Fic: White Rabbits (Star Wars, 36/?)
Sep. 17th, 2005 02:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
butterflyTitle: White Rabbits
Part: 36/?
Author: Diana Michelle (
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
butterfly)Warnings: Spoilers for Revenge of the Sith. Movie-canon only.
Pairings: Anakin/Obi-Wan; Leia/Han.
Rating: R/NC-17
Summary: Han just wants a break from the craziness.
Disclaimer: Not Lucas, don't own a thing, not making any money.
Chapter Index
Han opened his eyes to the darkness.
His head was pounding like one of those blasted Ewok drums, his mouth tasted like he’d licked Chewie before bed, his back ached, and he was alone.
No, wait, he was all alone except for the bottle of cheap liquor that was currently lodged awkwardly underneath him, explaining why his back hurt so much. He pulled it out and tossed it into the corner, sighing as he heard it bounce off the wall and come rolling right back towards his bunk.
‘Never worry about breaking a bottle again’, that’s what the holoverts said, not bothering to take into account the fact that sometimes, a man wanted to break a bottle.
Leia hadn’t ever come to bed. Han stretched out, trying to decide which possibility was worse – that she was still down there chatting away about Darth Vader or that she’d decided to sleep in an empty bunk. They were both pretty high on the horrible scale, but Leia choosing to sleep somewhere Han wasn’t managed to win by the skin of its teeth.
Han rubbed his eyes, trying to decide if he really wanted to get up and find out what was currently happening on his ship. Reluctantly, he swung his feet down onto the cool floor, heated but never quite warm enough. He shuffled over and turned the light on to its dimmest setting, then set about getting himself decently disreputable via the fresher unit.
But even shaved, clean, and dressed, he didn’t feel particularly ready to face the day. All he wanted to face right now was more of his bed.
When he got down there, Luke would start working on him, he just knew it. Luke wanted Han to be a part of his crazy scheme to help his father, that much was obvious. Especially now that Luke knew that Han… had some knowledge about him that Luke didn’t.
Except that it wasn’t really relevant and Luke wasn’t getting that. Han always used to believe that Anakin Skywalker had died, twenty-four years ago. What he’d discovered last night was that Anakin hadn’t ever existed. It’d just been a façade, a cover for Darth Vader to hide behind until he could betray everyone who’d trusted him.
Everything that Han knew, all the heroics and the charm, none of it was real. Any information that Han had to give to Luke was a lie.
But Luke wouldn’t believe that.
The corridors were quiet, only the gentle hum of the air recirculation system and Han’s soft footsteps breaking the silence. But then, as he approached the cargo bay, he heard a single voice echoing up to where he was – Threepio.
Han’s steps slowed and he entered the cargo bay hesitantly, one hand lingering on edge of the doorway. Threepio was still talking, arms moving with stilted expressiveness. Luke and Leia were sitting down, leaning against each other, facing away from Han, Leia’s hair spilling down Luke’s back.
“-the fourth week passed and there was still no news of them on the HoloNet,” Threepio said. “And she confided to me that she was deeply afraid that Master Anakin had been killed, and that news wasn’t being reported because of morale reasons. The unofficial channels had a thousand different theories about why there was no official word being released, most of them bad. Miss Padmé began to be afraid to watch, so many people spoke of how there could be no hope.”
“Why… why wasn’t she being more proactive?” Leia asked, and she sounded frustrated and exhausted. She’d be in a terrible mood all day. Wonderful. “Why didn’t she do anything?”
“She couldn’t risk showing too much attention in Master Anakin,” Threepio said, matter-of-factly. “If the Council suspected the truth, if the Senate knew, it would be the end of her career.”
“But why?” Leia asked.
“Does it matter?” Han asked. Luke glanced over his shoulder and met Han’s eyes, not looking surprised to see him there. “It’s the past. Can’t change it now.”
“Is that why you forgot you ever knew about Kenobi and Skywalker?” Leia asked, getting up from the floor and turning to face Han, who shifted his gaze to meet hers. Her eyes were bright, but her expression was hard, unforgiving. “The past matters, Han. You can’t lock it up in a box and pretend it never happened.”
“Hey, this isn’t about me. Vader’s your father, sweetheart, not mine,” Han said. Leia’s cheeks were flushed pink and she looked almost ready to hit him. Then her lips pressed together tightly and the look in her eyes cooled.
“You’re right. This isn’t about you at all,” Leia said. She turned away from him, towards Luke, who was still sitting on the floor. “Luke, were you ready to go?”
“And where are we going?” Luke asked.
“To speak with our father, of course,” Leia said, her coldness entirely directed at Han.
“They have a shield up around their room,” Luke said. “I don’t even know if they’re awake yet.”
“Then we’ll wake them up,” Leia said.
“Or we could wait until Artoo and Chewie arrive,” Luke said, standing up. “If Artoo really did go with Anakin and Obi-Wan on the majority of their missions, then he can give us some background that Threepio wouldn’t know.”
Leia was a little pissed off that Luke wasn’t going along with her, if that tight, fake smile was any clue. Han was just relieved that Luke was staying Luke, and not taking sides. He didn’t need both of them against him when the room was still a little green around the edges, and Threepio was muttering in the corner.
“When did you send that message to them?” Han asked, but then he realized that the only time would have been… “Right, before you headed out to the
“Just what I was thinking,” Luke said. He looked over at Leia. “We might as well wait.”
“All right,” Leia said, and she still wasn’t looking at Han. “I’m going to go lie down for a while. Come get me when they’re here?”
“Of course,” Luke said. Leia smiled at Luke, bright and warm, and Han was sure that she was doing it on purpose.
And after she’d gone, Han stared after her for a while.
“She probably doesn’t want company,” he said, feeling a little empty.
“Well, not yours,” Luke corrected, but his hand was warm and reassuring on Han’s shoulder, and Han could only pretend to take offense.
So, he and Luke pulled out an old hologame, set it up for two people, and settled down to wait for Chewie. It wasn’t the most reliable board that existed – one of the Hjura holopieces flickered whenever you moved it to the left, and it liked to randomly move the Kena pieces, usually on Luke’s turn, but the game was just an excuse anyway. Otherwise, Luke would probably try to talk, and that was something that Han wanted to avoid right now.
Besides, Threepio was talking enough for all three of them. And Luke kept flashing little smiles over to him, so Han didn’t tell Threepio to shut up. Still, he didn’t really feel like hearing about Skywalker right now, so it was a good thing that he’d figured out how to ignore Threepio months ago.
Two games later and in the middle of the third, they got a warning buzz – someone was opening the door from the outside. And Chewie was the only person off the ship who had a working code, so Han didn’t bother looking up from the board, just lifted up a hand in greeting when he heard Chewie come rumbling in, wondering about the details.
“You’re gonna need to ask Luke about that, buddy,” Han said, cocking his head as he tried to decide between two moves. “It’s nothing to do with me.”
Chewie loudly expressed disbelief at that idea. Han shrugged. It wasn’t his fault people kept trying to drag him into this – he was determined to keep out, no matter what Luke or Leia had to say. Skywalker wasn’t his father, and he’d never trained with Kenobi. It wasn’t Han’s business and it was going to stay that way.
“It’s about my father,” Luke said. Artoo chirruped inquisitively. Han glanced and noticed Luke’s intense study of Artoo, before he ducked down to stare at the board some more. “You worked with him.”
Artoo made an oddly dissonant noise, and when Han looked up again, it didn’t look like Luke had understood it either.
“He’s sorry he didn’t mention anything before, sir,” Threepio said. Han’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully – what had happened to ‘Master Luke’? Artoo twirped again, at a higher pitch. Threepio turned towards Artoo, indignantly. “What do you mean, it’s my fault as well? I didn’t remember!”
Artoo twittered accusingly, Chewie growled questioningly, Threepio protested his innocence gratingly, and Han’s head was pounding from it all.
“All of you, shut up!” Okay, after that, it might be hard to convince them that he wasn’t listening and didn’t care, but hey, it wasn’t his fault they were loud enough to wake the dead. “Now, Threepio, can it. Chewie, give Luke a chance to talk. And Artoo, you have a lot of explaining to do and don’t pretend otherwise.”
A chastised and surprised silence filled the room.
“Okay, that’s better,” Han said, glancing over at Luke, who just looked amused. “Luke, you wanna start talking anytime soon?”
“You seem to have the troops under control, General Solo,” Luke said, leaning casually against a crate, the one with Baxter’s explosive toys in it. Han’s best glare didn’t make a dent in Luke’s smile. “Are you sure that you don’t want to take the lead?”
“Not in a million years,” Han said. “It’s your show, you know that.”
“Not just mine,” Luke said, softly.
“If I may, sir,” Threepio said. “I’ll go and wake the princess.”
Luke glanced over at Threepio, and then nodded. As Threepio wandered off, Han finally went over and gave Chewie a tight hug, while Chewie quietly reprimanded him for not keeping a sharper eye on Luke.
Han pulled out of the hug and muttered something about wishing that were possible, and he noticed that Luke was kneeling in front of Artoo, looking solemn.
“He’s here,” Luke said, quietly, his hand on the curve of Artoo’s dome. Artoo twittered questioningly. “My father is here. Not… not Vader, but my father from when he was young. He’s the one who told me.”
Artoo started making tiny, disquieting noises that Luke only seemed to half-understand and that Han didn’t understand at all. Luke cocked his head, asked Artoo if he could clear things up at all. Artoo chirruped softly.
Luke’s forehead wrinkled briefly, and then he looked over at Han.
“He wants to talk to Anakin,” Luke said, as if he needed Han’s permission in any way. “Right now.”
“Leia’s going to be here in a minute,” Han pointed out. Artoo whistled, low and mournful, then he rolled away from Luke and back towards the ramp. His dome twisted around towards Luke, then back towards the entrance.
“I’m not sure he knows what he wants to do,” Luke said. He had an intent look on his face as he stared at Artoo. “He wants to see Anakin, right now, but he knows that I want him to wait.”
Artoo made another soft, sad sound.
Chewie quietly asked Han just what was going on. Han shrugged helplessly. He wasn’t entirely sure how to explain this all to himself, let alone to anyone else.
“Just wait, Artoo,” Luke said. “Leia’ll be here in a minute, and then we can go see Anakin and Obi-Wan.”
Artoo emitted a high-pitched whine that spoke of utter shock, even to Han. His third wheel hit the ground and he zipped down the ramp, clearly bent for the rooftop door.
“What’d you say?” Han asked, and Chewie echoed the question.
“Didn’t you notice? He reacted when I said Obi-Wan’s name,” Luke said, sounding much too excited. He looked over at Han. “I have to find out what’s going on.”
And then Luke was gone, too, racing after Artoo. Han sighed, while Chewie was staring down the ramp, growling over the impetuousness of younglings.
“I know just how you feel,” Han muttered, taking off after Luke. He heard Chewie’s annoyed roar and spared a thought for how thoroughly pissed Leia was going to be when she caught up with them.
At this rate, Luke was going to get him in real trouble one day.