Chapter Text
Ben pushed himself up from the control panel, walking up to the cockpit where his dad and Uncle Chewie were doing post flight checks, talking quietly between themselves.
“She all good?” Ben had heard some concerning pops and banging as they’d broken atmo. Concerning for the *Falcon* anyway. And the way she’d shuddered....
Han waved a hand, absentmindedly pushing himself up from the pilot’s seat with a grimace. “Nothing we can’t handle later. Don’t wanna spend any more time on this Sith forsaken planet than we have to,” he muttered, gently pushing past Ben with a hand on his shoulder. “Get in, get out.”
[“And Little Bird will raise you from the dead just to be able to kill you herself,”] Uncle Chewie growled, his nonchalant tone at odds with his words.
Han sighed, rubbing his face roughly as he opened a smoking panel. Ben shared a look with his uncle. “Whaddya suppose we do? Dameron is our top priority. Dunno what kind of shape he’s in either.”
“I can go to the market,” Ben volunteered, leaning against the bulkhead and shrugging. “You and Uncle Chewie get Poe and, in the meantime, I’ll pick up the parts.”
His uncle and father shared a look for a long moment, communicating in a way that only two sentients that had known each other for decades could. Finally, his father spoke up. “Chewie’ll go with you; I’ll get the kid. Don’t like it but it’ll have to work.” Chewie whined quietly but nodded all the same.
Ben opened his mouth to protest, always hating when he split up his father and uncle, knowing neither liked to be without the other. But Han brandished a finger between them, the expression on his face brooking no argument. “‘M not gonna change my mind,” Han said, even as his face softened seeing Ben’s scowl. “Not that I don’t trust you but the place is crawling with Stormtroopers. Just humor your old man, okay?”
Ben stared at his father, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Fine,” he said with a sigh, throwing his hands up and heading back down the corridor. He made his way to his father’s cabin, keying open the safe and grabbing a stack of credit chips before making his way back out.
Uncle Chewie was waiting for him near the gangplank, bowcaster slung across his back. [“Ready?”] Ben patted his lightsabers and blaster before nodding, giving his uncle a warm smile.
“Get back in one piece, yeah?” Han called, rounding the corner. “Both of you.”
“You too,” Ben said, giving his dad a hug. If it was a little tight, neither man commented on it. Uncle Chewie got his hug too before Han grunted and playfully shoved at him.
“Gotta get goin’. Remember—” Han started, his expression turning serious.
“Get in.”
[“Get out.”]
Han rolled his eyes and slammed the button to lower the loading ramp. “Don’t do anything your mother wouldn’t do,” he said, walking down.
Ben snorted; that wasn’t a whole lot, but he kept the thought to himself. Uncle Chewie still gave him a light shove, though when Ben looked up his eyes were sparkling knowingly.
“Hey Dad,” Ben called, turning around to walk backwards, watching his father’s retreating form as he paused to look back at Ben.
“Yeah?”
“You’re not old,” Ben said with a smirk.
Han smiled, shaking his head before turning back around and continuing to walk in the other direction. “Dunno kid. Dunno.”
Ben watched him walk away, his posture shifting as he blended into his surroundings until he looked like any other sentient living life on a backwater planet. Just some smuggler, running another job.
His uncle snuffled behind him, and Ben turned back around, promptly tripping on an uneven patch of ground. Chewie grabbed his arm with a long suffering sigh, keeping Ben from eating dust. “Thanks,” Ben murmured.
Chewie growled fondly and kept walking, leading the way as they wound through what must have served as this settlement’s market. Ben scanned the sentients milling about, looking for Stormtroopers or anyone else that seemed out of place.
Finally, they came to a stop at one of the bigger stalls and Ben split his attention between looking for what they needed and watching his uncle’s back. Jakku was a little rougher than he had anticipated, and as much as he’d resented his father sending Chewie along like he was twelve. Ben had to admit he was happy to have the Wookiee looking out for him, however, even if it was just in the privacy of his own mind.
Ben rested a hand on his blaster, grabbing a few spare parts he knew the Resistance could use if the price was right. He set them down and leaned back against the counter, letting his Uncle haggle over prices.
After a few minutes of back and forth (not many wanted to piss off a Wookiee), a fair price was settled on and Ben handed over the credits. Something flashing in peripheral vision caught his attention, pulling his gaze.
Muttering a quick be right back, Ben turned and left the stall trying not to run, but seeing his best friend’s missing droid with valuable Resistance information on him sorta trumped any warnings his parental figures might have drilled into him over the years. Vaguely, he heard his uncle roar behind him but he kept going, afraid to take his eyes of BB-8 for even a second.
The BB unit caught sight of Ben and whirred excitedly, rolling towards him. [“Friend Ben! Friend Ben!”]
Ben knelt in the sand and gave the droid a friendly dome rub. “Hey buddy,” he murmured, giving him a quick look over for any damage or signs of tampering. “Still carrying?” The droid beeped in the affirmative, indicating he still had whatever intelligence Poe had been gathering.
BB-8 began beeping rapidly, his optical sensor shifting to look over Ben’s shoulder. “Wha—”
Pain exploded at the back of his head, a sharp crack echoing in his ears. Black obscured the edges of his vision as he pitched forward, his chin making contact with the top of BB-8’s dome before someone shoved him to the side, rolling him over on his back. Suddenly all his father’s warnings came flooding back into his mind and he groaned. Fuck.
Ben blinked up at his assailant, the tip of a staff coming to rest firmly on his windpipe. “Who are you?” she growled, baring her teeth with a fiery gaze. She looked like an inhabitant of the planet, the color of the sand long since baked into her clothes.
Some sort of scavenger if he had to bet on it; if she were an off worlder she’d have blasted him.
A human male with dark skin peered over her shoulder, his expression more curious than suspicious, though there was something in his eyes.
Fear maybe.
But before Ben could probe any deeper, BB-8 beeped frantically next to him, gently bumping into the woman again and again. [“Friend! Friend! Friend!”] While her eyes were on the droid, Ben took a moment to study the man a little more closely, realizing that he was wearing Poe’s jacket. His stomach twisted uneasily.
“He’s a friend?” Her tone was heavily laced with skepticism before she glanced back at Ben and then her companion. “Do you know him?”
The man’s eyes widened ever so slightly as he hesitated, looking between BB-8 and Ben before BB-8 answered again. [“Friend Ben is the mate of my pilot. Friend Ben is with the Resistance too.”]
“BeeBee-Ate you have got to stop calling me that,” Ben said with a sigh, pushing himself up as the woman pulled her staff back. “Poe and I are in the Resistance together, yes. We’re friends.” The stranger didn’t need to know any more than that. Certainly not their sordid romantic history.
Ben nodded to the strange male. “As for this moofmilker, I don’t know him from a Gonk droid.”
The man noticeably paled, and despite the walls Ben had in place, he could nearly hear the man’s thoughts race round his head. Panic leached into the air and Ben slowly reached for his lightsaber. “Ye-yeah that’s because I’m from a different uh, branch. Yeah, different branch,” the man said, rubbing the back of his neck. BB-8 whistled affirmatively, staring Ben down.
Ben opened his mouth to protest, narrowing his eyes but he felt a little push against the edges of his consciousness. Either it was a weak attempt at a mind trick or he wasn’t aware he was actually using the Force. Ben regarded the man for a moment, letting his walls down and scanning the man’s mind. He didn’t sense any malicious intent but there was a healthy dose of fear there. His walls were weak enough to push past, following the thread of fear deeper as Ben looked for the source. An image of a chrome plated Stormtrooper loomed up in his mind’s eye. Phasma.
“Yeah, the one out in the Outer Rim, right?” Ben asked, going along with the lie; he could question him later. If he was running from the First Order, that was good enough for now.
“Yeah, yeah that one,” the man said, relief breaking across his face.
“Well, I’m Ben,” he said, sticking out a hand for the man to shake. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too, I’m Finn.” He smiled big and wide, shoulders relaxing slightly as he reached down to pull Ben to his feet.
Once on his feet, Ben blinked down at the woman, raising an eyebrow as he dusted sand from his pants.
The woman smiled too, sticking an eager hand out. “I’m Rey.” Something fluttered in Ben’s chest, her smile was as bright as the Jakku sun.
“Nice to meet you, Rey.” Her hand in his was warm and callused, the rough patches catching against his own.
“Uh, guys,” Finn said, soon joined by BB-8’s frantic beeping. Ben looked up, dropping Rey’s hand as he saw a team of Stormtroopers turn down the market aisle, led by a masked figure.
“Slag,” Ben muttered, backing up and pulling out his blaster. “Do either of you know how to shoot?”
“Yes!” Finn said just as a trooper shouted ’halt’.
“Drop your weapons!”
“Good. Take this and head to the landing area. You’ll see a junky old freighter with a cranky old man on it. Tell him ‘starfighter’, y’got me?” Ben said, handing over his blaster and pulling out his lightsabers. “Now, run.”
“Wait! What about you?” Rey asked, fear coming off her in waves though you wouldn’t know it just by looking at her.
“I’ll be fine but you gotta get outta here. Don’t let ‘em get the droid.”
Finn nodded seriously, taking Rey’s hand and pulling her away. “C’mon.”
With one last concerned look for Ben, Rey turned and ran. “Stop grabbing my hand!”
═══════════════
Han waited impatiently for his first mate and son to return. Dameron was safely secured in the medbunk, nothing left for him to do but wait.
“This one, this one!” Someone shouted outside, before it sounded like they skidded to a stop at the bottom of his loading ramp.
“What fucking now,” Han muttered to himself, pulling out his old blaster and standing at the top of the ramp. Two kids looked up at him, wide eyed and chests heaving. A droid rolled up behind them, beeping frantically. Dameron’s droid.
“Ben told us to find the junky old freighter, said you’d understand,” the male said.
The female nodded frantically, her eyes wild. “Said to tell you ‘starfighter’.”
“Shit.” Han’s heart stopped, clenching tightly in his chest. He forced himself to take a deep breath; Ben could handle himself. “What happened?” he asked, waving the two in.
“A team of troopers showed up with some woman in black.”
“Lady Kira,” the male supplied.
“Who’s she?” The female asked, looking between her companion and Han.
“Someone bad,” Han said. “Was there a Wookiee with him?”
“A what?”
The male shook his head. “No, we didn’t see a Wookiee.”
“Fuck,” Han muttered before leaning around the corner and shouting in the direction of the medbunk. “Poe! Get your ass in the cockpit and start her up; I’ll be back.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Poe Dameron?” the man asked, his face lighting up.
“Yeah, you know him?”
The male nodded enthusiastically.
“Good, go help him. You,” Han said, turning to the woman, “come with me.” He pulled a spare blaster out of a hidden compartment and handed it to her. “Point and pull the trigger, let’s go.”
He set off towards the market, sentients pouring out of the rows of stalls. He listened for the sound of blaster fire or the telltale hum of lightsabers, picking his way through trampled detritus.
Finally, he came upon his son, towering over a fallen figure. Ben holstered one saber and took the other in both hands, chest heaving and Han knew what was going through his mind—had seen that look in Leia’s eyes before. Chewie whined plaintively behind his son.
“Ben!” Han shouted, stopping a few paces from him. “Ben, look at me. Look at me. Son.”
“But she—” Ben ground out, jaw clenching.
“I know” Distantly Han heard the roar of ion engines. Shit. “But you don’t want to do this; trust me.”
Ben continued to stare down at the woman that used to be his friend, his expression torn, thoughts so loud Han could nearly hear the war raging inside.
“Look at me, son.” If Han could just break his attention, get through to him. He had to reach him. The roar of TIEs was getting increasingly louder, they needed to get out.
[“Listen to your Father, Little Cub.”]
Finally, Ben looked up, wide eyes locking on Han. “Come with me, Ben,” Han said, holding out a hand.
Han saw the moment he got through to his son. It was like all his anger and hatred left him in a rush, his body sagging, shoulders dropping as he staggered.
Seemingly as one, Han and Chewie rushed forward to catch him from hitting the ground. For the first time, Han noticed the blaster burn on his thigh. Chewie growled low in pain, a burn on his arm and the scent of singed fur filled Han’s nose. “Let’s get the hell outta here,” Han muttered, wedging his shoulder under Ben’s and wrapping an arm around his waist. “Can you walk?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Let’s go,” Ben said, leaning heavily into Han.
[“You got him?”] Chewie growled.
“Yep. You good, Pal?” Chewie growled, nodding and Han turned around, having completely forgotten the scavenger girl. Her eyes were wide, like she couldn’t quite believe what she’d saw and Han felt a momentary pang, memories from decades past flashing in his mind. “Come on kid, time to bug out.” And if he wasn’t mistaken, something akin to worry as she took Ben’s injuries.
“Right, I’ll run and tell them to get her ready for take off,” she said before sprinting off ahead of them.
“Leave it to you to go get parts and pick up strays,” Han said as they started off as fast as Ben could go. Ducking between market stalls as TIEs swooped overhead.
“Just following your example,” Ben said, his voice strained even as he smirked down at him.
“Hey now, that's your mom you're talking about," Han said, the hint of a smile curling at his lips, glad Ben was at least making jokes.
Han silently thanked the the gods as the Falcon finally came into view.