Han Solo has never been entirely sure what comes after death, but waking up in the middle of an expanding cloud of debris large enough that he suspects it used to be a planet was not on the list of possibilities. He panics for a while, because he’s in space without a suit, and then a large rock passes right through him and he looks down in shocked horror to discover that he’s blue. And glowing.
He spends about ten minutes swearing like the smuggler he is.
He’s a kriffing Force ghost.
That...that’s just...that’s just wrong.
It takes him another...while (it’s hard to tell time while floating alone in the middle of the wreckage of what he’s starting to suspect is Starkiller Base, which, if true, good job Chewie) to come to grips with the fact that he was apparently Force-sensitive enough to come back as a damn blue glowy ghost instead of going on to whatever awaits smugglers after they die. It takes him a while after that to really get the hang of teleporting from one place to another; he uses rocks as landmarks, and the first five or six times he ends up inside a rock, which is unpleasantly reminiscent of being in carbonite except for the bit where he can get out again.
He can’t affect the rocks at all, but then again, they can’t affect him, either.
Teleporting gets boring once he’s decent at it, and Han sits down on a convenient bit of Starkiller as it whirls by and thinks about where to go from here. He doesn’t know that many people who would even be able to see him - kriff knows it seems to be only Force-sensitives who can, and he only knows maybe three of those besides his son -
His son. He told Leia he wouldn’t come home without his son.
Well then. Alright. Ben can’t do anything worse to him than he’s already done, and Han isn’t going to disappoint his wife again if he can help it. And she is still his wife, dammit; he still loves her so much it makes the heart he doesn’t have anymore hurt, and he’s going to do the last thing she asked of him if it kills him again.
He focuses on Ben, and lets the Force bring him where he needs to go.
Ben is lying in a medical bunk, asleep, with three droids tending to the still-healing wounds on his torso and face. Shit, he looks like he lost a fight. Han wonders who did that: young Finn, or even younger Rey? The gut injury, though, that’s from a bowcaster, Han would bet his nonexistent life on it.
Oh, Chewie. Han’s going to have to come up with a good apology for putting his oldest friend in a situation where he had to shoot someone Chewie thought of as his own nephew.
Han stares at his son for a while, not sure if he’s horrified that someone hurt his son, his little Ben that he used to carry around piggyback and pretend to let him steer the Falcon, or very glad that either Finn or Rey got to beat the banthashit out of the man who killed him. Awkward.
When he finally looks up, there’s another man standing on the other side of the bed - another ghost, just as blue and glowy as Han himself. He looks...vaguely familiar; tall, reasonably handsome, with a crooked tilt to his smile that reminds Han of something - but Han can’t name him, can’t place where he’s seen him before.
“Han Solo,” the other ghost says, nodding at him politely.
“Who the kriff are you?” asks Han, whose temper has never been good when he’s confused.
“You don’t recognize me?” the other ghost asks, sounding honestly taken aback.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before in my life,” Han says. “And I’m good at faces.”
“You don’t recognize me,” the other ghost says again, in the tones of someone having a revelation. “Oh, I am an idiot. I am such an idiot. If you don’t know who I am, no one else would either, would they?”
Han blinks at the other ghost in utter confusion. The other ghost laughs and shakes his head, running a hand through his messy hair.
“Well then,” he says. “I suppose introductions are in order. Han, I am your father-in-law.”
Han’s jaw drops. “You’re Vader?” he sputters.
“No, I’m Anakin Skywalker,” the other ghost corrects him. “I was Vader, for longer than I care to think about, but I...saw the Light, I suppose is a good way to put it. And I’ve been trying to convince my damned stupid grandson to do the same for years now, but…”
“But he didn’t know who you were,” Han says, eyes wide.
“No,” Anakin says. “And now that I know what the problem is, I think maybe I’ll have a better chance of getting through to him. Do you want to stick around and help?”
“Do I,” Han says fiercely. Anakin chuckles and holds out a hand. Han takes it.
“To the Light,” Anakin says, and Han nods.
“To my stupid son getting his head out of his ass,” he replies.
Kylo Ren wakes up to see two people - no, two ghosts - looming over his bed. He closes his eyes and opens them again, blinking rapidly, but they do not go away.
Neither of them is his normal hallucination, some young Jedi or other who keeps demanding he turn away from the power of the Dark Side. Instead, one is - impossibly, incomprehensibly - his father, wearing an expression of immense disappointment. The other -
The other is Darth Vader.
And in perfect, uncanny, terrifying unison, they both say, “Ben Chewbacca Organa, I am very disappointed in you.”