The party is starting to wind down. The bride and groom have long-since made their escape, and Han is proud. His little girl is all grown up and married, on her way to her honeymoon with her new husband. Han plans on gathering a few of his buddies, now that his duties as father of the bride are over, and having a little after-party. Leia's occupied with mother of the bride things, such as taking care of the dress Jaina just changed out of, and the various gifts and offerings for the happy couple.

He pats his pockets as he heads back towards the Falcon to fetch his specially-purchased-and-reserved bottle of Whyren's Reserve. But when he gets there, he finds that it's gone.

Baffled, Han heads back into the reception to find Leia and ask if she moved his whiskey. It's as he's scanning the crowd to locate her that he notices the head of the bride's honour guard is missing.

Han sighs. He knows where his whiskey's gone. Now he just needs to locate the man who "borrowed" it.

Making his way over to Luke, he asks, "Hey, you see where Kyp went?"

His brother-in-law gets a distant look on his face, then nods slowly. "He's two decks down, in one of the crew lounges. Han-"

"Yeah. I'll deal with this."

Luke's blue eyes study his face, then the Grand Master nods. "Okay."

Han leaves the reception, makes his way to the nearest turbolift. It isn't that hard to find the lounge, and what he finds makes his heart sink.

There's only one occupant in the room, and he's in the far corner, sitting on the floor, a half-empty bottle of Whyren's next to him. Kyp Durron leans against the wall, legs stretched before him, head back and eyes closed. Han doesn't need the Force to know two things: Kyp is most definitely drunk, and he's heartbroken.

Actually, Han thinks, this is the only time in thirty years that he's seen Kyp drunk.

There go his plans for an after-party. He's got a disaster to deal with. Sighing, Han steps into the lounge and locks the door behind him. He doesn't want any interruptions.

Feeling suddenly much older than his years, Han crosses the room and stiffly lowers himself to sit beside his friend.

"Some party, huh, kid?" he asks. "That's my whiskey, by the way."

Kyp doesn't respond. Han wonders if he's passed out. He's been hanging around Jedi for over forty years, and though Luke doesn't drink, Han knows how much it takes to take one down when it comes to alcohol. Kyp's one of the strongest Jedi, and Han figures half a bottle of Whyren's would probably do it.

He knows why Kyp's holed himself up here, by himself, with the strongest alcohol he could get his hands on. He isn't angry about the theft of the whiskey. Mostly, he just feels old and tired.

He's known since Jaina was nineteen how Kyp feels about her. When she was younger, he thought the age difference was too great. It doesn't matter so much now. Except Jaina just married somebody else.

Han grasps the bottle, tries to pick it up, but Kyp's hand tightens and he finally opens his eyes. They're bloodshot already, which makes the green of his irises brighter.

"You know, drinking alone isn't as fun," Han remarks mildly.

"I wanted to be alone."

Han nods. "I know."

He wants to tell Kyp he understands how he feels, but the truth is, he doesn't. Sure, there was a time where Leia almost married somebody else, but in the end, it didn't happen. And Leia had never wanted to marry Isolder in the first place.

He's known Kyp since he was sixteen, over three decades now. He still sees that skinny, malnourished teenager when he looks at the man sitting next to him, even if Kyp is a Jedi Master now.

Kyp lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a drink. "The bride and groom still holding court?"

"No, they took off."

The younger man closes his eyes. Han plucks the bottle out of his hands and has a sip himself.

"For what it's worth, Kyp, I didn't want her to marry Jag."

Kyp snorts, shutting his eyes again. "Yeah. Well."

"Yeah."

They sit in silence for a long while, not speaking. Kyp takes the bottle back and swallows a large mouthful. Han isn't sure what to say in the face of his friend's pain. They've never discussed it, but Han knows Kyp loves his daughter. It pains him to see his friend hurting.

"I'm sorry."

Kyp slits an eye. "For what?"

"You know what."

Kyp's sharp features contort for a moment and he looks down. His breath hitches, and Han wonders if his friend is going to cry.

But Kyp is stronger than that. He takes a shuddering breath, holds it, and slowly exhales. He squeezes his eyes tighter and presses his hands to his face.

"I've tried for so long," he mumbles, "to let her go. I knew this was coming. When she got engaged, I knew. But I didn't think it was going to hurt this much."

Han slings his arm around Kyp's shoulders. "I'm just her father. My opinion isn't worth much. But I was rooting for you."

Kyp makes a derisive noise and thunks his head against the wall. "I appreciate it, Han, for what little it's worth," he rasps.

Privately, Han thinks it was really insensitive of Jaina to have Kyp be the head of her honour guard. Only thing that would have rubbed his face in it more would have been to ask him to walk her down the aisle. But Jaina's done a lot of things for Jag that Han's thought questionable.

"I don't want Jag as my son-in-law," Han says, taking the bottle. He's feeling a pretty good buzz himself, and he wonders if Kyp will even be able to stand. "He's not my favourite person, never has been."

"Yeah, he's an Imperial."

Han has other reasons than that for disliking his newest family member, but it isn't his place to tell Kyp about them, much as he wants to.

Kyp reaches for the bottle, stops, and drops his hands into his lap. "I don't know what to do now," he says brokenly, and Han reconsiders his "too strong to cry" assessment. "I feel like I can't breathe."

And then the Jedi Master breaks down, folding in on himself with a sound not unlike a wounded animal. Han awkwardly pats Kyp's back as the younger man hunches over, heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, and sobs.

Han sips at the whiskey, not speaking. He's had enough pain in his life that he knows, even if men aren't supposed to, sometimes a good cry is the best thing for it. That Kyp Durron, Jedi Master and Destroyer of Worlds, is crying because his heart's been shattered, is something that will never leave this room.

Han knows he hasn't been the best friend he could be to Kyp in recent years, mostly because it's awkward, Kyp being in love with Jaina and Jaina in love with someone else. But right now, he'll be where he's needed, and that's right here, with the kid he rescued from the dark of Kessel, the kid who in turn rescued Jaina from the dark of the Force.

His commlink beeps. For a moment, he considers not answering it, but he pulls it from his pocket.

"Solo."

It's Leia. "Han? Where are you?"

"I'm fine. I'm having a drink with Kyp."

There's a long silence. Leia, too, knows of Kyp's feelings. Actually, Han doubts there's anyone in the Jedi Order who doesn't know. "Oh," she says, in a subdued tone. "Take your time. You need Luke?"

"Nah. We'll be fine."

She signs off. Han squeezes Kyp's shoulder and sighs.

"We're gonna be fine," he says. "Eventually."