Chapter Text
Han Solo crashed happily through the woods, thinking how ducking and swerving among branches was almost as exhilarating as dodging fire from Tie fighters.
He emerged into a clearing, slowing to a jog. The first thing he saw was a towering bonfire, burning with an almost wild abandon. He wondered if it were left over from the battle when he noticed the smaller, darker figure of Luke Skywalker standing at its edge.
Luke had built a nice fire, Solo reflected. The flames were tall, and no doubt hot to be standing so close. They licked and bounced and popped. There was an odd odor, like when wires melted on the Falcon, and a dark smoke curled ominously.
"There you are," he called to Luke. "A little Ewok told me I might find you here."
Luke turned, and Han took in his appearance. They hadn't seen each much since Han's release from carbonite. Luke had departed for Dagobah while Han struggled through the after-effects of carbonite poisoning and hibernation sickness. Their reunion was filled with preparations of the forthcoming battle. Now, it seemed to Han, they had a whole lifetime to catch up.
"Ewoks really do have eyes in the forest," Luke answered with a small smile.
"Nah, I was lying," Han grinned. "Your sister sent me to fetch you."
"My sister," Luke echoed.
"Yeah. Short, princessy. You know the one."
"There is only one," Luke smiled. He still got a thrill saying sister. Leia was new-found, yet somehow eternal. She rested like a pocket of truth in his heart.
"You got that right." Han stepped closer to the bonfire, realizing with distaste Luke had actually built a funeral pyre. He saw boots and a helmet. Darth Vader. He looked soberly at Luke. "I'll never get you, kid," he said.
Firelight flickered in Luke's eyes. "Leia says I'm too forgiving." He paused. "How much did she tell you?"
Han grinned at him, but there was an edge to his eyes. "The whole damn story. Quite a story," he amended.
Luke nodded in understanding. "It is amazing." He found he was envious of Han and Leia. "Everything, huh? I've known for a year. Not about her being my sister. Just Father. Ever since Bespin. I just couldn't tell her. Thought it was too horrible. But I told her she was my sister almost right away." He bent to throw a limb on the fire. "How's she doing?"
"She's…." Han struggled to explain. "… plotting Coruscant's release."
"That bad, huh?"
"Yeah." He dropped to the ground and sat cross-legged. "This extra father has really thrown her for a loop."
"He's not an extra father, Han," Luke argued softly.
"Yes he is," Han responded firmly. "She's known ever since she could understand the concept that she was adopted. Not once in her whole life has she gone to search for her biological parents. Never had any curiosity about them. Bail and Breha were her parents. End of story."
Luke nodded. Han had a point. Luke thought how he'd always called Beru and Owen aunt and uncle, their silence only serving to make him burn with desire for the father he would never know.
"It is going to be hard for her to reconcile Anakin Skywalker as her father," Luke admitted.
"Mind you, she's glad to have a brother. But I think she's sorry you told her about Vader."
"Maybe she'll come around."
"Doubt it."
Luke opened his mouth and posed his question carefully. "If you had a chance, if after all this time your father suddenly came back in your life, wouldn't you want to know him?"
"Absolutely not."
The decisiveness caught Luke by surprise. "Why not?"
"What do I need him for? I grew up, I'm done. I don't need a father."
Luke thought how little emotion Han connected to the idea of a father. It was mere facts and information to him. In Han's mind there was no point broaching the subject. "But, he'd be family, a blood relative…you'd have a connection with someone.." Luke struggled to explain his point of view. As a boy he had adored the idea of his father, a man who helped create him, who shared genes and history. He floundered, realizing he was trying to explain emotions, something that couldn't be grasped to a man who saw the concrete. "You'd know who you are, where you came from. Maybe it's where you got your love of flying."
"I got my love of flying when I flew," Han retorted. "Anyone would love it."
"That's not true," Luke countered. "I knew a girl on Tatooine who got sick every time she flew."
"Somethin' wrong with her, then. Although, there's bad pilots," Han commented.
"So you're pretty sure you wouldn't make room in your life for your father?"
"All my father is, is some guy that had sex and got someone pregnant. What do I owe him? My hair color, height, eyes? I can even change all that if I want."
"Cant' really get shorter," Luke mumbled, only a little resentfully.
"I wear lifts."
"You do?"
It was heartening to hear Han laugh so hard. He had caught Luke off-guard, what he used to do so easily a life time ago. "No, I don't. Hard to get short I guess. I'll develop bad posture."
The pair were silent as a portion of the pyre burned through and its form shifted, flames struggling to reshape. "You'll help Leia, then," Luke said, his face to the fire. Again, he felt a pang of jealousy. "Your complete disregard, your unsentimentality -"
"It's what she loves about me," Han boasted and Luke laughed.
"She'll be able to file him away as a fact, not be eaten up by what it can mean," Luke continued.
"Just a guy that had sex," Han confirmed. He looked at Luke. "Twice?"
"We're twins."
"Once then."
"I hope more than that!" Luke exclaimed.
"Oh, I see. You want him to have enjoyed life," Han commented. "He's got a hell of a legacy."
"It's Darth Vader's legacy," Luke countered.
"No," Han shook his head. "Anakin is, or was, Darth Vader. It's his legacy. The instant he changed names. Or Force sides, or whatever you say."
Luke spoke slowly, as if measuring his thoughts. "I think when I was told my father was dead, he had died, spiritually. I think he regretted going to the dark side a long time ago. But when Vader was dying, that's when Anakin could come back, renounce the dark side."
"Sorry ain't going to cut it, kid."
Luke nodded again, knowing Han was right. If Vader had survived, even been renounced by Anakin Skywalker, he and Luke would never have a future together. What would be perceived as war crimes would never die down. His father would probably be executed.
"I dared to hope for a little," Luke admitted. "Like a stupid childhood fantasy, that I could have a father. It just snuck in my mind, you know? Unbidden. The one I always wanted. I think I finally met the father he always wanted to be."
"That's why you're doing this," Han said, gesturing at the flames. He sighed. "Well, do it for you, then. I don't think you're going to change anyone's mind, even Leia's. Be happy with what you've got, and keep quiet about it."
Luke thought it was good advice. "You have leaves in your hair," he told Han.
Han swiped at his head with his hand, smiling as he pulled a twig from the tangles of his hair. He tossed it on to the fire."My contribution," he declared.
"I appreciate that," Luke smiled. He absorbed Han's presence a moment with the Force. "You're happy," he told him.
"Yeah." Han smiled, full and rare. "That wrong?"
"No, no. Just ...different. So are you okay? Health-wise? I haven't had a chance to really sit down and talk since I left Tatooine. I know it's only been a couple of weeks."
Han shrugged. "Yeah, I'm good." He didn't look at Luke, and Luke was alarmed that Han, while not really lying, wasn't telling the truth either.
"Seriously, Han." Luke looked at his friend, assessing eyes, pallor, weight.
Han shrugged again. "They said for as long as I was in it would take time. I still can't eat or sleep or stay warm, among other things, but at least I stopped throwing up. Progress, right?"
"I had no idea." Luke wanted to say I'm sorry but knew he would just make Han angry.
Han dismissed it. "I'm fine." He thought of Leia, waiting for him to bring Luke back. "I'm great, actually." The fire's heat washed over him, and he held up a sprig of grass and watched it wilt between his fingers. "Actually, I feel brand new," he ventured to Luke carefully, gauging the younger man's reaction. Luke cocked his head at him, interested, and Han forged on. He saw himself running through the woods, the sensation of ...fun. It had been a long time since he'd felt that. "Like a door shut. And we're opening a new one."
"Probably isn't that simple," Luke remarked.
"No," Han agreed. "It never is. But I feel like we have some control now." He turned to Luke. "Remember, when the first Death Star sucked us in? The second that tractor beam hit it was all beyond us. We were just reacting. This whole time, playing catch up."
"So we start a whole new story," Luke said.
"Yup." Han stood, brushing dirt off the back of his pants. "There's everything still to say, and there's nothing left to say."
"End of story," Luke repeated something Han had said earlier. "You're a mystic," Luke teased.
Han grinned and clapped Luke on the bicep to herd him back to the victory party. "Nah. That's a bad adaptation of a Wookiee proverb." He embraced the air in an open gesture. "Fire's down. Come on back. I feel like kissing a Princess."
Luke laughed, finding Han's mood infectious. He stood and began to move off, saying, "you don't need me for that."
"No," Han agreed, his face full of mischief, "3P0 needs a dance partner. He keeps interrupting me."
"I don't want to know that story."
The two men moved through the forest. Behind them, in the clearing, the fire was calmer and cooler.