Remorse Without Regret

By zoodenizen

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"You're surprisingly chipper tonight," a smoky voice said from just behind him.

Han turned and offered a tentative smile to the woman who'd just spoken. Even after all this time he still felt a little awkward around her. No matter how many times she'd reassured him there were no hard feelings.

He always wondered if she was only saying that for Luke's sake.

"Hey, who wouldn't be happy about being stuffed into an Aptenodyte suit and forced to talk to a bunch of priss...er...classy politicians?" He replied, in a close approximation of his usual insouciant way.

Leia's smile in return wasn't at all uncertain, but then she was a highly skilled diplomat.

He cursed his heretofore entirely unsuspected insecurity and shifted so that he wasn't facing her directly. His eyes darted around the room while he tried to think of something to say or, preferably, some reason to run away.

This time she chuckled, before taking a sip of the ridiculously over priced grape juice that they always served at these things, often in fragile-looking glasses that he was afraid to pick up lest he snap the stem like a twig.

Despite that fear, and his dislike of the bubbly stuff, he grabbed a flute from the tray a passing droid carried and took a sip. Then, made a face. He hated this...

"I never thought I'd ever see the arrogant, self-assured Han Solo cowering and out of sorts."

He winced, but didn't respond. She had a right to snipe at him, to say whatever she wanted to him. He'd treated her badly, had hurt her because of his own stupidity and weakness. So, he’d stand here and take whatever she had to dish out.

She sighed, and then leaned up on tip-toes to press a chaste kiss on his cheek. Hand still resting on his shoulder, where she'd put it to maintain her balance, she said, "I forgive you, Han. I forgave you months ago. You can't help who you love."

She stepped away and continued, "The only thing I couldn't have forgiven you for would have been staying with me when you wanted to be with him. I would have hated you for doing that to all of us." And, with one last sad smile she turned and walked away.

He watched her go, taking in her beauty -- the elaborately styled hair that accented her slender neck, the subtle cosmetics that made her eyes look darker and her mouth softer and fuller, the long, gauzy, lilac gown that alternately revealed and concealed her slender curves with every step -- and seeing other, more covetous eyes following her as well.

And, quite couldn’t understand the need he saw in them. It should have been his first clue, of course. He’d always seen Leia as a beautiful woman, but, right from the beginning, he’d been more interested in winding Luke up by leering at her or, more tellingly, worrying that she’d steal Luke away.

Back then he’d dismissed that fear as nothing more than the natural concern that a woman would come between two close friends. Later, he’d realized that there’d been jealousy mixed up in there, too. And he’d been right, just not about the reasons.

He’d spent a long time in denial. It was what his whole relationship with Leia had been -- him wanting one thing and settling for another.

It was terrible and unfair -- to all of them -- and the reason why he couldn’t accept her absolution.

Worse yet, it might have continued indefinitely, if not for Luke’s disappearance on Kenz’uure. He might have married her and had a family with her and they would have been...content. But, he always would have had that one undeniable, haunting regret that would have left its taint on every part of their lives.

It was just that he hadn’t known, hadn’t even considered the idea that Luke could love him too. Didn’t know why, exactly. Maybe he’d thought Luke’s upbringing wouldn’t have allowed for it. Maybe he’d thought he’d learned a long time ago that that kind of happiness didn’t really exist.

He could love with everything he had, but couldn’t be loved that way in return. Bitter experience had taught him that painful truth.

But, he’d been wrong. He’d never loved like this before, never known the other half of his soul. Otherwise he’d have recognized for what it was that feeling of comfort and familiarity that had allowed him to start teasing Luke seconds after they’d met.

He’d been a fool.

Setting his mostly full glass down on a nearby table, he shrugged off the unsettled feelings Leia always inspired in him now. No matter how many times she said everything was fine, he’d never quite believe it, never really let go of the guilt he had over using her, even if he hadn’t meant to. It was a shame. They’d been good friends once.

He went back to what he’d been doing before Leia’s arrival and scanned the crowd for his reason for being at this boring, stuffy shindig. It didn’t take him any time at all to spot Luke. That fair hair of his shone like a beacon in the bright yellow-white light of the ballroom.

He’d been watching Luke from a quiet corner all night, when Luke wasn’t right here beside him anyway. But, while he could stay out of the way, ignored by the nobility around them, Luke couldn’t. Too many people wanted to bend the ear of the galaxy’s only remaining Jedi or worse.

Too many people wanted something from Luke and while he was every bit as good at playing nice as his sister was, the demands on him weren’t quite the same.

And, that damned sensitivity of his, which was fantastic when they were in bed together and Luke new what he wanted even before he did, was hell on the kid when out in a crowd. He could block most of it, but didn’t because he might need the advanced warning those feelings could reveal. Mostly, though, what he felt was the hunger behind wanting looks the equal number of which Han had just seen directed at Leia.

So, he stood here in the background, watching Luke, ready to rescue him from anyone who got too lecherous or that Han just plain didn’t like.

He spent a lot of time rescuing Luke at these things. And, so what if it was more the latter than the former that inspired his action? Luke liked teasing him about it.

Without taking any notice of who Luke was with, he quickly headed to his lover. They’d been here long enough and he was more than ready to get the hell out of here.

He’d had more than enough soul searching and boredom.

Luke looked over at him and must have sensed his intention because he said something to the man next to him and walked away, coming to meet Han halfway.

Sort of a metaphor for their relationship.

Luke smiled at him when they came together and Han couldn’t help it. He leaned down to kiss that mouth. Nothing too carnal, wouldn’t want to arouse the masses and besides what he and Luke shared was private, just for the two of them.

When they separated Luke said, “Ready to leave?”

“More than,” Han said, with feeling.

“Then let’s go,” Luke said and, taking his hand, lead them away from the maddening crowd and towards something better.

Just like he always had, even before Han smartened up and noticed.

***The End***