Starving the Dark

Luke sacrifices himself to stop a demonic entity that one of his students has unleashed, and Han finds himself in a race against time to save Luke before it's too late.

Notes:

This was my first Star Wars fic, as well as my first-ever slash story! As such, it occupies a special place in my heart. It was originally published in Elusive Lover #4, and later archived on the Elusive Lover website. Many thanks to Cara Loup and Irene Heron for their fine editing job, and for encouraging me to write it in the first place.

Work Text:

Luke woke to the sound of bones snapping, the scent of blood leaving its sharply metallic taste in his mouth. Behind his eyes he saw feathers, felt pain--the feeble beating of broken wings against his face. He jolted from sleep to wakefulness in an instant.

He was lying on his side, loosely clasped in the warm circle of Han's arms.

No.

He was lying on a damp, flat rock, muscles cramped to agonizing stiffness. He was in a sea cave, alone. It was dark outside. Waves were crashing on the rocks beyond the entrance, a relentless pounding that echoed in the rush of blood through his head as he sat up. How long had he been sleeping? There was no way to tell.

So cold. He shivered, pulling his cloak more tightly around himself. He felt the coils of darkness shift with him, tightening their grip. He could feel himself weakening--no matter. Nitos had been the first. He would be the last. There was a rightness to that, a sense of completion. A sense of--destiny.

But...

There was something else. Someone else, out there in the darkness. Looking for him.

Han.

Go back. You can't follow me here. You can't protect me--not now. Not from this.

Not from the memory of Nitos' face, eyes burning green and fever-bright with the power of the Dark, then going wide with shock and glazing over... The sickly sweet smell of a lightsaber cutting through flesh, through bone...the blank stare of death on a face that was still so smooth, strangely innocent. So impossibly young.

And I can't protect you from what I've become.

Creatures of darkness. All of us...

Forgive me, Han. How I will miss you.

Han paused for a moment inside the doorway of the bar, surveying the room before he entered. The odors of smoke and stale beer washed through his senses, carried along by the low thumping of tuneless music. The patrons looked local. Dressed for the most part in rough grey coveralls, they huddled around wooden tables and regarded him with cold suspicion over the rims of their drinks. He guessed that they were miners. Up here in the mountains north of Corellia's capital, mining for iron and silicite ore was the primary industry. The only industry, in fact, now that the local fisheries had dried up.

He strode to the front of the bar, careful not to let his hand hover too obviously above his blaster's grip. He didn't trust them, they didn't trust him: that was clear enough. No need to antagonize them. He found an empty spot at the counter and motioned to the bartender. The man plunked a tankard of murky brown ale in front of him.

"Nine credits."

"Nine?!" It was an outrageous price. Han bristled, then had to forcibly remind himself not to make an issue of it. He counted the coins on to the bar. When the other man reached to scoop them up, Han snatched them back and held up a small holo instead.

"Know if anyone 'round here's seen this guy?"

The bartender scowled. "What's it worth to you?"

Han simply pushed the coins back towards him, adding several more credits to the pile.

The man scooped up the coins and dropped them into a leather pouch slung around his waist. "Nope--ain't seen him. Not too many city people come up here--we'd remember a face like that." He shuffled to the far end of the bar and started polishing glasses.

"Sure. Thanks."

It was the same response he'd been getting all day, in each of the villages clustered along this winding stretch of coastal highway. It was almost becoming routine: 'we'd remember a face like that.' Well, Han supposed they would. He turned the holo in his hand and studied the face in question--that of a slight, blond-haired man in his late twenties. Luke. The picture showed him behind the helm of the Millennium Falcon, his left foot perched impishly on the console and his hands tucked smugly behind his head. Eyes alight, burning blue. Laughing, and for once without a trace of sadness. You didn't forget a face like that. Never.

Ah, Luke. What're you tryin' to prove, huh? Punishing yourself..? 'Cause if you are, you know I'm just as guilty. I shot to kill--and I'd do it again.

Han tucked the holo safely in the inside pocket of his vest. It was more than a full day now since he'd come across anyone who recognized the picture. Yesterday he'd been sure he was on the right track. But now... His head was pounding. He sank down on a tattered stool and sipped absently at his drink, wondering if this was a nightmare that he could just wake up from.

A light tap on his shoulder brought him spinning around so fast that he almost fell off the barstool.

A doe-like creature stepped back from him, pupilless black eyes narrowing. "Sorry if I frightened you," it said, its voice rendered toneless by a mechanical translator device fastened below its chin. "I wondered if I might take a closer look at that picture."

"Sure." Han glared, angry with himself for letting someone sneak up on him. "Knock yourself out."

The stranger took the holo in its hand and examined it. "Yes... I think I may have seen someone like that."

Han straightened on his stool. "Where?" he demanded.

The creature regarded him silently for a moment. Guessing that the thing wanted money, Han fumbled in his pocket and shoved some change at it.

"Well?" he snapped.

The creature took hold of the coins, sniffed them, and tucked them somewhere into the pocket of its leather tunic. "He was north of here, on foot, following a trail up into the mountains."

Even without the creature's directions, the dirt track would have been easy to find. It snaked along the jagged line of the sea-cliffs, rising to disappear among the rolling swells of the foothills. The mountains themselves rose beyond, tumbled masses of grey stone against the dark sky. The peaks tapered steeply to the east, angling downward to vanish beneath the ocean waves.

Han stopped his hovercar for a moment to stare out at the bleak landscape through the vehicle's rain-spattered dome. A midsummer storm was sweeping off the ocean, driven inland by strong easterly winds. He saw lightning flicker beneath the columns of dark cloud, thunder following only seconds behind. Han strung together an elaborate litany of Corellian swearwords.

That's great, Luke--just figures that you'd up n' vanish on me in the middle of monsoon season.

If it was Luke, of course. He wondered what the odds were that the pale-haired man the creature had sighted had just been a local miner on his way to work. Han closed his eyes, reaching outward with his senses. He didn't truly believe that he'd be able to sense Luke on his own, but he couldn't keep himself from trying. The silence stretching along their bond had taken on a life of its own, and it was quickly becoming unbearable. The irony of this wasn't lost on him. The absence of something that he would have scoffed at only a few years ago had now left him feeling broken and empty, almost desperately lonely.

Luke...

There was no answer--only the low moaning of the wind and the pounding of waves on rocks far below. In the end, he made the only choice that seemed possible. He gunned the hovercar's engines and started out along the track.

He wondered if there was some way he could have seen this coming. If he'd only known what to say... But then, what could anyone have said?

The image of Luke spinning around to face him with his eyes blazing, lightsaber still ignited in his clenched hands, haunted him. And when Luke had turned away again, something else had turned with him: a blackness, a coiled shadow...or had that part just been Han's imagination? At this point, he was almost convinced that it had been. He couldn't have guessed that Luke would just take off the way he had.

Kid, when I catch up to you, we're gonna sit down and have a good long talk about some things.

He supposed he might have guessed that things were about to go wrong three days ago, when he and Chewie brought the Falcon limping back into the spaceport at Coronet. Something usually came up whenever he and Luke managed to schedule a few days alone together--no reason why this time should have been any exception. His nerves were all but shot by the time they got the wounded freighter on the ground. He'd stayed on board, fumbling exhaustedly through the post-flight diagnostics until Chewbacca intervened, threatening bodily injury if he didn't go find Luke and "deal with things." Han didn't put up much of an argument. He was dying to see Luke, aching to drag him off to some remote island and make love to him under the white midnight sky. It was all he'd really been able to think about for days, which hadn't exactly done wonders for their mission. Chewie suggested that this was a side-effect of "old age." Han didn't find that theory quite as amusing as the Wookiee evidently did.

He was a little surprised to find that Rini, not Luke, was leading the evening katas in the courtyard of the Jedi temple. There was no reason why she shouldn't lead them, of course--she'd been teaching students of her own for years anyway.

He noticed that the braid that normally dangled from below her fringe of spiky dark hair was gone now. Of all the students at the temple, she alone had adopted the ancient custom--much to Luke's consternation at the time, as he'd felt that not enough was known about the Jedi of the Old Republic for their traditions to mean much to anyone. But Rini had insisted, Luke had relented, and the braid had remained. The fact that it was gone now suggested that her recent trials on Dagobah had been successful, which, in turn, meant that she was now Knight Rini. Han guessed that no one was going to be allowed to forget that little fact any time soon.

Rini stood beneath the spreading branches of the ancient tree at the center of the courtyard, her tall form surrounded by a cluster of the younger students. Her wide reptilian eyes were closed, and her webbed hands were folded against the front of her leather jerkin. Four small stones circled her in a lazy orbital pattern. Han approached with extra caution. Luke's students performed stunts like this on a regular basis, but he still couldn't quite get used to the sight of it. Or, for that matter, see the point of it.

He cleared his throat. "Rini?"

The Jedi started violently, the stones wavering. She turned to fix Han with a yellow-eyed scowl. "Solo," she grumbled. "Might've known."

Han grinned. "Little jumpy, are we?"

"Just be glad 'we' weren't doing 'saber routines," she threatened. "What do you want?"

"Luke. You seen him around?"

"He's in his office upstairs."

"His office?" Han couldn't remember the last time he'd actually seen Luke use his office. The tiny room on the temple's third floor mostly functioned as a repository for Luke's rather large collection of datatapes. Luke attended to any business aspects of running the temple from a table in the mess hall downstairs, usually with a mug of Corellian redleaf brew perched on one drawn-up knee. He liked being close to his students. "What's he doin' in his office?"

Rini shrugged. "Go ask him yourself--he won't tell me anything." The resentment in her tone rang more clearly than she had apparently intended. She muttered something under her breath, turning abruptly back toward her young charges.

"His office..." Han was still shaking his head. He exited the courtyard, long strides carrying him quickly down the temple's main hallway. The door to the mess hall was propped half-open with an overturned bucket, and the sounds of cheerful domestic chaos rang from within. Above the blare of recorded reed-flute music, Han could hear Rini's brother Tor supervising the preparation of the evening meal with the precision of a general conducting a military operation. Laughter spilled out into the hall, followed by a series of metallic clangs and an indignant squawk that could only have come from Artoo. Han grinned.

The building Luke had selected for his training center was a very old one, constructed from native rock and sculptured clay rather than duracrete. No one knew what it had been used for originally, though they'd been told that it had served as a safe-house for Corellia's underground resistance movement during the Imperial occupation. Han jogged up the spiralling staircase to the top floor. The door at the end of the hall stood slightly ajar, as if Luke were expecting him. Han didn't bother to knock.

"Hey."

Luke glanced up. His smile was a faint shadow of its usual self, but his blue eyes lit with pleasure. "Han."

Han leaned on the doorframe for a moment and studied his lover's tired face. Now, there's a man who could use a vacation, he thought. Circles of exhaustion stood out clearly below Luke's eyes, and his chin, now resting on the palm of one hand, sported a growth of fine blond stubble.

"You look about the same as I feel."

"Should I take that as a compliment?" Luke deadpanned, the corners of his mouth quirking in amusement.

Han grinned. "Just hopin' you didn't forget to pack, that's all."

"No--I didn't forget."

"Good, 'cause I've got that skyhopper all lined up. Had to pull a few strings to get the latest n' greatest model, of course, but--" he stopped in mid-sentence, because Luke was shaking his head.

"We can't go. At least, not tonight."

"Damn! And how did I know you were gonna say something like that? Luke, haven't we been planning this trip for--" Han paused, a tingle of apprehension traveling the nape of his neck. Belatedly, he registered the snowdrift of paperwork on Luke's desk, the open com channel, the plate of congealed breakfast sitting untouched on the windowsill behind him. He caught sight of the Coronet civic police's three-sided crest on several of the papers. "Uh...what's goin' on?"

Luke's reply was quiet, tightly controlled. "Nitos disappeared yesterday."

"Oh." Several possible responses rose to the surface of Han's mind, but for Luke's sake, he managed not to say any of them out loud. He'd disliked Nitos almost from the moment Luke took him on as a student, and he strongly suspected that the feeling was mutual. "How?" he asked finally.

"He was gone when Rini and I arrived back from Dagobah yesterday. Tor said he hadn't shown up for his scheduled round of kitchen duty, and his bunk hadn't been slept in. He didn't come in for meals. When he missed his curfew I went out after him, but...it's hard to know where to start looking, in a city this size."

Han gestured, indicating the pile of paperwork. "So. What're the cops doing about it?" "Nothing, for now. Not 'til he's been gone two solar days."

Of course not, Han realized--stupid question. "You checked the healing centers, the morgues...?"

"The healing centers, yes. But he's not dead--I'd sense it if he was."

"Oh, right." Han had forgotten about the Jedi training bond. "So--you can't just...?" He twirled his finger in the air, at a loss to describe what he was trying to ask, but knowing that Luke would understand.

Luke shook his head. "I've been trying to reach him, but he's shielded his mind from me."

"Hmm." Han rubbed the back of his neck, finding that the muscles there were pulling tighter by the moment. "Sounds like he doesn't want to be found."

"Yeah."

And that's what you're afraid of. The flicker of shadows behind Luke's gaze was unmistakable. Han racked his brain, reaching for something--anything--that might sound reassuring. "Nitos is what--seventeen, eighteen...?"

"Nineteen."

"Right--well, he's probably just out--you know, tryin' to figure out who the hell he is." By selling Bliss-packets to little kids, for example. Or lying in an alley stoned out of his mind, or prostituting himself for some extra cash, or perhaps all of the above... Han cleared his throat, clamping down hard on that particular train of thought.

"He'll come back when he's good n' hungry."

"Maybe." Luke sounded less than convinced.

Han sighed, settling a hip against the edge of the desk. "Look. There's a few people who owe me favors; people who can probably find Nitos a lot faster than the authorities can. Go eat something, and I'll make a few calls. Okay?"

Luke didn't move.

"LukeÉ" Han slid off the desk, circling it. "C'mere." He caught Luke's arm and pulled the younger man up into a fierce, tight hug. Luke laughed breathlessly at the impact of their bodies, wrapping strong arms around his waist. "S'okay," Han murmured. "We'll find him soon enough, and then we're outta here."

"Mmm, I hope you're right."

"'Course I'm right!" Han leaned back a little, giving him a look of mock-affront. Luke just grinned, and Han was gratified to see warm light spreading in the depths of his gaze. He thought he could live on the sight of Luke's smile alone. "Think about it kid..." He leaned in close again, lowering his voice to a deliberately lecherous growl. "Sand, stars, and no one but you n' me for three hundred miles. Been way too long. You agree?"

Luke didn't answer--at least, not in words. He slid his arms up around Han's shoulders and pulled him down, drawing him even closer. Han shivered with pleasure as a damp, gentle mouth nipped lightly down the curve of his neck, settling in the hollow at the base of his throat. Luke buried his face there and inhaled deeply.

"Mmph. You taste like smoke."

"Yeah...we had a bit of a misunderstanding with the D'raxians. They weren't too pleased when they figured out we were military intelligence and not just the humble freight-haulers we were claimin' to be."

Luke's grip tightened fractionally. "What happened?"

"They fired on us. Blew out the Falcon's nav control just as we headed into hyper--hey! It's okay," he soothed, feeling Luke's body go tense. "We made it. I'm fine, Chewie's fine, the Falcon will be fine, once I requisition some new parts for her--and we came away with more info than anyone could possibly want on those Imperial holdouts on Tarrus. What more could anybody ask?"

"You said you'd be careful."

"Hey, I was bein' careful!" He nuzzled the soft, pale hair. "It's okay."

I missed you. Luke's voice spoke within his mind, his words carrying quiet resonances of longing.

"Yeah." Han tilted Luke's chin up and gathered his mouth into a brief, comprehensive kiss, relishing the scratchiness of stubble against his cheek and the warm firmness of lips returning pressure against his own. This was how he could tell when he was finally home.

Good to be back. Come with me next time? He froze, his breath catching. The question that he hardly dared ask had slipped out before he'd given himself time to think about it. Luke's obligations to his students often kept them apart, and it was rare that they were able to go on shared missions.

Han knew there was a part of him that simply wanted his lover there with him--by his side, in his arms, stretched against him on the bunk in their cabin. He knew it wasn't a good enough reason to try and pull Luke away from the work he was doing here. But there was a deeper part of his soul that ached for the sense of completion Luke's presence brought him. He knew that together they could face anything, accomplish anything. And now that Rini was a Knight, and Tor wasn't so far behind...

Luke seemed to consider the question, his eyes unreadable. He remained silent long enough to make Han wish he hadn't asked, but finally he just nodded. "Not next time--but maybe soon."

"Good enough for me." Han eased back, loosing his hold reluctantly. "Now, go eat, will you? I'll catch you downstairs in a few."

The calls took longer than Han had expected. When he was finally done, he found Luke in the mess hall--which was good, except that he wasn't eating. He was standing by the window instead, staring out at the narrow stretch of twilight ocean visible between the city's duracrete towers. A plate of food sat cooling on the table next to him.

Han moved to stand at his shoulder.

Hey, kid.

He spoke the time-honored endearment mind-to-mind, in the way that he'd gradually learned to do with Luke over the years. It was a handy way to keep private conversations private. So many prying ears to contend with--such as those belonging to the group of young Jedi now watching them discreetly from the nearby tables.

Not hungry?

Luke shook his head. The fingers of his right hand were moving, tracing unconscious circles against the windowpane, and his body radiated a tension that hadn't been there twenty minutes earlier. Han reached to touch him, finding the muscles strung tight across his back. He stroked gently.

"C'mon, then--let's go home. Not much we can do Ôcept wait now, anyway."

Luke leaned his weight just slightly into Han's palm, seeming to draw warmth and comfort from the touch. "Thanks." He turned, giving him a small, grave smile. Long shadows stretched behind his eyes now. Han shot a nervous glance at the window, wondering if he he'd seen something out there. There was certainly nothing there now: just rivers of crawling traffic and a faint whitewash of emerging starlight, punctuated here and there by the brighter lights of orbital shipbuilding platforms. There was nothing visible that could reasonably cause alarm, but Han felt a spreading chill just the same.

Luke was quiet and withdrawn on the way home, retreating from conversation. More than once, Han noticed him peering out through the hovercar's dome, searching the dark streets for some elusive secret. His strange mood seemed only to deepen once they got to the apartment. He prowled from room to room, surreptitiously checking in each closet, investigating every shadow.

Han eventually gave up trying to make him eat, and simply hauled him into bed. Even there, Luke didn't seem able to relax. He lay rigidly with his eyes closed, breathing held in the measured rhythms of watchful meditation.

"Luke...?" Han rolled on his side, reaching to brush his fingers lightly against a bare shoulder.

Luke started slightly, his eyes fluttering open. He sighed. "What?"

"There's something you're not telling me."

Luke rolled away from him. "Go to sleep, Han."

"Sure--maybe. When you tell me what's going on here. Come on, Luke, the kid's nineteen. We both know he's more n' old enough to take care of himself, so--what're you really so worried about?"

Luke turned back towards Han, studying him in the half-darkness. It took him a moment to speak, as if he were weighing how much he should say. "I think..." Luke hesitated, then dragged in a quiet breath. "I think he might have turned."

"Turned...?" It took Han a moment to register the significance of the statement. "You mean, like, uh...Vader?"

Even in the darkness, he could see the pale features tighten. "Yes," Luke said after a moment, very softy. "Like Vader."

Han reached across the short distance between them and pulled Luke closer, stroking his back and ruffling a gentle hand through his hair. "Well," he murmured, trying for reassurance, "I don't think you have to worry too much--Dark Side or not, he doesn't seem bright enough to be another Vader. Tomorrow we'll find him, an' you can decide how you want to deal with him."

"I want to turn him back."

Like Vader.

Han froze. "And what if you can't, Luke?" A vision was forming unbidden behind his eyes. The temple's rooftop garden under the clear blue sky of late spring, the air heavy with the aromas of Tor's pots of herbs and edible flowers. Han had come up there looking for Luke, and had found Nitos instead. The boy was trapping birds in a net strung between two roofing pylons and crushing their wings with a stone. He was placing the maimed creatures, still living, inside a wooden box.

What the hell kind of person does something like that?

It was the question he'd asked Luke later that same day. Luke hadn't answered. He'd turned away, the quick flash of pain behind his eyes warning Han not to probe further. But the question hadn't gone away--it hung silently in the air between them, even now.

"It wasn't the first time," Luke said softly. "He used to bring them to me often. He'd put the box at my feet and then step back... I don't know what he expected. Was I supposed to--heal them?"

His voice caught. Han waited.

"I killed them," he resumed after a moment. "I didn't know what else to do. Some things you just can't heal, they were in so much pain..." He looked up again, searching Han's face. "But that's what he wanted. Wanted me to prove him right."

"Right...? Right about what?"

Luke didn't answer.

Han was quiet for a moment. "You should've told me."

"Yeah. I know..." Luke shut his eyes.

"Luke?" Han fanned his fingers against a lean, tense cheek, stroking back tangled blond hair.

Luke's jaw clenched. "I can't help wondering--" His voice broke off.

"What?"

"Maybe if I'd done things differently... You knew. You said Nitos was gonna be trouble--he shouldn't be at the temple with the others--"

"Forget what I said! What the hell do I know?"

"But you were right, Han...I didn't want to see him for what he was. I thought that if I gave him a place he could call home, a place to belong... But maybe it wasn't the right thing to do. Or... I was the wrong person to do it."

Han slid his arm down around Luke's back, hauling him closer. "Hey--you didn't do this to him. It's not you. Okay?"

"I can't ever be certain of that."

"Yeah, but I am. I know you. Now--c'mon. Anything else you're not tellin' me?"

Luke was quiet a moment longer. When he spoke again, his voice had a far-away quality, the tone of a man retelling a nightmare. "I...saw something. In the Force, when you were still upstairs..."

"Yeah...?" Han shifted uncomfortably. He had seen far too much of the Force's workings to shrug off its existence anymore, much as he might sometimes want to. "What did you see?"

"A future," Luke said softly. "A choice..."

"Luke?" Han swallowed hard. "Is there something I oughta know, here?"

Luke didn't answer right away. He reached instead to run his left hand down the side of Han's face, sensitive fingertips tracing the contours of his temple, his cheekbone, the faint scar slanting below his mouth...memorizing him. "Han, I--" his voice choked off again, and then he simply slid his hand down to cup Han's jaw, pulling him forward into a kiss.

Love you. Always.

The sheer force of those words, carried forward on a tide of unrestrained emotion, obliterated all other thought. Han closed his eyes, forgetting to question as he surrendered to the gentle onslaught. Luke's warm mouth commanded his own, searching and probing, demanding that he let himself be tasted fully. Both men were breathing raggedly when Luke finally released him and drew back a little, his eyes wide and very dark.

"Kid..." It took Han a moment to re-order his thoughts. "Not that I'm complainin' or anything, but--"

"Shh." Luke rested his head on Han's shoulder and burrowed against him, seeking his warmth. "Please," he whispered.

"Okay..." Han cradled him, stroking his hair and pressing soft kisses against his brow. He felt an almost painful jolt of tenderness for this strong, curiously delicate man--and then he felt deeply, irrationally frightened for him. "Love you too, kid," he murmured, and felt Luke's arms tighten around him.

Eventually he must have slept.

He woke up suddenly, alone. He sat up and called out Luke's name, knowing already that there would be no answer.

Luke remembered waking up at home, in bed, drawn from his sleep by a sad, strange wailing. It was a sound he'd heard before--a hollow keening, like the wind moving in the vast empty heights above Corellia's oceans. Nitos--calling out to him. The boy was waiting for him, somewhere in the dark city outside. He had no choice but to rise and answer that call.

He shifted on the bed, carefully disentangling himself from Han's embrace. The older man stirred, grumbling something in a voice thickened by sleep. Luke reached to run his fingers, feather-light, through his lover's shaggy dark hair. A few silver threads had begun to appear around Han's temples. Luke smiled, reminded of how much Chewbacca loved teasing him about those. Sleep, he whispered through their bond. Han subsided with a soft groan. His breaths evened out after a moment, the broad chest settling into a rhythm of rise and fall mirrored by the slow, steady flicker of pulse at the base of his throat.

Luke sat for a moment longer, watching the play of street-lantern glow on the strong features, the solidly muscled shoulders and arms. A deep tan ran down to Han's narrow waist, bronze skin dark against white sheets. The sight conjured a recent memory, of Han shirtless in the blistering early summer sun, labouring alongside Luke and his students to repair the temple's leaking roof. Installing new stone shingles was brutally hard work, and the baking heat made it doubly so. Han had been under no obligation to help, but he'd simply included himself, working longer and harder than perhaps anyone else.

Luke's eyes wandered to the deeper shadows that pooled in the wide, curving hollows of Han's collarbones as another memory rose to the surface... the two of them alone on the rooftop later that same night. He could still feel the way Han's heartbeat had quickened under his fingers when he'd turned to touch him, still taste the saltiness of sweat on lean, sun-darkened flesh.

You're so beautiful. His throat tightened.

The future's always in motion. No certainties, only possibilities... But this is a journey I can't let you take with me.

He bent, brushing his lips against the sleeping man's forehead, and rose quickly. His clothes and lightsaber were where he'd left them, hanging from the back of a chair beside the bed. He dressed soundlessly and then paused, considering his weapon. Was he going to need it? He prayed that he wouldn't, and left it where it was.

The night air outside felt damp, heavy with the approaching storm-season. He moved through streets and alleys at an easy jog, stretching outward with his senses to find the faint threads of Force that would lead him to Nitos. He could feel the boy now, a dark-red firebrand burning at the core of an even greater darkness, a darkness that he knew was spreading. He could sense its tendrils tightening around the young man's spirit even as they uncoiled themselves, pushing outward into the city, seeking new feeding grounds.

The boy's turning weighed upon him, the knowledge of it settling like a leaden ball in the pit of his stomach. At the same time, he found that he wasn't really surprised--he had known, or suspected, almost from the beginning. It had shown almost too clearly in the fifteen year old man-child who had stepped in front of him in the street, demanding to know if he wanted "company." Rage had bristled around that boy like a protective mantle, shielding him as effectively as his crude, instinctive use of the Force had. And beneath that smoldering anger, Luke had seen only chilling emptiness, a grief beyond words.

The boy wouldn't talk about his past. He sharply rebuffed any attempt to draw him out, but brief flashes leaked from the corners of his mind in unguarded moments. Luke saw in his thoughts the image of flames, the marching boots of white-armored stormtroopers, the scent of charred flesh. Those were things that Luke understood much too well.

Still, Nitos had adapted to life at the temple with startling ease. He'd accepted food, shelter, instruction and duty with equal readiness, though he shunned the other students and resisted Luke's efforts to help him make friends with them. Luke had hoped that the dark potential would fade as the boy matured, but it hadn't. Long after the symptoms of physical abuse and drug addiction had healed, the scars on the young man's soul stained the air around him with streaks of angry red. He wore it like a garment, held tightly about himself. It never left him--not even when he smiled.

It had been a curious paradox, training this boy. Grieving for the terrible wounds that had been inflicted on such a young spirit, hoping that the child might one day learn to grieve for them himself. Striving to teach compassion to one who'd never been shown any. And finding himself so often confronted by manifestations of Nitos' capacity for cruelty.

There are always choices. There is always healing. That was what he'd always believed, and that was what he believed now. What he had to believe, for Nitos' sake and his own.

He passed through an older part of the warehouse district and down a flight of steps into the city's old SubTrans system, abandoned and sealed off during the occupation. He was forced to squeeze through a break in an iron grille at the bottom of the steps in order to gain access to the tunnels. The passages were damp inside, stinking of refuse. People had obviously been living down here for some time. He didn't see anyone, but evidence of their presence was everywhere: graffiti, scatterings of empty food containers, the charred remnants of old fires.

The signs faded as he passed down into the convoluted maze of tunnels below. It was easy to understand why. The lower tunnels reeked of Darkness to such an extent that he was sure that even those without Force sensitivity would pick up on it and stay away. For this very reason, he had long ago installed an iron door in the basement of the temple to block the opening that led down into these passages. He hadn't wanted anyone coming down here without supervision. Especially not Nitos.

He almost expected the boy to be hiding from him, but he wasn't. He was waiting. Luke found him standing on a walkway above the remains of what might have once been an underground bunker. The boy was standing with his pale, skinny arms crossed over his chest, watching silently as Luke approached.

"Nitos...?"

Luke found that he barely recognized his student, though the boy's outward appearance was much the same. Nitos still looked like the gangly teenager that he was, dark hair falling in untidy strings about his narrow face. He was dressed as he had been when Luke had seen him last, in frayed leggings and a grey tunic with patches on both the elbows.

It was his posture that seemed different. He stood taller now, holding his bony shoulders back and his chin high. His eyes had taken on a curious brightness, their pupils narrowed to pinpricks as if light were no longer a necessity. Dark mist streamed over and around his body, tendrils lapping at him almost sensuously. When he took a step forward, Luke saw the mist lift and then settle again, like a black cloak.

"You came," he said softly. "I called, and you answered." Nitos smiled, as though the thought pleased him.

Luke held out his hand. "Nitos? Come on. Come back with me."

"No." The refusal was quiet and absolute. Nitos turned and walked down a flight of metal stairs to the level below, the black mist flowing with him. Luke followed cautiously.

"Nitos...? What is that?"

Nitos paused several paces from the foot of the steps, turning back to face him. Luke noticed the way the boy's thin hand hovered beside his lightsaber, poised and ready. There was no hesitancy in Nitos' reply--he knew what Luke was asking him. "It calls itself Araal."

Dweller in the Dark. Luke remembered the name from one of the old datatapes that Ben had left for him. He thought of Vader and Palpatine, of the way that Darkness had reeked from their bodies, staining their auras to intense blackness. This was different. This Darkness had life of its own, independent and yet intimately entwined with the life of the boy.

"It was down here--asleep, waiting...it's mine, now. At least for a little while. I'll call the others soon, but first..." he waved his hand in the air. The walls, the floor, the piles of broken equipment all wavered, dissolving and reassembling themselves to form a near-perfect replica of the main hall in the Jedi temple.

To Luke's right was a blank archway where the entrance to the courtyard should have been, and up ahead he could see the open doorway of the mess hall. Faint aromas of food wafted out of nowhere. He took a cautious step forward, testing the unevenness of the terracotta floor tiles that had materialized under his feet. He couldn't hide his astonishment when he looked up at Nitos again.

Nitos smiled. "It'll never really be home--but still, it's a good place." He raised his hand again and the grassy expanse of the courtyard appeared in the doorway to the right. The temple's ancient resident winter-willow materialized in its place at the center, gracefully unfurling gnarled, pale-leafed branches toward the ceiling. Artificial stars flared to life overhead, and a small flock of white birds fluttered down, settling on the tree.

"I can make anything I want--anything I can imagine. I have that power, now." The pride in the boy's voice was underscored by a deeper note of wistfulness.

Luke shook his head. "Nitos--whatever 'power' you may think you have comes from the Dark Side." He spoke slowly, as if explaining to a very young child. "You might think you're in control now, but in the end it'll control you."

"You don't like it." Nitos' strange, fire-green eyes clouded in an expression of hurt, but then cleared again. "I understand: it's not your home. But I can change that too."

"Nitos--"

Red-gold light flooded the hallway, and a breath of hot, dry wind fanned against Luke's face. He turned to see that the courtyard was gone now, replaced by a rolling sea of dunes. Twin suns hung low above the seemingly distant horizon, casting long purple shadows out over waves of sand.

Nitos smiled. "That's what I see in your thoughts when you're looking at the sunset."

Luke glanced at the boy sharply. If Nitos had been probing his thoughts, what else had he picked up? Images of darkness? Of Vader...? Had he somehow brushed with memories of Luke's own journey through the Dark Side?

"Nitos," he said quietly. "You can fight this -- you have to try."

"But we are creatures of darkness, Luke. All of us...why fight it?" His voice had a dreamy, hypnotic quality, and the dark mist rippled around him, undulating as if in pleasure. Nitos smiled faintly, then looked straight at Luke. "Even you."

Luke felt his spine go rigid. How deeply had the boy looked? "Nitos--"

"I met a man down here...out of his mind on Bliss," the boy interrupted. "Came after me. I sent Araal to him and it took him. He ran from me and threw himself down an open shaft, and I felt him die. But you're strong, like me. We're not crushed so easily." His eyes glittered. "That's why I called you here to help me--because you can."

"Nitos... I can't help you if you're not willing to fight," Luke answered softly, knowing even as he said the words that he and Nitos were talking about different things, though the boy's meaning eluded him.

Nitos blinked, and then, strangely, laughed. "You still don't understand--but you will. I'll summon the others."

"Others?" It was the second time he'd mentioned 'others.'

"Witnesses." Something about the way Nitos said the word knifed a dark fear into Luke's heart.

"Witnesses to what...?"

"I'm going home tonight. I need others to be here--as will you. Araal wants them too...but you and I won't let that happen."

Home... Luke stepped forward, suddenly filled with an overriding urge to get out of this place, to take Nitos back to the real world and shake some sense into him. He caught the boy's thin wrist. "Yeah, you're going home all right. Come on."

Nitos stiffened, green eyes widening and filling with strange, flickering lights. Then he relaxed, his energies flowing outward, and Luke felt something immensely powerful brush against his mind...something unspeakably ancient. Something that had been here a long time, asleep in the darkness. Waiting. Dreaming.

Araal.

Luke felt it push aside his defenses with an effortless touch, flooding him with whispering echoes of its own thoughts. It was seeking lines of connection, the threads of energy that would lead it outward. It located his link with Han and seized on it greedily, sending a rush of alien energy along the bond.

"No!" Luke slammed mental shields into place with brutal swiftness, knowing that it was already too late--he couldn't possibly close off the connections quickly enough. The intruder recoiled unexpectedly, dark thoughts hissing rage and contempt at him as it snapped its tentacles back around Nitos.

Luke gasped. Separation from Han, from the others he loved, struck him like a physical blow. His legs trembled, buckling under his weight as a vast emptiness settled around him.

Nitos stood rigidly and stared at him, his mouth compressed into a thin line. "Fine," he said, almost too softly to be heard. "I'll find another way to summon them." Two white birds appeared in his hand.

The air wheezed out of Han's lungs in a long, searing gasp, bending him double. Swirls of darkness exploded behind his eyes, and it seemed like a short eternity before he was able to draw in his next breath. He wasn't simply alone in the bed. He was truly, completely alone.

It felt as if a candle had been snuffed out. The warm, gentle presence that had formed the backdrop of his thoughts for the past seven years was suddenly, simply--gone.

"Luke--!"

His first thought was that Luke must be dead. Then, gradually, he sensed faint traces of light flickering in the darkness, still present but set apart from him, as though a wall had gone up between them. He stumbled to his feet and managed to make it to the bathroom before being violently, agonizingly sick.

When he collected his thoughts enough to look around the apartment, he found that the clothes Luke had left on the chair beside the bed were gone, though his lightsaber and portable comlink were still there. Somehow, Han gathered enough presence of mind to cover his own nakedness with a sheet before switching on the wall-mounted com unit in the living room.

It took a few moments for the channel to open at the other end. When it did, Rini's disgruntled countenance filled the tiny screen. Her yellow eyes were puffy with sleep, but she managed to fix him with a withering glare just the same. "G'morning, General Solo--nice outfit. Up a little early, aren't we?" Her sarcastic growl trailed off when she saw his expression. "Uh--what's the matter?"

"Luke," he croaked. "Is he there at the temple...? I...I can't feel him..."

The golden eyes closed for a moment, and Han realized that she must be trying to sense Luke through the Force. "He's shielding himself. He's alive, I can tell that much, but as for where he is..." she shook her head. "This is something to do with Nitos, isn't it?"

Han nodded. "He thinks Nitos, ah...turned."

"Yeah--I think so too: if Nitos even belonged to the Light Side in the first place. Did Luke take his 'saber with him?"

Han shook his head.

Rini muttered something gutturally obscene in her own language. "Right. I'll go wake the others up. We'll try to reach Luke through the Force, and when we figure out where he is, I'll take a couple of the advanced students and go after him. You stay right where you are--this is a Jedi thing. Stay the hell out of it."

The com screen went dark. Han stared at it for a moment, too disoriented to even be irritated. The door buzzer whistled twice before he thought go answer it, pausing first to scoop his blaster from the heap of discarded clothes on the floor next to his side of the bed. There was no one outside. The hallway was empty except for a small wooden box sitting on the doorstep.

A chill shot up his spine. He crouched, eyeing the box from every angle before reaching to prod it cautiously with a fingertip. The lid snapped open. Inside was a dead bird.

It was identical to the birds that Nitos had been trapping in his net on that spring day: small, not longer than his hand, with feathers of pure white. Also like Nitos' tiny prey, it was bloodied. A stain of red was spreading outward from a puncture wound in its chest, the blood steaming just a little in the cool air of the hallway. A slip of paper was clutched in its claws.

Han gingerly withdrew the paper and unfolded it. There was no message, only a row of numbers scratched in red ink. It took him a moment to recognize them for what they were--coordinates. He stepped back inside the apartment and emerged fully dressed a couple of minutes later, clipping on his blaster belt as he headed for the pad where the hovercars were kept parked.

The place indicated by the coordinates turned out to be at the intersection of two arterial streets, now already humming with intermittent predawn traffic. Han parked his hovercar and climbed out to stand on the walkway, looking around. No one else seemed to be about. A few all-night shops were open, their neon storefronts beaming garishly into the darkness. Lights were on in some of the hotel windows, but most of the buildings were dark. The only sounds were the low murmur of hovercars and the hissing wings of nightflies as they zipped back and forth in the halos of light cast by the street lanterns.

There was no sign of any other sort of message, no indicator to point him in the right direction. He reached for Luke along their bond, but again found only silence. Then he remembered something Luke had once said about the building that now housed the Jedi temple--that a network of secret passages could be accessed from there, as well as from other points of entry hidden throughout the city.

At the center of the intersection, on the very spot where his map indicated that the coordinate axes met, a metal utility cover was set into the pavement. Han started towards it without a second thought. He pulled the cover out of its casing and lowered himself through the opening, climbing hand over hand down the rung ladder.

A moment later his feet came in contact with a solid floor. He fumbled in his pocket for a glowtorch, but then saw lights bobbing towards him along what was clearly an underground passageway. He shrank back to flatten himself against the wall, the fingers of his right hand curling around the grip of his blaster.

One of the lights darted up into his face, momentarily blinding him. A quiet curse rang out, and a voice, unmistakably Rini's, muttered, "Aw, hells--might have known it'd be you." There was a wooden box tucked under her arm.

Her gaze fell on the slip of paper in his hand, and Han saw her eyes widen slightly. "Yeah?" He had to smile at her obvious chagrin. "Looks like both of us got invites to this party."

Luke found himself lying on the floor, his cheek pressed against rough terra-cotta tiles. Gradually, the realization that he must have blacked out filtered through the streaks of anguish pulsing behind his eyes. For a moment he could almost have believed that he was truly in the main hall of the temple, but then a cool, dry wind stirred his hair. His vision cleared gradually, desert stars coming into focus above an ocean of pale sand beyond the archway to his right, and he remembered. He sat up cautiously, the pounding in his skull now incredibly loud against the new, unaccustomed backdrop of inner silence.

A waist-tall stone dais had appeared at the end of the hall. Nitos was seated on top of it, his spidery legs crossed and his eyes closed as if in meditation. Luke approached silently, pausing a few paces away to study the boy's thin face. The dark aura had condensed around him, and seemed to be growing stronger. He could hear it whispering to Nitos, chattering in words that were not words, a communion that cut below the level of conscious thought.

"Nitos?"

The boy's eyes snapped open, focusing slowly. "Luke?" He smiled faintly. "It's too soon. Wait for the others to get here."

"Too soon for what?"

"To go home."

Home. Luke looked around slowly, taking in the illusory temple. Not home--but a good place, Nitos had said. That was the key--it had to be. "Nitos...? What do you remember about your home?"

Nitos shrugged, a careless gesture that did nothing to disguise the familiar hardness creeping into his eyes. He said nothing.

Luke decided he wasn't going to be put off so easily this time--there was far too much at stake. "Do you remember your family, Nitos? Your parents...?"

The young man's eyes flicked away. "No."

Luke saw the ripple of tension along the narrow shoulders, and knew his student was lying. "Nitos--what happened to them?"

Nitos glared. "They're dead--nothing more to tell."

Luke nodded, thinking of the aunt and uncle who'd raised him, and the way that they had died. "I understand," he said softly.

Nitos bristled, lips curling back from his teeth. "No you don't--you could never understand--no one can! Do you hear me?!"

"Yes."

Nitos sat rigidly, hands clenched into pale, trembling fists. Then a shudder passed up the length of his bony frame and his gaunt face cracked, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. "They--they burned," he choked out. "I hid in the basement of the house next door, but I could hear Mother screaming, and--" His voice broke off with a harsh sob.

The illusion of the temple hallway collapsed around them as if dissolved by the boy's tears. They were now in a long, narrow, metal-lined chamber, and Nitos was sitting on top of a rusted crate.

Luke reached out, catching the boy's shoulder. "Nitos?"

The young man shuddered violently. Then he sagged forward against Luke's arm, and Luke pulled him close, holding him while he sobbed. Nitos buried his face against Luke's shoulder, helpless against the tide of grief. "I--I'm sorry," he gasped. "I know you tried, that you wanted to help--I know I always disappointed you..."

"It's okay," Luke whispered, rocking him. "You didn't disappoint me--it's okay..."

Finally, when the boy's weeping began to taper off, Luke shifted him back a little. "Nitos? I need you to listen to me now."

Nitos nodded.

"You have to fight the Darkness, this--thing. Can you do that?"

Nitos shook his head slowly. "No...I still need it."

"Need...?" Luke stared at Nitos, wondering now if he'd understood him at all. "What do you need it for?"

Nitos stiffened just then, glancing up sharply. Footsteps were clattering on the walkway overhead. Luke glanced back over his shoulder and saw Han coming down the staircase with Rini and her own students, Brakas and Tor, trailing close behind. Rini looked angry, Han frightened and relieved.

"Luke--!" he called out, hurrying towards them.

Luke felt a flash of premonition, terror uncoiling in the pit of his stomach as time seemed to slow down around them. He saw Han break into a run, heard Rini's shouted warning as Nitos wrenched away from him. The boy sprang to his feet on top of the crate, his lightsaber blazing to life in his hands. Tendrils of mist flew out freely around his body, framing him like the rays of a dark sun. He threw his head back, letting out a wild cry as he swung forward with the blade.

Luke dodged to the side, realizing too late that he wasn't the target. A blast of dark energy shot forward from Nitos' hands, coiling along the blade of the 'saber and arcing outward, straight at Han. It struck a glancing blow to his upper chest, throwing him backward off his feet. Han let out a grunt of pain and surprise as he fell sprawling.

"No!" Luke threw himself between Nitos and the fallen man, shielding Han with his own body. He caught a glimpse of Rini charging up from behind, holding her hand up to warn her students back even as she reached to unclip her whip from her belt.

"Behind you!"

Luke ducked only just in time. Rini's whip snaked out over his head to wrap itself around the handle of Nitos' lightsaber. She yanked tight, hauling back with her full weight. Nitos held on doggedly, his eyes blazing in blind fury.

"Nitos, what're you doing? Let go!"

Nitos paused, seeming to catch the urgency in Luke's voice. His eyes swept down on Luke, regret flickering briefly behind his burning green gaze.

"Nitos--stop this."

Nitos nodded. "Time this ended--yeah." Fingers of darkness raced down the taut length of the whip and seared into Rini's body, wreathing her in black coils. She screamed--once.

"Rini!" Tor rushed forward as his sister collapsed, Brakas following close behind him with his 'saber igniting in his hand.

"Stop!" Luke held his hands up, flinging both students backwards with a Force shove. He spun back towards Nitos. The boy was staring at him, his eyes impenetrable. He looked just as he had the times that he'd brought the wounded birds to Luke--challenging him. Daring him to end their pain.

But there are always choices.

Luke sprang forward, bounding up on to the metal crate to sweep his leg upwards, disarming Nitos with a sharp kick to his wrist. Nitos cried out, stumbling back a step and almost losing his balance.

Luke caught the 'saber out of the air and somersaulted backwards, landing squarely on the floor. Nitos let out a howl of rage, lifting his hands again. Darkness crackled around his fingertips. "If you let me, I'll kill them all," he whispered through clenched teeth.

"Behind you, Luke!" Han was on his feet again, blaster in hand.

"Han--no!"

It was too late. Han's blaster discharged, sending a bolt of energy towards Nitos' chest. Luke caught a brief flash of the boy's face, eyes wide with--what? Fear? Triumph? Then the black coils snapped closed around him and hardened, shield-like. The beam bounced off the dark surface and shot straight back towards Han.

Luke launched himself at Han, crashing into him headlong. He felt the beam pass inches from his shoulder as they fell together, heard Han gasp out a curse as Luke's full weight came down on his chest. He didn't sense Nitos coming up behind them: he only saw the fractional widening of Han's eyes, felt the tensing of hard muscles under his body. He knew--and reacted--all within a split second, rising and turning with the lightsaber blazing to life in his hands.

Nitos met his eyes fearlessly, his chin lifting in a gesture that somehow conveyed both surrender and defiance. He smiled, turned slightly, and raised his hand towards the two students now crouched over Rini's still form. Darkness streamed along his arm, lancing toward the three helpless figures...and Luke struck with a cry, driving the blade home.

Nitos collapsed without a sound. Luke stood frozen above the body, the lightsaber still in his hands--and he saw the darkness rise from Nitos like a mist, reaching outwards, seeking...

But we are not crushed so easily, Nitos had said.

And finally, he understood. He closed his eyes and reached outward, finding Araal and trapping it. It struggled. He felt its revulsion and hatred towards him, heard its whispering voices enter his thoughts. From now on this would be his company. With him, Araal would neither rest nor feed.

I will be the last, he told it fiercely. The voices rattled around him, angry and fearful.

He smiled. There was a victory in this.

Or so he thought, until a hand touched his shoulder and he turned at the sound of his name, looking up to meet Han's dark, questioning gaze for what he knew was going to be the last time. He couldn't trust himself to look for long. He could lose himself in those eyes and not have the strength to walk away.

The future's upon us, love... But the distance between them was too great now, and he knew Han couldn't hear him.

He was alone.

The dirt path wound its way between the gently rolling slopes of the foothills for several miles. Finally it curved to the right and angled steeply upward, weaving between outcroppings of boulders. A hovercar--Luke's hovercar--was parked at the base of the slope. Han pulled up next to it, letting his own vehicle's engines sputter into silence. The terrain was too uneven to drive any further, but at least he knew now that he was on the right track. He reached under the back seat to retrieve his survival kit, and then, pulling in a deep breath, he heaved himself out into the rain-streaked darkness.

His mind wouldn't seem to stop replaying those awful moments after Nitos fell. Tor and Brakas had been crouched over Rini, desperately trying to revive her. He'd been on his comlink, attempting to explain where they were to the dolts at the civic emergency center. And Luke... well, Luke had just been standing there, the 'saber still clutched in his hands, staring down at Nitos' body.

When Han finally got off the comlink he moved to stand behind Luke, reaching to touch his shoulder. Luke wheeled around with a soft cry of...fear? Anger? Han couldn't tell--but the anguish behind his eyes was clear, etched in lines of loss and grief.

Han's throat closed up. "Aw, Luke," he said softly, "c'mere--it wasn't your fault..." He took a step forward, reaching out.

"Don't touch me!" Luke sprang away, terror in his eyes now. He dropped the lightsaber and retreated to the far end of the chamber. That was when Han saw it--the strange mist that coiled around Luke's body, following him like a shadow.

"Luke--"

Han would have gone after him, but then Tor called to him, asking for help, and a moment later Brakas returned, guiding a troop of medics down from the surface. Chaos descended for the next little while as they struggled to keep Rini breathing long enough to be transferred to a stretcher and hauled back up to street level. Somehow the cops had gotten wind of the whole thing, and they suddenly seemed most interested--both in the circumstances of Nitos' disappearance, and in Luke particularly. Han finally had to flash his ID at them and declare the area under military jurisdiction to make them go away. And at some point during the rescue operation, Luke simply vanished. Again.

Han spent the rest of that very long day searching for him. He checked at home first, then at the temple. The hovercar that Luke kept parked at the temple for his student's use was missing, and Brakas discovered that the thick steel door in the old building's basement had been blown open from below. Han called in the rest of his dwindling backlog of favors, putting out a general search for a hovercar with Luke's decal number. He checked the spaceports, the healing centers and--yes, eventually, even the morgues.

The faint traces of Luke's presence were gone now, leaving only a dark silence at the perimeter of Han's mind when he reached outward. He didn't want to think about what that could mean. And he didn't want to talk to Leia, though in the end he had to. She'd been calling ever since it happened, frantic at suddenly not being able to sense her brother--and there was nothing Han could say to her. No words of comfort, no reassurances. Nothing at all.

Evening found Han in the mess hall, staring numbly out at the darkening sky and trying to choke down a mug of redleaf brew. Leia was due to arrive in the morning--she'd said was coming on her fastest ship, for all the good that would do. And he was going to stay here all night, waiting...hoping for some news. For all the good that was going to do. He didn't hear the quiet footsteps approaching from behind, didn't realize he wasn't alone until someone sank down in the seat across from him. Rini.

She smiled at his look of startlement. "What's wrong, General Solo? You look like you've seen a ghost." Her voice was weak, but it still carried a faint echo of its usual abrasive tone.

"You're--"

"I'm okay. Mostly. The healers chucked me in the bacta tank for a few hours and then sent me back home. No physical exertion, they said. I said, nooo-problem." She rubbed the back of her scaly neck, and winced ruefully.

"I thought--we all thought--that Nitos--"

"Yeah, well, he could've. If he'd wanted to. Probably would've, if Luke hadn't stopped him."

Han nodded, finding he couldn't help but agree with her.

"Not gonna drink that?" The reptilian Jedi reached out and scooted his mug over to her side of the table, taking a long gulp of the pungent brew. "Healers said I shouldn't have any of this stuff either, but hey." She set the mug down with a weak grin. "You look pretty beat yourself...and I heard what happened, after."

"Yeah." Han glanced down at the table. "Wish I knew what to tell you...he just...disappeared."

"Uh-huh." She ran a webbed finger meditatively along the rim of the mug, watching the rising steam. "I was really pissed off at you, you know--just barging in like you did, where I thought you had no business to be."

Han bristled--invalid or not, he was getting sick and tired of her attitude. "Well, I'm very sorry, your almighty Jedi-ness, but--"

Rini held up a hand. "Han, could we call it a truce for just a minute?"

Han subsided, startled by her use of his first name and too exhausted to fight it out with her anyway. "Sure," he growled.

"I wanted to ask you something--I know it's personal, so you don't have to answer."

He gave her a long, suspicious look. "What?"

"Well, lots of things...like how'd you meet him and how long've you known each other, how and when did you know that he was...well, the one for you, how did he know you were the one for him...why in all Sith hells does he let you call him 'kid...'" The corner of her mouth twitched. "All kinds of things, none of which are actually any of my business."

"Yeah, sister--you got that much right."

Rini nodded. "I figured. But you know, Luke means a helluva lot to me, and I guess I never really appreciated before how much you must love him. I couldn't understand why he'd choose someone like you--"

"What, a mere mortal? Someone who's not a Jedi?" Han didn't bother to check the harsh edge in his tone.

Rini dropped her gaze. "Yeah. Something like that."

Han already had his mouth open to give her a piece of his mind when he was interrupted by the bleeping of his comlink. He grabbed for it. "Solo here."

News for you, Chewbacca's rumbling growl came over the channel sounding clipped and tense, a far cry from the bantering tone he normally took with Han.

"What news?" Han felt his mouth go dry.

A hovercar with Luke's decal number just passed through a toll station on the north coastal highway. Picked the coordinates up off the satellite net--sending them now.

Han gave a quick nod as a string of numbers appeared on the comlink's miniature display. "Got it, Chewie--thanks. When Leia gets here, tell her I'm on my way to get him, 'kay?"

The Wookiee gave a worried grumble of assent. Han snapped off the comlink and sprang to his feet. He was halfway to the door when Rini's voice stopped him.

"Solo--"

"What?!" Han turned back and glared at Rini. "If you're gonna tell me I've got no business going up there--"

"No, I wasn't going to say that."

"Then what?"

The young knight scowled down into the mug for a moment. "I was..." she cleared her throat loudly. "I was...wrong, okay?"

Han couldn't recall ever hearing her use that word, at least not in reference to herself. Surprisingly, it unnerved him. "Wrong? About what?"

"You and Skywalker, for one. And--I said this was a Jedi thing, but it's not. I just couldn't see it. Wherever he is now, I don't think anyone can reach him 'xcept you. So, uh...may the Force be with you. Please bring him home safe."

He'd wanted so much to promise her that--to promise it to everyone, especially to Luke. And he couldn't. It was all he could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other as he labored up the mountainside.

Kid--you chose the damnedest place to disappear to.

The dirt track was slippery underfoot, the mud pockmarked by torrents of rain. It climbed steeply, zig-zagging between crags and boulders, then rose sharply to skirt a slide of loose shale. Eventually it gave way to a narrow ledge of rock that girdled the curve of the vertical cliff-face.

Han moved sideways along the ledge, concentrating on the faint circle of light cast by his glowtorch and being careful not to think about the sheer drop below him. The storm was directly overhead now, fingers of lightning searing burning trails across his retinas. The wind buffeted hard against his body, threatening to knock him off balance.

He felt his boot come down on a loose rock and he almost fell, saving himself only by grabbing on to a narrow fissure in the rock wall behind him. The storm swallowed his volley of frightened curses.

The ledge ended several hundred paces further on, curving over the shoulder of the mountain. There the trail picked up again, a narrow strip of mud in a landscape of boulders and sodden grass. The crags tapered into a rocky slope, which Han descended cautiously. The ocean was ahead of him now, lightning flashing silvery radiance across the water's dark mirror. He could taste salt on the breeze coming up from below.

The lower levels of the slope were dotted with stunted trees and tufts of brittle razor-grass. The trail led to the edge of the sea-cliffs and seemed to end there, poised above a small cove. Han could see breakers crashing on the beach below, the roar of surf pounding out a counterpoint to the weakening peals of thunder. There was a tiny light down there: a flickering radiance shining among the boulders of the lower cliff-face.

"Luke."

Han reached out again in his thoughts, finding nothing and yet knowing, just the same.

He eased carefully down a broad fissure in the sea-cliff wall, making his way to the beach. The light was coming from near the apex of the cove's crescent, casting a faint yellow glow out across the sand. Han discovered that it came from a glowlantern placed just inside the entrance of a small cave. And, that apart from the lantern, the cave was empty.

"Shit."

He sagged against the rock wall inside the cave entrance. His legs were shaking a little from the exertion of the climb, just another of those charming reminders that he wasn't--quite--as young as he used to be. He stared out into the surf and the rain, blood pounding in his ears.

What were the chances that Luke had simply gone out for a little stroll on a night like this one? Didn't seem too bloody likely. He must have sensed Han coming, and taken off--somewhere. Which just left another big, wide-open question.

Han stepped back out on to the beach. No prints. That was easily explainable, though, even without factoring in any mysterious Jedi powers. Luke had probably just walked along the edge of the water, letting the waves wipe the slate clean behind him. That still left two directions. Han chose one at random, turning right.

The sea-cliff curved around at the end of the beach, cutting it off with a sloping shoulder of rock. If the water had been calmer, it would have been possible to wade around it, but as it was, Han found that he was forced to climb again, this time over treacherous, weed-covered boulders. Once at the top of the rocks, he found that he was looking down into another small cove. It looked just as empty as the one he'd come from.

He turned with a groan, deciding to try the other direction--and slipped. He fell hard, hitting his back against a rock and knocking the air from his body. He scrabbled in the slick weeds but found nothing to slow his fall; his leg slid down between two boulders and wedged there. Breakers crashed over the rocks, swamping him as he struggled to free himself.

"Han!" A shadow materialized from somewhere among the boulders above, moving swiftly to crouch by his side.

"Luke...?"

"You okay?" Luke's voice was urgent and frightened. He was completely soaked, his hair plastered down around his face. His skin was deathly pale, drawn tight over the bones underneath, and feverish light burned in the depths of his grey-circled eyes.

Han decided he'd never seen anything quite so beautiful, and he almost laughed.

"Luke! Yeah, I'm okay. I think I'm okay..." He pulled his leg free with a grunt, losing his boot and tearing his pants in the process. He turned, reaching out--and Luke shrank away, his eyes hardening.

"Don't touch me!"

Han raised himself up to a crouch, facing him. His boot was hopelessly stuck between the rocks, so he left it where it was. Nothing mattered more than this.

"Luke--"

"You shouldn't have come here." Luke turned and rose smoothly to his feet, stepping down over the rocks in the direction of the second cove.

"Yeah--guess that makes two of us," Han muttered, struggling after him. Something told him that if he lost sight of Luke this time, he'd never see him again. He stumbled down on to the beach and ran after the retreating figure.

"Wait!" He heard the fear in his own voice, and didn't bother trying to disguise it.

Luke paused.

"This is crazy--you're gonna die of pneumonia if we stay out here."

Luke didn't answer. He turned away and started walking again.

"Luke--what're you doing? What're you trying to prove?"

Luke stopped and turned. When Han came within a few paces, he held up his hand. "No closer." To his immense relief, Han did as he asked. Luke studied the tall, disheveled figure, a darker shadow against the dark sky.

"If this is about that kid Nitos--" Han started, but Luke interrupted him.

"You have to go back as soon as it gets light." He didn't need to see Han's face to know that it hardened then, the firm jaw tensing in stony determination.

"Yeah--sure. As long as you're comin' with me."

Luke shook his head. "I can't."

"Then I can't either."

As simple as that. Damn you, Han.

Luke led the way to the crest of the beach, where he'd discovered an overhang in the cliff-face that provided a minimal sort of shelter. The sand underneath was dry, in spite of the storm. He sank down, his gaze warning Han not to sit too close.

Han fumbled under his coat, pulling out the survival kit that he'd brought with him. He found a package of heat-flares and struck one against a rock, setting it down in the sand between them. It cast a warm red glow over them, taking some of the edge off the cold and the wet. Han shrugged out of his sodden coat and let it lie where it fell, his eyes never leaving Luke's. Maybe it was a strange trick of light and shadow, but he thought he could see...something, settling around the other man's body like tentacles of dark mist.

"Luke...?" he whispered.

"You can see it." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yeah. What is it?"

"Araal--dweller in the dark. Nitos found it in the tunnels... or maybe it found him."

Some kind of, uh...evil spirit?" Han reminded himself that he didn't believe in spirits, but he couldn't doubt the evidence of his own eyes. Living with Luke had stretched his boundaries of belief past recognition anyway.

Luke shook his head. "It's more like a parasite--or a predator..."

"Oh." Han shivered, not entirely from the cold. He found that he could see the thing's outlines more clearly if he squinted his eyes a bit. "What're you, ah, doing with it?" Because Luke was clearly doing something.

Luke smiled--a cold, strange smile. "Starving it."

Something about the way he said that sent alarm signals shimmying up Han's backbone. "Starving? How do you starve something that's not alive?"

"But it is." Luke closed his eyes and spoke in a soft, toneless voice. "It feeds on death... it needs to either feed or return to hibernation, but I've trapped it. I can control it, keep it from feeding or sleeping--I can keep it with me for as long as necessary to destroy it." He opened his eyes then, carefully avoiding Han's questioning gaze. It wasn't a lie--not exactly. Han would know the truth soon enough, but right now, this was as close to it as he could bear. He stared straight ahead into the darkness, eyes tracking the pale line of lacy foam that marked the moving shoreline. Waiting alone in the cave had been almost bearable, but this... If you only knew how much it hurts to have you this close.

Alive--the word sent chilling echoes through Han's mind. And...starving? He looked around. Luke seemed to have brought nothing with him except the clothes he was wearing. And the cave had been empty--no food, and no equipment unless you counted the glowlantern.

"Looks more to me like you're starving yourself."

Luke glanced at him sharply. "Doesn't matter."

"Yeah?" Han rose to a crouch, feeling his hackles rise along with him. "Maybe you hadn't considered that it might just matter to me--"

"No one asked you to come here."

"Well too bad 'cause here I am--and I'm not leaving 'till you do." He threw the words down like a challenge, leaning closer.

Luke stiffened. "Stay back."

Han paused, noticing the way that the shadows had shifted and closed around Luke, bristling out a silent warning. "Seems like your new 'friend' doesn't like me much," he murmured.

Luke didn't answer. Han put out a hand, reaching for his arm--and Luke reacted instinctively, aware of what was about to happen without really knowing. "Don't touch me!" He sprang up, scrambling away from the hand even as he felt a black horror surging up through his body. So fast, so much stronger than he could have imagined--he heard Han's muffled grunt, the sound of a body striking the ground. For a moment he saw nothing, only velvet darkness.

"Han...?" Terror threaded through the silence.

Finally Han's voice came from somewhere beyond the haze, tight with pain. "Did you mean to do that?"

Luke's vision cleared slowly. He saw Han sit up, rubbing his shoulder. His surge of relief was tempered by anger and pain. "Is that what you think--that I could hurt you? I warned you not to touch me."

Han gazed at him, eyes cool and appraising. "Yeah--you did. So it's not that it's important to you that I not touch you--it's that it's important to your pet Ara-whatzit. You wanna tell me why that is?"

Luke didn't respond.

"All right." Han could feel what little patience he had slipping. "How 'bout we test it, then? If you're the one who's controlling that thing, then I should be able to touch you, no problem. Because you'd never let it hurt me." He reached out again.

"Han--" Luke flinched away.

"Yeah...?" Han took a deep breath, and pounced at him.

"No--!" Luke felt the darkness rushing out from him, striking towards Han. He lunged away, dodging out into the rain, and saw Han land on the dry sand, unhurt.

"Just--leave me alone! Please..."

Luke turned and started away over the beach, thinking he'd go back to the cave and wait the rest of the night there. His heart sank as he heard footsteps approaching him from behind. So close--too close. He desperately needed to hold this inner silence, the slender measure of control he still had. Han's nearness made that so hard.

"Luke, wait!"

Luke turned slowly. The wind was starting to die down finally, though it still gusted Han's wet hair about his face in shaggy tufts. He looked pale under his midsummer tan, eyes dark and scared. So fragile. The voices whispered to Luke--hungrily, he thought. He felt his mouth go dry.

"Are you gonna explain to me what's goin' on here, or do I have to shake it out of you?"

"I already told you--"

"No. What did you mean when you said that it feeds on death? Was it feeding on Nitos when you--" Han caught himself, "when he died?"

"When I killed him," Luke corrected him softly, his tone stark. "No. It can't feed on--" he stopped himself. "Forget it, Han." He turned, starting away again. Han dodged to block his path, folding his arms firmly across his chest.

"No way--you tell me. It's what, allergic to Jedi? Is that it?"

Luke couldn't hold back a bleak smile. "Something like that--yeah."

"So it can't feed on you either."

"No."

A furrow of puzzlement appeared between Han's dark brows. "So--it'd normally feed on someone who's not a Jedi? Like...me?"

Luke nodded. "You see why I can't touch you."

"No--I don't see," Han snapped. He extended his hand toward Luke again, hesitating when he saw the dark haze ripple with menace. He dropped his hand back to his side, his shoulder still throbbing fiercely where it had slammed against the cliff wall. "Maybe you could explain it again, very slowly this time. What did it do to Nitos--did it make him attack all of us like he did?"

"No... that was Nitos' own doing."

Han nodded, thinking that he probably couldn't have believed otherwise anyway. "So he wanted to kill us all, and he was using the..." he gestured vaguely in the direction of the cloud, "that... thing, to do it."

Luke shook his head. "I think he only needed you there so I'd be forced to kill him--and so that there'd be witnesses, to testify that it was self-defense."

"What? That's crazy--it doesn't make sense--" But Han stopped himself, because somehow, it made perfect sense. It fit with everything he knew or had ever thought about Nitos. Suicide. The word slithered chillingly below the surface of his thoughts, repugnant and alien.

Luke was staring down at the smooth wet sand. "I think what happened to Rini was an accident--I have to think that. That he didn't understand his own strength--"

"Rini's okay," Han cut in, and saw Luke's head snap up, his eyes questioning.

"The healers sent her back to the temple later the same day. She's gonna be fine."

"I didn't know--I thought she was--"

"Well you would know, if you hadn't cut yourself off from everyone like you did."

Luke's gaze dropped again but his face had relaxed a little, the lines of grief and exhaustion fading just perceptibly. "He told me that he wanted to go home," he said after a moment. "I think he meant to his family."

"Who are dead," Han guessed.

"Yes."

"So--he got what he wanted. And he used you for that."

Luke nodded. "He was using Araal... but I think in the end he couldn't control it. It was stronger than he realized." And stronger than I realized.

Han nodded, suddenly remembering the way his blaster discharge had seemed to bounce off Nitos, coming straight back at him. "Yeah. It was protecting him, wasn't it?"

"It needs a host," Luke said quietly. "Someone strong enough with the Force to contain it."

"Like you."

"Yes..." Luke pulled in a deep breath. "If the host dies, it has to find a new one or go into hibernation--or else it'll simply disperse."

"So why hold it here, then? Let it disperse!"

Luke heard love and fear and impatience in the deep voice--and something twisted painfully in his chest. "It's not that simple." His own voice felt heavy in his throat. "I'm trapped with it, as much as it is with me. Nitos didn't understand--he thought I'd be able to just destroy it. He didn't realize--" Luke stopped, but it was already too late.

"So," Han said too quietly, his voice a bare whisper above the failing wind. "You came here to die. Is that it?" Naked anger flared behind his eyes.

"It's all I can do--it would've gone to one of the other students...or to Leia, if I hadn't shielded myself. I can prevent it from hibernating again...I can make sure that it disperses, when--when the time comes--"

"What, when you're dead?" Han's voice rose into a snarl. Suddenly this was all making a horrible kind of sense. "C'mon, just say it!"

Luke hesitated only a heartbeat. "When I'm dead," he said softly. "I can take it with me."

Han knew he was going to explode if he stared at that pale, too-thin face one moment longer. He wrenched his gaze from Luke's and turned, striding blindly back along the beach without thought for direction, the tension in his body rising to breaking point and commanding movement. It was the slight, stumbling hesitation in the footsteps behind him that made him slow his pace.

"Han? You think it was so easy, just walking away?"

Han wheeled. "I don't know--was it?" He made no attempt to check the scalding bitterness in his tone.

"It's what I saw in the Force--the choice that I had to make."

"Well, how can I possibly argue with the Force? Dammit, Luke..." Han spread his hands in a gesture of defeat, turning away again.

"Han...?"

The faint tremor in Luke's voice froze him.

"It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do."

Han turned back slowly and sighed, jamming his fists deep in his pockets. "I'm not leaving," he said quietly. "If you wanna die up here..." He let the sentence hang, finding he couldn't bring himself to complete it. "Just explain to me why it is I can't touch you."

"I told you." Luke hugged himself, feeling the ache in his chest expand.

"Yeah, well..." Han's voice softened a touch. "It's not exactly treating me like a potential meal, is it? More like a threat."

"Maybe because I'm holding it--"

"Cut the crap, Luke--I may not be a Jedi, but I've got eyes!" And nerve-endings... Han winced, reaching to rub his aching shoulder again. "You couldn't keep it from throwing me back there--what makes you think you could stop it from..." he shrugged, "doing whatever it does to people, if it wanted to? Face it--your 'thing' just doesn't like me--and not that I'm ungrateful, but I can't help asking why."

Threat. Survival...

A memory flashed through Luke's mind, of dark tendrils coiling themselves around the strong, slender threads of light that had once linked him to Han--and then recoiling, snapping back as though stung. That hadn't been his doing. His own shields had slammed into place a split second later, but that would still have been too late, except...

"It's afraid," Luke whispered.

"Of me? But with all you've told me, that makes about as much sense as--"

"No--not of you," Luke answered in a still, wondering voice, the answer flooding him like a revelation. "Of...us, Han. What you and I are, together."

"Us...?" Us. Han held out his hand, and saw that his fingers were trembling. "Touch me." Please...

Luke hesitated.

Han took a step forward. "C'mon..."

"No--it'll hurt you."

"And watching you die--how do you think that'll make me feel? Life or death, Luke--you gotta choose."

Choices. Always choices...

Luke took one step, tension rising in his body. Voices clamored in his mind, hissing and shouting at him, forbidding him...and then he did choose. He stumbled forward and Han caught him, crushing him possessively close, strong hands tangling in his hair--and darkness exploded around both of them. It screamed through his mind, razor claws cutting deep.

"Han--" He felt the tall body go rigid against his own, heard Han's broken gasp of pain. He pushed back against the solid chest, struggling to free himself. Powerful arms trapped him.

"No way, kid--not lettin' you go now..." Han's head sagged down, forehead settling against his shoulder.

"Han, I--"

"No! No. We're doin' this together."

Luke shuddered and buried his face in Han's neck, felt the tendons strung tight against his cheek. "Not worth this..." he whispered.

Han stiffened. He pulled his head back and caught Luke's face between his hands, tilting it towards his own. "Don't you ever say that--never! Understand?" He bent and covered Luke's mouth with his, kissing him fiercely.

He felt Luke struggle, trying to twist away, and looped an arm around the younger man's waist, pulling him tightly against himself. At first Luke's mouth was cold and unresponsive, refusing to yield under his. Then a tremor passed the length of the slender frame, and suddenly Luke's tongue was in his mouth, hands catching in his hair and pulling him down, deeper into the kiss.

Gods, kid, you taste good...

Luke was pushing insistently up against him now, strong fingers trapping his face. Stubble rasped against Han's lips, scraping them raw in seconds. It didn't matter--all that mattered was hanging on. He could feel the dark mist around them now, tendrils sliding over his skin with a burning, icy touch. The air seemed full of voices, shrieking howls of rage and anguish. He curved his body against Luke's, cradling him, stroking wet hair back from his forehead. He let his hands drift down, feather-light on the hot, damp skin, thumbs tracing the curve of Luke's throat.

Luke stretched upward into the kiss, twining both his arms around Han's shoulders, clinging to him. The voices screaming through his mind seemed distant now. Nothing felt as real as this--lips and teeth and tongue pressing down on him hard, his lover's breath finding its way deep into his body. He drew hungrily on Han's mouth, suddenly knowing this was the only thing that could fill the emptiness inside.

Han... He tasted his own tears in their kiss.

Han tasted them too. He drew back, catching Luke's face in his hands again, searching his eyes. "Luke?" His voice was shaking. Tell me what you need, lover...

"You're still so far away..." Luke broke the gentle grip and fastened his teeth on Han's neck, biting softly and making him gasp.

Han clenched his fists against Luke's back. Impatient hands were tugging at the fastenings on his shirt, baring his chest to the night air, to Luke's mouth. He bit his lip as a roughened cheek grazed his nipple, the harshness quickly followed by the warmth and softness of lips and tongue. Luke's hands traveled down over his midriff, opening his pants and pushing them down over his hips, fingertips tracing fiery circles on his flanks and belly and drawing a light, teasing caress up along the hardening length of his sex.

"Luke...?" It seemed strange, almost wrong, to be as aroused as he was under these circumstances.

Luke stepped back a little, his feverish gaze wide and solemn. "Han--?" A question. The darkness was flaring out around him, a black halo, ugly and menacing. "You've got to choose, too."

Luke felt his heart hammering an uneven rhythm against his ribcage. He was terrified Han would say no, equally terrified he would say yes. Afraid of falling alone, afraid of dragging Han down with him.

"C'mere." Han stepped forward into the dark aura, pulling Luke back into his arms and kissing him again, more gently now, slowing it down, hands and lips wandering over Luke's mouth, his eyelids, his damp forehead. "You. Whatever happens."

Luke shuddered--so hungry now for Han's touch, and still so certain that he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be letting this happen. Even if it was the only thing that could save him.

Han could feel the heat from Luke's body searing his bare skin, even through the layers of damp clothes that still separated them. He slid his hands under Luke's shirt and down over his back, finding the waistband of his pants and pushing down, hot skin sliding under his palms. He let his own pants drop the rest of the way to the ground, kicking them off along with his remaining boot.

Luke did the same, then hooked a bare leg over and around Han's thigh, locking their bodies together. He pushed in close, listening to the quickening pulse beneath taut skin. Han's voice in his ear was a breathless rasp.

"Is this right...? This is what you want?"

"Please, Han..." Luke drew his breath in, like a sob, a prayer. Need you...all of you.

Han reached down, twining his arms under each of Luke's thighs, felt strong arms close around his shoulders. He lifted Luke, slanting him forward and tilting his own hips down in the same movement. He didn't push. He held as still as he could, muscles trembling, as Luke wrapped his legs around his waist and took him inside, very slowly. He gasped, feeling the damp heat enclose him inch by inch, heard pain and pleasure and triumph in Luke's soft answering cry.

They held perfectly still for a moment. Luke buried his face against the collar of Han's shirt, unable to stop trembling. They were so close now, so intimately entwined, and yet... the distance between them seemed greater than ever. Luke reached blindly along the pathways that would once have connected them mind to mind, soul to soul. There was nothing there now--only blackness. He wanted to weep.

"You okay, kid?"

Luke managed a tiny nod. "Okay..."

"Yeah. Sure." Han's knees were starting to give out. He took one shaky step toward the ocean, then another. "Have to get in the water," he muttered in response to Luke's questioning groan. He felt, rather than saw, Luke nod in understanding.

Luke raised his head as he felt the ocean lapping around his legs, the water surprisingly warm on his skin. Rain was still falling softly, and tiny radiances sparkled where each drop hit the waves. The crests of the waves themselves were glowing, and a similar phosphorescence swirled around their bodies, trailing a wake of sparkling light behind them. He blinked. The shimmering lights didn't disappear.

"Han...? Do you see...?"

"Plankton," Han explained, his voice rough. "Storm must've brought them: they wash in on the warm currents. Glow when they're disturbed by anything."

Creatures of light.

"They're beautiful."

"You're beautiful." Han stopped. He was up to his chest now, the water easing the work of balancing Luke's weight in his arms. He freed one hand, stroking it down along a lean, too-warm flank, and rocked his hips very gently.

It was the merest suggestion of movement, but Luke gave a shuddering gasp, clamping his legs hard around Han's torso. Dark voices rushed through his mind, gibbering. When he opened his eyes again there were coils of blackness under the waves, spreading upwards and rising to enfold them both.

"Han--"

Han reached up, capturing his chin. "Don't look at it. Look at me."

Luke did neither. He closed his eyes and leaned forward into Han's kiss, driving urgently against the warm, hard body. Han braced him, guiding his movements but letting him set the pace. A moment later, Luke felt long fingers curl around his own erection, stroking it with gentle pressure. "Harder," he whispered in Han's ear, and felt the hand tighten.

Darkness rose up over them, sealing them into shadow. Luke moved with his eyes closed, existing only for the taste and feel of Han's mouth, the echoing pulse that moved back and forth between them, around them, inside him... but not in spirit. Only in body. He heard himself cry out, voice ragged, sobbing a strange mixture of anguish and pleasure.

Han crushed him close, slowing his movements. "Open up, Luke. Let me...touch you."

"Can't..." His soul cried for it, and every instinct told him that this was what they needed, the thing that could save them both--but walls were going up around him, locking him into an unbreakable silence.

"Yes--you have to..." Han was desperate, now, the intimacy of their bodies bringing his loneliness into sharp relief.

"Won't let me..."

"Yeah? You really think it's that powerful? Stronger n' you? Stronger than us? I don't believe that."

Please, Luke.

Han's voice breathed its way into Luke's mind, easing through the barriers like sun through mist, warm and irresistible. Luke stiffened. "How did you--" Han was somehow reaching across the void to touch him, able to do so only because he believed that he could.

C'mon, at least meet me halfway...

Can't... Luke felt the barriers strengthening around him.

Han shifted Luke in his arms, reaching to trap his chin again, forcing their eyes to meet. "Don't do this to me, kid--come on. Let me show you."

Luke trembled as light exploded into his mind, searing through the cold. There was no time for doubt or fear--waves of light and warmth washed through him, bathing and cocooning him.

This is you--what you are to me...you have no idea...

This is you, Han...

Us, then.

Silence for a moment. Then Luke drew Han's face to his, covering it with frantic kisses as the walls inside of him broke. He reached outward along the ruptured pathways and felt the light-threads mend themselves without thought or effort, the shock of connection resonating powerfully through both of them. He heard Han cry out--or maybe it was his own voice, he couldn't tell. It didn't matter. A single shudder wracked both their bodies, liquid heat erupting inside him. The dark tendrils were shattering, fragments spinning off in all directions, changing... transforming themselves, falling into the waves like stars.

Luke sagged forward, resting his head against Han's shoulder. Creatures of light...everything, all of us... He shivered violently, and then almost laughed. ...Didn't know we could do that...

A low chuckle sounded against his ear. You think there's anything we couldn't do, if we wanted? Warm lips brushed his neck. With Han, he tasted the saltiness of tears and water and sweat on his own skin. He sensed Han's smile without seeing it. Silence stretched out around them, spreading in infinite waves like the lapping of the ocean, broken only by the gentle brush of mind against mind.

Us, he whispered.

Yes...

A moment of quiet. Then Han shifted, muscles finally giving out. Luke slid down his body to stand leaning against him, listening to the slowing drumbeat of his heart. Rain was falling gently, leaving small trickles of coolness over their skin.

"Ready to go home, kid?"

Luke laughed softly. "We are home."

Han's arms tightened just perceptibly. "Yeah. Guess you're right."

Actions

Kudos

princewly, susiliv04, shyochka, Nenelight, hypothetically_writing, Astronomer, starelui, Nannu99, TheGargantuanDispleasure, singasirensong, SpringInSilver, Vampyrknight, Ewilian, Mar_DayDreamer, DragonDamsel, tinokravitz, SushiBurrito, theydjarin, elrhiarhodan, Sh1ft, pmarzanna, AngelCCG125, fuck_it_i_tried, Arandomlarry, RunawayVoices, kingofbees, delgay, flightlesscages, MercutioValentine, Lilmarman, trynabcalm, daffodil_linger, SwanUnderTheWillow, rodania, CaffeinatedInsomiac, Tonixa, Cassiopeia_Black, my_daroga, lazygenius98, Adi_Holm_89, Jadenite, Thissentiment, KleptoMinnow, itsthefullmonty, Ray07, WriterInTh3Clouds, tari_vilya, justlawyerthings, Hinawari, horusporus, and 97 more users as well as 123 guests left kudos on this work!

Archive of Our Own

Actions

Work Header