"What are you going to do, when all this is over?"
Han wishes the kid and his buddies would stop getting so damn philosophical when he's just trying to get a drink.
They're cosied up in a corner of the hanger, wrapped in jackets and scarves and passing around bottles of Corellian ale, good stuff. Strong stuff. He'll need it, too, if this conversation is going where he thinks it's going.
He's not officially one of the rebels- this is a thing he never really has been in, so it really doesn't change what he's gonna do as soon as the next base gets blown up, or the emperor dies of old age, whichever comes first.
Han does not have a lot of faith in an alliance victory. Sure, he wants them to win, but that doesn't mean they're going to. It's disheartening to think of all the people here who are putting this pipe dream before the rest of their lives.
Some of the rebels say they'll go back to their remaining families and friends on home planets, others without that option (either because their family are dead, or in more extreme cases, there's a gap where their whole world should be) say they'll tag along with their friends or girlfriends and find work fixing up the new republic.
Han will do what he always has done, he decides. Rocket his way around the outer rim with a hold full of counterfeit goods and a co-pilots seat full of seven foot wookiee.
Luke is unsure of his future.
"Well," he says, "Ever since I was a kid I always wanted to be a pilot. But I reckon I just thought I'd wind up a moisture farmer back on Tatooine. Maybe with a wife, a couple kids..."
A few of Luke's companions nod wistfully while others shake their heads, Han among them. Why would you wish to be tied down to one spot for the rest of your life?
"What about you, Han?" The Corellian has been trying to remain inconspicuous, but he's been noticed.
"I'm not staying till this mess is over, kid. Soon as I've got enough credits to pay off Jabba I'm outta here before you can say 'We appreciate your help to the alliance'."
Wedge laughs, and loudly whispers something about girl trouble. Han scowls.
"You can't rely on Chewbacca to stay with you forever, though, can you?" A rebel Solo cannot remember the name of pipes up.
"Well actually, I can. He owes me one. Wookiees take life debts seriously, and anyway, me and Chewie are like brothers." Han is getting more and more annoyed (especially when some cocky kid says something about him looking like Chewie's brother) so he takes a deep sip from his drink.
"But he's got a wife an' kid back home on Kashyyyk, hasn't he?"
Man, Luke will not let this go!
"Yes." Han replies tersely. "An' they're gettin' on fine without him, so-"
"Banthashit, man." Another redheaded guy laughs. "Ya know, I think Solo here is jealous of Chewie!
What about it, Captain? Can't you see any li'l Solos running 'round the place anytime soon?"
Han downs the remainder of his drink, and glares ferociously at the rogue squadron.
"Look, pal. I don't need commitments of that magnitude while I'm gettin' chased down by the biggest slug in the galaxy. So just lay off and-"
"Aw, Solo's being noble!"
"How cute! You'd make a great daddy, Han!"
"What do you reckon, Wes? That hot blonde in communications for him?"
"Nah - everyone knows Solo's just dying to get in with the princess!"
Han freezes. For a split second, his mind focuses on an image of Leia, a squirming baby in her arms and a brunette infant at her feet.
He gulps, a warm and unwelcome feeling going through him as the picture becomes clearer, as he's there, and the baby has Leia's big brown eyes, and the toddler look just like him-
Han shakes his head and stands up.
"I don't have to listen to this-"
He straightens and picks up another bottle for the road.
"See you around, Luke."
Han lies in his bunk, the vision of Leia and the children (his children?) superimposed onto his brain.
He curses into his pillow.
He hates the rogue chatter. It's nothing but trouble.