A/N: I still do not own Star Wars. I am of the opinion that Han Solo didn't deserve to die, but his death was a fitting one. However, I can't help but "what-if" Han Solo living.

I'm still working on Avenging Angel. I'll get to Crossing the Rubicon as soon as I can.

Star Wars: I'll Die Another Day, Chapter 1- Special Surprise

New Jedi Academy

Unknown world, 7 years after the Battle of Endor

The day was bright and clear. Luke Skywalker was happily teaching new Jedi recruits the ways of the Force and the lightsaber. His first batch of trainees had just been successfully Knighted.

Han Solo was impressed. Once upon a time, he had called it mumbo-jumbo. Now, as he watched Luke and his former students train the next generation, Han felt like an outlier, a man among gods.

So, Han wanted his own lightsaber. Luke had explained the basics of it to him, and Han himself had borrowed Luke's own saber a couple times. However, with the so-called First Order starting to appear, Han wanted some… extra protection.

In Han's mind, a lightsaber would do the trick. But would Luke allow it? Han couldn't feel the Force.

But, then Luke (who was just starting to grow a beard) spotted him, and, pausing to give instructions to his new teachers, went to greet his brother-in-law.

"Han! How are you?" Luke asked.

"Just fine, Kid. Nice batch of recruits you got there," Han replied.

"Thank you. They're coming along nicely."

"That they are. Listen, Luke, I want to ask you something, and I hope you don't take it the wrong way…"

"What is it?" Luke asked.

"Is there anything... in the Jedi teachings… about not Jedi having lightsabers?"

Luke was puzzled. "You mean, like-" Luke's voice lowered. "-the Sith?"

"No, no. I mean just regular folk. People who can't… do what it is you do."

"Ah. Well, in the teachings, no. Jedi are taught, however, to take great care with a lightsaber. It is a valuable tool, not a weapon, but they can cause great harm in the wrong hands.

"However, there are stories of 'normal' people having lightsabers. Ben still talks to me sometimes."

"Oh?" Han asked. "And how do those go? The old man did lie, or whatever it was he called it, to you."

"The truth 'from a certain point of view?' Yeah. Anyhow, during the Clone Wars, there was a figure called General Grievous. Grievous was a cyborg who would take the lightsabers of Jedi he killed?"

"How many did he kill?"

"At least four. Obi-Wan killed him with a few well-placed blaster shots."

Han laughed at that. Maybe he didn't need a lightsaber after all…

Then again, one of the things he had learned as a smuggler was to be prepared for anything.

"Luke… would it be possible for someone like me to learn how to build and use one?"

The smile on Luke's face died, replaced by a thoughtful frown. "I don't know for sure; the building of a lightsaber requires, in some parts, one to be trained in the use of the Force. So does maintaining it. As for using one, though, not so much."

Luke looked over to where two of his fellow masters stood. "If you really want a lightsaber, Han, I would recommend talking to Master Ezra Bridger. He built a rather interesting weapon, a saber that was also a blaster."

"Thanks, Luke. I appreciate it. I wasn't sure if I was committing some sin."

"You're not. I must say again, though, that the process of training with a lightsaber, building one, and using one is a long, grueling process. You will not be the same man coming out of it that you were when you started."

"I understand. It's just that, with the First Order, I just have a bad feeling about it."

"And a lightsaber would put your mind at ease?"

"It would give anyone who attacked me a special surprise, at least." Han said, smirking at the last part.

Luke chuckled. "Like I said, talk to Master Bridger. And may the Force be with you."

Hyperspace, aboard the Millennium Falcon

Approaching Starkiller Base, present day

Han was taking stock of his weapons with Finn and Chewie. There were an assortment of blaster pistols, rifles, the grenades he'd loaded prior to leaving, and another bowcaster (Han had forgotten about that, and eagerly slung it over his shoulder).

Finn had strapped on a couple pistols, and so had Chewie. Han himself was looking at the stockpile, before snapping his fingers and disappearing.

Han jogged to the Captain's Quarters, and, pulling out a box from under his cot, opened it.

Inside was a wooden case with all his war medals. Yavin. Endor, and too many more places came to mind as the old smuggler ran his fingers over each one, before setting the case gently aside.

There was a print photo of the family- himself, Leia, Luke, his wife, their child- Ben.

What happened to you, my son?

And underneath that, a long metal case. Han opened it, and there it was.

His own lightsaber. Han carefully pulled it out of the box, and stood, the cylinder fitting perfectly in his hand. Han's thumb found the button, and-

Snap-hiss. A bright, blue blade pierced the air. Han took a few moments to run through the forms he had been taught.

The old man had been right. A lightsaber was not as "clunky or as random as a blaster." Han was not going to just let himself get stabbed by his own son, however.

But could I… kill my own son?

Han Solo, for once, had no idea.