Chapter Text
The moist, muggy morning was already getting warm. Thankfully, the slight breeze provided just enough relief to make their uniforms feel bearable. Major Ben Solo and a half-dozen airmen piled into the back of an aircraft. They were to depart shortly for a routine training, practicing plane jumps and preparing for an upcoming deployment, whose location was still need-to-know. They likely wouldn’t know until they arrived, but that never bothered Solo.
He was a dutiful airman, a respected officer in a long line. His men trusted him and followed his guidance with ease. There was always a sense of camaraderie; he treated them as equals unless they got out of line. People knew to avoid his temper, though it rarely spiked unless provoked.
Now they sat all facing each other, strapped into their benches as the plane took off. Ben was the picture of calm at this moment. He never felt more at peace than when he was flying, whether he was in the cockpit or sitting among his airmen. Being in the sky was as natural to him as breathing. It was where he belonged.
Once they reached altitude for jumping, the pilot gave the necessary details about current air conditions, landing site, etc. Ben relayed that to his men and opened the hatch as everyone secured parachutes. Staff Sergeant Poe Dameron stood next to Ben, eyeing him excitedly.
“Rank before beauty, sir,” Poe suggested, clapping Ben on the shoulder.
“I’m debating whether or not I should be insulted, Dameron, are you suggesting I’m unattractive?” Ben questioned, quirking an eyebrow as he adjusted his helmet a final time.
“I’m suggesting you have a face only a mother could love, sir,” Poe said with a laugh.
Ben pressed his hand to his chest, feigning injury. “Dameron, you wound me,”
“Just jump, will you? We can discuss who gets more ladies later, sir, even though we all know it’s me,”
“There’s more to being a good airman then how many women you sleep with, and you know that. See you when you land,” Ben said, with a nod before turning and jumping from the plane.
Spreading out his arms and legs in a practiced manner, Ben embraced the sky, surrounded by a cushion of air. He felt time slowing; for a moment, he let himself fall. He felt free, completely unrestricted and even more at peace then he had been inside the plane. Relaxed, but still aware of his surroundings, he took in the patchwork of the ground and its spread around him. At the precise moment when he was meant to pull his parachute cord, he tugged.
Nothing happened.
He tugged again, feeling the air currents buffeting his body. He had felt harsher currents before; this was nothing new. His heart pounded as he pulled a third time; he let out a relieved breath as his chute finally activated and his approach to land slowed.
Unfortunately, those few seconds made a difference as his approach hadn’t slowed enough. With growing panic, he instinctively curled his body in to brace for impact when he landed, rolling on the ground once he had finally hit his mark.
Instantly, he felt pain radiate through his chest, shooting sparks along his back and down his spine. The world went black for a moment and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. He let out a shuddering gasp of breath as he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. He lay still, knowing it was the best thing to do to avoid further injury.
All around him, footsteps pounded as his fellow airmen and those who had witnessed his ill-fated jump came to his immediate aid. He was aware that his parachute was being carefully untangled from his body, cut away by a skilled hand.
People shouted for medical aid; others knelt beside him, murmuring words they hoped would be comforting. He eased in and out of consciousness, the pain gripping him worse than anything he had ever experienced. Every breath felt labored. The sting of a needle pierced his arm and a cool sensation crept over his body as he was carefully shifted to a gurney. Then the world went completely black as he succumbed to sleep.
When he woke up, he was in bed. The room was sterile and cold, small and uncomforting. A monitor nearby blinked with his vitals, indicating a steady heartbeat and other functions within normal limits. He felt a dull sensation of pain in his chest, and his limbs were stiff and unresponsive. His eyes felt heavy, and he drifted off to sleep again.
Days passed into weeks, and gradually, he began to feel more like himself. He was aware that he was being maintained on a heavy assortment of medications, helping him to sleep, relieving his pain and aiding in his recovery. He was later told that he had suffered a broken sternum, a spinal injury, and had been in a medical coma, from which he had awoken ahead of schedule.
Neither the medical staff nor passing officers would answer his persistent questions as to whether or not he’d still go on his planned deployment with the rest of his airmen. Then a new question came to him - would he ever fly again?
His lack of activity was beginning to weigh heavily on him. He did little more than eat the terrible meals provided by the hospital kitchens, watch television, and read. Being bedbound made him feel like the laziest officer ever, one of the types he had warned his airmen never to become. “Don’t be that guy ,” he’d advised. Now, he felt like the most useless tool in the box, half sitting up in bed, eating cubes of jello and feeling like a total slacker.
Running one of his hands through his hair, he realized it had gotten longer and was now against regulation length. The scruffy beard growing in was against regulation as well. He dared not look at himself, for he knew he’d be thoroughly disgusted by what he saw. Letting out a heavy sigh, he attempted to move his legs again.
To his delight, his body responded the way he had hoped it would. Slowly, he shifted himself to the side of the bed, dangling his legs over the edge. He sat there like that for a while, rolling his shoulders and hearing his back pop.
“Sir, you shouldn’t be sitting like that!” He heard the anxious voice of a nurse drawing closer to him as she spoke.
“I need to get up; I’ve been lying here long enough,” he insisted, once the nurse finally faced him.
She was a pretty young corpsman, clearly new to the Air Force. Possibly fresh out of training. The concern she gave him was more than most usually did. She flinched in response to the words he spoke. Perhaps his tone was harsher than he had intended.
“I’m sorry, sir, I must insist. Let me at least get a charge nurse in here; you can address things with him,” she said, resting an assuring hand on his shoulder.
It only served to further irritate him. He glanced down at her small hand and back into her sparkling green eyes. She was definitely new. Anyone else would know better than to touch a patient familiarly, let alone an officer.
“Bring them here immediately, then. Do not stop for anything else,” he demanded, in what he had hoped would be a commanding tone.
“Yes, sir, sorry, sir, I'll be back right away,” the nurse stammered over her apologies, a hint of panic rising in her voice.
“If I were hungry, I would have asked for more food. I don’t need any sir sandwiches from you,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes.
“Sorry, sir, it won't happen again, sir. I’ll be back,” she exclaimed, backing slowly before she all but ran from the room.
He heaved a heavy sigh, slowly stretching out his legs one at a time and flexing his toes. He noticed his arms and legs were bare and felt a cool breeze on his back. He must have been in a hospital gown. Glancing at the stiff, thin fabric that hung loosely from his torso, he rolled his eyes.
How much longer would he be forced to wear this thing? How much longer would he have all these needles feeding him pain medications, or the catheter collecting his waste as if he were an invalid? Worst of all, when the hell would he be flying again?
Footsteps approached again, and he turned his head to the side, glancing over his shoulder as the young corpsman walked in, accompanied by what he assumed was a charge nurse and another person whom he immediately recognized as General Lando Calrissian. He straightened his posture immediately in the presence of his superior officer. He offered a salute, which the general returned immediately.
“Major Solo, good to see you awake and aware. Have you been briefed on the situation?”
“No, sir, I have not. I’m not even aware of what the date is. Could you tell me how much longer until I am released? We’re due to deploy any day now. I need to be with my men.”
“About that…” the general began slowly, “Listen, Solo. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your men have already been deployed. Weeks ago. You suffered a concussion, a broken sternum and a severe spinal cord injury,” The General hesitated, reaching into his pocket, withdrawing an envelope, and handing it to Ben. He eyed Ben cautiously as he opened the envelope.
Ben’s eyes roamed over the document. He read the letter once, twice, three times. He couldn’t believe what he was reading. This was a medical discharge . He was no longer a part of the Air Force.
In so many words, the letter indicated that he needed to rest. Due to the extent of his injuries, he would never be able to fly with the Air Force again. The letter concluded with them thanking him for his years of service. He knew his face was etched with a mixture of emotions. Disbelief, concern, fear, and paranoia… his eyes sought out the generals. Perhaps this was a bad joke and he’d somehow wake up from this nightmare and all would be well.
“The good news is, you’re not paralyzed. Your spinal injury wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. The worst of the bruising has faded, and you’re recovering quite well, all things considered. Once you’re released from medical care, you’ll be escorted from the base. You’ll be taken to wherever you like. Just let us know where, and we’ll take you. You’ll be heavily compensated for your injury, and will continue to receive an officer’s pension…”
Ben held up his hand, silencing his general, knowing he should feel regret for interrupting a superior officer but at this moment he didn’t care.
“I don’t want compensation, sir. With all due respect, I want to fly,” he said, trying his hardest not to sound like a petulant child having been reprimanded. He knew he certainly felt that way.
Lando gestured to the other two who stood at his side. They nodded in understanding, leaving the room and shutting the door behind them.
“Listen, kiddo--If I could keep you in, I would. I tried everything I could, but even if you were bound to an office, it wouldn’t do anyone good. Least of all you. There’s no future here for you, but you’re young. You’ll do well in the civilian world. I have faith in you,” he offered as kindly as he could.
Ben drew a shaky breath, carefully regarding Lando where he stood. Glancing down at the paper with his discharge, he sighed. Closing the document carefully, he slid it back into the envelope, setting it on a nearby table and closing his eyes.
“What will I do?” he asked, his voice small and quiet.
“You’ll figure it out, kiddo. You’re a Solo,” Lando said, his voice familiar and friendly. It was a voice Ben remembered from his childhood, growing up watching his father rise through the ranks in the Air Force.
Lando had been his father’s best friend, and they followed similar career paths, although his father had retired a few years ago while Lando had gone on to become a five-star General. He had guided and encouraged Ben through basic training and submitting his officer paperwork. He had carefully monitored Ben’s progress as he rose through the ranks. Now Lando was the one ordering Ben to sever his dreams of following in his father’s footsteps. It hardly seemed fair, but he understood. He was grateful to have received word from a friend. That was the kindest thing the Air Force could have done for him.
“Yeah,” he uttered slowly, “I’m a Solo, I’ll figure it out.”
“That's the spirit. Now, I’ll see what I can do about getting you checked out and determine if you’re fit to return to the real world. You’ll likely be given a few days of rehab, as your body isn’t used to fully functioning, but I doubt it’ll take long for you to bounce back. I’ll expect to hear from you one way or another once you’re a civilian. It’s been an honor working with you, Ben.”
He opened his eyes at hearing his name, and not just “kiddo” or “Solo.” He regarded his old family friend and mentor. Nodding respectfully, he said nothing more, watching as Lando made his way out of the room. His shoulders sank as he glanced over at the papers that indicated he was no longer a commissioned officer in the Air Force and was now a mere civilian.
It had been years since he had been just another civilian. His life had been routine, structured, a path laid out ahead of him. This was not how his military career was supposed to end. He had been in for ten years. He didn’t want to accept his fate, but he knew he had no other choice. His mind raced as he began to consider everything that could and would happen.
He knew where he needed to go. One of his friends had retired early, within a year or two of becoming a captain. She had wanted to start a family. Perhaps he could go to her, and they could figure out the next chapter of his life?
Another week passed, and he found himself in a tee shirt and jeans, carrying a large sack over his shoulders as he made his way towards the Humvee that would take him to his friend's home in Pennsylvania. The drive from Charleston, South Carolina would be a long one, but they were cruising up the coast-- at least it would be scenic. The airman assigned to escort him was quiet and respectful. The chatter between them was minimal, and they mostly drove in silence.