AN: Thank you so much for joining me in Star Wars with my first Time Travel Fix-it Fic! I'm not sure if the tone of the story is going to be more angst, family drama, dark humor, enemies to reluctant allies, buddy cop, or murder spree. Hopefully, we'll all have fun figuring it out! I wrote about 40k already during Nov 2023 on Rough Trade, which should be 75-80% done. I haven't finished a NaNoWriMo project in one month yet, but I keep trying. I'll edit and post the finished chapters regularly as I continue to work on new content.
In Star Wars, chyntuck is a Wookiee onion. The death of major and minor characters is everyone who's canonically dead at the start and the bad guys who I'm going to travel back in time to kill off early like Palpatine. They should be more therapeutic than traumatic to the reader, or at least that's what I intend. There's some semi-graphic torture in a single later chapter, but I'll warn for it. Romance will be minor to non-existent for most of the story. The main platonic relationships explored are father/son and father-in-law/son-in-law, though we can't forget that Han was killed by his son and tortured by his father-in-law. You'd think he'd be safe from any more family abuse after death.
You'd think!
Shoot first. Kill it, if you have to (Time Travel, Han Solo Style)
By Indygodusk
Chapter 1
Eyes stinging, Han Solo couldn't stop the tears from overflowing and trickling down his cheeks. "Blast it," he muttered, swiping an arm over his face. It didn't help. More escaped. Han hated crying. He could barely see through the tears but doggedly kept working.
Dicing up chyntuck for breakfast omelets always made him cry, but Chewie had taught Leia to love the taste and Han would do a lot worse than cry over hard-to-find vegetables to get a smile out of his wife. He just made sure to chop it up when no one else was around to see the tears. He had a reputation to maintain, after all. Besides, pushing through this type of pain was infinitely easier than dealing with other, more devastating emotional hurts like—
Nope! Han slammed the door on those thoughts before they could slide through. Nope, nope, nope. Today was going to be a good day. Clear skies. He was going to pretend to have his ducks in a row and just make a nice breakfast, because sometimes if you pretended hard enough your lies became truths.
Sometimes.
(That was probably a lie too, but whatever.)
The stinging in his eyes became so bad he couldn't even see the knife anymore, but he hadn't cut enough for the stupid omelet yet. Swiping his arm over his face, Han kept cutting. Seconds later he saw the tip of the blade hit his finger. It didn't bleed, but as expected it still hurt because cuts always hurt.
"Ow! Oh, forget it." Picking up the entire cutting board, he twisted to chuck it into the trash bin. He'd air out the room and just make Leia pancakes instead. She'd never even know there'd been chyntuck unless someone told her.
Someone like the tall dark figure sitting on the stool behind Han, a looming pillar of shadow dressed all in black and staring at him with shadowed eyes and downturned lips.
Startled, Han almost dropped the knife off the cutting board and onto his foot. He had to jerk up the board against his chest and dance in place to keep the knife and diced chynuck from escaping onto the floor. "Ben!" he gasped.
Feeling fragile, Han turned his back and cleared his throat. He dropped the cutting board back onto the counter with a thunk and carefully used his knife to gather the slices into a pile in the middle. "I was just going to throw away the peels, not the whole thing," he said with a nervous laugh, wiping his cheeks dry and acting as if everything was fine. Pretending he knew what he was doing and wasn't out of his depth was the only way to survive around Ben. Or at least, the only way to survive with any dignity intact, since actually surviving him had proved to be imposs—
NOPE. Not going there. Clear skies. He was cooking in the galley here. Pretending was good. Han was good at pretending, good at fooling even (especially) himself. He was here in the galley cooking breakfast on the Falcon and things were fine. He'd brazen it out, like always.
Ben hadn't responded, so Han used the excuse of needing to wipe his hands to look down. He couldn't find a towel, so he used the hem of his apron, the one Leia had given him for their fifth anniversary emblazoned with the words, 'I'd Rather be Flying, So Kiss the Cook.' Han rolled his shoulders to release the tension and said over his shoulder, "How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me, kid? Especially when I'm in the middle of doing something?"
Ben stayed silent. He'd always been a difficult, sensitive child. Han tried to ignore the burning feeling in his chest. Clear skies. Breakfast. Make Leia happy, make Ben…well, Han had never been able to make Ben happy or even make things that much better, but Ben being here could only mean one thing. (The only thing he'd let it mean on a good day like today.)
The kid was hungry.
Maybe Han couldn't make Ben happy, but he could make him breakfast. As a bonus, Leia would be so happy to have them home together. Leia was the strongest of them all and pretended to be okay even more than Han did, so it was easy to forget that she wasn't always fine and that she got sad and lonely without them. Sometimes it was easier to not ask too many questions, but Han didn't want to be like that anymore. He didn't want to take his wife and her feelings for granted. Today was going to be a good day, starting with a special homemade Solo breakfast omelet for his best girl and his boy.
Bracing himself, he made himself turn around. Throat thick, it took him a moment to raise his eyes from the white chunks of chyntuck spilled on the floor, afraid he'd see a silver and black mask staring coldly through him like a stranger instead of being able to see the bare face of his son, but hoping all the same, hoping so hard.
The sight that met his eyes made the tension leave his shoulders in a rush. He fought back an unexpected smile. Ben's uncombed hair stuck up in all directions, almost balancing out the large nose he hadn't grown into yet. His gangly arms wrapped awkwardly around his knees as he plucked at the hole growing in the leg of his favorite blue starship pajamas, the ones Han had given him for his lifeday. He looked so small, not more than ten or eleven.
"Picking at it will only make it worse," Han said past the fond lump in his throat.
Ben growled. "That's just like you. Ignoring it doesn't make it better either. Why am I even wearing this?" Ben tilted his head to the side and tore the hole bigger, the soft scream of the synthfabric ripping through the air and sending a chill up Han's back.
Today was a good day, Han reminded himself forcefully, and Ben was still just a kid with bedhead who took himself too seriously. "Why?" Han said, scratching his chin and looking up at the ceiling in exaggerated thought. "I don't know, maybe because you forgot to get dressed and comb your hair before wandering out here for breakfast, just like always?" he said dryly before smirking down at his son.
In response, Ben huffed and stuck out his lower lip. Adorable. Grinning, Han couldn't help but reach out and rub his hand in circles over the top of Ben's head, making the boy squawk and fall off his stool in an attempt to get away. Laughing, Han caught Ben before he could hurt himself and set him back on his feet.
"Stop touching me," Ben whined, his wild hair completely covering his face and almost masking his human heritage. Despite his words, Ben was no longer fighting to get away. In fact, he was leaning into Han's touch. "Let me go," he said contrarily.
How was Han to ever understand his kid when Ben didn't even seem to understand himself? Though, considering his parents, it shouldn't be such a surprise. Had they done this to themselves? Maybe Ben just lied to himself about what he was feeling as often as his parents did, which was a rather wretched thought. Han didn't want Ben to turn out anything like him. Ben was supposed to be better, was supposed to be—
"You'll get mistaken for one of Chewie's kids, looking like that," Han teased with a lump in his throat. He tried to smooth back Ben's hair. It was hopeless without a comb, but still fun to pet. Ben looked up at him from behind the fringe with eyes too old and serious for his small face. Determined to get him to smile, Han kept teasing. "I don't mind you being a wookie, but we both know your mom will. You better fix that hair before she sees or she'll give you the patented Leia look of disapproval. Too many of those will stunt your growth, you know, and you'll end up as short as Uncle Luke." He patted Ben on the top of the head and then put his hand out flat as if measuring, bringing the hand straight over to his chest and clucking his tongue sadly.
"Don't compare me to him!" Ben snapped. "And I'm going to be tall." He looked away with a sullen frown.
Han winced, internally kicking himself as the mood turned sour. Luke was a sore subject with Ben. The Force stuff that his parents didn't understand and told him not to mess with was only the start, but Han didn't need to think about that on a good day. Han preferred not to think about the Force altogether.
"Short like your mother then," Han said. "I'm handsome and tall, but she gets lonely down there so close to the ground. If she stunts you enough, you'll be short people together forever and then she can start stealing your coat when she gets cold instead without having to swim in mine." He nudged Ben in the side and wagged his brows. "Maybe that's her evil plan."
Sighing, Ben stepped back out of reach and gave him a flat stare. "You're so dumb." Although he wasn't smiling, the corners of his mouth were no longer turned down, so Han counted it as a win.
Checking the clock and then his small pile of chyntuck, Han wrinkled his nose and sighed. "It's getting late. I need to finish this up before your mom gets here."
"Or you could go to her for once instead of always making her come and find you," Ben said snidely.
"Hey, it's not like that," Han crossed his arms and turned to scowl at Ben, but the kid wasn't even paying attention to him. Instead, Ben was looking around the room from beneath his lashes, expression almost wistful as if he hadn't seen the Falcon's galley in years and—nope! No, Ben was still just a sweet kid and had wiped down the counters just the night before after family dinner. In fact, now that he was standing Han could see that Ben couldn't be more than seven, he was so small and innocent.
And today was Han's good day.
Reaching out, Han grabbed a chyntuck from the basket and weighed it in his hand. It was a little small. "Ben, how hungry are you? Because I love you, son, but I'm only cutting one more of these things no matter how much you and your mom like them." Steeling himself, he cut the chyntuck in half and started peeling off the dry golden skins to expose the wet layers of white below, trying to resist the renewed stinging in his eyes.
When Ben didn't answer, Han looked over to see the kid staring up at him with wide eyes and a trembling lower lip. As soon as Ben noticed Han looking at him his expression blanked like a blast door slamming shut and he looked down and away. Ben rubbed his chest once before fisting his hand and dropping it to his side, only to start winding the worn hem of his sleep tunic around one finger over and over in a strangling cocoon. "Are you sure that's true?" Ben asked with careful nonchalance. Despite the tone, his body had tensed up as if the wrong answer might break him.
This kid. Han just didn't get him. He refused to stop trying though. Taking a deep breath, Han looked between the chyntuck in his hand and the basket, wrinkling his nose. "Well, I suppose if you help me cut the rest we could do a few more." He shrugged and tried to think positively. "Who knows? Maybe your Uncle Chewie will somehow sense the smell from across the sector and fly over to help with any leftovers."
Instead of looking happy with Han giving in, Ben huffed, crossing his arms and glaring down at his feet.
"Or not?" Han said with bewilderment, no longer looking down at Ben since the kid was almost as tall as Han since he'd hit puberty. His tangled, greasy hair was begging for regular showers and a comb, but try to tell the kid that and he'd bite your head off. Ben scowled harder, the acne on his face twisting with the force of his displeasure. It was an all too familiar expression at this age. Nothing his dad did was ever good enough.
"What?" Han threw his hands up in the air. "If you don't want the chyntuck, you don't have to eat it. The stars know I don't care. I'm trying here, but I can't read your mind, kid, so spit it out."
"What's the point? You said it yourself, you never care and you never listen. You say you're trying but are you really? Or do you just say that to make yourself feel better before you run away from me and Mom again on the Falcon when it gets too hard?" Ben's lip curled as he looked down on Han scornfully from the extra inch of height he'd gained with that final growth spurt.
"Am I really—" Han sputtered, so outraged that he was at a loss for words. He paced away and then stalked back to get in Ben's face, waving his arms. "Yes, I'm trying! What more do you want? Charades? Shyriiwook? Do I need to get C3PO in here to translate for us? Goldenrod drives me nuts, but I'll do it if that's what it takes. I'm trying to have a good day and make you guys happy by cooking you breakfast. I'm even cutting chyntuck for you!" He thrust a finger at the cutting board on the counter. "In case you missed it, I hate cutting up chyntuck. Hate it!" He threw the chyntuck in his hand back into the basket, knocking the entire thing over and sending the chuntuck rolling off the counter and down across the floor. "I only said yes to cutting more because you said you wanted it!" He pointed a finger at his son. "So don't you dare say I'm not trying!"
Ben slapped his finger out of the air and shouted, "I don't care about the chyntuck!"
Han reared back, sputtering. "Then why did you ask for it!"
"I didn't!"
"You did!"
"No, I—" Cutting himself off, Ben's lips pressed tight. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. "This isn't about your stupid chyntuck," he said through gritted teeth, glaring down at his father. He was always looking down on Han those last few years.
"Hey, my chuntuck isn't stupid," Han said defensively. Pausing, he forced himself to take a breath. He was supposed to be the mature adult here. This is why his hair had gone gray. What were they even arguing about? Vegetables? Putting a hand on his aching eyes, he rubbed hard and gave a bitter laugh. "Okay, chyntuck is stupid. This whole argument is stupid. Stupid and childish. I don't want to fight with you." Taking a deep breath, he dropped his hand. "I just wanted to make you happy." Han swallowed, feeling helpless. "I just wanted—I just…," he trailed off, fighting for words through the thickness in his throat. "I miss you being happy. I miss you, son."
Trembling, Ben's eyes went large as his face drained of color. "Your son is dead," he whispered, shrinking from mid-twenties to sixteen to six, his small body sinking into a crouch on the floor, thrusting his hands beneath his arms and clamping his elbows down tight, as if to trap them there as he rocked back and forth. "He was weak and foolish," dropping his head, eyes squeezed shut, Ben groaned as if damned and whispered, "So foolish."
Their words echoed those last moments they'd spent together before Ben had stabbed him, but Han didn't like to think about that. No matter what, this was still his son. His problem, his blood, his worst traits magnified (as well as the rare precious glimmers of his wife's best). Han sighed. "Foolish? Sounds like a Solo alright." When Ben didn't respond even to insult his father again, despite the perfect opening, Han crouched down to put his hand on Ben's stiff back, ignoring the crack in his left knee that reminded him he wasn't as young as he used to be. Ben was still so young. Child or adult, he'd always be so young compared to his father. "Ben? What's wrong, buddy?"
Ben's adult head shot up, a red scar crisscrossing over his right eye from forehead to stubbled chin. "What's wrong?!" He snarled through bared teeth. "Father, don't you remember that you're dead? I killed you!"
Han flinched back, dropping his hand from Ben's back as if singed. It hurt to breathe and his chest burned. It was hard to forget the feel of a lightsaber searing through your internal organs, but Han had been giving it his best shot. Ben's words had shattered that illusion.
A flare of satisfaction appeared in Ben's eyes at Han's reaction, but it was brief, quickly followed by a wave of self-loathing. Sobbing, Ben fisted his hand and hit himself in the head several times. Going limp, he threw himself down. He would've slammed his head onto the floor and hurt himself if Han's arms hadn't shot out to catch him and yank him back upright.
"Don't touch me!" Jerking away from Han, Ben curled forward, his shaggy hair hanging forward to cover his eyes but failing to hide the shine of tears sliding down his cheeks and dripping off his chin.
"I killed you," Ben rasped. "I broke mom's heart. I wanted to break my own heart and killing you…it did…but all for nothing. For a lie. Stupid, so stupid."
Sighing, Han wrapped his arm around Ben and pulled him against his side. This time, Ben didn't try to pull away. "Well hell, kid, I'm not gonna say it was nice, but I'm sure not too many people were surprised a guy like me drove his kid to murder."
Roughly rubbing his arm across his face, Ben sniffed and stiffly put his head down on Han's shoulder. When Han didn't do anything to push him off, he slowly relaxed. "I'm dead now too, if it makes you feel any better."
"Not really," Han said, tightening his arm around his son as he looked down at him. "Well, maybe a little bit, but I've always been petty. Drove your mom nuts."
"Yeah, I get all my worst traits from you," Ben grumbled, pulling away.
"Hey, no, come back," Han said, trying to keep Ben close, refusing to let go of his arm as Ben leaned away. "Tell me about it. Please."
Lips tight, Ben sighed through his nose and stopped trying to get away. Looking up challengingly, he asked, "Do you remember meeting a human girl named Rey? Pretty brown hair, great pilot, Force-user?"
"Force-user?" Han said, wracking his memory of Luke's students but coming up empty.
"She met you just before you died. You let her fly with you in the Falcon. She hated me for killing you. Made it easier to pretend not to hate myself, since she was doing such a good job for me." Ben snorted.
"Wait," Han said, trying to focus only on the first bit of information and not the last as he snapped his fingers twice. "Rey! Good pilot, cute kid with the BB-8 droid, and knew how to appreciate the Falcon. I liked her." He cocked his head to the side and winced. "Did she kill you?" He just managed to bite back his follow-up question—did you deserve it? He had a pretty good idea that the answer to that one was positive.
A smile flitted across Ben's lips, small but genuine. It was the first smile Han had seen on his face today, perhaps the only smile he'd ever seen on Ben's adult face that wasn't tinged with cruelty or madness. "She tried to kill me several times, and almost succeeded once or twice, but she ended up saving me in the end. Her and mom, and even you in a way I guess, led me back to the Light side and away from the Dark."
Taking a deep breath, he licked his lips and looked back at Han. "Then, working together, Rey and I finally defeated Darth Sidious for good." Seeing Han's confusion, Ben clarified. "Sidious was Emperor Palpatine. That insidious voice I've always heard in my head was never just my imagination—it was his undead spirit, reaching out to twist my thoughts and torment me. He also was controlling Snoke."
"What? No. He did what? He was who?! No. I thought Darth Vader killed the Emperor for Luke? It didn't stick?" Han was confused and horrified.
Lips twisting, Ben shook his head. "Only his original body. He was a powerful Sith Lord who manipulated the galaxy even as a disembodied spirit, gathering followers, commanding armies through Snoke and other clones and puppets, and using Sith rituals to try and come back to live and openly rule again."
Han tried to wrap his head around it, but it was a lot. He tried to stay focused and not lose himself to bitterness or rage. "Greasy Force trickery," he spat, shaking with anger. "If it's been Palpatine this whole time not dying and making everything go wrong, how can you be sure he won't come back all over again?"
"It wouldn't matter if he did—I'll get to why in a second," he said firmly, cutting Han off before he could voice his next question, "but he won't. Rey, with the help of all of the Jedi Spirits of the past, combined their power and used the Force itself to destroy Sidious—body and soul. He didn't go quietly, but the Force annihilated him from existence," Ben said savagely, only to swallow and add in a tight voice, "but Rey was mortally wounded."
"Oh, Ben," Han said, squeezing his arm comfortingly where he still held it. "Is she here somewhere? Dead too?" He looked up and around, but it was still just the two of them on the floor of the Falcon's galley.
Ben shook his head, raising a hand to shove his dark, unruly hair out of his face. "No, I saved her. We're a Force Dyad, Dad. Souls and energies bound into one. She healed me once using the dyad link after stabbing me through the side." He glanced away with a proud and smug look on his face. Han wasn't sure if that was about the stabbing or the healing and decided he didn't want to know. His son's kinks could stay private. "It wasn't hard to figure out how to copy the healing technique and," Ben's expression went fierce, "I couldn't let her die. Rey deserves to live so much more than someone like me and I—" he swallowed hard and looked down "—I love her."
"Oh, Ben," Han said, happy his son had finally learned to value someone more than himself, but sad too that he hadn't gotten to enjoy it. "Does she know?"
Clearing his throat, Ben shrugged, "I didn't say it, but I wasn't exactly subtle either. I gave her my life force and died so she could live. I would think she'd figure it out."
"Women like words," Han said, thinking of how he and Leia had always struggled with that. "Men too." Feeling Ben's mood dropping, Han added, "But she was a smart girl, so you're probably right." He slung his arm around Ben's shoulders and hugged him close, pressing a kiss against his temple that made Ben release a sound as if he'd just been gut-punched. "I wish you could've lived a happier life. I wanted better for you, me and your mom both did, but you went out with a bang. I'm proud of you, son."
Face pinking, Ben shrugged and looked down. "You haven't heard the rest of it." He swallowed hard and pulled away from Han's embrace, scooting out of touching distance as he turned to face him. "I was the last Skywalker, Dad, and then I died before the Force could recover from how Sidious had twisted it and what it had to do to get rid of him."
Lips thinning, Han had to fight to keep his voice even. He hated—hated—Darth Vader aka Anakin Skywalker. Hadn't Ben learned better by now to stop obsessing over the freak? "You're a Solo, not a Skywalker. There's more than one reason Luke didn't have kids. Let that twisted legacy go."
Ben sneered at him, the vulnerability and connection of the previous conversation gone. "Mom was a Skywalker too, no matter how much she ran and tried to hide from it."
"Hey, don't disrespect your mother!" Han barked.
Ben's shoulders went up around his ears, but then dropped and his eyes went flinty. "It doesn't matter. Don't you get it? The Force has been mortally wounded—the Force which holds all life in the galaxy together. The Skywalkers were supposed to fix it. That's why Anakin Skywalker was created. He was the Force's Chosen One with a stronger connection to the Force than anyone ever born. Instead, each generation of Skywalkers just made things worse."
"Luke tried his best and Leia didn't do anything wrong," Han defended staunchly, sticking out his chin.
"Mom hid from the Force and her duty to it, just in a different way than the rest of us," pausing, Ben grimaced and rubbed at his forehead, "but out of everyone, she does bear the least blame. She tried at the end, but it was too little and too late."
"She didn't have the support to do more," Han said, including himself in that failure.
"Yes, well, none of us did," Ben said with a hard look. "With the death of the last Skywalker," he gestured to himself, "happening mere moments after the upheaval in the Force from the battle between Sidious, Rey, and the Jedi of the past, the Force can't recover from its wounds. Everything in the Galaxy is going to cease to exist, one last poisoned gift from Sidious and," Ben gave a bow and twist of the lips so dark and bitter that it hurt Han to see it, "the screw-up Skywalkers."
Completely out of his depth, Han rubbed his face. "Does it even matter? We're dead now. I always thought I'd cease to exist when my body died. I never expected any of this," he waved his hand around the Falcon. "To be honest, I think I've almost faded away a few times already, but I needed to see you and your mother again one more time before I go, so I've fought it. Let's just go find her and disappear together. It doesn't sound that bad."
"It is that bad!" Ben jumped to his feet and started pacing. "Life isn't meant to end. The Force isn't meant to end! There's a reason Mom hasn't come. She's not going to come. The only reason the galaxy hasn't collapsed already is because Mom and Uncle Luke, the Skywalker twins, are holding the line as Force Ghosts for the rest of us. They wouldn't even be able to do that much if Rey wasn't still alive and out there on the living side of the Force. Rey has a bit of Skywalker within her because of me and our Force dyad, but the Force dying is actively hurting her, and once she's gone, so is the rest of the galaxy. Rey's supposed to have a good life and exist within the Force forever," he paused before adding like an afterthought, "along with everyone else who ever lived, of course." He swung around to face Han, his black cloak swirling dramatically around his body as he pronounced, "The Force needs to be fixed!"
Han wrinkled his nose and tried not to whine. "I don't really care about the Force… or the rest of the galaxy."
"And I don't care if you don't care!" Ben fired back. "I want to fix it. I need to fix it! For Rey and to make up for everything else I screwed up along the way and I need you to help me do it!"
"Why me? I'm not a Skywalker. Isn't your Uncle Luke's ghost floating around here somewhere? Or old man Kenobi or that little green troll they told me about? Aren't they more of the hero type?"
Gritting his teeth, Ben looked like he was throttling back the urge to throttle his father. "I don't want Uncle Luke or any of the Jedi. They're old and useless. Saving the Force is up to me and I have a plan if you would just listen to me!"
"Fine!" Han waved his hand impatiently in a get-on-with-it gesture. He had a bad feeling about this, but it was his kid so he had to listen.
Ben sucked in a deep breath and growled. "Look, the Skywalker side has proven pretty conclusively that they can't fix this, but I'm not just a Skywalker. I am—as you so forcefully reminded me earlier—a Solo too. That's where you come in. You're connected to the Skywalkers through me and Mom and to a Force dyad through me. It makes you uniquely suited to travel back in time before the Empire formed and stop Palpatine before he screws up Grandfather Skywalker and, you know," he waved his hand, "the Republic, the Force, and the rest of the galaxy."
Blinking, Han shook his head. "Let me get this straight, you want me to stop Palpatine—the Emperor and a crazy scary Sith wizard that the entire Jedi order, Rebellion, and Vader couldn't kill for good—by somehow going back in time? Or wait," Han's eyes narrowed, "is this still about your obsession with your good-for-nothing Grandfather? Aren't you over that man yet? Darth Vader was a monster! Worse than even you ever got." Stopping at Ben's flinch, Han rubbed a hand over his mouth and grimaced.
"Look, maybe you or your girl Rey should do this, or—or someone else with Force magic. A real Jedi. You know I never got that woo-woo stuff," Han grimaced and waved his hand through the air. "I'm just a simple pilot."
Lips pressed tight, Ben gave an exaggerated, openhanded wave and spoke slow and loud, as if to a deaf toddler. "Well then, let me put it in small words so a simple pilot like you can understand. Galaxy go boom. Boom bad. Only we can fix. Fix good."
"Ben, you are getting on my last nerve," Han growled, feeling like he was about to crack a molar with how hard he was clenching his jaw.
Looking pleased with himself, Ben crossed his arms and said condescendingly, "It has to be you that goes because Uncle Luke and Mom are keeping the Force together so we have time to fix it, and Rey and I are using our Force Dyad to power this trip. We can't make the path and walk the path at the same time. For all I know it will take all of our power just to get you back there and we'll wink out of existence as soon as we accomplish it."
Han crossed his arms mulishly. "I don't like it."
"Doesn't change the facts," Ben said. "You're the only one who can do it, so just give in and say yes already."
"I'm thinking about it," Han grumbled. "Explain this Force dyad thing. You keep mentioning it, but it sounds hokey."
"It's not hokey," Ben said with a sour look. "A Force dyad is when two Force-sensitive beings have a unique, unbreakable Force-bond that makes them one in the Force." Expression softening, Ben brought his hands together almost reverently. "The power of a dyad is as strong as life itself, meaning we share a connection that spans across time and space and even death. If this works the way we hope, using our powers to span time we can send you back to fix things. Another reason it has to be you is because you're my father and the only good paternal role model in Rey's life, even if only for a short time." He ignored Han's look of surprise and self-doubt. "That connection is important in the Force when intent and belief can become more important than reality. It's risky, but this is the best and only way to save the Force. I talked it over with Rey and she agrees." Looking sad, Ben absently rubbed his knuckles against his chest and added, "Though if this works, I probably won't be born."
"What? No," Han said, shaking his head, despite everything that had happened, he had trouble picturing a world without Ben in it.
"It's okay. I think it's better this way. I love Rey, but I don't think she loves me. I know she doesn't like me very much. Maybe I did too much evil for her to ever love me the way I want or even the way she wants." Dragging in a wet breath, he swiped across his eyes. "I think doing this will help though."
"You don't know she doesn't love you," Han said, opening and closing his hands helplessly. "You're a good-looking guy and she's helping you out with this crazy scheme, isn't she? And maybe if the past gets fixed, you can be together without the baggage of the Empire and First Order dragging you down."
Lips twisting sardonically, Ben shook his head. "If this works, Rey won't be born because her grandfather won't survive long enough to clone himself to father her."
"Wait, what now?" Brow furrowing, Han's eyes darted from side to side as he worked his way through the logic of that sentence. He was getting a headache and whiplash from this conversation. "Her father's a clone?" he asked incredulously.
Ben's expression tightened and went dark at Han's reaction.
Backpedaling, Han raised his hands. "Whoa, hey, that's fine by me! I like the kid, she's a good pilot! And I've met clone troopers and they're decent people. Served with one during the Battle of Endor—a Pathfinder named Rex. Good scout, good man. Rey's got nothing to be ashamed about there."
"Her father wasn't some common clone trooper," Ben wrinkled his nose, "he was a clone of Darth Sidious—the Emperor. That's why she's so strong in the Force."
"Ah, hell." Han grimaced. "Poor kid. Well, hey, at least she and Leia will have something in common to bond over." Ben stared at him blankly. "You know, being disgusted by and hating their biological fathers and wanting to kill them?" Han said helpfully.
Eyes narrowing, Ben's lips thinned. "If you say that to her, I'll be joining their number."
Han flinched. That hurt. It hurt a lot, but he wasn't going to let Ben know that. Did he still hate Han? Or did his words imply he didn't anymore? Did he forgive Han for being a bad father? Was Ben sorry he'd killed him? Han hoped so…but he couldn't bring himself to ask. If the answers weren't what he wanted, better not to know for sure.
Pressing a hand to his chest, Han gave an exaggerated gasp. "Ouch! That's cold, kid, like a dagger to the heart… or a lightsaber. Eh? Eh?" Han wagged his brows and waited for the reaction. Sometimes the only way to get over a wound was to either pretend it wasn't there or shove a hot iron in and cauterize the bleeding.
Ben gave Han a flat, unamused look even as his hands spasmed and moved to clench behind his back out of view. "That's not funny."
Which meant…what? That he did regret killing Han? That he still loved him? Han ached to know, to ask, but the words froze on his tongue. At the end of the day, it didn't matter if Ben loved Han because Han would always love Ben. Ben was his son and he'd do anything to help him, even crazy crap like this.
Groaning, Han scrubbed his hands over his face. "Fine. Fine! I'm in. How does this work?"
"We send you back in time and you shoot some people." Ben waved his hand.
Han sent him a flat look. "That's delightfully vague and unhelpful."
"I'm sure you'll figure it out. Just kill Palpatine and his allies before they ruin everything." Ben looked up and to the side before frowning. "Something's happening. We've got to start now." He disappeared for several seconds and then popped back into view with heavy brackets lining his mouth. "They can't hold it much longer. We need to—" Ben's form flickered, jumping from nine to nineteen to twenty-nine and back again. Eyebrows going up, he cocked his head to the side and stared at the empty wall on the other side of the room. "What was that?" Han looked, but nothing was there. Ben kept staring, nodding after a few moments as if agreeing to something.
Han looked around again but still didn't see anyone. "What? Is it one of those Force ghosts?" If so, shouldn't Han be able to see it now since he was dead and technically a ghost too? Or had Ben just gone crazy? Or was he talking to Rey somehow through their dyad thingy?
Blinking, Ben looked back at Han, expression turning sheepish. "Oh, uhh... you're not going to like this…."
"Like what?" Han put his hands on his hips and gave Ben a stern look.
Licking his lips, Ben's age flickered again as he looked to the side, breathing out slowly and then bowing his head respectfully. "OK, I understand."
"Understand what?" Han was getting angry. He didn't like the cryptic talk and he didn't like Ben being so respectful to an empty wall. He'd never been that respectful with his dad, just with evil snakes like Snoke and the imaginary voice in his head which, it turned out, wasn't imaginary but the evil dead Sith Lord Emperor Palpatine. It was seriously shaking his confidence in this crazy scheme. "What now, Ben? What's going on?" Han demanded.
Ben looked over and gave an awkward shrug. "Grandfather insists on helping."
Han felt his insides turn to ice. "Grandfather Solo or my ma's dad?" he asked hollowly. He hated those guys too, but didn't know them and so hated them only a fraction as much as the other guy. "Leia's dad? I heard Bail Organa was nice—and rich and powerful!" he pointed out with desperate hope.
Ben shook his head, showing a hint of amusement at Han's discomfort. "Grandfather Skywalker, of course."
"Vader?! Now look, kid, you better just tell him to shove off!" Han snapped, starting to panic.
"It's too late. Rey and I have already started, so you're stuck with him as a copilot." He shrugged. "Besides, he's too strong for me to stop even if I wanted to," Ben winced and touched a hand to his head, flickering to a washed-out blue color, "and quite loud in the Force. You probably should just do what he says and save her first."
"Are you kidding me?" Han asked, outraged. "And save who first?"
Before Ben could answer, everything took on a rainbow-sheen before brightening to a blinding white as Han Solo, the Millennium Falcon, and the chunks of chyntuck scattered across the floor all disappeared.