Han was a wreck.
This was the man who had flown the fastest ship in the galaxy through the Kessel Run in only twelve parsecs (without cheating too - Han was an honest man), swindled Jabba the Hutt for years (okay, so maybe not that honest), helped bring down not one, but two Death Stars…
… and lived to tell the tale.
Yet, here he was: former Rebellion general and war hero Han Solo, reduced to near hysteria by the muffled cries of a woman emanating from inside the birthing room. Leia, who had so skillfully guided the New Republic through its birth pangs, was now giving birth to a son.
My son, mused Han. The words sent a thrill through him, half of pride and half of terror. Actually, more than just half terror. He flinched as Leia cried out once more. Please let it be over soon.
He had only just buried his head in his hands when the nursing droid appeared in the doorway. It warbled a few notes of astromech binary in his direction. Han didn't understand it, but it wouldn't have mattered even if he did. His ears were only aware of one sound: the piercing wail of a newborn.
Almost frantically, Han barrelled past the droid and into the birthing room. Leia lay quietly now, her breathing slow and laboured, with a look of intensity on her face as she stared down at the bundle by her side. It was a look Han had first seen as he was being lowered into the depths of carbonite.
"I love you," she said, almost fiercely.
His answer seemed to speak itself. "I know."
Without a word, Han knelt beside the bed and took one of Leia's hands in both of his. She gave his grasp a brief squeeze, never taking her eyes off of the wailing bundle. Han found that he had to work up the courage to finally pull back some of the wrappings, and peer into the face of his child.
It took him a moment or two to see it, what with the tightly squinched eyes and the splotchy pink and white skin. But behind all that, it was obvious: looking into the face of this child was like looking at a mini version of himself.
"Look," Leia croaked. She pushed the wrapping back a little more. "He has hair."
Han looked obligingly, and nearly jumped in surprise. The little head was covered in a fine, downy halo. But it was the colour that startled Han. Neither he nor Leia had such dark black hair.
"Well." He raised a hand and gingerly patted the tiny pate. "Isn't he a scruffy-looking nerfherder."
He glanced slyly at Leia, and was pleased to see she was smiling. Her finger touched one of the pudgy little cheeks. She whispered it.
"Han."
"Hmm?"
"He's strong."
He looked up. "How do you mean?"
"In the Force. He's strong, I can feel it."
Han rubbed his chin and grunted. "Well, won't Uncle Luke be happy." Now that the worst was over, he was beginning to feel some of his characteristic sarcasm returning.
Leia barely heard him. "You will be a great Jedi. Someday," she murmured. She kissed the baby's nose. "Ben."
Han raised his eyebrows. "Ben?" he asked.
She smiled. "After the greatest Jedi we've ever known."
About the only Jedi we've ever known, thought Han. But he didn't argue. Instead, he leaned over and kissed his wife's damp forehead, and they watched their child in silence.
My son, Han thought again. Our son.
Ben Solo. Han liked the sound of that.
Hey kiddos! Thanks for reading my first fic, I appreciate it more than you can imagine. Please please please leave a review and let me know what you thought! I hope to do as many one-shots as physically possible this summer, just to polish up on my writing. Who knows...with enough encouragement I might even do a multiple-chapter story :) Thanks again, and happy reading/writing!