Title: Five Times Chewbacca Didn't Quit His Job
Author: Carmarthen (caerfyrddin @ gmail.com)
Fandom/Pairing: Star Wars Trilogy, gen
Disclaimer: They belong to Lucasfilm, not me. I am a wicked girl who's just having a bit of fun with no official sanction whatsoever.
Rating: PG for mild violence.
Spoilers: None that I'm aware of; set between Revenge of the Sith and A New Hope in an alternate universe.
Summary: Why the hell doesn't Chewie quit his job, anyway? Han's a really lousy smuggler.
Warnings: None.
Archive: Only my personal site
(http://thewritegirls.populli.net/carmarthen).
Notes: This is set in an alternate universe wherein Palpatine discovers the twins and Vader learns about his impending replacement and absconds with the twins, hijacking an impounded smuggler and his ship. Han is weirded out, Chewie is nervous, Leia is angry, Luke worships his dad, and Vader slowly finds that his original plan just isn't going to work. There will be rather a lot more of that story later; for now, this is set in that 'verse. Luke and Leia are about 10.
Both the AU and this story are Adri's fault; as she points out, Chewy is a bit of an Uncle Tom character, and I tried very hard to counteract that here. The cornrows bit is pretty much hers.
for Adri
In the beginning, Chewbacca had simply been grateful. Han had freed him from misery. But Chewbacca worked well with Han, and the work was lucrative, so he stayed.
He really liked the human. Han's cocky attitude was amusing, but there was a streak of loyalty in him that ran deep. Chewbacca admired that.
But this was really ridiculous. They'd had to dump their cargo three times in the past month, and were down to expired Imperial surplus rations, which tasted like plastic and weren't much more nutritious.
"Come on," Han said, wheedling. "We'll make it back on the next job, I promise. I have a contact in the Datura system...."
And for some reason, Chewie listened. "All right," he growled. "One more job."
Chewie peered around the door and immediately ducked, blaster fire zinging past close enough to singe his fur. "Six of them!" he yowled to Han, firing a wild shot from his bowcaster that ricocheted down the hallway.
Han swore creatively in Corellian as he fumbled another power pack into his blaster. They'd faced worse odds, but they were cornered and the thugs probably had reinforcements waiting in the wings. Their kind always did.
Chewie fired another shot and then ducked back around the corner. "Five," he said. "How are we getting out?"
"Give me a minute!" Han said. He ducked out for a moment, firing rapidly, and ducked back, his breath hissing through his teeth. Han's shirtsleeve was singed and Chewie could smell scorched flesh.
"How bad?"
"I'm okay," Han said. "Look, if I can just get this door open...cover me, would you?"
Chewie kept picking off thugs while Han swore and tinkered with lockpicks behind him.
"Okay! Go go go!" Han yelled, grabbing Chewie's arm and yanking him towards the door.
They ran, the door hissing closed again behind them. Han fried the control panel.
Back on the Falcon, safely jumping to hyperspace, Chewie thought again that it might be time to think about settling down, finding some honest work.
But what was there for a Wookiee engineer under the Empire, the Empire that had slaughtered his family and used him like a beast of burden?
And besides, Solo would be lost without him. He reached over and ruffled Han's hair.
"What was that for?" Han asked, looking puzzled but pleased.
Chewie shrugged. "Good job with the door," he said.
Han grinned. "I knew I could do it."
And then Han almost died on Naruun. Chewie tended him for a week, while Han lay unconscious and feverish with infection in his bunk. All they had were bacta and antibiotics, so Chewie changed Han's dressings daily and gave him antibiotic shots.
"Thanks," Han croaked when he woke up on the eighth day. "I owe you."
"No," Chewie said. "You saved my life; I saved yours. We're brothers now."
"So does that make me an honorary Wookiee?" Han asked, smiling weakly.
"You're too short," Chewie said, "but if we ever get home rule back, you're an honorary citizen of Kashyyyk."
Han laughed, and Chewie joined him.
And that was that.
The Dark Jedi frightened Chewbacca, and not much did. Vader was pale for a human, and scarred, and Chewie's sensitive ears could hear the quiet hiss and click of prosthetics when he moved. But it was the man's piercing, cold eyes that bothered him, and the way he carried himself, as if he were a rancor on a short leash in danger of snapping at any moment.
"This is a bad idea," Chewie told Han as they checked the engine readouts. Vader was in the cockpit, poring over star-charts again.
"You think I don't know that?" Han whispered, glancing over his shoulder nervously as if expecting the Jedi to show up at any moment. "If you recall, I didn't exactly take him on willingly. There was that whole invisible hand choking me factor!"
Chewie made a noncommittal noise.
"Please, Chewie," Han said, grabbing his arm. "I don't know if I'll make it by myself." His eyes were scared and his face for once naked of bravado.
"Okay," Chewie said. The relief that flooded Han's face calmed him a little. They'd survive together. They always had before.
The Jedi probably wouldn't have let Chewie go alive anyway.
"Hold still, Chewbacca," Leia said, deftly pulling the hair on one of Chewie's arms into tiny braids. "These are an honor. They're called cornrows, and on Alderaan, we wear them for the Harvest Festival, to bring good luck for the winter."
"Save me!" Chewie moaned at Han, glad the girl didn't understand Wookiee.
Han gave him a shit-eating grin. "Style suits you," he said laconically, and then turned back to his game with Vader. Han had become almost friendly with the Dark Jedi, when they weren't--literally--at each other's throats.
Chewie wasn't sure what to make of it, but Vader did seem to be less volatile now, and he moved easier since Bellara had fixed him up.
"On Tatooine, gangsters wear them," Luke said. "Maybe we could have a turf war! We'd win, because we have Dad and Chewie. Our dad is unbeatable."
Leia frowned at him. "He's not my dad," she muttered darkly.
"I know," Chewie said, although she didn't understand. He reached over and gave her an awkward pat on the head, and she smiled at him.
"I'm going to learn Wookiee," Leia announced. "I asked Captain Solo to buy me a holo-unit on the last planet."
Chewie ruffled her hair.
"Hey!" she said, reaching up to pat her braids back into place, but she was still smiling.
How could he even think of quitting his job?
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