Han Solo (ocorellia) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2014-09-14 22:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, han solo, hoban "wash" washburne |
Who: Hoban "Wash" Washburne & Han Solo
Where: Sam's, lower level of Potts Tower
When: Backdated to around September 6, 2014
What: Two old(er) men discuss SWORD, their not-yet married lives, and what they miss most about home.
Status: Completed log.
Han took a seat at one of the tables near the bar, leaving enough space that he could watch the bar and the door, if he needed to. The precaution was probably unnecessary, but it was a hard habit to break. He had to admit that he liked Sam's. It was one of the few places that he could go without being recognized, or at least, one of the few places where everyone seemed to be in the same position as himself. And it was a nice place, nice enough to meet with other refugees and have a chat. It wasn't Mos Eisley levels of nice, but then, that seemed like a long time ago. Ever since he'd joined the rebellion, his entire life had changed. He had never considered that change to be irrevocable. Before the Tesseract, he'd always thought that he'd go back to his old life. Yea, he loved Leia, and he cared about Luke. But what did that matter? There wasn't room for good people in a smuggler's life. That he had been very, very wrong about his potential future didn't bother him. His son - space, his son - seemed to have turned out a lot more respectable than himself. Sure, the kid was cocky, and definitely had a flare for the dangerous. But he and Leia didn't seem to have done too badly in the future. He tried to not to think too much about it, though. It never benefited anyone to question good luck. -- Recognition was something Wash had also been bothered about lately. It had happened to him ever since he got here-- some people knew him, other people used names that he didn’t know but which apparently were linked to people that looked like him, according to the internet. Lately it had gotten weird, though. People kept saying they thought they recognized him, but couldn’t remember from where, and when he dropped the names he’d come to associate with these comments (Firefly, Serenity, Alan Tudyk), it didn’t do much to jog their memory. He’d filed it away under ‘things that don’t make sense’, which was getting to be a gorram long list. Which was why, when Han had offered drinks, Wash had accepted eagerly and a little bit gratefully. Partially for the company, which was uncomplicated, and partially for the drinks. Getting to fly had offset some of his moodiness, but not entirely. There was too much that was upsetting and not enough of the flying. So maybe drinks would help. He found Han near the bar, recognizing the strategic aspect of the seat mainly because it was the sort of thing Mal or Zoe would do, and slid gratefully into his seat. “Hey,” he said, by way of greeting. “What’re you drinking?” -- "Glad you could make it," he said, nodding at the other man. "It's one of the local specials…Thought I might go for something new." He touched the glass, which was filled with a darker liquid. It was, indeed, new, but that didn't count for much. Everything on this rock qualified as new for him, not that he really minded. "How's the flying going?" He didn't know if he had ever gone this long without the feel of a ship under his feet. And, really, that he minded more than anything. "It's hard to believe I'm almost willing to join another secret organization just to have access to in-planet flight… The last time I did that I met my … What would you call someone you haven't married yet?" This universe sure had way of turning the pieces of his life upside down and backwards. -- Wash turned his head to catch the eye of the bartender, and gestured to Han’s glass. “I’ll have one of whatever he’s having.” He didn’t really care what it was. He wasn’t much of a drinker-- as a pilot he liked having his mental faculties intact, it wouldn’t do him much good to drink and fly, especially with the way they liked to run into trouble-- but he was on the ground now. Likely to be on the ground for the night at least, unless he got a call from SWORD. Hopefully he wouldn’t. “It’s going,” he said vaguely. “It’s not the same, flying a jet instead of a spaceship. But it’s something. Gets me up in the air, takes my mind off of… things. And SWORD’s not so bad.” It was the truth. Strange as Captain Marvel was, he liked her, respected her even. He’d always had a fondness for strong, abrasive women. Of course, he still considered himself married, even if-- He gave a surprised and totally mirthless laugh. “You should ask my wife that,” he said. “Or, not quite wife. What do you call the person who hasn’t married you yet?” -- Han suppressed a smile. "That's a tough one. I suppose it depends on how she feels about marrying you." He doubted that he was the best man to offer marital advice. Even if his future worked out alright, it still wasn't his present area of expertise. "Think they should come up with a name for that…that state of wanting to be married and not quite knowing how." It was hard enough, probably, being married to a princess at home. He didn't know how to navigate all the time bumps that seemed to have occurred along the way, or that he'd thought she seriously had a thing for Luke... "I think I'm going to have to join SWORD, though, if I ever want to see flight time. It seems the only option… I doubt they just leave those sorts of planes lying around for guys like me to find." Besides, having trouble back home meant going to a system on the other side of the galaxy. Here? He'd be lucky to get to the other side of the rock, and that wasn't exactly safe in his book. -- “No idea,” Wash said, shaking his head. He genuinely didn’t. He remembered Zoe at this age, but she wasn’t behaving quite the same towards him as she had before. “She’s not the type to come out and talk about her feelings. But knowing her the way I do…” He paused. “I’d hazard a guess at curious.” It was the best word for it, really. Zoe wasn’t laughing in his face in disbelief, which meant she was at least considering the possibility that he might be worth her time. (Which, of course, he was.) He didn’t know who had broken the news to her, but if it had come from Mal, that was probably why she trusted it. Looking at Han, he asked, “What about your… uh… you know, future wife?” He nodded in agreement. “That’s pretty much what I figured. The Feds were friendly when I arrived, and they have pretty decent jets. Outdated tech, where I come from, but workable. Anything beyond that, I can’t tell you, or the Captain would have my ever-living soul. She’s serious about the souls.” His drink arrived, and he picked it up, taking a sip. He nodded to himself, making a small face at the feeling of the alcohol going down his throat. “But also serious about her planes. She wasn’t kidding about that part. And if she’ll take me, she’ll probably take you.” Tilting his head, he looked over Han consideringly. “Is that what’s most important to you from your old life back home? Flying?” -- "Well, I'd say she's interested. It's kind of me who's in the bind, seeing as she's from a few years after me…" It was more or less a little over a year, in reality, but considering all that took place during that time period, it seemed a lot longer than it was. He didn't need the future, though, or Force sensitivity to know how Leia felt about him. He smiled, looking at Wash. "I suppose I'm a bit of an idiot when it comes to this sort of thing." And that was the truth. Maybe he could outfly a Star Destroyer without a second thought, but this… This was a completely different level of risk. He wouldn't be surprised if it were exactly this sort of random catalyst that caused him to propose back home. "I'm definitely not asking you to risk your ever-living soul." He laughed, thinking about what Mon Mothma might have done to him if he'd ever shared Alliance secrets. "Trust me, I've got similar friends back home. I know how they can be. I just wanted to make sure they're actually, you know, what they seem to be." It wasn't that Han had trouble not trusting his friends, or employers, in this case. That was standard practice in his line of work. But, still, he'd rather not end up in another Jabba incident… or worse. He considered Wash's last question, briefly. "I guess, yea. I've never really thought about it, but everything else I have here… Plus, I've got a son, which doesn't really improve the lack of space travel, but…" He had to admit that getting to meet Anakin had been a strange and yet good experience. "What about you?" -- “Guess it’s a bind either way,” Wash said. “Being from the future or from the past.” He hadn’t really thought about it much from Zoe’s perspective. Whether she felt like she was in a bind. She probably did, not knowing everybody else the way they knew her. It was probably weirdest for her with Wash, though he hadn’t put any expectations on her. He wouldn’t, didn’t intend to. From what he was getting from Han, that was… different, in his case. He wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t. But instead of continuing on the topic of wives and husbands and futures and pasts, he switched to the topic of SWORD. “So far so good, working for the Feds,” he said. “But I’ve only just started.” And the next topic was even easier. “Flying,” he said. “No doubt about it. But it’s what you’ve got to ask yourself, isn’t it? Or I suppose, it’s what you find out when you show up in a strange land where you’ve got none of what you’re used to. Where your priorities are. What matters most.” He shrugged. “Some people, it’s the trouble. Others, it’s the money. Or a person. Maybe it’s a few things. You try to hold on to whatever it is you still have.” -- "Yea, I get that," he said. The question might have been easier for him, if he understood where his priorities were. Right now, they seemed to be skewed across a future that might be and a past that was -- well, checkered, to say the least. "Flying's always been the easiest priority on my list though. Trouble's not getting to be what it used to be used, and the money's…" The money had stopped being an issue when he'd decided to save a princess rather than flee. He supposed that, if he had to find the moments when his life had changed abruptly, that might have been one of them. And that wasn't such a bad thing, was it? "Just doesn't seem worth it anymore." He shook his head, not really believing that he - world class galaxy smuggler - had somehow become respectable. Here he was, having a conversation about the positives of joining a government agency… "You know, I think I went through that blue box and woke up a completely different person. Maybe the future has that way of putting your priorities in the right order." -- Well. On their first conversation, Wash had half expected to introduce Han to Mal and the rest of the crew, and that would be that. He’d join the crew and then Wash would have about as much contact with him as he did with the rest of them, which was… peripherally. Not because they weren’t important to him, but because they were, if that made any sense at all. Because he couldn’t concentrate or spend too much time on the important things without starting to feel… everything. Everything that he was trying his best to ignore. And it was a strange feeling to hear Han talking like he understood. Like so many of the things that mattered to him before just weren’t here. Wash wouldn’t have said that the things he did with the crew weren’t worth it, that Zoe wasn’t worth it (although a part of him had been privately wondering if it wasn’t better that she could rewrite her time spent married to him, if he was just going to end up dying), but they weren’t really available to him in the same way anymore. “Maybe,” he said. He took a drink. “It certainly does have a way of changing things on you, I’ll agree with that.” He gave a smile that was slightly bigger than genuine and returned to the easier topic. “So you might end up flying for SWORD, huh? We’ll have to get into some trouble together, then. And then out of it, of course.” -- Han nodded, smiling. "Of course, the getting out is always the fun part." And it was something that he was good at. He had his reservations about joining another government alliance, particularly as that wasn't his usual sort of trouble. But the fact was those reservations didn't seem so bad compared to what he might be gaining. Even scoundrels needed friends and government connections, and that rule counted double in strange territory. |