It wasn't that Chewie frowned on alternate states of being. It was the way humans went about it. And they had such sensitive systems.

Wookiees didn't get drunk like that. Or use any of the numerous substances that affected sensitive human bodies. Humans had a lot of words for it, too, to describe that alternate state. Perhaps their differences were physiological. Or cultural. Humans were a social group, like wookiees, but their emotional supports were lacking. That's why they turned to alternate states of being. Wookiees weren't like that. To a wookiee, entering one was an event.

It was called meeting the other head, and wookiees did it all together. After smoking the kyckkyll leaf, they lay on their backs and gazed up at the sky, and met the other head, and when it was over they relayed their experiences to the Chief, who was the only one who didn't smoke.

Chewie had explained this once to Han, in the early days of their acquaintance, when they sat in a cantina and Han had too many drinks.

"Pshaw," Han had slurred. "I'd attack you."

*What?* Chewie had snapped. The notion was completely offensive.

"You're all out, flat on your backs, hallucinating? Is that it? Yeah. If I were a rival tribe, and I wanted your land or your food or your females or your-"

Han talked to much when he drank, Chewie had learned.

"- or just, you know, score an easy win, I'd do it when you're outta your heads."

*You have no idea what it means to be a wookiee.*

"Maybe I don't. You'd think the Other Brain or whatever you're saying would tell you that."

*We are warriors.*

"Right," Han agreed, except he was wrong about what a warrior was. "And warriors attack."

Chewie tried to be patient. *No,* he explained. *There is no honor in battle if you take advantage.* Not that the kyckkyll leaf weakened a wookiee, Chewie thought.

"Tell that to the Emperor," Han had said.

But Han listened, eventually. His other head was as dense as his present head. Drink made him sloppy, and once Chewie helped him see that- actually it involved stiffing a medcenter- he didn't let it happen in a cantina or while on a job. If it happened, not often, it was in the lounge of the Millennium Falcon.

Chewie understood humans, though few humans took the time to look beyond their own life forms. They marked time and they had long memories, and there were too many of them.

Tonight was the first anniversary of the Battle of Yavin, which meant the base was celebrating. Chewie, in addition to Han had two other favorite humans, and all three were a large part of the reason for the celebration.

They didn't look it, though. Luke, in the middle of a rowdy group of pilots, wore a dazed, blank smile. The Princess's own smile was frozen like a grimace, sitting among the other generals and council of war. Han wasn't polite enough to smile or even join the celebration. He was holed up in his favorite spot, the cockpit of his beloved ship, no doubt scowling at the festivities taking place outside.

Chewie went into action. First he waded into the group of rowdy pilots, plucked Luke from his seat and threw him over his shoulder. The pilots cheered and Chewie roared and pumped his other arm for show. He dropped Luke onto the curved bench of the dejarik table and pointed at the youth significantly.

"OK, Chewie," Luke agreed, though he didn't know to what.

Next, Chewie approached the council's table. He looked them all in the eye, snarling, and then bowed to the Princess. He wouldn't dare throw her over his shoulder, though she'd be like a feather. She wouldn't appreciate that. So he bowed. It wasn't a wookiee movement and it felt stiff and uncomfortable, but it was what the other humans did. He spoke to her.

Her smile was smaller but more genuine, and her eyes were kind.

"He suggests you walk with his carpet," C-3PO, the most annoying protocol droid translated for her. "I am sorry I am unable to interpret that any better for you, Your Highness. I am perusing the shyriiwook data base as we speak, and I am afraid there is no other allusion in their language to a carpet, or any-"

Shocked, the droid cut himself off when the Princess stood and took Chewie's bent elbow. She had to reach up to do it, but it still looked regal. "I would very much like to, Chewbacca," she said.

All the generals scrambled to their feet.

The Princess departed with Chewie without acknowledging them. She brought him great honor. He brought her to the Falcon.

"Hi, Leia," Luke greeted her.

"Hello, Luke."

"Seems Chewie's got a plan for us."

"All that's missing is Captain Solo."

As soon as she said that, Chewie appeared again, this time pulling the resistant captain by his arm, and pushed him onto the bench next to Leia.

"I didn't know you were here, Han," Luke said.

"Where else would I be?" Han demanded.

Luke wasn't in the mood to banter with Han. "I don't know."

Chewie returned with a bottle of whiskey and three glasses. He unscrewed the cap and grunted something at Han.

"Why three?" Luke wanted to know. "Sit with us, Chewie."

"He doesn't drink," Han said.

"He doesn't?" Luke's face was screwed up. He'd seen Chewie drink before, he was sure of it.

"He smokes."

"I didn't know that," Princess Leia said. She appraised Chewie. "I've never smelled it, either."

Chewie beamed at her. She used her nose!

"Only on Kasshyyk."

"But he wants us to drink?" Luke asked.

Han's grin was sardonic. He didn't buy any of it, Chewie knew, but he was willing to play along. "He wants us to get in our other heads."

"What's that?"

Han ignored the glasses and took a big swig from the bottle. He passed it to Luke. "Let's find out."

Satisfied, Chewie nodded at Han. *I'll be in the cockpit. Watching, in case someone comes to attack you.*

Han smiled. "That's how you do it," he said.

Chewie gave it an hour. In the hangar, the pilots were dancing, though the wookiee's sensitive ears picked up no music. It was no fun, feeling embarrassed for the humans, so he ventured out into the lounge to see how his favorite ones were doing.

"Alright, alright," Luke was grinning. "I'm'll make a good guess this time."

Han snorted and reached for the bottle of whiskey.

They were faring well, Chewie decided. Under the influence, but not yet in the head they needed. Of the three, Han probably had the greatest tolerance. The bottle was one third full, so Chewie went and brought them another. Nobody paid him any mind. He squeezed himself into the chair at the engineer's station to observe them.

"I'm'll," Leia repeated. Luke was fairly drunk. Drunker than she, unless denial was a sign of inebriation. She picked up the bottle and read the label. "Fifty percent alcohol content. I might be starting to feel this."

"Nah." Han took the bottle and set it on his leg, which was resting on the table. "You are."

Leia waited for more. She reached for the bottle again. It seemed there should be more. "You are?" she said.

"Yeah," Han nodded conclusively. "Thinks oh."

"You were a rancor trainer," Luke proposed.

"A what?" Han said. "Who the hell trains rancors? You can't train a rancor."

Leia fanned her face with her hand and handed the bottle to Han.

"And you got sloppy with the vibrowhip," he continued.

"A vibrowhip'll take your face off," Han said.

"The whole thing," Leia agreed and the bottle went to Luke. "Han has a face. Only a small part that got cut."

So they were guessing at how Han got the scar on his chin, Chewie figured.

Han beamed at Leia. "Knew you'd noticed."

"Can't miss it," Leia snapped back.

"And why can't I just have a vibrowhip?" Han wanted to know. "Why I gotta be a rancor trainer?"

"I don't know," Luke said. "A story needs details."

"Thought you were guessin'."

"I don't know why anyone has a vibroanything," Luke said.

Leia raised her brows. "Vibroanything reminds me of something."

Han coughed. "I'd sure like to know what."

"It's so dangerous," Luke concluded. "To the user."

"Yeah," Han said. "To someone on the other end, too. They decide it ain't worth the bother. I got a vibroknife."

"So that's how it happened?" Leia said. "With the knife?"

"I never saw it," Luke said with a frown.

"Keep it in my boot."

Leia's fingers crawled inside the boot that was on the table.

Han didn't move, but he told her, "That tickles."

"I'm trying to find it," she said. "It can't be much use, if it's all the way down."

"What if you turn it on by accident?" Luke wondered. "Slice your leg off."

"No," Han said. He dropped his leg heavily to the floor and brought his hand down. When it came back up, the knife was in it. "It's called a boot sheath," he said.

"Bull shit," Luke said.

Han smiled. "No, I said, boot sheath."

"Specialty wear," Leia hummed. "Is there a designer just for smugglers?"

"Made to shed easily," Han confirmed.

"Jabba has a rancor," Luke murmured thoughtfully.

Ah, Chewie thought. Finally.

"D'ju know that, Han? I don't know if it's trained."

"It most definitely is not trained." Han's speech was suddenly elegant, and Chewie grunted. Han finished off the first bottle and Leia lifted the second bottle too high, or hadn't expected it to be that full, and liquid poured out past her lips.

"Oops," she said, and wiped her mouth.

"And yeah, I knew that."

"Been some year, hasn't it," Luke said.

"It's not the year." Leia accepted a rag from Han and dabbed at her shirt. "It's not all the days that come in between."

"No," Luke agreed. "It's the day. What do you think of it, Han?"

Han waved his hand. "It's just a day. And after that, for some reason the days get counted. And some things change. And some things don't."

"Yeah." Luke drank. "You know what's weird. I want the change. No. I think how it had to happen. A change. But then I don't want it to. Only I want it to."

"Not fast enough for me," Han said, taking the bottle from Luke. "Thought that was it. Didn't think the fuckers'd bounce back so fast."

"The Empire?" Leia said. "Is that what you mean by fuckers?"

Han stared at her a long time. He wasn't used to rough language coming from her, Chewie figured. It did sound odd. But she was just parroting him.

"Yeah," Han finally answered. "Now who knows when it'll happen."

Leia sighed. "It'll happen."

Chewie was glad to see she believed that even when she was drunk. Her determined grimness all other times wasn't an act, then.

"I hope so," Luke said.

"Not much has changed for me," Han said. "Still got my debt. Haven't replaced the escape pods. Lateral shields still messed up." He looked at Leia with his brows up, as if suddenly surprised. "Got a medal, though."

"Yeah, I got a medal, too," Luke said, and then he added, as if unaware Chewie was in the room, "Chewie didn't."

"He didn't," Han said.

"It was a mistake." Leia rubbed her forehead, as if the memory of the medal ceremony still gave her a headache one year later. "Technically, it's the Alderaani Medal of Freedom, and Alderaani are human. I didn't... I wasn't paying attention. General Dodonna put it together, and he's Alderaani. And you know," suddenly she half stood up, and took the bottle from Luke's clutches, "I'm going to say it. Some people aren't progressive thinkers, you know? Chewie should have gotten a medal."

"Listen to you," Luke said. "Never heard you say anything bad about someone on High Council."

Han snorted. "That was pretty tame. You hear what she calls me."

A pink covered Leia's cheeks. "Was that bad? I don't-"

"Honest," Han said.

"True, too," Luke said. "Dodonna's..." he waved a hand but didn't finish his thought.

"Say somethin' 'bout me, since you're being honest."

"You..." Leia needed a drink for courage. "You have large hands."

Han spread his hands before his gaze and then turned them over, palms up. "I'll take it," he said.

"That's a weird thing to say," Luke commented. He waited for Leia to pass the bottle to him.

"Who had medals hanging around anyway?" Han asked. "I 'member being surprised at that. Like you guys knew all along two were gonna be singled out."

"Was Chewie mad?" Luke asked Han.

Han took the bottle from Leia. "You think he was?"

"No." Luke looked thoughtful. "He's always nice to me anyway. Hey, you guys are going backwards. You skipped me."

Han placed the bottle before Luke. "Take twice as much."

"I like Chewie," Luke said.

"I do, too," Leia said. "I don't know if he understands how important his presence here is."

"He's in the room, you know," Han pointed at his copilot.

With his eyes twinkling, Chewie waved hello at them.

"Hi, Chewie," Luke said. "I don't understand a word, but hi."

Han chuckled. "You will. Maybe."

Leia was peering at Chewie with filmy eyes. "Those counted days. Not much changed for me. You either, Luke. Because what happened."

"Yeah," Luke said. And suddenly he was back on the scar, still looking at Chewie. "He's got claws," he observed. "Chewie cut you?"

Han had to find the glass quickly to spit whiskey in it. "No," he stated after he recovered.

"You're still here," Luke said. "A year later and you're still here. That's something, I guess."

"What's it worth to you?" Han wanted to know.

"Nothing, 'cause I can't pay."

"Whiskey," Leia said.

"I can't pay but I like it."

Leia put her hand on a cheek and grinned at Han. "You stay for the soldier's lottery, don't you."

"You mean who's gonna live, who's gonna die?"

"Maybe." She cocked her head at him. "But no, each pay week you can opt to contribute to the pot, and if your number is called you win."

"It's high this week," Luke said. "No one's won the past three."

Han took a drink. "I'm waitin' to add to my scar collection, how's that for why I stay."

"Your scar collection," Leia said.

"Yeah, I got one from the Navy, I got one from racing swoops- two, actually-, I got one from-"

"Birth?" Leia straightened in her seat. She had stopped drinking, accepting the bottle but immediately passing it to the next man. "You got one from being born?"

"We all do, sweetheart." Han lifted his shirt and tugged at his waist band to show his belly button.

"Oh, yeah," Luke laughed and pulled his shirt up too.

Leia shook her head. "I'm not stripping. But I assure you I have one."

"Chewie, you got a belly button?" Luke called out. "Funny, 'cause I was adopted but I still got one."

"I think we better stop." Han pulled the bottle out of Luke's hands. "Junior's gettin' pretty stupid."

"I'm not," Luke argued. "What I meant was, I know I was born, I know something happened, but I still got that scar, that connection."

"An umbilical scar is not unique. You'll never find your mother from it."

"I never said I wanted to," Luke said. "That's okay. I was told she died. And I had my aunt."

"Another date," Leia said. "With all the days in between. You were born, and your mother died, and each lifeday you have that."

"Kriff, Leia."

"Sorry."

"No, it's okay. This year sucked."

"It did."

"It was alright," Han looked between the two. "Nothing to brag about or anything."

"No scar?" Leia said with a sad smile.

"I'll have to get you two surgically removed, the way you drink my whiskey."

"That's how you got it?" Leia reached out and touched his chin. "Friends gave it to you?" She got up. "I like that answer. I hope Luke and I don't disfigure you too badly. Goodnight, Captain. Thank you for the drinks. Chewie, will you escort me to my quarters? I don't want anyone to see me wobble."

"I'll go, too," Luke said. "Thanks for this. Another escape. Same time next year?"

Chewie walked between Luke and Leia, his long arms wrapped around their shoulders, protecting them from being dragged off by revelers, replaying their talk in his head.

Han was lying about an uneventful year, but whether to himself or Luke and Leia Chewie didn't know. It hadn't been a good year. His debt was doubled, Jabba had increased the bounty and of course there was the new one from the Empire, his ship was in a terrible state of repair... Chewie could go on.

When he got back to the Falcon Han was stretched out on the bench, legs hanging over the edge.

*Go to bed,* Chewie ordered.

"I'm going, I'm going."

Han made no move. As far as Chewie knew, he stayed the night there.