Where He Belonged
by Elizabeth Stuart
He waited breathlessly for Han to appear. It was like this every night. It began early, with his pulse speeding as if in a race with his heart, his face feeling hot and flushed, his mouth dry. The unmistakable signs of love. Love. What a small word for such immense, endless feelings. When he was with Han, the universe came alive for him again, the way it had when he was a child filled with innocent, unknowing happiness. He could be just Luke again, not the enlightened sage nor the pious Jedi nor the endlessly-chased prey of the Dark hunter. With Han, he could be a lovesick, aging boy, free to indulge in laughter and romantic games or explore the netherworld of dangerous passions.
With Han, he could be anyone. With Han, he was where he belonged.
He heard the slightest noise, and his lips curved. Without turning, without speaking, he waited for his lover. Hot breath caressed the back of neck, and he bowed his head to feel the warmth on his nape. "I like that," he whispered. "I like the way it makes me feel."
"Lukewarm," Han teased quietly.
His eyes closed in pleasurable anticipation. It would be one of those nights, the kind that caressed his gentler nature. Perversely, he wanted to postpone the happiness.
He turned and smiled into the hazel eyes. "Hi."
"Hi, yourself, kid."
There had been a time when that nickname had grated on his nerves. He'd hated Han for using it. Now... Luke grinned. With a deliberately provocative look, he strolled to the sofa and sat down, stretching against the arm. Han cocked his head sideways as if to question his motives, then followed. He leaned against the opposite arm. They watched each other, not touching.
"You feeling better?"
He lowered his eyes and nodded. He knew what Han was asking, what he'd asked every day in the weeks since they'd returned from Crseih. At first he'd denied responsibility for his words and acts, blaming the resonations of the crystal star for his strange behavior, accusing Waru of manipulating him. But Han had refused to accept the falsehoods and had pressed him until he admitted the truth: That Luke Skywalker was walking the edge, crumbling slowly, losing pieces of himself bit by bit. Too many responsibilities, too many expectations, no time to live. No time to be. Waru's offer to take him-- kill him-- had been too seductive to resist. So easy to let go his unhappiness, to seek oblivion. Because what he wanted he would never have, could never hope to touch. When they'd departed for that journey, he'd believed that spending weeks alone with Han would be paradise, no matter than Han didn't return his feelings. But Han had been critical and impatient, and then the woman had come. And Han had cared for her.
He'd thought his heart had been broken too often, that he'd seen too much, that it couldn't happen again. But it had. Now, he blushed at the memory of his actions-- nearly drawing his saber on Han, so crazed with jealousy after she'd spent the night-- and those terrible betraying words, "What do you need her for?" Waru's offer had seemed the only escape from his humiliation. From the end of Han's friendship with him.
He'd seen it in Han's eyes-- the dawning realization of Luke's feelings, the knowledge that could no longer be denied. And Luke had fled to Waru, would have succeeded in escaping if not for Leia's interference. She'd saved him-- not knowing that he loved her husband, that he was her rival.
And now he had Han. He'd won.
"Hey."
He looked up, saw a deep concern laced through the fond gaze. He smiled faintly and was rewarded by a lightening of the ghosts that haunted them.
"You think too much."
"So I've been told." He tilted his head sideways and rested his cheek against the sofa back. "I can't believe this has finally happened."
"That's another one of your problems."
It was a joking remark, but it reminded him of Yoda. Believe, Luke Skywalker, believe. If you don't believe, it will all fade away and you'll be left with nothing. "I love you," he said with quiet desperation.
"I know." The grin was crooked and heart-wrenchingly familiar. "Love you, too," Han said casually.
His breath caught in his throat. Han had never-- "You do?"
This was tempting the gods-- if there were any gods. This was asking too much, straining too far, this was arrogant, flagrant--and delicious. He flirted from under his lashes. "Tell me why."
Laughter flowed, open and delighted. "You got guts, Skywalker! I'm a man of action, not a talker. I'd rather show you than tell you."
Happiness quivered through him as though the tight strings that held him together had been plucked and played with skilled fingers. "Show me later. For now...tell me." He added a silent plea, telling Han with his eyes that he needed the words.
The smile softened. One hand reached out, then dropped. "No touching? Okay." Han sighed. "Ah, Luke, what kind of words can I give you? You must have heard it all by now-- "
"I've heard nothing," he whispered. "Nothing. Ever." There was an odd feeling in his chest. The hollowness that was always within him seemed to be crying. He could almost hear the echo of it in his ears. "Han-- "
They were so closely attuned now; Han leaned toward him. "Luke... don't. I'm here. I love you. You'll never be alone again."
He shook his head and turned it aside. Such beautiful words could never be true, not for him. It had been so long, his entire life. No one had ever loved him. And he had loved no one but Han. Once there had been Callista and he'd cared about her; now he could barely remember what she'd meant to him. She hadn't been what he needed; she hadn't the strength. There had only ever been Han for him. And all he had been able to do was watch. Watch and fall in love. Watch and break his heart. Watch his second soul court and wed his sister. Years he'd wasted watching them. Sometimes he stayed close to them so he could share their secrets. Sometimes his strength shattered and sent him fleeing across the galaxy, searching for peace, searching for blessed oblivion. Searching, always searching ...until Crseih. Until the hidden quiet place in his heart had burst forth and declared itself alive and in need.
Like a miracle of legend, Han had answered him. And brought him home where he belonged. Home to Han's heart.
"Pay attention if you want to hear why I love you."
He lifted his head abruptly, blinking back tears he would never shed. What use crying for the lost boy or the desolate adult, when they were gone and he was left, happy and loved and terrified of it all? "I'm listening," he said softly.
Han interlaced his fingers and pulled one knee onto the cushion. "I've always loved you, Luke. There's always been so much about you I've admired. Your unquenchable spirit, your ability to survive no matter how badly you were hurt. The way you loved me, Leia, the kids-- and now I know what a price that love must have extracted from you. I love you for surviving that. For keeping it inside you-- " Han shook his head. "I don't understand how you could do it. I couldn't have. I loved you as a friend. Once, long ago, I thought we could be more, but I was afraid to act on it. It was easier to love Leia."
"I was afraid, too."
"But you never showed it." Admiration glowed in the eyes, showed in the mock scowl. "Why didn't it show?"
"I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk losing you forever. In every way."
"That's just like you." Han shook his head. Silver strands shone in the thick brown. Luke wondered when they'd appeared. And why.
"Just like me?"
"To keep it inside. You must have been hurting like hell all these years, but you never let it show."
"Never?" Surely there had been moments, little slips, short glances of longing and jealousy.
"Not until Crseih. Not until Xaverri."
A flame of anger rippled through his mind. The woman. He couldn't hate Leia; she was his sister, she was part of him, and, through her, he'd become part of Han. But Xaverri was no one, a stranger, someone Han had once loved.
"And I thought you didn't trust me with her. That you were watching out for Leia." Han laughed shortly. "But you were looking' out for your own interests, weren't you? You sure had me fooled."
Anxiety curled in his gut. This wasn't right. Han sounded...scornful. Bitter. "I'm sorry," he whispered uneasily. "I didn't plan it to happen. I didn't mean-- "
"Didn't you?" Suddenly the sofa bounced as Han stood. He walked across the room and whirled around, a sudden, unexpected wave of fury radiating from him.
Luke watching him wordlessly, even in his anxiety able to admire the long legs and envision them stretched against his own. He watched Han pace, comparing him to wild animals he had seen in his travels. Long, lean, full of leashed power. Hands that could kill man or beast-- or cup his lover's face as though it were as fragile as fine crystal.
"How do I know? Maybe you planned the whole thing. Just you and me on this mission, you said. What did you think would happen? That I couldn't resist you if we were alone together? You think you're that hot, kid?" Eyes, fierce and proud, pinned him in place. "I hadn't thought of you that way in years. You used your mind on me, didn't you? You used the Force! Is that what this is all about? Did you give me a choice or did you make me love you?"
He looked away from the intensity. Had he? Had he become so desperate that he'd used his powers to make Han his unwilling lover? Straining his mind, he thought back, trying to remember what had happened after the mission had ended...
...Coruscant's sun moved slowly and appeared to hover on the horizon. Luke lingered in the beautiful arboreal maze that graced the formal gardens, resting for a few minutes before going in to dinner with his family. The marble bench held the warmth of day, and it felt good against the muscles that were still so sore from the stresses he'd experience on Crseih. There were many days, and this was one of them when he felt ancient, as if he'd lived forever. Now, despite his weariness, he had so much to consider-- Waru, the feelings I had about Waru's offer to join him, to merge with him and discover the peace of ultimate power and understanding-- or oblivion, blessed oblivion--
"We need to talk-- "
He started, his heart thudding wildly. Han? Love, have you come for me?
"-- about Luke."
It only took a half-second to realize that Han was on the other side of the thick shrubbery and that he was not the one being addressed.
"What about him?"
Leia. He should let them know he was here, but his curiosity was aroused. What are you going to say about me? Are you going to tell Leia how we feel?
Are you going to choose between us?
Choose me, Han... choose me.
"He-- Look, sweetheart, I know you love him, but he's getting very strange. On this trip-- "
"He was under the influence of the star's forces. You can't blame him for the way he acted."
"I'm not. That's not what I'm talking about. Something else was wrong with him. Even before we got there-- he was weird, but he wasn't unusually weird. He's been getting... odder... as the years pass. You must have seen it, Leia. He's so isolated, never has a woman-- or anyone else. I tried to talk to him, but it's like he's paralyzed-- he doesn't react to anything I say. Don't try to tell me he's normal. Maybe he was once, but he's not anymore."
Weird? Isolated? Not normal? --Han?
--And you think I don't want someone to share my life? You think that one sweet glance on Hoth, that one breathless moment all those years ago didn't make me long for tenderness? You see how much I want you, want to come to you. But I don't know how!-- why can't I ever seem to--
"Love," Leia said softly. "He can't love."
Can't love? Luke froze his tumultuous feelings into a very small corner of his heart. He slowed his breathing and remained totally motionless.
"What?"
"He can't love anymore," she repeated, sadness coloring her words. He could feel it even without the Force. "It's been years since I've sensed any love coming from him. He'd lay down his life for us-- if he couldn't find another way-- but he can't love us. Not us, not our children, not his students, not himself-- no one. He's so alone, Han. And I don't know what to do about it. I worry about him, too. Often."
"Yeah, so do I. But Leia... I'm more worried about our kids."
"What do you mean?" Alarm ricocheted through her voice.
Luke felt its echoes reach deep inside him, tearing at his heart with cruel fingers. Don't you know, gods! don't you know I would never hurt your children? What can you think of me? How can you believe-- ?
"The way he is with Jaina and Jacen-- but especially Anakin. He's teaching them Jedi ways, but are they the right ways, Leia? Luke is so humorless, so... black... at times. Aren't those signs of the Dark Side?"
The Dark... Anger, fear, aggression-- these are from the Dark Side. Once you start down the Dark path...
...forever will it dominate your destiny...
"He wouldn't deliberately-- "
"I'm not saying it's deliberate. But our kids are so sensitive-- could they be picking up these feelings? You feel it-- why wouldn't they? Hell, I'm no Jedi and I notice it."
"I... don't know."
Could they? Why have I never thought of that-- gods, could they? Is Han right-- am I hurting the children?
"And Anakin. I don't like the way Luke is with him. Anakin dotes on him. Anakin imitates him! And Luke-- Luke... watches him. It gives me the creeps. Do you think he sees himself in Anakin?"
...Anakin... Anakin... please don't take Anakin from me, not my sweet Anakin... the baby I'll never have...
There was a long silence from Leia. "Sometimes I think," she said slowly, "that we made a mistake in naming him. I've wondered if Luke sees our father in our son."
"Vader?"
Father?
"Yes. Maybe he sees a chance to redeem Anakin Skywalker through Anakin Solo. To... to make our Anakin live the life Luke wishes his father had lived, to grow into the man Vader should have been. I don't know, Han. It's so confusing. I wish I could see clearly. All I really see is that Luke is very fragile in his-- his spirit, I suppose. He's always looking for someone or something to surrender to. Someone to take over, to ease his burden."
"Like Waru. He wanted to go with Waru, even knowing that he could die. That's not what I want my kids learning."
Take me over, take me away, take me someplace where I never have to worry again, I never have to teach anyone, I never have to always, always, always be strong and fight the Dark, because I'm so tired and so alone--
"So what are you saying? Do you want him to stop teaching them?"
"Hell, yes, I want him to stop-- so do you. And there's more. Leia... it's been nearly fifteen years since we met him. We're married, with our own family. Why-- damnit, I don't want to be cruel, but why can't he get his own life?"
"His own life?"
"Aw, you know what I mean! He lives here, for Sith's sake! He's always in your mind or the kids' minds--or he's actually right here with us. I feel like I have no damn privacy. I love him, too, but I didn't marry him--I married you. I'm sorry if you don't like it but-- "
...Han said he loves me...
"I understand, Han. I wouldn't put it as harshly, but... sometimes I feel... "
"You want him out of here, too."
"Not for always. Just... sometimes. I'd like to have a life of our own, without having to worry about what trouble he's getting into or having to emotionally support him. It drains me. It's difficult enough having the children's Force senses to interact with, but having Luke, too-- it's exhausting."
You want me to go away, precious sister? I have no life-- my life is over-- my life never began, my life has always wrapped around yours, you took my love-- And you want me to go away? No Han, no sister, no impish Jedi twins, no sweet Anakin, no home, no family--
No father, no mother, no family. Nothing has changed. All my life and nothing has changed.
"I always say that Jedi are more trouble than they're worth."
But we're worth loving, Han. You love me.
"But you don't mean Jedi-- you mean Luke, is that it?"
Han sighed. "Damn. I don't know. I-- yes. I'm tired of pulling him out of jams. I'm tired of him freaking out on me and going weird. I'm tired of the strange things he says. There's something wrong with him-- besides the Jedi stuff, I mean. He's gotten peculiar, Leia. He's not the bright young kid we used to know."
Han? You love me-- remember? I read your heart on Crseih. Let me remind you-- just look inside yourself and see--
"I wish I could disagree with anything you've said-- I really wish I could. I-- I've thought so much about this. But what can we do, Han? I can't tell him to leave. We can't desert him. He doesn't have anyone else."
"Hell, you're the diplomat. Can't you come up with a diplomatic way of saying 'go away for awhile' that doesn't sound like 'go away forever'?"
Go away, brother, just get the hell out of our lives! Is that what you want to say, Leia? You're jealous-- you know Han loves me!
"No, I can't! He's my brother no matter what and-- " Her voice broke and a sob was stifled. "I'm cold. I want to go inside. It's...it's almost time for dinner. And Luke will be there. I don't want him to suspect-- "
"Yeah, by all means. Let's go in and have dinner with your brother like we do every damn night."
You're only upset, Han. These feelings are so new... you don't understand them. But it's so simple--
...Love me, Han.
...Just love me.
He was mute. It surprised him only slightly when he found himself still sitting on the sofa in his cheerless room at the old base on Yavin. Yavin where he'd fled to live with the whispering ghosts of the past. Han was watching him, accusing, angry, and yet-- Yet there was love in his eyes.
He was so confused.
Forcing himself to his feet, he moved slowly, slower than old Kenobi had. If Han loved him, he could face anything, fight anything, defeat anything. This Darkness that threatened to devour him could be pushed aside. The riot in his heart could be stilled, this strange disorientation vanquished. If only Han loved him. If only the feelings were real, not something he'd fanned with the fires of the Force.
They stood face to face now. He wanted to reach out with his mind, but he was afraid. The answer was in Han's eyes, if he could read it. The hazel color had deepened, offering warmth with the flickers of flame, offering what he needed if he was strong enough to take it. Luke's fingers reached out slowly to brush Han's cheek.
They found nothing solid, only empty space. His hand dropped, and the image wavered and vanished. He'd failed again. He was not strong enough to keep the vision he'd conjured. Not strong enough for the illusion, never strong enough for the reality. Han was still on Coruscant with his wife and children.
Where he belonged.
End
Sequel: Crystal Jedi