He lowered their joined hands to sit between them, watching her face as she chased the pain from her expression, and his heart welled up at the knowledge that she loved Han, perhaps not as he had but it was been real and true and deep. And that, too, was something they had in common, though without overlap.

He suddenly missed Han with a ferocity that took him by surprise. Like everything else, the newly-awakened emotional muscles were sore and overly sensitive. But there was an odd salve in having Rey here, in knowing there was someone--aside from Leia, of course, whom it hurt even more to think about--who knew.

"I wouldn't know where to start," he confessed, smiling slightly through the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He shook his head. "I haven't thought about those days in... a long time. I wish I could have seen you together." He huffs a breath that's almost a laugh. "You know, when we met in a cantina in Mos Eisley, I thought he was the cockiest, most arrogant son of a bitch I'd ever met. Though..." He bites his lip. "The bar wasn't that high, back then."