Set after the fiasco of Ord Mantell, which marks an end of something for Han Solo. Cruder language and one of the longer installments. I like the poetry of the short ones but it's also nice to dive deep.
Thank you for reading!
The captain's seat was familiar and comforting, but Han felt like a phony. He sat with his fingers spread flat on the console, like he was going to use it for leverage. He pretended to be doing his part but Chewie was doing all the work.
He didn't see he had any more leverage. He'd run out of options.
He felt weird. Like he'd surrendered.
"Coordinates are set," Leia announced. Her voice was grim. Not quite sour, but if Han looked for it, he thought he should be able to find it, the acid.
She was moving away from the nav'puter, moving on the next thing, and he risked a glance at her. Her eyes were brown, like they always were. And worried, or worse. Something in them that never left, through all the setbacks. Hope. It would be foolish in any other's eyes, but it was there, glowing like a core fire. Her drive, her determination: they were fired by hope.
He was a setback. And she was beautiful.
"The faster we get back to base the sooner we put this behind us," she said, still grim, and she left him to it, and he glanced down at the console, burning.
Get back fast- she thought he could still? After that abysmal failure-
It kind of killed him that she was an ally of his ship, when for so long it was all he had. But he wasn't jealous, not of her. But there it was, she setting coordinates and Chewie doing preflight and him just sitting there. Even his ship had moved on. And it would do as she asked, as he boasted. Hers was a request, a need. His was opportunistic, self-serving. Of course his ship would change sides. He would too-
And it hit him.
The burning shame, the constant searching of her eyes. The desire to no longer be a setback.
Like a stun bolt. Quick and hard, then nothing. Waking is when you realize you've been hit. Then it hurts like a bitch and it's too late. Han looked at his hand on the console; checked to see if it was shaking like his insides felt.
Chewie punched the hyperdrive and the Falcon slipped through the stars without leaving a trace. Ordinarily, this was what Han loved about flying, how he could just disappear, bringing nothing with him, leaving nothing behind.
Right now it made him feel lonely.
"Where the hells have I been, Chewie?" he muttered.
Chewie looked at his partner with some sympathy. "Out there," he indicated with a toss of his head out the cockpit.
Whatever he meant, Han had no idea. Sometimes he thought he didn't understand the guttural growls of the Shyriiwook language as well as he thought. Or he didn't understand Wookiees in general, for they were looking at- nothing. Or maybe that's what Chewie meant. Han was nothing. He sure felt like it.
Han rubbed his face hard with his palm. "Three years, Chewie," he told his partner. "I fucked up."
"It was bound to happen," the Wookiee offered. Damned gracious of him, Han thought. Like his ship, Chewie wasn't too judgmental.
"No, I mean-" but Han broke off, because he didn't know what he meant. Or maybe he misspoke. Not an action of fucking up. A state of being. Han Solo was a fuck-up. Or he was fucked.
He told Chewie, "Damn bounty hunter. Tellin' me I should feel guilty."
"That's why I shot him."
Han looked at him with disbelief. "For psychobabble? I don't think so. For Luke, maybe."
"For all of us."
Han nodded. "It was a good shot."
Chewie nodded back. They were a team, after all. "It did the trick."
"I do a little, though," Han admitted. "That's the thing."
"Feel guilty? Don't tell me you fallen for the psychobabble?"
Han shook his head ruefully. "Not for that, no."
The Wookiee jerked a shoulder up. "I suppose you could feel guilty. It was your bounty."
"Thanks," Han responded sarcastically.
"You said it yourself, Obliger-"
"Don't go all formal on me. Don't-"
"I am reminding you of our roles," Chewie lectured. "What I did today is for you. For I am obliged to you all of my life. The sad thing is, I'll do it again. Some Life Debts are absolved with the owner's natural death of old age, mind you. I would like that."
"Old age ain't for cowards like me." Han did feel guilty, he realized, but it wasn't the bounty hunter that put it in him. It'd been in him three years, from them back there, Luke, and Leia. That they didn't know half the shit about him they should, that she shouldered the whole damn war just now and a small time, asshole smuggler almost lost it for her.
"It is actually welcome to hear you say it," Chewie said with gratification. "You have a great set of afterburners, my friend, and you keep them in prime condition so they are ready when you need them. Much longer than three years, I have watched you leave, and leave all to the imagination. I have learned something today. You have a breaking point."
"Luke's back there on the medcot."
"I'm well aware of that. He'll be fine." Wookiees didn't concern themselves much with a medical crisis. Their tolerance for pain was much greater than a human's, and pain was non-productive. "The Princess is looking after him."
"Yeah, the Princess." Han sighed. "Did you hear her? 'The faster we get there.'"
"She knows how to coax the best out of someone. Or something. Even the ship. Do you feel those engines?" Chewie rubbed the thick pads of his furry feet on the floor of the cockpit.
"Yeah," Han said somberly. "Weird to think the Falcon actually responds to her, when she don't always for me. I hate to think my ship loves her more than she does me."
"Is that what this is? You're jealous?"
"Hells, no! It's just...everyone loves the Princess. Luke, he gets shot for her. My bird, that baby flies for her. You- you saved the war for her. Everyone does stuff for her. And what do I do. I bring her my bounty hunter."
Chewie was eyeing Han sidelong. "At least you do something," he said, trying to ascertain just that the hells his partner was driving at. "Look at it this way: if it weren't for your bounty, then Luke couldn't get shot for her, and the Falcon couldn't fly so smoothly-"
But Han shook his head and Chewie saw his usual teasing wasn't going to cheer him up. He narrowed his eyes at Han. "Just what are you saying? The the things you do for her are ruinous? Yet, you do things for her because, like everyone else, you love the Princess."
Han slapped his thigh. "And you know I didn't know that? I'm serious, Chewie."
"Oh, I believe you are," Chewie growled. "I forgive you for being dense. Out of curiosity, though, what did you tell yourself?"
"I don't know," Han grumbled with self-disgust. "The money."
"Figures," Chewie nodded.
"When she set the nav'puter," Han continued, "and she didn't yell, and she didn't lament, and she didn't..." he paused to think of all the things she could be towards him, could have done to him. "She didn't hate me. That's when I realized. That I-" But he couldn't say it.
"To know you is not to blame you."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"She sees money because you tell her it's what you see. When she doesn't listen to you, she sees something else."
Han lowered his voice, spoke like a prayer, the first time he consciously thought it, "Three years, and all that time, all that stupid shit I do. It's love, aint' it?" He dared look up into Chewie's eyes, his chest squirming and tight, looking for confirmation. It was actually embarrassing. He scrubbed his face again. "I'm so fucked," he groaned.
"No, you just wish," Chewie said.
"Stop joking around," Han snapped.
Chewie sighed, and brought his hands to his thighs, grooming the fur with long claws. "You know, I am only a Wookiee, but it seems to me humans declare their love to the beloved. That's what a male Wookiee does anyway. We approach the female, and tell her, "You will have my cub."
"Yeah, that's beautiful," Han said, barely listening. "Did you know?"
"Did I know your feelings for the Princess?" Chewie cocked his head, eying his partner affectionately. "As you say, it's been three years. Love is seldom instantaneous in humans. Would you say you loved her when you winked at her during the Medal Ceremony?"
Han grinned privately, remembering the celebration just a few days after he met the Princess, when he was flush with reward money and a reputation for being a hero. "Nah, I was just playing around. Wanted to see if I could get her to smile at me."
"That is not love?"
"It's not going up to her and insisting she's gonna bear my young, if that's what you mean," Han said darkly. "It wasn't even flirting. It was that damn ceremony."
"Ah, yes. I know how you are in solemn occasions," Chewie nodded sensibly. "All that death and happiness. You get overwhelmed and start acting like a fool."
Han was thinking too hard to be slighted. "I never tried to get her in the sack, either," he said thoughtfully. "I actually wondered about that once. Why. 'Cause it's what I usually do."
"Maybe you feared her rejection. The Wookiee male must fight the female who rejects him. What kind of dishonor would it be if she defeated you?"
Han scowled and threw his partner a scornful glance. "I've been rejected before. I do a lot of rejectin' myself. There's always another."
Han imagined Leia considering his offer. Come on, Sweetheart, let's go to bed. Let's try this out. But the words would die on his lips, for he knew; he already knew. She, serious and determined, with those glowing brown eyes, would obviously shake her head and say politely, yet firmly, "No, thank you, Captain."
A guy like him, he'd posed to Luke, and Luke had flatly refused him. "No."
"It's Luke's fault," Han said now to Chewie.
"Oh, come now," Chewie was disgusted. "He's back there helpless on the medcot, and you want to blame him why you love the Princess?"
"It's absolutely his fault," Han insisted. "It even goes back three years, almost from the very beginning. He didn't want it to be possible, a guy like me and a Princess. He wanted her for himself. So," Han nodded righteously, "I stayed hands off for him. Not my fault she didn't go for him."
"She hasn't gone for you, either. And yet here you are, barely escaped from a bounty hunter, and you are so far gone it isn't funny."
Han sobered. "Yeah." He could still hear her voice. The sooner we put this behind us. "I gotta do something."
"You want some advice?"
"You're gonna give it anyway," Han nodded. This was beyond him. He was overwhelmed. It was too bad, he thought, too sad. It should be a joyous occasion, the realization that some other soul struck you, that their mere existence added meaning to your own, that you wanted them to be a part of yours. Instead he felt… kinda hopeless.
"You could tell her," Chewie suggested.
Leia, with her flame of eternal hope, and him, with his constant burning shame. She wouldn't even love him out of pity. She would sooner put him behind her.
He wanted her to love him. Maybe not instantaneously, not even the whole three years. Close, though. Right? Because he never left. Han Solo, with the Great Disappearing Act of a ship, kept flying back, into her radar.
"Tell her," Han repeated bitterly. "She'll say, 'I'll take it into consideration, Captain.'"
"You don't know that."
"That's what she'll say." Han was obstinate. "And that won't do."
"So don't say anything," Chewie countered, checking a gauge. "That's your other option. Keep on like you do, swallowing your feelings but hanging around, and maybe, say in another three years, you'll feel used and you'll fly away. Or maybe, after three years of taking it into consideration, she will love you back."
"I can't keep doing this," Han moaned. "I can't even look at her. Not now that I- shit."
"You might fall out of love," Chewie said brightly. "I believe love can die." Chewie shrugged. "Wookiees mate for life. Humans say they do, but they lie. You have divorce and remarriage. We don't."
"I can't look at her," Han despaired. "Do you hear me? I can't ev- I won't be able to work with her."
"Slow down," Chewie warned. Too late, he saw where his partner was headed. "This is a bad day-"
"No. That's it. It's done."
"- and you said yourself she doesn't hate you. What if-"
"How many more bounty hunters is it gonna take, Chewie?"
"You are making excuses. What if-"
"We can't take that chance. At all. I've got to set it right-"
"You better be talking about the Princess and Luke, because three years is a -"
"I've got to get Jabba off my ass."
"The Princess might even-"
Han's voice was final with decision. "We're leaving."
Chewie's great head sagged to his chest and he sighed. "Again?"
"I've put my life on hold for them-"
"Oh, here we go."
"Shut up."
"The life you just said wasn't worth anything. If I were you, I'd rather spend it here, with them," Chewie tossed his head back to indicate the Falcon's tiny medbay, "rather than in some cell in Jabba's palace."
Han swallowed, and he weighed Chewie's alternatives. There was Jabba, slimy huge Hutt with an appetite for blood, or there was Leia, steel-spined and doe-eyed. The one certain thing was Jabba would always be there.
Han was a gambler. He wasn't willing to bet his heart but he'd bet his life before, and he was still here.
"I've made my decision," he told Chewie. "Now get back there and see if she needs any help."
Chewie switched the board over to Han's side, and for a minute that was all he did. Looking to keep fighting, Han knew, but Chewie was older, and he was wise, and maybe he was a bit of a gambler too. He had bet on Han, and he was still here.