Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or its affiliates. This a non-profit work.
Note: This story is set shortly after eps. VI (Return of the Jedi)
Alone
Chapter I
"Reload."
The bartender spared a quick glance at the cloaked man before sliding another drink towards him.
From beneath the dark folds of his robes, the man contemplated the murky blue contents of the glass. After a moment, he tipped his head back to swallow it. "Reload."
***
Han Solo wiped a sweaty palm on his already damp pants. He smiled at the less then friendly look on the face of the Barabel sitting across from him. Han glanced at his cards nonchalantly. Not bad, he thought. Finally, the Barabel slammed down his cards. Han barely contained his sigh of relief.
"Well, looks like I win again." Han grinned as he began to sweep the credits towards himself. The Barabel's jaws clicked with an ominous snap. "I don't think sssoo human." He hissed.
Han's hand flew to his blaster. Han spoke soothingly. "Woah, no hard feelings, right pal?" The Barabel snarled.
Suddenly, something caught Han's eye. "What the…" he muttered. Han stood up. "Listen, take the money-too easy to get anyway." Han grinned again. The Barabel gave a low growl, but quickly snatched the credits into its long claws.
Turning away from the table, Han narrowed his eyes at the figure seated at the bar. "It couldn't be…" The man leaned back in his chair; for a moment his cloak opened partway. Han's eyes widened as he saw the flash of a silver lightsaber handle. What the heck is Luke doing here? Han strolled casually towards the bar.
"Luke?" Han asked uncertainly. Luke's shoulders tensed. "What do you want Han?" Han paused at Luke's cold tone. He watched as Luke threw his head back to swallow the full glass in front of him.
Han gave a grunt of surprise. "Never knew you could drink like that." He said mildly. Luke smiled bitterly. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Han." Luke said in a slightly slurred voice. He slammed his glass down. "Another," he called to the bartender.
Han eyed the numerous empty glasses surrounding Luke. He coughed. "Hey Luke, maybe you've had enough." Luke picked up the tumbler and raised it to his lips. "Not yet," he muttered.
Han put a hand on Luke's shoulder. "Look, kid-"Suddenly, Luke was out of his chair and had Han slammed against a wall. His arm pressed against Han's throat. "Don't call me 'kid'." Luke spat. Han struggled to breathe as he stared into Luke's fevered eyes.
This is it, he thought. I'm dead. All at once, the pressure on Han's throat disappeared. Han crumpled to the ground, gasping. A breath of air brushed him as Luke's robes whipped past.