When I Wasn't Looking
by Irene Heron


Archive: SWAL and Elusive Lover
Category: POV
Disclaimer: This was written for personal enjoyment only. No profit is intended.
Pairing: H/Lu
Rating: PG
Summary: Luke's reaction to what passed between himself and Han during a revised scene in that icy Hoth hangar. This is a companion piece to Destina Fortunato's Hoth has dwindled in my rear scopes, and the blockade is far behind us. It was way too easy to slip something as small as an X-wing through. Why the Imps didn't deploy their fighters is beyond me. Not that I want them to be any more efficient than they already are, of course.

Artoo bleeped again, showing concern as he double checked my calculations and pointed out possible human error resulting from exhaustion. He reminded me I've just been through a major battle and am still recovering from the Wampa's attack. Yeah, my body knows all that, believe me, Artoo.

"We're not gonna regroup with the others," I told him and he gave me one of those thoughtful little wheedles in response. "We're going to the Dagobah system."

His next question was brief and soft, like he's not sure how I might respond. "Yes, Artoo?"

Irritated as I am with his constant interruptions and questions, I can't help but smile when I read the translation of his chatter on my interface display. This droid has more personality than most people I know.

"That's all right. I'd like to keep it on manual for a while."


I'm going to Dagobah--not to the rendezvous. Wish I understood how I knew what course to set, because Dagobah wasn't on any of the charts I checked. The Force is guiding me, I guess, or maybe it's Ben or this Yoda fellow. There's a lot I still don't know, but I do know that going to Dagobah is what I have to do, not what I want to do. What I want to do is have Artoo calculate the fastest course to Tatooine, because that's where Han is going, to finally settle things with Jabba. Can't help but think I'm the reason he took so long to do it, and don't want to think about how dangerous it is.

I saw the Millennium Falcon burst out of the hangar only a few minutes before Artoo and I lifted off. Typical Han Solo bravado, flying out right under the imperials' noses. I bet he and Chewie were still tweaking the Falcon when the snowtroopers ran into the hangar. I know they're safely past the blockade by now and on their way. And I wonder when next I'll see Han, or even if the currents of time will let us meet again. Something tells me we will. For a change, I have a good feeling about this. I have to remember to tell Han that--it'll make him laugh.

Alone in my cockpit, out here in the silence of the stars, I can finally think about what happened today. Not the battle, not the loss of good friends and companions, not the abandoned base or what this defeat means for the rebellion. I can think about what happened between Han and me.

He's my friend, the truest friend I've ever had, and that isn't enough.

A look. Two words. A kiss. And suddenly everything was different. It wasn't just me anymore, with my hormones and fantasies working overtime. I wasn't imagining things and I wasn't alone in what I felt.

When I climbed into my snowspeeder right after that kiss, Dack asked me if I was feeling all right. I told him I felt just like new. He thought I meant I was recovered from my injuries, but that wasn't how it felt to me. More like I'd been reborn, with all those feelings I hadn't wanted to examine too closely surging to the surface and things I'd never dared hope suddenly gaining substance.

I had to see Han one last time, but words proved completely impossible. It never occurred to me he wouldn't be able to find the right words either. Han always had the right words, always knew how to ease a situation. I was more than a little stunned to realize he couldn't overcome the moment with his usual irony. Too surprised even to understand what his silence meant. So we just looked at each other and only Force knows what I said with that look. 'Be careful' is what he finally said. I didn't expect him to climb down from his work and come after me. Never expected him to grab hold of me and kiss me with such desperate ferocity. Never expected to see the same hunger in him that I've hidden for too long. Hidden for no reason whatsoever, because he felt it too, and I was too dumb and naïve to see it. A few glorious seconds were all we had, with Chewie standing right there and alarms blaring and the abyss of uncertain future under our feet. We said everything we could with that one kiss, and it wasn't nearly enough. I'm not sure there's enough kisses, or words, or even time, in the universe.

It was the sweetest and most wrenching moment of my life and there was nothing I could do except say 'You too' and walk away. And curse our timing and general stupidity. Only much later did it occur to me to be angry with Han, because he's the one with experience in this kind of thing.

I took that moment into battle with me, the hot taste of his tongue and a sense of completion, of belonging, something I'd begun to doubt I would ever feel. Even more than the Force, my determination to return to Han, to have the chance to explore what we started in that hangar, was what kept me alive during that battle.

All my life I've wanted to belong somewhere. I never belonged on Tatooine. Now that I think about it, I guess I never belonged anywhere, or to anyone. Certainly not to the parents I never knew, or to Owen and Beru, though I know they loved me. I don't even belong to this rebellion, not the way Leia does, or Wedge. I've always been an outsider.

Han's an outsider, too. Is that why we're drawn to each other? My earliest memories are of loneliness, of feeling empty inside. I've been searching my whole life for something to fill that void inside me, and being with Han comes closest to doing that. Han and the Force, but unlike the Force, Han is real, tangible.

I can touch Han, and oh how I want to touch him. Not as a friend but as a lover, with the tenderness and wonder I was taught I should feel toward women only. I'm not supposed to think another man is beautiful or desirable. At least that's how it worked on Tatooine, but I've learned since then that not everyone limits themselves in this fashion. I want Han to touch me as a lover. I want his mouth against mine again, his hands on my skin, holding me close. I want to see his eyes when we make love and know that what we share means more than simple comfort or gratification. Friends and lovers--that's not impossible, is it?

Leia told me several times I'm the most romantic person she's ever met. Not a very flattering description perhaps, but I suppose it's true compared to her. She doesn't have many illusions, or maybe delusions is a better word. It's funny that she and Han would be so much alike, practical and focused. Maybe that's why I've been attracted so strongly to both of them.

Through all the losses of those last two days on Tatooine, two memories still shine, untarnished by the distance. My first glimpse of Leia, remote, unreal and utterly beyond my grasp. My first glimpse of Han, close, real and touchable. That difference has everything to do with why I'm sitting here thinking about Han rather than Leia.

I grew up with an aunt and uncle who loved each other passionately, even though it didn't always show on the surface, and I know they hoped I'd find the same thing they had together. I think I have, just that my ideal of love took a slightly different form than they might have expected.

Once in a while I'd see Beru watching others with their grandchildren, and knew she looked forward to the day I married and started producing babies for her to spoil. That wasn't exactly an appealing future to my way of thinking--marrying some farmer's or merchant's daughter and living a life harnessed to others' expectations. Truth to tell, not a single one of my dreams and plans included a good woman at my side, although I didn't realize the significance of that until much later.

What did I dream of in those days? Going faster and faster, until I burned up in a blaze of glory between the stars. Yeah, I know. Romantic. Reaching for anything and everything I thought might be denied me, just to prove I could. Adventure. Excitement. Proving myself to a nameless, faceless someone always hovering at the edge of my vision. I still don't know who that someone is, but it isn't Han, because I have nothing to prove to him. He accepts me as I am.

I've lived those dreams now, adventure and excitement enough for a couple of lifetimes. And speed--that too. These last few years have been a blur of fear and grief, of fury and glory, of loss and growth. I've been to the stars and I'm still reaching... for whatever lies beyond. Are there limits to the heart, mind and soul?

Han and the Force. I find myself wanting to surrender to both.

I want to go to Han, to say the words I couldn't before and hear them in return. I want to believe that the forever Han swears doesn't exist, really does--and that I'll find forever with him.

But instead I'm going to Dagobah to learn about the Force from a Jedi Master named Yoda.

In the meantime, Han, be careful.

I'm not sure when or how - or even why - it happened. I just know that it did, somewhere between one moment and the next, and by the time I realized I was in love, it was too late. This wasn't anything I ever expected, or even thought about. Funny how these things happen when you aren't looking.


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