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valarltd"Across Oceans of Space" has a lot of potential.
It's a multi-verse AU, and so far I've gotten 2 of the planned universes written. Um, slash, het, genderbending. Also death warning in first section. It was inspired by the fabulous "Riding the Wheel of If."
Luke is dead.
The three words rang impossibly in Han's ears, echoing the Death Star's final explosion, as they dropped from Leia's mouth. They haunted his days and brought him shouting awake at night, reaching
for his lover's body.
Everyone tried. Leia was sympathetic and kind, but wrapped in her own grief over her recently-found and lost brother. The rebels were too busy with the post-war mop up to pay him much attention. Lando, smitten with the princess, was never far from her, helping her with the logistics of the New Republic. Han, Lando and Wedge had gotten singing-drunk the night the Death Star blew, as was the Corellian custom after a death, but all the songs were sad.
Now he sat, staring at the collapsing debris visible even in the daylight. A spectacular if short-lived tombstone for his Luke. He looked down at the ground, fifty meters below the cat-walk and his
dangling feet, wondering whether he could actually be lucky enough to break his neck if he slid under the rail.
*Young one.* Big furry arms came around him again, as they had so often in the past week. *You are not thinking of jumping again, are you?*
Han regretted the day he'd told Chewie that. His partner had put him on a private suicide watch, and being shadowed by a two hundred year old nursemaid was wearing thin.
"What happened up there, Chewie? Why did he go? Why didn't he come back?"
*There are no answers for your questions. He loved you. Let that be enough. He would have returned if he could.*
"I felt him die, Chewie. Vader and the Emperor, they killed him. He died begging Vader for help. I felt it." He buried his face in the russet fur, feeling the sturdy life of his best friend under his hands.
*I know. You have told me this. Tell me again as often as you must.*
The partners held each other on the cat-walk for a long time.
***
"I'm leaving, your worship. I have to. The New Republic will survive without me."
"But, Han, where are you going?" The Princess stared in shock at the rank insignia he had laid in front of her.
"No place special." He turned to go.
Lando followed him. "Look, Han, we've been friends for a long time. I just want you to promise me you'll come back. And come back whole." He wrapped his friend in a strong hug, and planted firm
kisses on each cheek. "We do need you. Be careful."
"I will. Chewie will see to that. Take good care of Leia."
"Always. Now kiss me properly, and be off."
Although he and Lando had parted ways awkwardly years before, nobody had told their mouths this. They still fit together perfectly.
"Clear skies, pirate," Lando said. He turned with a flourish of his cape and went back to where Leia waited for him.
"Ready to lift, Chewie." Han fell into the pilot's chair in his usual fashion. His copilot had already programmed the course, and they took off.
"He'll be all right, Leia," Lando whispered against her hair as they watched the Falcon vanish. "Han just has ideas of who he is, and having another person get this far under his skin has been a
shock."
"Losing Luke was a shock to all of us." Leia turned her face up to her lover. "But I didn't contemplate suicide over it."
"You weren't his lover. You aren't a Corellian given to grand and foolish gestures. He'll be back when he is ready. Come eat, sweetheart. Han has Chewbacca to take care of him, but you only have me."
***
They roved aimlessly, living on their savings, taking odd jobs as the mood suited them. Chewbacca waited patiently for Han to say something beyond the bare words necessary for daily functioning.
Finally, they stopped at Kashyyk. Han stayed in the treehouse, sleeping in the Wookiee sized guest room, knowing only the bed was too large, too empty. He ate Malla's best meals, barely noticing what was on his plate. He watched the holo with Itchy, not seeing the creatures cavorting on the screen. He spent too many hours lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, hearing and seeing nothing except the past.
He played it over and over in his mind, the few years he'd had with Luke.
The sudden desperate intensity of a frightened, grieving boy who had needed another's touch to prove he was still alive. That
first time, on the trip to Alderaan, had been swift and startling for them both. Luke hadn't even liked him then, but had none-the-less taken what Han had offered. They had spent most of the trip to Yavin in Han's quarters, much to the Princess and Chewie's frustration.
The deep, biting pain that he'd ignored when he tried to make his escape, the pain that had gotten too big and drawn him back, unwilling to leave Luke to his fate, gnawed at him now.
All the different worlds of a rebellion on the run, all the same because Luke was his constant, the coordinate point that never varied. He remembered how Luke had looked: raging at him, laughing at him, looking up at him half-asleep. He saw his lover, sleeping, waking, climaxing above and below him. Trapped in the web of the past, Han took little note of anything around him.
Until the dreams started. Luke was with him in the dreams, telling him of other worlds, other galaxies, where they were together. In one of those, they had been lovers, and Han had died. Even now that
Luke was grieving for his lover, and Han would be a Force-sent blessing to him. Han found the dreams an inescapable temptation. He slept as much as his body would allow him to, taking sleep-aids that would not interrupt his dream-cycle whenever he awoke.
Then the voice started. If he was very still, he could hear Luke talking to him even when he was awake, telling him how to find the sorrowing other-Luke.
Knowing it was crazy, he began heeding it.
He lay on his back, half buried in components and wires. The sound of Luke's voice in his head hadn't stopped. His hands moved strictly of their own accord, following the directives of the phantom as he made the modifications.
/You're done, my love. Now, come to me and we'll set things right./
Not letting himself think about what that might entail, Han went forward and punch the jump to Tatooine. The levers tingled under his hands with a sense of foreboding, but he pulled them anyway.
He'd left a message for Chewbacca. The Wookiee wouldn't understand, but he would deal with it.
The stars streaked around him, and he sat back in the pilot chair to listen to Luke tell him what was coming.
/When you arrive, find Chewie. He is your soul-mate, the keeper of your conscience, and will help you across all the worlds he exists on. He will always help you. In some of the galaxies, I have fallen to the Darkness, but Chewbacca is always with you. No matter where you set the coordinates, you will always arrive in my vicinity and his./
It's a multi-verse AU, and so far I've gotten 2 of the planned universes written. Um, slash, het, genderbending. Also death warning in first section. It was inspired by the fabulous "Riding the Wheel of If."
Luke is dead.
The three words rang impossibly in Han's ears, echoing the Death Star's final explosion, as they dropped from Leia's mouth. They haunted his days and brought him shouting awake at night, reaching
for his lover's body.
Everyone tried. Leia was sympathetic and kind, but wrapped in her own grief over her recently-found and lost brother. The rebels were too busy with the post-war mop up to pay him much attention. Lando, smitten with the princess, was never far from her, helping her with the logistics of the New Republic. Han, Lando and Wedge had gotten singing-drunk the night the Death Star blew, as was the Corellian custom after a death, but all the songs were sad.
Now he sat, staring at the collapsing debris visible even in the daylight. A spectacular if short-lived tombstone for his Luke. He looked down at the ground, fifty meters below the cat-walk and his
dangling feet, wondering whether he could actually be lucky enough to break his neck if he slid under the rail.
*Young one.* Big furry arms came around him again, as they had so often in the past week. *You are not thinking of jumping again, are you?*
Han regretted the day he'd told Chewie that. His partner had put him on a private suicide watch, and being shadowed by a two hundred year old nursemaid was wearing thin.
"What happened up there, Chewie? Why did he go? Why didn't he come back?"
*There are no answers for your questions. He loved you. Let that be enough. He would have returned if he could.*
"I felt him die, Chewie. Vader and the Emperor, they killed him. He died begging Vader for help. I felt it." He buried his face in the russet fur, feeling the sturdy life of his best friend under his hands.
*I know. You have told me this. Tell me again as often as you must.*
The partners held each other on the cat-walk for a long time.
***
"I'm leaving, your worship. I have to. The New Republic will survive without me."
"But, Han, where are you going?" The Princess stared in shock at the rank insignia he had laid in front of her.
"No place special." He turned to go.
Lando followed him. "Look, Han, we've been friends for a long time. I just want you to promise me you'll come back. And come back whole." He wrapped his friend in a strong hug, and planted firm
kisses on each cheek. "We do need you. Be careful."
"I will. Chewie will see to that. Take good care of Leia."
"Always. Now kiss me properly, and be off."
Although he and Lando had parted ways awkwardly years before, nobody had told their mouths this. They still fit together perfectly.
"Clear skies, pirate," Lando said. He turned with a flourish of his cape and went back to where Leia waited for him.
"Ready to lift, Chewie." Han fell into the pilot's chair in his usual fashion. His copilot had already programmed the course, and they took off.
"He'll be all right, Leia," Lando whispered against her hair as they watched the Falcon vanish. "Han just has ideas of who he is, and having another person get this far under his skin has been a
shock."
"Losing Luke was a shock to all of us." Leia turned her face up to her lover. "But I didn't contemplate suicide over it."
"You weren't his lover. You aren't a Corellian given to grand and foolish gestures. He'll be back when he is ready. Come eat, sweetheart. Han has Chewbacca to take care of him, but you only have me."
***
They roved aimlessly, living on their savings, taking odd jobs as the mood suited them. Chewbacca waited patiently for Han to say something beyond the bare words necessary for daily functioning.
Finally, they stopped at Kashyyk. Han stayed in the treehouse, sleeping in the Wookiee sized guest room, knowing only the bed was too large, too empty. He ate Malla's best meals, barely noticing what was on his plate. He watched the holo with Itchy, not seeing the creatures cavorting on the screen. He spent too many hours lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, hearing and seeing nothing except the past.
He played it over and over in his mind, the few years he'd had with Luke.
The sudden desperate intensity of a frightened, grieving boy who had needed another's touch to prove he was still alive. That
first time, on the trip to Alderaan, had been swift and startling for them both. Luke hadn't even liked him then, but had none-the-less taken what Han had offered. They had spent most of the trip to Yavin in Han's quarters, much to the Princess and Chewie's frustration.
The deep, biting pain that he'd ignored when he tried to make his escape, the pain that had gotten too big and drawn him back, unwilling to leave Luke to his fate, gnawed at him now.
All the different worlds of a rebellion on the run, all the same because Luke was his constant, the coordinate point that never varied. He remembered how Luke had looked: raging at him, laughing at him, looking up at him half-asleep. He saw his lover, sleeping, waking, climaxing above and below him. Trapped in the web of the past, Han took little note of anything around him.
Until the dreams started. Luke was with him in the dreams, telling him of other worlds, other galaxies, where they were together. In one of those, they had been lovers, and Han had died. Even now that
Luke was grieving for his lover, and Han would be a Force-sent blessing to him. Han found the dreams an inescapable temptation. He slept as much as his body would allow him to, taking sleep-aids that would not interrupt his dream-cycle whenever he awoke.
Then the voice started. If he was very still, he could hear Luke talking to him even when he was awake, telling him how to find the sorrowing other-Luke.
Knowing it was crazy, he began heeding it.
He lay on his back, half buried in components and wires. The sound of Luke's voice in his head hadn't stopped. His hands moved strictly of their own accord, following the directives of the phantom as he made the modifications.
/You're done, my love. Now, come to me and we'll set things right./
Not letting himself think about what that might entail, Han went forward and punch the jump to Tatooine. The levers tingled under his hands with a sense of foreboding, but he pulled them anyway.
He'd left a message for Chewbacca. The Wookiee wouldn't understand, but he would deal with it.
The stars streaked around him, and he sat back in the pilot chair to listen to Luke tell him what was coming.
/When you arrive, find Chewie. He is your soul-mate, the keeper of your conscience, and will help you across all the worlds he exists on. He will always help you. In some of the galaxies, I have fallen to the Darkness, but Chewbacca is always with you. No matter where you set the coordinates, you will always arrive in my vicinity and his./
