16 Jul 1999







----------





It wasn't a lot of things.  It wasn't love, or even lust.  It wasn't

good sex.  It wasn't friendship or companionship or any of the things it 

could have been.



We were both shaky from the battle, and when the Princess and his

smuggler friend let him go, he'd been surrounded by people, clapped on

the back and congratulated.  I was, too, but not the same way.



Didn't matter.  The kid deserved it.  He'd said he could fly an X-Wing

if someone would check him out on the controls.  So I did, more out of

duty than anything, not really believing him.  I recognized the name,

though--Biggs had spoken of Luke many times.  Maybe I felt a sense of

kinship with him, since I'd been a bush pilot too, a long time ago.  At

any rate, I'm glad I checked him out on the X-Wing; he saved our asses

up there.



Not that we didn't save his as well.  Still.  He's a rookie kid who took 

control of a bad situation and brought us out of it alive and

victorious.  I have to respect that.



The General told him to bunk with me until he could get permanent

quarters, and I showed him in and cleared out Hutch's stuff.  Hutch

wouldn't need it anymore, after all.  The clothes would fit Luke, and I

said so and left them in the dresser. 



We undressed with trembling fingers and crawled into the bunks.  After a 

minute, he began to talk.  "I think I've lost too much to understand

it.  We bought these droids, and then...hell.  My aunt and uncle were

killed, and then Ben, and now...now I've killed a lot of people.  I had

to, but..."  His voice cracked and he stopped.  I heard his breathing

echo.  "They're going to give me a damn medal for killing all those

people."



I propped myself up on my elbow and looked over at his bunk.  "Yes, and

you're going to smile about it, and act like a proper hero.  That's the

price of fighting in wars, sometimes.  You get rewards you don't want for 

doing terrible things you hate yourself for doing."



He laughed, bitterly.  "Why do I feel like I'm going to spend a lot of

time hating myself?"



I waited to see if he would say more, but he didn't.  I slumped back on

my bunk and stared up at the ceiling and told him about the first time

someone died at my hands. "The first time I killed someone was on a

space cruiser.  We'd been boarded and...you know, stormtroopers somehow

manage to look surprised when you shoot them.  I cried for hours.  When

we made port, I found myself a bottle of Corellian brandy and a cheap

whore.  I don't recommend going that route."  I could hear the regret in 

my voice.



"I doubt there are any cheap whores around here.  And I've never had to

pay for it--are you supposed to tip, or what?"



This time I was the one who laughed.



I heard him move around, and mutter something to himself, and then he

said it.  "Look, I don't want to be alone.  Mind if I join you?"



The kid had some guts.  Some damn guts to ask that of someone he barely

knew.  "I don't mind."



"Good."  



I lifted the covers and let him slide in next to me.  I wondered if he

just wanted...a warm body, or if he had more in mind.  It didn't take

him long to let me know.  He nipped at my jaw, gently, and ran his hand

down my side.



Hell.



It had been too damn long.  



I was surprised by his strength, by the fact he'd obviously done this

before--but at the same time, it wasn't done with any finesse.

I remember how I'd left bruises on that poor girl, pounding into her

without thinking.  Just blinding myself to the pain of having killed.



And I'd been a trained soldier.



It had to be six million times worse for a half-innocent boy from

Tatooine who'd only wanted to fly.  Who had ended up killing so many,

paid so high a price...



He was thoughtful enough, at least, to make sure there was no pain when

he entered me.  I hadn't been nearly so careful.  Of course, I hadn't

been sober, either.  And he took the time to make sure I came--again,

more than I'd done, or thought to do, for a twenty-credit whore.



When it was over, we fell asleep quickly, barely touching and without a

word. 



It wasn't good sex, or love, or friendship.  It wasn't so many things I

wish it had been.



But it for what it was, it was wonderful.