arms.

"See?" Han ventured after a long moment, giving her a gentle squeeze. "That's what I'm talking about. I like it when you miss me."

He grinned as she thumped him softly in the ribs and lifted her head to look at him again. Their eyes locked together in silent understanding and, as they drifted together for one more lingering caress, Han became aware that his companions—and hers—were all standing nearby, politely averting their gazes from the intimate scene.

"We've got an audience, Princess," he murmured against her lips.

"Oh," Leia sounded faintly startled. Recovering herself, but looking flustered for the first time in a long time, Leia took a half-step back and straightened her jacket. Then, in a familiar, wifely gesture that made Han's heart ache a little, she reached out to smooth and straighten his crumpled shirt. He swallowed hard and captured her hands with his before she could withdraw.

"I've been recruiting for your cause," he told her conspiratorially, lifting one of her hands to his lips for a kiss. "Let me introduce you."

Part 4:

They stood together the way they always used to stand when briefly idle and left alone; his arm across her shoulders, her arm slung around his waist, a physical affinity, a perfect fit. They watched for a moment as his companions and hers moved off slowly together, chatting and laughing, looking forward to a rare night of light-hearted revelry. Han watched them go, and for the briefest of moments, he felt his age.

"So," Han looked down and planted a kiss on Leia's temple, bumping his hip lightly against her side. "You got a date for tonight, Sweetheart? Want to go dancing?"

Letting her head rock back against his shoulder, she gave him a suggestive eyebrow and a smile he hadn't seen in years. "I have something else in mind."

NB: Thanks to all who read and review. It really means a lot to me. :D