A/N: …And I forgot about this story again. Sorry! But here’s the latest update, hastily posted while writing my final paper for my Celtic Studies class. Irish immigration, whoa.

This is the final chapter, and it’s rather long so please bear with me. To those of you who have reviewed my story, you have my heartfelt thanks. Enjoy!

STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN: CHAPTER III

The thick door slid open, and all Han glimpsed of the room inside was darkness before he was brutally shoved into said darkness, losing his footing and tumbling unceremoniously across the cold metal floor.

Almost instantly he was on his feet again, though, cursing at the two guards in Corellian. But the uniformed men only laughed, closing the door behind them and enveloping Han in blackness.

It took a moment for Han’s eyes to adjust to the light change, but he didn’t need to see to know that he was now in a prison cell. They were on a prison planet; where else would they put a troublemaker like him?

“Rey kudou!” Han screamed at the closed door, just to make himself feel better. Then he sighed and sat down on the floor, checking to make sure no bones had been broken.

A low growl from the darkness instantly had him on his feet again. Peering into the blackness, he could just barely distinguish a pair of bright eyes gleaming at him from the dark. Oh great. He had a cellmate, and a dangerous one at that.

Backing up a little, Han quickly searched his surroundings for a weapon, but the room was too dark for him to see anything, and the guards had stripped him of all his gear. It was just him, and the monster.

His back hit the wall, and suddenly—he didn’t know if he had hit something, or someone in the control room had flipped a switch—but bright lights overhead abruptly switched on. Han winced at the sudden intrusion of light, as did the Wookiee.

The Wookiee.

The Corellian blinked, staring up at the huge eight-foot-tall humanoid crouched at the other end of the small cell, covered from head to furry toe in thick, red-brown fur. When the Wookiee saw that Han was looking at it, it snarled viciously in his direction.

That boosted Han’s confidence, and he took a step toward it. It snarled again, fur bristling, but it did not approach the teen. Han was not afraid, though. With his knowledge of the Wookiee language, he knew that Wookiees only snarled when they were afraid. Contrary to popular belief, they never snarled in anger. When a Wookiee was angry, he roared.

When he was standing in the middle of the cell, just out of reach of those huge hairy paws, Han spoke. “I’m not gonna hurt you, big guy.”

The Wookiee stared up at him with bright blue eyes, uncomprehending. Han sighed, remembering suddenly that the Wookiee probably didn’t understand his language. Trying to draw from the darkest depths of his memory, he cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

The noise that came out of his mouth sounded like an overused engine, a squeaky half-roar, the sound a lai-rat might have made if it was stepped on. The Wookiee stared at him for a moment, then burst into roaring laughter.

Han flushed. “Oh, shut up!” he shouted to make himself heard above the humanoid’s guffaws. “I haven’t practiced in years, so—oh, just shut up, you big hairy oaf!”

The Wookiee calmed a little and wuffed at him.

Han shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know, after I joined Everin’s crew I sort of just stopped using it, and it…wait.” He blinked at the Wookiee. “You can understand me?”

The shaggy head nodded, and Han smiled, plopping onto the floor. “Well, that makes things a whole lot easier,” he said. “I’m Han Solo. What’s your name?”

The Wookiee growled something.

Han blinked. “Shoebuckler?”

The Wookiee barked in annoyance, then repeated it slowly, pronouncing the syllables as precisely as he could. “Chew-bac-ca.”

“Oh. Chewbacca, got it. Can I call you Chewie?”

The indignant bark that resulted was enough. “Fine, fine,” Han said. “So how long’ve you been on this dump, Chewbacca?”

“UrrRAWrl.”

“Ugh. Three months is a long time, especially here. They make you do work yet?”

Chewbacca shook his head, then made a questioning growl.

“Me?” Han said. “Well, I’m trying to get my friend out of this place. His name’s Codi Luoc; he’s co-pilot of the ship I’m on. Have you heard of him?”

The Wookiee shook his head, and Han sighed. “I don’t think the rescue’s going too well. That bastard Eenbar. He betrayed us, you see.”

The Wookiee rumbled ominously deep in his throat.

“Yeah,” Han said. “I’d like to beat him to a bloody pulp too.” He turned back to Chewbacca. “So what’d you do to get yourself locked in here?”

When Chewbacca answered, Han burst out laughing despite the Wookiee’s indignant—and a little embarrassed—barks. “I can’t believe—ha! That’s pretty funny,” Han said. “Well, it’s you Wookiees’ fault for not wearing more. ‘Indecent exposure.’ That’s really something.” He turned. “Y’know, when I was still a little kid on Venor, I was in this cantina when—”

A low groan sounded, echoing through the room and cutting Han off. He rose, as did his new Wookiee friend, both watching intently, ready to fight as the thick metal door slid open to reveal—

“Everin!” Han cried, running forward and hugging the man in a rare display of childishness.

Everin grinned softly, though his face was creased with worry and weariness. “Glad I found you, kid,” he said. He was dressed in the uniform of a guard, and had an extra blaster in one hand which he gave to Han. “Here,” he said. “I figured Eenbar did something to ‘em, so here’s one that actually works. Now—”

He jumped, stumbling back in surprise when he spotted Chewbacca for the first time, raising his blaster on instinct. “Son of a—”

“No, wait!” Han grabbed him, quickly guiding his gun arm down. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Chewbacca here’s a nice guy. Right, Chewbacca?” The Wookiee wuffed in confirmation.

Han turned back to the captain. “Anyway, how’d you know Eenbar was playing us?”

Everin handed him a synth-skin cloth from the field medical pack. “Well, for one thing, we didn’t run into any guards,” he said, “which was very strange because Licheron is one of the most heavily-staffed of the prison planets. Then there was the security gate. Remember when Eenbar said it would only be open for five seconds?”

Han nodded, pressing the cloth to the more serious of his wounds, wincing slightly as the synth-skin chemicals mended the broken tissues. “What about it?”

“I was counting the seconds on instinct,” Everin said. “When Eenbar got in, we had four seconds. When I got in, we had one. The gate should’ve closed before you even set foot inside there, but it didn’t. It stayed open, even after you got your sleeve snagged, and only closed right after I pulled you inside, which led me to one conclusion.” When Han blinked, Everin frowned. “Someone had to have been watching us, and let us inside,” he said. “Whoever-it-was held the gate open for you, then closed it as soon as you got in.” He paused. “That made me suspicious, and I began to think there was a mole in our crew somewhere. Eenbar was the newest, and also an easily-bribed Subin, so I figured it had to be him.

“That’s when I separated from you two. I knew that if I took you with me and let Eenbar go on alone, he would get suspicious, so I had to leave you. I started following you two after you continued on, and I was going to clip Eenbar outside that door, but I couldn’t get a clear shot before he got it open. And I couldn’t risk a shootout with all those guards.” He paused, and grinned. “That was a nice hit you got on Eenbar though, with that blaster.”

He shrugged. “Anyway, after that I just tailed you and those guards to this cell. Took me a little while to get it open, but here I am.”

Han nodded, tossing the synth-skin cloth away and gripping the blaster firmly. “Do you know where Codi really is then?”

“Fortunately for us,” Everin said with a grin, “all the guards carry portable view-screens that project the precise location of every prisoner in the compound, updated every ten seconds.” He removed a thin rectangular device from his belt and switched it on. Instantly the previously dark screen became alive with a green grid and glowing yellow and red dots that represented the prisoners and guards.

Han had to search for a moment, but he soon spotted the yellow dot that represented Codi Luoc. “Looks like he’s just sitting in his cell.”

“Probably lying unconscious is more like it,” Everin said darkly, putting the view-screen away. “Come on then.”

But Han didn’t move; Everin saw that the sixteen-year-old was looking back at the cell—no, at the Wookiee standing inside the cell. Chewbacca just stood there, an eight-foot-tall mass of hair, watching the two Corellians with forlorn blue eyes.

“Sorry, Chewbacca,” Han said, “But you can’t come with us. We’re going deeper into the compound, not out of it.”

Everin nodded, stepping forward and pointing down the dark hallway. “The exit’s that way,” he said. “Just stay clear of the guards, and hide out near the security gate until the system resets again. Then you have five seconds to get through it.” Though he doubted the Wookiee would be able to squeeze his huge frame through the foot-wide gap, Everin was not about to voice his doubts.

Chewbacca gazed at the two humans, cocking his head slightly as he slowly stepped forward and out of the cell that he probably hadn’t seen the outside of for three months. Turning, he wuffed softly. Everin turned to Han.

“He’s saying thanks,” Han translated, and then turned to the Wookiee.

“Take care,” he said, “And don’t get into trouble…Chewie.” Ignoring the bark that was only half-indignant and held a certain degree of affection, Han and Everin turned and hurried in the opposite direction.

---

They reached Codi’s cell with relatively few problems, and as Han pushed the bodies of the guards they had quietly killed into a nearby wall closet, Everin took a moment to fiddle with the lock. Then, while the sixteen-year-old stood guard with blaster in hand, the older Corellian finally managed to unlock the door, which slid smoothly open.

As promised, Codi Luoc was sprawled on the floor inside. The Celtic’s co-pilot had never looked worse, Han thought as he stared at the numerous cuts and bruises decorating Codi’s body, the pale face, the dark circles under his eyes, the sunken cheekbones. He looked half-starved and ready to die.

Then Everin was inside, gently shaking the beaten man. At first Codi didn’t respond, but soon he began to stir, groaning softly as he came fully awake and blinked up at his captain through swollen eyelids. “Everin…?”

“Yeah,” Everin said, barely able to conceal the emotion in his voice. “I’m here to get you out. Han’s with me.”

“Han?” Codi raised himself up high enough to see the young teen standing just outside the doorway. Han turned and waved at him; Codi managed a smile. “Hey, kid.” He turned back to Everin then. “What took you guys so long?”

“Had a little delay,” Everin said, helping Codi to his feet and draping an alarmingly thin arm over his shoulder, “by the name of Eenbar.”

“Screwed up again?” Codi asked, wrinkling his nose.

“Nope,” Everin said. “He actually managed to pull this one off pretty good. Had us all fooled.”

Codi blinked. “Wait, you mean…”

“Yeah,” Han said, stepping aside to allow Everin and Codi into the hallway. “Eenbar’s a traitorous bastard and I’m going to fry his balls first chance I get.”

Codi winced as he limped along on his one good leg. “You think he had anything to do with my capture?”

“Wouldn’t put it past him,” Everin said.

His friend nodded. “In that case, while Han fries his balls, I’m frying the rest of him.”

Everin chuckled, then grew stern. “We have to get to the exit,” he said, addressing more Han than Codi. “And we have to do it quietly, since everyone in the entire compound is probably looking for me. So don’t go blasting everything that moves, you hear?”

The tone he used was one he only reserved for the gravest of situations, so Han knew better than to make a crack. “Yes, Skip,” he said simply.

“Good.” Allowing Codi to rest more of his weight on his shoulder, Everin nodded at Han. “Follow me.”

It took an excruciatingly long time for them to reach the exit, carefully shirking groups of guards while simultaneously hauling Codi’s near dead-weight. The exit door was located at the opposite end of a rather small garage loaded with patrol skiffs and hover-bikes, and it was here in a shadowed corner of the garage that Everin brought the little group to a halt.

“I think this guard’s key can open that door,” Everin mused, fingering the little card, “but I can’t be sure. Better let me go first. You two keep hidden and wait for my signal.” Han and Codi nodded, and Everin carefully transferred his injured friend to the young Corellian.

Gently lowering Codi to the ground, Han handed him a blaster they had gotten from one of the guards they had killed outside his cell. He looked up at Everin then, suddenly wanting to say something to the older man, but unable to form the words. They didn’t know what was beyond that door; it could be a trap, whereas Everin would likely be the first to fall into it. Finally, Han settled for a simple “Be careful, Skip.”

Everin looked at him for a long moment, dark eyes glittering with something like love, before his face returned to its usual smiling mask. “No worries, kid,” he said, giving them a mock salute as he started across the garage, helmet pulled down to disguise himself completely as a guard doing regular patrol rounds.

He got to the exit door just fine, as the guards patrolling the garage were currently changing shifts. Han and Codi watched, both holding their breaths, as Everin slid the key into its slot.

The door slid open—and Han almost screamed.

He had half a second to glimpse the smirking face of Eenbar before something exploded, and then Everin was stumbling backward, smoke pouring from the blaster wound in his chest, arms flailing as if grasping for one final lifeline that wasn’t there.

He was dead before his body hit the ground.

Then Han really was screaming, though he was only half-aware that the animal-like cry was his own as he sprang up from his hiding position, abandoning Codi—indeed, forgetting him completely as he sprinted across the garage, blaster up. But Eenbar had always been the faster draw, and he already had his weapon drawn and ready to fire, aimed straight at Han’s head. All he had to do was squeeze the trigger and—

A huge roar suddenly drowned out Han’s scream, coming from behind Eenbar and his troupe of six soldiers. The Subin froze, completely paralyzed by the magnitude and closeness of the sound, and that was his fatal mistake—in the next instant, a huge Wookiee fist smashed down onto his head, flattening him easily.

Han hardly registered Chewbacca’s form as he opened fire on the remaining soldiers, taking two down while the enraged Wookiee threw a third into a nearby wall with bone-crunching ferocity. The remaining three soldiers raised their blasters, but one of them went down almost instantly, smoking at the torso—hobbling along behind Han, unable to move much of the rest of his body but sure as hell able to operate his hands, Codi Luoc was taking revenge for his old friend as well.

Then Han was there, firing point-blank at one of the guard’s faces so that his head exploded. The single surviving soldier panicked and tried to run, but was promptly cuffed hard in the head by Chewbacca’s massive fist and went spinning into the darkness, never to rise again.

Han had already dropped his blaster and was crouched over Everin’s motionless body. The helmet had slipped off when the Corellian captain fell, so that the young teenager could see those blue eyes, once twinkling merrily with so many secrets, now empty and dead. Not knowing what to do, and really still only a child, Han clutched the lifeless Everin to his chest and began to sob.

Codi finally managed to reach them, not paying the Wookiee much heed as he fell to his knees, exhausted, beside Han and tried to pry the boy away from the dead Corellian. “There’s nothing more you can do!” Codi hissed, though his eyes shone with tears as well. “He’s gone, Han. We have to get out of here before more guards arrive.”

But Han stubbornly shook his head and held Everin even more tightly. Codi grimaced, eyes darting frantically around as he searched the empty garage for troops that were sure to start pouring in at any second. “Han, please!”

The youth didn’t even seem to hear him, but the Wookiee solved that problem. With a low growl, the tall humanoid bent down and swept Codi up with one arm and Han up with the other.

The younger Corellian shrieked at that and began to struggle, kicking and clawing at the Wookiee, but Chewbacca hardly felt it as he straightened and headed for the exit door, which was still open. Codi was yelling at Han, Han was yelling at Chewbacca, and Chewbacca just calmly made his way toward the security gate, carrying his screaming load. While the two humans had been busy getting their friend out of their cell, Chewbacca had indeed reached the exit. He’d knocked out a guard and stolen his card, thus exiting the compound. Then he’d promptly broken into the security tower and deactivated that section of the gate, and after that, he had waited. Waited for the young human who understood him, who befriended him, who called him “Chewie” because he knew it annoyed him. Waited, because he had nowhere else to go.

Turning to the more responsive of the humans, the one who had been a prisoner here, Chewbacca barked a question at him. Codi turned, blinking uncomprehendingly, before shrugging as much as his current position would allow. “If you’re asking where to go, I have no idea,” he said. “Only Han knows. Or Everin, but he can’t tell us anymore.” And he grew solemnly quiet.

Han’s protests only seemed to get louder as they approached the security gate. Chewbacca kicked it open and plunged into the darkness, running as fast as his long legs would let him—which was pretty fast. Several minutes of this random running passed before Han’s screams finally began to die down until eventually they disappeared altogether. A few minutes later, he spoke in a soft, raspy voice.

“You’re going the wrong way, Chewbacca.”

The Wookiee stopped, massive chest heaving for a moment as he caught his breath. Then he turned to the Corellian with a questioning Urrrr?

Han sighed, a sigh of exhaustion. “Let me down and I’ll lead you to our ship, okay?”

“RrraWWr.”

“No,” Han said, “I promise I won’t go running back toward the prison. There’s nothing left there anyway.”

That was good enough for Chewbacca, who gently lowered the boy to the ground. Han took a moment to stand there, staring longingly back in the direction of the prison compound, where a laughing, cheerful pirate, as close to a father as Han could ever get, now lay forever sleeping.

Then the teen turned to Chewbacca. “Follow me,” he said, and jogged in the direction of a nearby canyon.

It was another half-hour before they finally reached the Celtic, sitting silent and still at the bottom of the canyon. But when he reached the ship, Han paused for a moment, uncertain. The guards had taken his comlink, and Everin had given the remaining crew specific instructions not to respond to anything except something on frequency—

Chewbacca roared, the sound echoing down the canyon, loud enough to make Han jump and Codi curse. Instantly one of the Celtic’s gun turrets swiveled around to focus on them, and Han had a brief moment of panic when he envisioned being ripped to pieces by his own ship—when there came a muffled cry from inside the ship and the ramp rolled down, Leena Luoc rushing down it.

She stopped at the bottom of the ramp, blaster up and aimed straight at Chewbacca. “Let go of my husband, you big einin!” she nearly screeched.

Han wearily stepped in. “It’s okay, Leena,” he said. “Chewbacca here is a friend. I met him in the compound. He helped break us out.”

As if to prove his point, Chewbacca bent down and gently released Codi, who stumbled forward into the arms of his wife. Leena was sobbing; not even her Corellian toughness could hide her relief and happiness at seeing her husband alive.

Tootcha and Roon were next down the ramp, both giving the Wookiee a wide berth as they approached Han. Tootcha was already peering into the darkness behind the youth. He gargled a question in Hongian.

Han’s shoulders slumped and his eyes dropped to look down at his dusty boots. “Everin didn’t make it,” he said. “Eenbar betrayed us all, and killed him.”

There was a moment of silence as even Leena stopped her sobbing to take in the news. Then Roon cursed furiously, turned and bolted back up the ramp, presumably to scream and throw things. Leena buried her face in her husband’s shoulder and it became Codi comforting Leena instead of the other way around.

Tootcha just sighed, a long whoosh of air through his thin nostrils that seemed to deflate his entire frame, a sound full of sadness and regret. His eyestalks drooped and his tail sagged as he slowly began burbling an old Hongian folk prayer for Everin Solo’s soul.

Very slowly, the weary crew of the Celtic, captain-less and leader-less, broken and betrayed, turned to trudge up the boarding ramp one by one. Han stopped at the bottom of the ramp, though, and turned.

Chewbacca was still there, standing just outside the glowing halo of light generated by the illumination from the Celtic. The Wookiee was watching him quietly and was rocking a bit from side to side, as if he wanted to say something to Han but was unsure of whether or not to do so.

Han sighed, knowing what the Wookiee wanted. He didn’t know what the rest of the crew would think about the decision he was about to make, but at the moment he found that he didn’t really care. He had been through too much that evening to really care about anything anymore.

“You could come with us,” the young Corellian said, causing Chewbacca to blink. “We’re short a couple of crew members…could use someone like you.”

The Wookiee shifted from foot to foot, making a low, slightly embarrassed growl.

Han smiled wearily. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s a natural reaction for people like them, considering what Wookiees’ve done to them before. Besides, they didn’t really like me much in the beginning either.” He paused and waited; Chewbacca still seemed indecisive, though Han could clearly see the longing in those blue eyes as they gazed upon the Celtic.

“Well, come on then,” Han said, and started up the ramp. Moments later, he felt the soft vibrating impacts as the Wookiee obediently followed, ducking low to avoid hitting his head as he entered the ship.

Han immediately led him down the corridor toward the cockpit. On the way he passed the passenger bay, and saw that Codi was already asleep in Leena’s lap. Tootcha was smoking his water-pipe quietly in the corner; Roon was nowhere to be found, though Han heard a distant crash from the general direction of the Sutti-Cha’s room.

There wasn’t much choice then. Turning, the young Corellian entered the cockpit, sliding slowly, hesitantly into the pilot’s chair. Everin’s spirit seemed to sing to him from the worn leather, and for a moment he had a brief glimpse of the smiling face, the cheerful blue eyes, but then that faded away.

Taking a deep breath, Han reached forward and began flipping switches and pressing buttons, watching quietly, passively as the Celtic came to life beneath his fingers.

There came a low creak and the ship rocked just slightly as Chewbacca suddenly settled into the co-pilot’s seat. Han turned, blinking. “Hey, wait a minute, you can’t…”

But Chewbacca ignored him, reaching up to turn on the primary and auxiliary thrusters, turning knobs and pressing buttons to retract the ship’s landing gear. When he noticed Han gawking at him, the Wookiee flashed him a toothy grin as if to say, “What, never seen an eight-foot-tall teddy bear fly a ship before?”

Han stared for a moment longer, then finally smiled, turning to look up at the night sky above them, speckled with promising stars. “You think Everin’s up there somewhere, lookin’ down at us?” he asked suddenly.

Chewbacca turned and growled. Han sighed. “I hope you’re right,” he said. “But I get the feeling that there’s a whole new life for us out there. Somewhere, on one of those stars, we’re going to become great.”

The Wookiee barked briefly, huge paw perched on the ship’s throttle, and Han shook himself, bringing his mind back to the matter at hand. “Right then,” he said. “Punch it. We’re getting out of here.”

Chewbacca obeyed, and as the Celtic rose from her rocky nest and shot off into the sky, Han leaned back and watched the sky approach. “So many stars,” he murmured, almost to himself, and then he smiled. “Let’s make the old man proud, and catch a few of ‘em. Eh, Chewie?”

The indignant bark never came; instead, only a low, affectionate rumble as the Celtic disappeared into the darkness.

---

Twenty-five years later, everything was different.

Seated lightly on the edge of the railing that ended the balcony of his house, Han Solo felt old for the first time in his life.

The house was small, far smaller than would be expected of the dwelling of two of the galaxy’s greatest heroes. Yet it radiated an aura of beauty, of fire, as if challenging others not to judge by size alone. Much like the Alliance had done, so many years before.

Shouting and yelling reached his ears, and the retired smuggler, one-time pirate, and savior of the galaxy—what a title to carry—looked down to smile at his two sons, who were currently bickering over a toy blaster. They were the loves of his life, second only perhaps to one other.

That other chose that moment to come up behind him, gently placing her hands on his shoulders and pecking him on the cheek. Leia Skywalker Solo (you could kick an Organa in there if you felt like it, she wouldn’t have stopped you) seemed to have grown only more beautiful with age. Her dark brown hair was now beginning to show the slightest streaks of gray, and her girlish face had matured into a wiser, more womanly visage, but her eyes still shone with the same rebellious fire Han had first witnessed when she had stepped out of the holding cell on board the first Death Star, so very long ago.

Leia smiled softly, working her nimble fingers in slow circles over the muscles of Han’s shoulders. “You’re a little tense,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing really,” Han said, but after a few moments of silence, he sighed. “Just thinking of old times.”

His wife nodded. “With Luke and the others?”

Han smiled softly and shook his head. Those were good times, yes, but they weren’t what he was talking about. “No. Before that. Way before.”

“Oh? Well, this should be interesting.”

“Not today, Leia.”

She blinked. “Why not?”

Han sighed again; he guessed his age really was catching up to him. “Not ready yet. Just be a little patient, okay?”

“Of course,” Leia answered, kissing him softly. “For you.”

The Corellian smiled; that was why he loved this woman so much, because she understood him so well.

Raising his head, he looked up at the blanket of stars above them, and thought briefly of the Celtic and her crew, all of them his closest friends, all of them people he had loved. Some of them were dead now—like Roon, who had been sent to a labor camp and had slaved away to his death; or Tootcha, who had joined the Rebellion and been killed in an early dogfight with Imperial TIE fighters.

There were others who had survived, though, and who lived still: Leena and Codi, who were now seeing their own children off to the Academy to become pilots—and possibly pirates—themselves. And, of course, Han and Chewie. The Corellian thought briefly of Everin, and knew that the old pirate would’ve been proud of their achievements.

Saved the galaxy, eh? He could almost hear Everin saying, chuckling. Now that’s what I call a Corellian job!

Of course, there were others now too. Like Luke Skywalker, for example, who had set up a small and simple Jedi academy in the isolation of Tatooine, his home planet, and was training the next generation of brave warriors. Like Lando Calrissian, who was currently a Senator of the New Republic, just as Leia was.

Like Chewbacca, Han’s longtime—and for a while there, only—friend who had been with him through the loss of the Celtic, the scattering of her crew, the conning—though Han would insist the deal had been fair—of the Millenium Falcon, and the adventures resulting from when they had decided to pick up a young farmboy and an old wizard in a cantina in Mos Eisley. Chewie had moved to his home planet of Kashyyyk about five years ago, and was raising his own family there. He was trying to teach his children to speak the common human tongue, and during one of his daily holo-communications with his old friend, the Wookiee had proudly brought his son forward to say “Hello, Han Solo,” only to have the Corellian break into a fit of laughter at the gruff, barely-understandable garble of words.

And as for Han himself? Well, he was pretty happy with the way his life was going at the moment. He had a beautiful wife, two wonderful sons—it was fun watching them bicker, reminded him of his own childhood days—and his name was spoken throughout the galaxy not with fear but with respect and admiration. The Millenium Falcon had been given—loaned, Han would insist—to Lando as his personal transport, and Han was confident that his beloved ship was in good hands.

All in all, then, not a bad outcome for a poor orphan who had grown up in the slums of Venor. Somewhere out there, Han knew, Everin Solo was beaming with pride.

Leia straightened, leaning slightly over the balcony railing to look down at the two quarreling children. “Boys!” she called, causing them both to pause and look up. “Time for dinner!” With a last smile at her husband, she turned and sauntered back into the warmth of the house.

Grinning softly, Han followed her. He descended the stairs just in time to meet his two sons coming in through the front door. The younger of the two, barely six years old, who was still trying to pry the toy blaster out of his brother’s uncooperative grip, immediately turned to him for help.

“Dad,” he whined, “Everin says the blaster is his, but I saw it first!”

Everin scowled. “Luke’s a liar,” he said.

“I am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are t—hey! Dad!”

“Dad!”

“C’mon, kids,” Han said, grinning as he dangled the toy blaster out of his sons’ reach. “Your father’s got a brilliant idea to solve this.”

Both boys brightened at that, looking up at him expectantly. Han’s smile widened. “I’ll just take my real blaster here”—he tapped the weapon holstered at his hip—“and blow the toy into two pieces. Then you can both have a piece. How’s that?”

The horrified looks turned his way made him laugh outright. “Kidding, kidding,” he said, then thought for a moment before unsnapping his blaster and turning it completely off. It wouldn’t operate again without his voice activation key.

“There now,” he said, handing the toy to Everin and his inert blaster to Luke. “One for each of you. Better?”

“Thanks!” both boys cried as they headed off to the dining room, where Leia was patiently waiting, a smile on her face.

Han sighed, turning to look out the window at the dark sky above. “Thanks, old man,” he whispered, then turned and headed toward the dining room, glowing with warmth, happiness, and endless love.