Part 3 
Disclaimers in Part 1 


For the next fourteen days, Han found himself a virtual prisoner 
in the posh cabin.  Luke was apparently in no hurry to make the 
rendezvous.  Han paced.  He tapped the holonets.  He paced some more.  He 
slept entirely too much, and wondered where he had 
gone wrong, and why fate had turned against him so cruelly. 
Mostly he wondered if it might not have been better to have 
made a dash for the Falcon, and turned and dived at the 
Star Destroyer, taking them both in a blaze of glory. 

As bad as the days were, the nights were worse. 
Under other circumstances, he suspected Luke would have 
been a most charming bed partner.  However, 6 months 
at Levant's and a year with the Empire had turned the young man's 
wide streak of anger into sheer cruelty. 

The first night, Han was surprised to find they would be 
actually sleeping in the same bed. 

"Aren't you worried I'll try something?" 

"Like murdering me in my sleep?  I don't think so. 
You're a crack shot, but you aren't a cold-blooded murderer. 
And, if anything should happen to me while we are alone, 
rest assured my father will have you executed in the 
slowest, most painful way he can imagine.  And he has a vivid 
imagination.  Sleep well." 

Han didn't.  He'd slept alone for too many years 
to be comfortable.  He was not surprised Luke was a 
blanket thief, but amazed that he was a snuggler 
to the point of actually shoving Han out of bed one night. 

No matter where they began the night, usually facing away 
as far as the mattress permitted, within an hour of Luke falling 
asleep, he would be flush against whatever side of Han was nearest. 
In those hours, Han slept little, but held him, trying to 
find the former portmaster under the sith lord, and wished on 
everything he could think of that he had gone to Levant's as 
soon as Chewbacca had agreed.  This was the time when he saw 
what he came very quickly to think of as "his Luke," the 
blond god, as opposed to "Lord Vengar" who held him captive. 
The contrast between the waking imperial and the sleeping 
boy occupied his mind far too often during the hours alone.  The 
worry about that separation of identities occupied even more. 

On the fifteenth morning, klaxons jarred them awake.  Luke 
bolted out of bed and slapped the com to the bridge. 
Han was just glad he never used the video.  He had been 
made to sleep with his wrists bound to the headboard. 
While he was sure the picture he presented appealed to 
some, he didn't like the idea of the whole bridge crew 
discussing it. 

"Lord Vengar, we have disabled the rebel ship we've been shadowing 
and are preparing to board.  Several stolen transmissions 
were beamed aboard her by spies.  We have terminated them." 

"I will join the boarding.  Out."  Luke hastily dressed in 
his usual black.  It was not an Imperial uniform, despite 
his rank.  A metal tube hung from his belt. 

"Luke?" Han managed to get out.  When the Sith looked at him, 
he flexed his arms, tugging the bonds. 

"You'll stay like that until I return." 

"Please?  I can't feel my hands." 

"Are you arguing?" His hand hovered near the tube. 
"I don't have time for you." 

Oh, stars.  It was going to be one of _those_ days. 
Han braced himself and bit back the bile.  "Please, 
my lord?"  He hated begging, but it usually worked. 

"Very well.  But, I will not always be so merciful." 
He pulled the tube from his belt and pressed a switch. 
Blood-red coherent energy sprang into being.  Han stared. 

"A lightsaber?  That's a Jedi weapon."  He flinched 
as it sliced delicately through his bonds. 

"What do you think the Sith are, you ignorant 
Corellian?  We are Jedi of the Dark Side of the Force. 
Prepare yourself for tonight.  You will be clean 
well-groomed and attentive.  We are having a guest." 
Luke stalked out the door. 

Han spent a while trying to get feeling back into his hands. 
Then, he tried to meditate as he had watched Luke do.  His 
body was still in panic-mode.  He had felt sure that the 
lightsaber was meant for his body as opposed to his bonds. 
He managed to quit shaking, but all his mind could do 
was return to the horrific possibilities that might 
lay in store for the night.  He dwelt on the possible 
payments that might be extracted from his dignity in 
return for the kindness this morning, and what might 
be visited on him if the guest angered Luke, and could 
not be killed out of hand.  Finally, he gave up and 
followed the instructions. 

*tbc*