In the morning, Luke wakes and Han is gone. He’s alone in the cold bed.

Which is fine. It’s what he expected.

He showers and goes to join him and Chewie in the cockpit. Han glances over at him, then back straight ahead.

Chewie goes to take a morning nap (he only got twelve hours of sleep last night) so Luke takes his place at the controls. Han turns to Luke and says quietly,

‘Are you all right?’

‘Fine.'

‘Are you sure?’

‘Leave it, Han, would you?’ he says, the words coming out more brittle and harsh than he had expected.

Han’s face goes blank, and he stares straight ahead at the stars.

He can’t stop replaying the events from last night over in his head, his kisses and touches clinging to his skin despite the long shower where he’d scrubbed and scrubbed to remove the memories.

He’s never asked for this. Never asked for Han to be so tender, so caring. He’s so
angry with him he can barely think or concentrate on flying. He keeps making mistakes, making Han look at him askance.

They reach the next delivery point for some of Han's goods, a tiny, pale little planet orbiting a large sun. They land on what appears to be a never-ending expanse of white. When they exit the ship, Luke sees the earth is made of some hard, impossibly glossy substance that is incredible difficult to walk on.

'Here,' says Han, tossing him a spray can. 'Spray that on your boots for friction.'

Even with the friction spray it's slow going. Finally Han says, 'There.' It’s hard to see at first against the white expanses, but Luke can make out a vast white palace rising out of a town of equally sun-bleached buildings. The palace is smooth rounded forms, no hard or straight edges.

They enter the palace, escorted by strange, hovering blue guards that seem to be made of a kind of transparent jelly.

There’s a party going on, with a mixture of species both fmailiar and strange to luke. They all in extremely stiff, glamorous attire. Everyone who has necks has enormous collars, and many are adorned with strings of sparkling red and green jewels.

Han is spotted and approached by tiny little man wearing a crown of green jewels. He is strangely flat, like a fish, with one eye on either side of his head. The man leads Han into another room for a while, shooing Luke away. Luke feels an inexplicable twinge of anxiety.

A couple of palace guests, one human and one a purple being with long, pointed, soft horns covering their head, neck and shoulders, sidle up to either side of him.

‘Not interested, thanks,’ says Luke, pulling away tersely.

A few minutes later, Han emerges from the room grinning, and stoops to shake the tiny man’s hand before strolling over to Luke.

‘Went off without a hitch,’ Han mutters in his ear. ‘Even more lucrative than I expected.’

‘Let’s go, then,’ says Luke, not enjoying the stares of his two acquaintances, who have moved a little way off and been joined by three more guests. They’re looking Han up and down, too. Han glances back at them.

‘Hm. Maybe I’ll celebrate a little,’ he says, nodding at the group of people. ‘I know a couple of 'em. You wanna come?’

‘No,’ snaps Luke, at the end of his tether. ‘Give me the payment so you don’t waste it all. I'll go to the ship.'

Han wordlessly passes him a small package. 'Don't let the guards see,' he says, before turning away. Luke stalks to the doors.

He feels sick and he doesn't know why.

On the ship, he hangs out with Chewie for a while, playing holo-cards, but then Chewie tells him he needs to go and find Han quickly. Because, he says, Han has a tendency of spending a little too long with the dancers on this planet.

It’s none of Luke’s business what Han does in his spare time, so he shrugs indifferently and makes his way slowly back towards the palace under the hot, glaring sun.

When he asks the bartender if he's seen Han, he points upstairs. He has little English, but enough to make himself understood.

‘Bedroom,’ he says.

Luke nods, offering him a quick smile, then turns and walks away quickly towards the stairs.

At the top of the stairs is a very long, glittering blue corridor. He walks slowly along it, listening carefully.

And there is Han's voice. He sounds happy, like he’s laughing. It’s coming from the door just to his right.

Luke takes a step towards the door, and stops. He can't move.

He doesn’t know what the matter is. But somehow he knows he doesn't want to see what's behind the door. He'd do anything to avoid knowing. Easier to just leave it shut. Never to know.

He’s turning to leave when the door opens of its own accord.

And there's Han, smiling and laughing, followed by the beautiful purple dancer that had tried to touch Luke before. They have a hand on Han’s shoulder, curling around his neck.

Luke’s heart is beating hard in his chest. He turns without a word and runs down the stairs.

‘Luke!’ Han calls. He can hear Han running after him, footsteps echoing down the stairs. A few heads from the burbling crowd turn up to look at them. ‘Luke, wait.’

But Luke won’t wait. He runs all the way out the door and makes it right out into the town. Then he's out of breath, and he has to pause just for a second. And there's a strong, gentle hand gripping his arm.

‘Just leave me alone,' he sobs.

‘No. Not til you tell me what the matter is.’

'Go away,’ Luke shouts. ‘Go back to the party, you were obviously enjoying it.’

‘Luke,’ Han says. ‘You’ve got it wrong.’

But Luke doesn’t have time to reply to that, because suddenly he sees that the palace guards are approaching them. They look like a sea of vast blue wasps.

He shakes Han off and points.

‘Blast. Someone grassed. Run!' says Han, and they sprint for their lives towards the ship, dodging a hail of strange, jelly-like bullets.