DREAMER part 1
Author:
Lia
E-mail: vreader40@yahoo.com
Archive: Anybody who wants to post this just let me know.
Rating: NC-17 or M
Timeline: shortly after ROTJ
Disclaimer: Luke, Han and the whole Star Wars Universe belongs to George Lucas.
Pity.
Feedback: If you haven't read this before in Yahoo Groups, you can send me feedback
to the e-mail above and make me happy!
Han Solo's personal log
They said he would recover. Eventually.
He definitely looks better. His hair is shiny and silky again. It had grown
long, and it sort of softened his features, making him look incredibly young.
He's not as pale as he was before he left quarantine. All the muscles he got
in his Jedi training are lost, though – he's now as skinny as he was when
we first met. And he can't use the Force, at least not as easily as before.
Lack of training, he says. I think there's more to it, and he's trying to hide.
Nobody knows where or how he caught the damn bug. Docs said it was an artificial
virus, especifically created to affect Force sensitives. Dammit. I should've
known better. The war may be over but many of our enemies are still out there,
just waiting for a chance to bring us down.
The hell I'm gonna let them get to him again. I'm taking him to a safe house
as soon as he's OK to travel and gonna make sure nobody'll know where we are
except Leia and Chewie. I'd rather go after whoever did that to the kid and
blast their asses off but there was no clue for me to track – the sonofabitches
were damn cautious. So the only thing I can do for now is try to protect him
the best I can. Chewie's keeping an eye on Leia. Very few know that she's Luke's
sister but better be safe than sorry.
End of log
The house was large, made of white stones and dark wood. Colorful flowerbeds
surrounded it and their scent floated in the cool breeze. It was possible to
hear the soft sounds of the seashore down the hill, and the whispering that
came from the woods on the other side.
“Are we staying here?” his voice sounded so much more like the once
naive farmboy he used to be – it was as if his last ordeals had somehow
left him bare, stripped of all his defenses. The walls around his heart, carefully
built after each loss, each disappointment, had come down.
Han Solo smiled and ruffled his younger friend's hair, a gesture he'd had stopped
doing a while ago, thinking it was kind of unseemly towards a Jedi Knight. But
now, maybe because of the kid's vulnerable state, it felt right doing that.
“Thought you'd like it. Leia wanted you to stay in her state there in Coruscant
but docs said you needed some peace and quiet for a while and I figured you'd
never have a decent rest in a place like that. Not with politics literally pouring
out of every wall.”
“You're right. Coruscant is definitely not the right place to rest.”
still staring at the house, Luke sighed in contentment. “It's great. It
looks so cozy... like the houses I used to draw when I was little. Thanks, Han.”
After a moment of companiable silence the two friends gathered their carrybags
and entered the house.
Artoo Detoo tooted happily as he rushed to welcome his Master. He had spent
the whole morning tuning the house systems and now everything was perfect: the
thermo adjusted to be comfortable for both Luke and Han Solo, not too hot, not
too cold; the food synth programmed with their favorite dishes; supplies checked;
household droids instructed in details about their tasks; and of course, security
set to maximum level. The small R2 unit would never forgive himself if something
happened to his Master – although he had been reprogrammed and formatted
many times before he met Luke Skywalker there were remnants of memory in his
AI chips that told him the name Skywalker was somehow related to his making.
That turned Master Luke into someone of much more prominance than any other
Master the droid ever had.
The door opened quietly.
“Hello, Artoo!” Luke patted the droid's head affectionately and received
a glad chirp in return. “Missed you. Has the pirate here treated you well?”
Another chirp followed by some toots made the boy laugh. Han chose to ignore
whatever the damn tin can was telling Luke and glanced at the living room. There
was a couch and an armchair in front of the holovid set, with lots of soft cushions;
a large window showed them a wonderful view of the mountains on the left and
the sea on the right; there were vases of exotic flowers and plants decorating
the walls – that would please the kid, being a desert dweller he was always
fascinated by water and vegetation. At the back of the room Han could see a
circular hall and the doors to the bedrooms. Simple, pleasant and comfy, with
nothing of the majestic but edgy beauty of the Palace in Coruscant where Leia
and Han were almost obliged to stay soon after the end of the war. It was the
economic and political core of the Galaxy, the best place for the leaders of
the New Republic, Mom Mothma insisted. It was no big deal for Leia – she
was used to live in such places – but Han could barely stand that for half
a year. First of all, he hated the atmosphere of deception that prevailed in
those long and impecably decorated corridors of power. And then, as his relationship
with Leia ended – and what a surprisingly dispassionated end it had been!
- , there was no more reason to stay there. He left the palace with a great
sigh of relief and feeling a bit puzzled by the fact that neither Leia nor himself
were especially upset by the separation. It was as if they wanted to break up
and were just waiting for the right time.
“Han?” a warm hand on his shoulder startled the Corellian from his
thoughts. He grinned.
“Just thinking what we could have for lunch, kid. Don't know about you
but I'm starving.”
“So am I. Why don't we ask Artoo to fix something in the food synth while
we take our stuff to the bedrooms?”
Before Han could answer the small droid hastily rolled to the kitchen bleeping
softly and Luke headed for one of the bedrooms.
“Yeah, sounds good to me... if anyone wants to know.”
Luke Skywalker's personal log
It's not working the way it used to. I can't sense things. My strenght and reflexes
have dropped down to the levels they were before my Jedi training. When I try
to use the Force I feel drained and my head aches so bad I have to lie down
for a while. It's so frustrating!
The virus is now inactive but still present in my bloodstream, firmly glued
to the midichlorian cells – the doctors couldn't eliminate it. Maybe that's
what is hindering my Jedi abilities. But if this virus can do this even being
inactive, then it would mean I will never recover completely unless they find
a way to get this bug off me. And worse of all, I will never be able even to
stay in the same room with Leia again because I can contaminate her.
Han's worried. He does his best not to show but I can see it in his eyes. I
didn't tell him the real extent of the after effects of my disease, didn't want
to upset him even more, but I think he's suspecting something. Good old Han,
so many times he rescued me, protected me, taught me, I owe him so much, just
hope I can live enough to make it up for everything somehow...
End of log
It was late afternoon when Han finished responding all the messages received
– well, at least all the important ones. He also sent word to Leia and
Chewie telling them that everything was OK. Luke had gone out to explore the
garden with Artoo on his heels so there was no reason to worry, the little tin
can could be a pain in the ass but it was also an excellent watchdog. Yawning
and stretching the Corellian headed for the bathroom. He would take a shower
and then, find the kid and make him sit quietly and watch a holovid or something.
It was good to exercise some but what Luke needed more right now was to rest,
especially after the long trip from Coruscant to Corellia.
He didn't have to go far after his young friend; he found Luke in the living
room already dozing off on the couch.
The boy was comfortably nestled in the soft cushions, his right hand hidden
under his left arm. His face was flushed, lips slightly parted. Han sat on the
floor beside the couch after a moment of hesitation. Long hours of desperate
vigil came to his mind, endless hours watching Luke in a coma, the skin ashen
pale, vital signs dropping down to impossibly low levels.
“The Jedi is no more.”
A voice that came from nowhere tormenting him as he saw hope diminishing in
the doctors' gloomy faces.
“The Jedi is no more.”
No.
The Corellian forcefully pushed the memory back to the recesses of his mind.
The voice was wrong. Luke survived. He was there, alive and sleeping peacefully.
Han reached out and gently brushed the tousled bangs from the boy's forehead.
The feel of soft hair and warm skin under his fingers sent shivers through his
body. A painful tenderness weighed on his chest. He could see all the scars,
physical or not, that Luke beared. I shouldn't keep calling you kid, should
I? You grew tougher, stronger as I never thought you could be in a matter of...
what? Three years? Four? Had it been only a few years since he first met the
kid? It was more like decades... more like an entire life. In a blink of an
eye, Luke turned from a wide-eyed innocent farmboy to a tough little soldier,
then to a wise Jedi Knight. And through all these changes, Han had seen his
own feelings change, from amused disdain to reluctant admiration, then to open
friendship, then to... what?
A small sigh escaped from the soft lips as Luke made a move with his right hand.
Han recognized that movement: he had seen it a thousand times whenever he saw
the kid exercising with his lightsaber. He was probably training in his dreams.
The Corellian chuckled at the sight and couldn't help caressing the sleeping
face.
You never give up, do you, kid? They betray you, take advantage of you, try
to kill you, and still you don't give up. How could you, when there's a Galaxy
to save, huh? Ah, kid, there's so much for you to learn and see, stuff your
Jedi hocus-pocus will never teach you... like how to make a perfect looping
maneuver in hyperspace, or the best time of the year to see the sunset in Orchara
II, or the taste of Kashyykian honey. Or this...