What She's Worth (Reylo)

Chapter 20

"You irresponsible, laserbrained, lying moof-milker!"

"I take it you found out, huh?" Han's voice was casual, almost laughing, and Ben could no longer stop the deluge of curses streaming from his lips.

Han Solo had bloodburn. His father had bloodburn. A terminal disease.

"Now, now, Ben. There's no need to panic about this."

"No need to..." Ben dragged a palm across his scalp, fingers curling into a fist in his hair as he bit his tongue to keep himself from cursing even more. "I just learned that Mom was almost killed and now I learn that you're dying. And that you're still in the smuggling business. And still flying while you have bloodburn! Flying! The very thing that got you sick in the first place! How can I not panic?"

"Panicking isn't going to do anything, kid," Han intoned, and Ben was suddenly reminded of his uncle's words earlier about there being no point in going into hysterics. "It's over. I have it. The doctors say I've had it for years."

"Does Mom know?"

"Not yet. The diagnosis was...recent." Han let out a flurry of muffled coughs, and Ben imagined he'd tried in vain to shield the comlink with a hand. "Sorry about that. Anyway, I went to have a fever checked up a few months back and well...that's how I found out. I don't know if I should tell your mother at this point. She has so much on her plate already."

Ben hesitated to ask the question, but knew he had to. "How long do you have left?"

"It doesn't matter, Ben."

"How long?!"

"Six years or less. Longer, if I keep up with the treatment," Han finally relented, then paused for a moment while everything slowly began to sink into Ben's head.

Han Solo was dying. His father was dying. And if the prognosis was correct, Han would die before Ben could even reach the age of thirty.

"Probably never going to grow old enough to see my grandkids, huh?" Han chuckled at his own attempt at a joke, and Ben felt a surge of emotions not unlike despair shoot through him.

"That's not funny, Dad," he yelled, his eyes already burning. Despite his disappointment and frustrations with his father, he found himself actually...grieving? "That's not fucking funny!"

"Kid...it's going to be fine," Han reassured, and Ben imagined he had on his usual cocksure, if not lopsided grin. "I'm keeping up with my hadeira injections and—"

"But you're still flying," Ben pointed out heatedly. "And smuggling...rathtars? Of all things, rathtars?! Do you know the level of stress you're subjecting your body too? Or are you too stupid to realize that?"

"Look, it's not like I have long to live anyway. I might as well live my life the way I want it."

"You know what? Forget it. You're not going to listen to me anyway so go ahead. Kill yourself! See if I care!" Ben ended the call and threw the comlink to the far side of the room, shattering it against the wall. There would be no way he could fix that now but he no longer cared. He wasn't going to talk to his father ever again. Not after this.

Anger such as he'd never felt before seized his chest, making breathing almost impossible. He began to pace his room, hands clawing at his hair until everything burst forth and he screamed; screamed as Force power exploded from his body, lifting everything in the room, flinging mattresses, tables, shelves, pillows, and bags in every direction. Then he took out his lightsaber, and vented out his frustrations against his belongings, slicing his bed in half, amputating his table and chair, practically slashing at anything within reach.