a/n: i told you! now there are no rules! nothing in the Identity 'verse is chronological now!
tw: mentions of rape + sexual assault
Coruscant
24 ABY
Han Solo's children had grown up fixing the Falcon. It was both a pastime and a necessity. The necessity aspect was self-explanatory – something always needed fixing, or sprucing up, or a system was beggin' for a new upgrade. The pastime was more of an evolutionary thing – the Falcon was, at first, a veritable jungle of hazards, where each child had to be watched sharply, lest they find a unique and horrifying way to kill their self, and it slowly became a tinker tool, where Han could teach, and impart knowledge, while also spending time with them – abandoning projects to play hide-and-seek or Dejarik or various other games.
It was all but a second home to them, and Han liked it that way - he was proud that they loved it, too. Even if Noura had reached an age where she wanted to roll her eyes and turn up her nose and use the phrase 'bucket of bolts' a little too liberally – she still stole away some evenings to sit around and chatter while he worked.
She'd been the one to ask, when she was eight or nine – why does Daddy's ship always need fixing?
Han had griped that if the three of them would stop breakin' stuff on it, in it, and all around it, he'd stop havin' to fix it. Max was the one who pointed out – but Mom and Uncle Luke say it was always like that, before us.
And Han had his chance to get philosophical, there, giving the two of them a serious, stern glare – Look, I keep workin' on that ship for the same reason your mother keeps workin' on the galaxy.
What's thaaaaat supposed to mean? – Noura had asked, rolling her eyes – she was good with the eye rolling; learned it early.
'Cause it's broke again – Han retorted, at which Jaina, eavesdropping while she watched the daily Holo recap, snorted in amusement.
Nice, Dad – she quipped – the Falcon as a metaphor for political perseverance?
Han had just grinned – maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. He just loved the ship, and every year, it became more of a treasured thing, because more and more happened on it; everything that mattered to him seemed to have started on the Falcon.
He kept thinkin' about that now, kind of late in the afternoon, couple hours before dinner, when he was down in the guts of the old smuggling compartment – the one that had not been turned into a playpen, and that Jaina still used to read a novel in and hide when she was mad at her mother – ripping out some tubing and wiring and replacing it as part of an annual reconfiguring.
He'd found a scuffed up pink shoe that had gone missing years ago – it was sure as hell too small fit either of the girls now. He found it about the same time he heard someone come up the access ramp and head towards him, following the trail of tools and materials.
Disentangling himself a little, he poked his head up to see which one of them it was.
Jaina was standing there looking at the mess blandly, her bag hanging lazily over her shoulder. Han lifted the shoe up and tossed it to her. Jaina let the bag fall and moved to catch it, blinking. She tilted her chin up sharply, stopped the pink shoe in mid air, and let it float effortlessly to her palm.
Han smirked.
"Found your shoe," he told her seriously.
"This has to be Noura's," Jaina retorted. "I don't wear pink."
"You did when you were four," Han informed her, as if he were breaking very grave news. "Didn't just wear it. Threatened to drown yourself in the bathtub if Leia didn't find that shoe."
"Really? At four? Creative," Jaina said, tossing the show up and down.
"Not in those exact words," Han said. "Leia was not impressed."
Jaina grinned and kicked her bag aside, picking her way through the mess and taking a seat at the edge of the compartment.
"Need help?" she asked.
"Haven't turned it down yet," he said, smacking his hand on the floor and dropping back down into the compartment.
He assumed she'd hope down with him and get her hands dirty, but she didn't, so he just told her which tool he was starting with.
"How was school?" he asked, his voice echoing around him.
Jaina mumbled an unenthusiastic answer, and he made note of that. Jaina liked school – usually. She attended the Diplomatic Academy three times a week – by her own choice, to Leia's delight – spent one day at a Science Academy, and one day on core languages. Han and Leia rarely had to check to make sure she'd done her homework.
He loosened a few things, handed the device he was using back up, and asked for the electrical tape, which she tossed to him.
"Where were you today? Diplomatic? Or Aeronautics?" he grunted.
"Diplomatic," she muttered.
Han nodded to himself, frowning. She sounded pretty damn off. Jaina wasn't half as effervescent and talkative as her sister, but she wasn't quiet or meek, either. He felt confident in his assumption that something was up with her, but he didn't want to berate her. She was kind of like Leia in that respect. She'd talk if she felt like it.
"Hey, hydrospanners," he requested, sticking the tape in his mouth.
Han reached up out of the compartment he was working in, wriggling his arm through a tangle of wires to expectantly wait for them. Jaina placed it in his hand, and he went back to work, holding a roll of electrical tape between his teeth. When he was finished, he set aside the tool, and reached out absently for the next.
Instead, he found himself face to face with her. She'd poked her head down into the space and was staring at him solemnly.
He jumped, rearing back, and then glared at her.
"Sith spit," he swore.
Jaina blinked at him.
"Only when I'm angry," she joked, deadpan.
He shook his head warningly.
"You know how Mom feels about those jokes," he said edgily.
Jaina nodded, and shrugged – she didn't make them in front of her mother anymore, but she had her own ways of coping with her brutal heritage.
"Dad," she said solemnly. "Can I talk to you?"
Han leaned back against the opposite boards of the compartment, and then leaned forward, bracing his hands on the open edges. He looked at her curiously, head tilted, and nodded.
"'Course," he said.
Jaina looked serious – and he knew he'd been right; something was up with her. She usually involved herself more, when they were working on the Falcon. She wasn't generally a just-hand-Dad-the-tools type – that was Noura. Noura usually came in and sat down and talked his ear off about everything under the sun, all her little dramas, and constantly handed him the wrong tools – it used to exasperate him, but Leia had gently begged him not to do anything that might put Noura off bonding with him.
Keep being her safe place to talk, Han. She doesn't talk to me as much.
"It's about Mom," Jaina said.
Han gave her a wary look.
"If you two are gettin' into it again, don't put me in the middle," he warned grimly – although to be fair, Noura and Leia got into it more than she and Jaina did. With Jaina, it was usually them arguing about politics. Noura had just developed the opinion – at the precocious age of thirteen – that Leia was trying to ruin her life.
Instead of bristling like she usually did, Jaina shrugged. She shook her head.
"It isn't that," she said. She chewed on her lip. "It's about something I heard at Academy."
Han crossed his arms. He leaned on a metal bar, squinting, and looking up at her still.
"Okay," he said slowly. "Y'know, most things people say about your mother are bantha shit," he added dryly, arching an eyebrow.
Jaina smirked a little faintly. She thought of an incident when Max was little – he'd overheard a commentator calling their mother a certain word that rhymed with witch, misunderstood, and become convinced that Mommy was a sorceress.
"I know," Jaina said softly. She started chewing on her lip again. "We were discussing events that precipitated the rise of sympathies for the Rebellion," she explained. "Mom's imprisonment."
"Yeah," Han agreed slowly, though the concept was strangely surreal. He figured all that Rebellion stuff was history, but he'd lived it. And it didn't seem so long ago, no matter how old Jaina was now.
"Well, a classmate suggested she was spared from execution because she traded her life for – "
Han flinched, and Jaina stopped talking. He narrowed his eyes, and then shook himself, trying to remain nonchalant. He struggled, for a moment, to process the fact that his daughter was repeating a rumor older than her, as if it still held relevance. As if some people out there – still believed it.
"There's still people sayin' that?" he griped, trying to make himself sound nonchalant. He rolled his shoulders tensely. "That ain't true, Jainy-Vaine, c'mon," he scoffed dismissively, using her old childhood nickname.
"I know that, Daddy," Jaina said again. She looked at him solemnly. "I'm not an idiot. I know she would never," she trailed off. "I just thought - if that was how the events were twisted, maybe something else happened to her. To Mom," Jaina hesitated. "On the Death Star?"
Han's gut twisted uncomfortably. Jaina stared at him, her head tilting. She scraped her bottom lip with her teeth, her expression worried, but firm; she had no intention of letting him weasel out of the conversation.
Han looked at her tiredly for a long time, considering an answer. He finally decided if anything, he shouldn't talk to her while he was half buried in a smuggling compartment. He braced his palms on the floor of the ship and hauled himself up and out, waving his hand at Jaina tensely.
"C'mon, Jainy," he said quietly, starting towards the cockpit. "We'll talk," he muttered - wholly unsure what he was going to tell his sharp, heart sore fifteen-year-old.
Was fifteen old enough to be asking questions about things like this, to get answers? The kids all knew Leia had been a prisoner, they knew Han had been in carbonite – there were plenty of overarching stories they knew. He supposed it was fair that as they got older, they'd stop thinking Leia was just in a frustrating little time out for a while.
He pointed Jaina into a seat in the cockpit, and stood in the door for a moment.
"You want a drink or somethin'?" he asked dryly, half-joking.
Jaina stared at him.
"Is this a trick?" she asked suspiciously. "As you know, I am not old enough to, and I would never, consume – "
"What?" Han asked, taken aback. "You're fifteen."
"Dad, how many times does Mom have to tell you that the galactic standard human drinking age is eighteen?"
"Oh yeah," Han muttered – Corellia's was lower than the standard, they paid a fine to the federal system jut to be able to flout it, and he'd been drinking since long before that, anyway.
Jaina snorted skeptically.
"You have to get that in your head before Noura gets wise. She'll be a partyer."
Han grimaced.
"Don't say that," he muttered, dragging his feet forward.
He sat down in his chair and spun it towards Jaina, resting his arms on the sides of it. Jaina followed him with her eyes, drawing her legs up and crisscrossing them. Chewbacca's seat dwarfed her, and she leaned back in it, her eyes sharp and attentive as ever.
"So?" she asked. "Mom?"
Han sighed gruffly.
"Yeah," he muttered.
He leaned forward, aligning his forearms with his thighs and resting his elbows on his knees. He pressed his knuckles together, thinking about it. He and Leia had never, ever discussed talking about this – with Jaina or Noura, or Max, for that matter, but Han figured he'd be less intuitive about it. Wasn't as much of a constant peripheral threat for him. And he and Leia always discussed things before they had big conversations with the kids, so he didn't want to overstep.
"Dad," Jaina prompted impatiently. "Are you trying to think of a lie?"
"No," Han said shortly. "No, 'm not gonna lie to you," he assured her.
He raised his knuckles, and rested his chin on them.
"What happened in class?" he asked shortly.
Jaina sighed. She rubbed her knee with her palm.
"Well, we were discussing tipping points in oppressed societies," she explained. "The precarious balance point between holding a population in absolute fear of reprisal, and making them so hopeless that revolution is the only option," she explained. "Which correlated with a discussion of intergalactic tacit support of the Rebellion which, according to some scholars, occurred after the retraction of Mom's diplomatic – Dad," Jaina said pointedly. "This is going to put you to sleep."
"Give me the highlights, kid," he said wryly.
"One of the girls said that there was evidence that Mom provided sexual favors in exchange for her life."
"There's not evidence of that," Han said flatly.
"I know," Jaina said again, edgy this time. She was obviously angry Han thought she needed that reiterated.
"You know," Han growled tensely, "even if there was – no one can judge someone when they're desperate – "
"Well, that's a different facet of a discussion on consent," Jaina agreed, brushing off his tangent easily. "That's not – really what I'm arguing. I'm asking – "
"I know what you're askin', Jaina," Han interrupted.
Jaina fell silent. She interlaced her fingers in her lap and looked down at them, frowning. After a moment, she looked back up.
"Well?" she asked. "Was she? Did they?" she went on quietly.
She pressed her lips together hard, and stared at Han boldly.
Han looked back at her silently, the knuckle of his index finger digging hard into his jaw. He unfolded his hand, ran it over his mouth, and dipped his head for a moment, making a quick – but, as he considered it, correct – decision.
"You got to let me talk to your mother first, Jaina," he said heavily. "I ain't tryin' to distract you or put you off, I promise," he added. "It just ain't right for me to have this conversation with you before talkin' to her."
He looked at her intently, brows raised.
"You understand? Her story, her rules."
Jaina lifted her arm and rested her elbow on the armrest. She leaned her head into her palm, and nodded.
"Okay," she said softly. She shrugged a little – her father was easier to read, in terms of his subconscious presence in the Force, than he thought he was. She sensed sincerity in his words, not deception. "Yeah, I mean, I don't want to hurt her. Or you to go behind her back," she said.
"Good," Han said. He glanced down. "Good," he muttered again, dreading bringing this up with Leia.
"Dad?" Jaina mumbled, staring at him soberly.
He just grunted at her, waiting.
"If the answer was no, you'd just say no," she whispered astutely.
She gave him a grave look, her lips in such a tight, thin line, that she looked very much like Leia, for once, rather than like him. He didn't say anything at all in response to that. Fifteen suddenly seemed very young to him. It hadn't seemed young when he was fifteen, and Jaina was mature for her age, but right now, looking at her all curled up and small in Chewie's chair, it seemed so young.
Distracted as he was by the afternoon's conversation, Han thought he did a hell of a decent job of blocking it off to a secluded part of his mind and not letting it influence his behavior.
He went about the rest of the day as usual – although Jaina skipped out on continuing to help him with the Falcon. She disappeared to Leia's office instead, promising Han she wouldn't say anything, but insisting she felt more like helping her mother with files or speech proofs today. Han didn't argue – at least, not with Jaina. He did argue with Noura when she came skipping onto the Falcon with two friends and insisted that Leia said she could miss dinner to go to a carnival.
"What?" Han asked, glaring at her. "She'd never agree to that. It's a school night," he told her sharply. Noura – and Max, for that matter – were both still in the generally focused academies; Noura hadn't showed an interest in a specialized school yet, and Max wasn't old enough to submit choices until he was thirteen.
"She promised, I swear," Noura said, batting her lashes – Han noticed one of the friends she had with her was eyeing him with abrasive admiration. His brow furrowed darkly – it was the Hapan girl Leia jokingly called the little homewrecker.
She has a crush on you, Han. Hapes, always trying to get in our way –
"Noura, how'd it turn out the last time you played me'n'Mom against each other?" Han asked.
"Dad!"
"No," Han reiterated, folding his arms. "You can invite your friends to dinner if you want," he added, to smooth any ruffled feathers.
Noura turned and looked over her shoulder, sulking. She turned back to him, glaring, and after another short round of needling, failed to get him to budge, and stormed off – he checked in with their home security system to make sure she scanned herself into their penthouse and didn't run off somewhere else.
Leia found out about Noura's attempted trickery because Max, who was pissed at his sister for something, pulled the information from her head and tattled – which resulted in Noura getting a lecture, and Max getting a solemn talk about trust and tattling and the values of one versus the vices of the other and where the lines were.
Jaina and Noura, even when they fought, had long ago discovered the pact of sisterhood, and point-blank refused to tell on each other; Max had yet to see the value in keeping his mouth shut. He loved diming people out.
Han was half-undressed and lying in bed, watching Leia undress and roll her eyes as she related the mild conflict she'd had with Noura.
"I wish she'd stop hanging out with that Payetza girl," Leia said tensely. "She's a bully. Noura's so sweet and fragile under all the drama, and I don't want her insecurities exploited – but I think she has a crush on the older brother."
"Whose older brother?" Han asked suspiciously. "Payetza's?"
Leia nodded absently, shrugging the thin straps of her slip off and letting it drop to the floor. Han let his eyes rake over her as she stood in front of the closet, rummaging for something.
"Noura's too young for crushes," Han said grumpily.
"Noura thinks she's thirty," Leia muttered. "She told me she couldn't ride the waves of my popularity forever and if I kept locking her up on school nights she would slowly wither away and die a slow, dusty social death," Leia related. "She said that verbatim," she laughed.
Han rolled his eyes, groaning.
"Why is she always so damn dramatic?" he asked.
"Oh, perhaps she inherited it," Leia said lightly.
Han snorted.
"What, from you? I don't think," he broke off, giving her a look. "Me?" he said, picking up on her insinuation. "I'm not – hey! She got that from," he floundered, waving his hand. "Luke," he accused darkly.
Leia giggled softly, and he glared at her back, shaking his head.
"At least you're not pregnant with her anymore," he pointed out – Leia's pregnancy with Noura had been the worst of the three.
Leia made a noise of agreement, dragging a sweater out of the closet. She donned it, and then grabbed her robe off a post at the foot of the bed, slipping it on and shivering. Han started to get up.
"You cold? I'll turn the air off, Max was burnin' up after practice – "
She shook her head, resting her temple against the bedpost.
"What's going on, Han?" she asked intently. "Something's wrong with you, or Jaina," she parsed out intuitively. "Jaina was subdued in my office today. You over seasoned the rice," she pointed out.
Han glared at her.
"I did not," he argued, offended.
"You never over season the rice," Leia said gently, ignoring the protest calmly. She arched her brows at him knowingly. There was nothing distinct wrong, that much she could tell, and things were so subtle that she might even be wrong – Jaina might just be tired, or Han thinking about something else.
Still, she didn't think so. She waited patiently.
Han didn't break for a moment, and then he sighed, tilting his head far back against the headboard and staring at the ceiling for a little while. He frowned to himself, trying to think of the best way to broach the subject. He couldn't remember the last time he and Leia had talked about anything that had happened – back then.
"Han?" she prompted gently.
He lifted his head.
"It's not an easy one, Sweetheart," he said, his lips turning up sheepishly.
She put a hand on her hip, nodding with concern.
"Don't draw it out, then," she suggested.
"Yeah," Han agreed. "Jaina came by the Falcon after Academy got out," he said dully. "Guess they were doin' some recent history in class or somethin'," he explained, "'cause she had some questions about – you, about your role in the…war."
Han blinked at himself. He realized he sounded inarticulate, and foolish, and when Leia arched an eyebrow, and said, hesitantly –
"Well, all of that is public knowledge."
- he dispensed with the delicacies, and was more straightforward.
"She heard that bantha shit rumor about the Death Star," he said in a low voice.
Leia lifted her chin, drawing back a little. Her lips parted in wary surprise.
"The one…from," she started soft, and then narrowed her eyes. "The one about me fucking my captors for freedom?" she asked harshly.
Han nodded.
Leia grit her teeth.
"And she – believed it?"
Han sat forward a little, eyes widening. One of his legs dropped off the bed.
"Hell no," he swore. "Not for a second, not for a damn second, Leia," he asserted. He let the moment cool off for a moment, and then sighed, reaching up to rub his jaw. "No, s'just…she's smart, Leia, she's like you, real smart," he said heavily.
He fell silent for a moment, studying Leia. In almost twenty years, he'd never figured out a way to put it gently, so he didn't.
"She asked me if you were raped," he said quietly.
Leia didn't say anything right away. Then:
"She asked you that in those exact words?" she asked crisply.
Han shook his head.
"No," he admitted. "But she was askin'," he went on calmly.
"And you said?" Leia asked coolly.
He sighed quietly, running his hand through his hair.
"I said – I told 'er I wasn't havin' that discussion without talkin' to you first," he answered. "I told her I needed to talk to you."
He watched her carefully, searching for signs of a reaction. Leia let the hand on her hip slide down to her side. It drifted behind her back, and she shifted her weight on her feet, her eyes on him.
Then she leaned against the post of the bed, her head falling against the intricate carvings that decorated the wood. She stared at him for a beat longer, her expression unreadable, and nodded, closing her eyes. She sighed, and reached up to rub her forehead.
"I'll talk to her," she said.
She turned, and reached up, flipping her hair out from the collar of her robe and neatly tying it as she went into the 'fresher.
Han frowned hesitantly, watching her go. He turned his head, staring at the open 'fresher door, and leaned forward a little, trying to catch sight of her. She seemed withdrawn, guarded. Gingerly, he got up and went after her, his brow furrowing. He reached up to run his hand through his hair, coming to a stop in the doorway, his shoulder braced against the frame.
She stood at the sink, stiffly running a brush over the edges of her hair. The bristles made a scratching sound against the small knots there, and she hacked at them with short, controlled little motions.
"Leia," he murmured, catching her eye in the mirror.
Leia set down her hairbrush hard and put her palms flat on the sink, staring down in front of her with a sour look on her face. She shook her head a little, squeezed her eyes shut, and bit her lip.
"Mmmhmm," Han murmured knowingly, reaching out to rub her shoulder. He knew it had to have upset her more than she was letting on, even if it had been so, so long now. He tugged her towards him, and she did not resist.
Leia's shoulders trembled and she reached up to swipe at her eyes, sliding her palm across her cheek tensely as she began to cry a little.
"C'm'ere, Sweetheart," Han mumbled, pulling her against his chest. He ran his hand over her hair.
Leia curled her fist near her chin, resting her knuckles against her jaw.
"It's so bad," she spat quietly. "I never think about it anymore - I don't," she insisted in a hushed voice. "It just isn't always lurking like it used to be, it's stale, but when it gets brought up," she broke off, shaking her head. "It's still so bad," she repeated faintly.
She rested her head heavily against him, biting her lip.
"It's as if I have to go through a miniature reckoning all over again – why did it have to happen to me, why did he do that to me?"
She sucked in her breath. Han dipped his chin and rested his forehead on hers, tracing circles on her back.
"I can talk to Jaina, honey," he promised. "Just didn't want to do it without askin' you," he went on, wincing - he felt horrible for being the one to bring it up at all, and despite his awareness of the past, and the comfort she took in him, they really didn't discuss it all that much. "You let me know what you want her to know."
Leia tucked her arms against her chest, shaking her head.
"Hmm," she said in a small voice. "No, I will talk to her. I don't want her hearing it from a man, even if it's you," she said. "And you," Leia sighed, lashes fluttering. "You can't answer for me. If she's got questions."
Han grimaced, kissing her temple. He couldn't imagine what Jaina could possibly have questions about. And he figured – they hadn't so much expected this. Talking to them about Vader, sure; they'd had plans on top of contingency plans - and Han didn't think Leia ever wanted to hide things from the kids. But how was it possible to plan a conversation with a fifteen-year-old about something as privately gruesome as her mother's rape?
"I'm sorry, Leia," he muttered.
Leia wiped her nose on his chest and shrugged a little. She kissed his shoulder, nodding.
"You're right," she said. "Jaina's smart. She's, and, well," Leia sighed. "She's getting older. History gets more…brutal, when you're older."
Han tilted his head, cocking his hip against the sink.
"I dunno if you…have to talk about this with her," he said. He lifted one hand and scratched the back of his neck. "Nothin' against Jaina. But, uh, I'm never gonna tell her everythin' about my past," he pointed out grimly.
Leia considered it. She turned to get her toothbrush, running water over it.
"I don't have to," she agreed, spreading paste onto the bristles. She started to brush, talking delicately around the movements. "She's mature enough – and I," she mumbled, spitting, rinsing. "I don't know that I want her lying awake at night making up her own stories," she said shakily.
Han leaned against the sink heavier, considering that. He could see how that might terrify Jaina, or make Leia uncomfortable – or both. He watched Leia tidy up, rinse her mouth again, and back away. As she slipped out, he turned to follow her, and she shot a look at him.
"Brush your teeth," she ordered.
"I did already," Han retorted. "Mom."
Leia groaned softly.
"It's habit I'll never break," she griped.
Han grinned a little. He went back to his side of the bed and jerked the rumpled covers back, heaving himself into bed. He rolled onto his stomach, waiting for her to turn the lights off and take her spot. When she didn't right away, he lifted his head, looking around.
She was sitting lightly one the edge of the bed, braiding her hair loosely. When she finished, she scooted back, and rolled towards him, still wrapped in her robe. He turned on his side, starting to prop himself up on his elbow. Leia moved closer and closed her eyes tightly. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and Han reached for her face, touching her gently.
"Hey," he soothed quietly, tucking his forehead down close to hers. He stroked her face and shoulders and wrapped his arms around her, his head throbbing with guilt. He didn't want to apologize for fear of making it seem like he was the one who needed comfort.
Leia cleaved closer, accepting his comfort.
"I don't remember the last time I thought about it," Leia whispered.
"I know," he mumbled.
"I don't remember the last time I cried," she murmured incredulously, almost as an afterthought.
Han kissed the crown of her head, and Leia rested against him, wallowing for a moment. She twitched to the side suddenly, putting her hand to her head and frowning.
"Fuck," she swore softly, rolling her head towards him. "I'm – I wasn't in control, my defenses were down," she apologized.
"What?" Han asked, confused for a moment. Then, a knock on the door –
"Daddy?"
Noura's voice.
Leia winched.
"Ahh," Han sighed.
Leia started wiping her face hurriedly, and Han shook his head, stilling her hand.
"I'll take care of it," he soothed. "C'mon, stay here. Stay here, Leia," he coaxed, getting up.
He grabbed sweats off the floor and pulled them over his briefs, squaring his shoulders as he walked towards their bedroom door. He opened it and found himself face to face with all three of them, Noura and Max shoulder to shoulder, Jaina leaning against a wall behind them, her pale face glowing in the dark hallway.
"Mom's crying," Max said worriedly.
Noura rubbed her chest delicately.
"Is she okay?" she asked in a whisper. "Is someone hurt? Is Baba sick?" she went on rapidly.
"Bail can't be killed," Han said seriously. "You know that."
Noura brightened a little, but Max tried to poke his nose past Han.
"She's sad – "
"Hey, c'mon, bud, what's the rule?" Han asked gently, nudging his son back. Max took a few glum steps back – the master bedroom is private. He took a deep breath, and gave them each a confident, firm look in the eye. "Mom's upset over some bad memories. She's not hurt. She's not sick. Just needs some sleep. Okay?"
Both Noura and Max relaxed, nodding – in fact they both relaxed so immediately, that Han guessed Leia had gotten her emotional projections under sharper control.
"Bad memories like Alderaan?" Noura asked.
Han just nodded. Noura folded her arms. She yawned, and nodded.
"Okay," she whispered. "Give her this," she said, blowing a kiss to Han. "And this," she hugged him, and stumbled back sleepily. Max nodded, and Han reached out and ruffled his hair, gesturing them both back to bed affectionately.
Jaina pushed herself away from the wall, still silent, and tucked her hair back, meeting Han's eyes sheepishly. She appeared to think this was her fault – Han didn't need any hokey religion to tell him that. He gave her a firm look, and shook his head.
"She's not upset because of you," he said.
"But – "
"No, Jaina," Han said. He paused gently, then said: "Go to bed."
She nodded, and bowed her head, shuffling away. Han watched her until she ducked back into her room, and he shut their door. He hesitated for a second, and then locked it – a rare action these days. Though he did think that since they kids were old enough not to accidentally kill or maim their selves, or each other, unsupervised, they ought to be able to lock the door more often.
Leia was curled in the middle of the bed, waiting for him to return. He turned off the lights, leaving one lamp on, and said nothing. He knew she'd be able to sense the children's moods as they went back to bed. He pulled the sheets around him and pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin.
"Y'don't have to talk to her about this yet, Sweetheart," Han murmured, very quietly. "She can wait. She's really young," he added, thinking again, how young fifteen suddenly seemed.
Leia didn't say anything for a while.
Then –
"So was I."
She said nothing else, for the rest of the night, but Han knew her well, and he knew she lay there awake for a long time.
It was about a week before Leia decided to bring anything up with Jaina. She had more pressing things to focus on, for the time being, and she wanted to clear them up – and she wanted to talk with her daughter when they had a few off days following, in case it shook her up.
Thus Leia was home relatively early at the end of the workweek, already changed out of her official dress and into something more comfortable. She was still available for administrative work, and Tavska was still at her office in the event of a sudden emergency, but she'd been detaching from her political mindset for an hour or so when Jaina walked in the door.
Leia swept a rag over the countertop with a final flourish, finishing up the idle cleaning job she'd undertaken while she waited. She tossed the rag into the sink for Han to deal with later, and reached behind her, twisting her loose braid into a knot at the back of her neck as she left the kitchen to intercept Jaina.
"Jaina," she said, catching her at the bottom of the stairs.
Jaina jumped, turning around in alarm. She nearly dropped her bag.
"Uhhh, Mom," she retorted, alarmed. "You're home early," she accused. "Did the Republic collapse?" she asked dramatically.
"If it had, I'd still be at work," Leia answered.
Jaina leaned on the bannister, one foot on the bottom stair.
"Or," she countered, pointing at her wryly, "you'd be assassinated," she joked. "Decapitation strike."
"No such luck. Here I am still, making rules, ruining lives," Leia snorted.
Jaina shrugged.
"Well, its Noura's life you're ruining," she pointed out. "But it's not just you. Dad is ruining her life, too. So is Max. And Baba. And anyone who glances at her funny."
Leia sighed, a small smile touching her lips.
"Well, as odd as it may sound, I'm content that the only thing ruining Noura's life right now is my ban on green mascara."
"She just thinks it's pretty and sparkly," Jaina pointed out. "She doesn't know it was a trend that started in pleasure houses."
Leia snorted. The thing was, she had the feeling that if Noura were to be told that's why she was being restricted in the coloured mascara department, she'd somehow find it fascinating, and want it more.
"Thirteen is too young for make-up. Her rules are the same as yours," Leia said firmly. She cocked her head. "And yes, I know she puts it on as soon as she walks out the door."
Jaina smirked ruefully. Leia lifted her hand, and beckoned.
"I'd like to speak with you," she said simply.
Jaina pushed off the bannister without a word and hoisted her bag back on her shoulder, following. Leia led her into her home office, but didn't take a seat at her desk. Instead, she dropped down at the sofa, turning her head as she watched one of Max's pittins scurry out from underneath it and scamper for the door.
She shook her head as Jaina skipped around to avoid tripping over it. Jaina wrinkled her nose.
"If I find that rat in my room again – " she threatened.
Leia nodded, placating her.
"I'll remind him to keep them in their pens when we're not watching them," she said, "again."
She didn't blame Jaina for the irritation – twice last week Han had found one of Max's two pittins in his and Leia's 'fresher. He'd almost stepped on one, and then nearly traumatized Max by asking him if he wanted to come home to dead, squished, pets because he couldn't be responsible.
Good choice of words, Han, she admonished.
Well? Didn't get a damn thing through his head, did it?
It hadn't – lately Max had started feigning more deafness than he actually suffered from. He seemed to have forgotten that both of his parents had known him from birth, and knew he had perfectly good hearing in one ear. Leia was gearing up for a talk with him about how heinous it was to exploit a minor disability when some suffered from serious handicaps.
Jaina dropped her bag on the floor and sat down on the couch, leaning back comfortably. Leia rested her elbow on the back of the couch and pressed her temple lightly against her knuckles. She had decided there was no point in easing into the conversation with vague overtures.
"So," she said. "Your father says you have questions about my imprisonment."
Jaina sighed. She folded her arms and made herself smaller. She got a wary look in her eye, like she'd been waiting for this all week, though Leia figured she expected Han to be talking to her.
"Well," Jaina began. She winced. "I mean, I…asked Dad because I didn't want to bother you."
"You don't bother me if you want to talk," Leia murmured. "I've – I hope – I've always made that clear."
"Yeah," Jaina said hastily, backtracking. "But I meant bother like…upset you."
"That's considerate," Leia said sincerely. She knew Han thought so, too, even if it did mean the onus had been on him to bring it up and darken Leia's evening a few nights ago. "Dad and I tell each other everything," she reminded Jaina. "We don't keep secrets, especially if something is up with one of you kids."
Jaina nodded.
"Okay," she said. She looked down. "It did upset you, though. You were crying."
Leia flicked one of her hands dismissively.
"Not the first time I've ever cried, Jaina," she snorted.
Jaina smiled dully.
"Well, I've never seen you cry," she pointed out.
"Sure you have," Leia sighed. "You just don't remember it. I cried all the time when you were a baby. Noura and Max, too." She raised her eyebrows. "Han put too much ice in my tea once and I cried over it."
Jaina laughed, loosening up a little. She nodded, as if to show she felt better – not that she was ever comfortable with the idea of her mother crying. Leia took a deep breath, tucking some loose hair behind her ears, and sitting forward a little. She adjusted her head where it rustled against her knuckles.
"Dad said you heard a rumor at Academy," Leia began.
"Yes, but I knew it was a rumor," Jaina protested immediately. "I hadn't heard it before, but, I come on – I'd never – you would never – and Imperials wouldn't – honor an agreement like that, anyway – "
Leia lifted her free hand gently, waving it a little to quiet Jaina.
"Who repeated it?" she asked.
"Iritza Vandron."
Leia twitched her nose, pursing her lips. The Vandrons were the most ancient of the families in the Elder Houses. Leia had known them, and disliked them, since childhood. She was unsure whose progeny Iritza was, but considering the surname, that she had repeated such a rumor as not surprising.
"The Vandrons don't like the Organas," Leia said flatly.
"I know that," Jaina said. "Rouge was supposed to marry one of them," she noted, having always paid very close attention in her education on House Organa history. Her brow furrowed. "No one ever told me why she didn't."
Leia shrugged.
"As far as I know, the only person who knows that was Queen Mazicia," she murmured – another bit of Rouge's mysterious past. She was silent for a moment; her head cocked, and then tapped her fingers on her knee. "Was your class discussing the Skywalker Reckoning?" she asked.
Jaina shook her head.
"Fault lines that trigger revolution in oppressed societies," she answered – unlike her father, her mother's eyes did not go dull with boredom; Leia nodded with understanding.
"Interesting. I'm a main topic in those lessons, these days?"
Jaina snorted.
"I think you were a topic because I was in the class," she admitted. "Can't pass up a chance to talk Princess Leia when her daughter is in the room. Might get some dirt."
Leia nodded grimly.
"Did they focus on you?"
"Well, they tried, but I pretended I wasn't paying attention and when they asked me if I had any insights I said I'd never heard of Princess Leia, only Leia Solo."
Leia laughed quietly.
"I'm sure that went over well."
"I wasn't even paying attention too closely when Iritza brought the rumor," Jaina muttered, "but she phrased it as if you were tactically sharp to think of such a trade."
"Charming," Leia said, deadpan. She paused, thinking back – charming. Tarkin had called her charming. Back then.
"The instructor shut the conversation down after that," Jaina explained. "She's a supporter of yours, so she didn't like that."
"Hmm," Leia hummed. "Well, the context of that particular rumor is that it was circulated when Luke and I had just revealed our Vader connection. Imperial sympathizers who were held some power at the time circulated it. And it was based on some…stories that had been told in the upper echelon of the Imperial military."
Leia paused.
"Or, at least, that is the assumption I make. That stories were shared within the ranks, prior to the Death Star's destruction."
Jaina listened quietly.
"It was a power play at the time. Now it's just petty."
Jaina let her hands fall to her lap and intertwined her fingers, looking at them.
"I went to Dad because," she began, frowning. "It just seemed to me…that for something like that to be used against you, there had to be some element of it that would really hurt," she explained, "or it'd just be an absurd accusation you shrug off. So I thought…there must have been some truth to a," she trailed off again. "I don't know, a sexual element to your…captivity."
Leia nodded.
Jaina looked up sharply, her expression uncertain.
"I think I only thought of all of those stories in abstraction, until that day," she said quietly.
"Often how I thought of Imperial atrocities, while I was still in the Senate," Leia murmured.
She watched Jaina fidget for a moment, and then flexed her hand, lifting her head and tilting it to the side.
"Jaina, I don't want you scouring sources or making up things in your head," she said gently. "If you have questions, just ask them. I have been dealing with it for twenty odd years."
Jaina folded her arms again, hugging herself.
"Were you raped?" she asked. "On the Death Star?"
Leia anticipated being overtaken by the unstable blurriness that usually struck her when someone uttered that word in her presence –– or by nauseating, patchwork images, such as she'd seen the first time she discussed this with Han. Neither of those things happened – instead, she was more taken aback by how detached she felt from it.
"Yes," she answered bluntly.
She didn't think she'd ever discussed it so blatantly for, or ever felt so much…control over the narrative. She wasn't sure if it was time that changed, or if she had just come to terms so long ago – not even the devastation she'd succumbed to when Han brought it up the other night flared back up.
Jaina stared at her.
"Stormtrooper?" she asked.
Leia sighed.
"No, it was an army lieutenant. One of Wilhuf Tarkin's men."
"It was just…part of torture?" Jaina asked.
Leia lifted her brows.
"No, actually," she corrected. "It was to humiliate me. They knew I was not going to talk."
Jaina unfolded her arms. She rested her elbow on the back of the sofa, mimicking Leia, and rested her head on her palm.
"Mom," she started uncertainly.
"It happened a long time ago," Leia said.
Jaina looked at her with something nuanced in her dark eyes, the look of someone who had just seen theory born out in reality; who understood some abstract part of the world in a more human, visceral sense.
She didn't say anything for a long time, and Leia wondered what she was thinking.
"Mom," Jaina started again, finally: "Are you okay?"
Leia blinked, and after a moment, she smiled, slowly.
"I'm okay, Jaina."
Jaina leaned forward, studying her. Leia raised her eyebrows.
"What?" she asked. "Is there something else?"
"No," Jaina said. "It's just, my entire life, you've just been my mom. I've always known who you are, at work, but that woman has been…peripheral," she explained softly. "I just get it, I think. I understand."
Leia pursed her lips, and Jaina swallowed, going on:
"I see that Princess Leia. History's Princess Leia," she said quietly.
"Jaina," Leia sighed. "I'm still just your mother."
Jaina nodded.
"Yes, but…I know the stories. I know the history. You endured a lot for people you didn't even know. And my perspective on it is…deeper. I think. Now."
Leia lifted her chin ruefully.
"I don't wear it as a badge of honor," she said. "I didn't want to endure it, Jainy," she murmured.
"That's not what I meant," Jaina said, with a soft cringe. "I," she broke off. She looked down at her free hand, picking at her leggings. "I am saying that…I think you're a very strong woman," she said shakily, "as my mother and as…everything else you are."
Leia smiled. Jaina pushed her hair back and sat forward, leaning in to hug her. She tucked her head against Leia's shoulder like she hadn't since she was much smaller, and wrapped her arm around her waist. Leia kissed the top of her head, resting her cheek there for a moment.
She did not think this was a bonding moment per se, but she found it to be an important one – for herself, and for Jaina. Leia's own jarring introduction to the brutality of true atrocity versus abstract rhetoric was too painful to dwell on, but if this was Jaina's – she could breathe easier.
Jaina leaned back.
"Mom, if Noura ever starts asking about this stuff, if she hears stuff like I did, I can talk to her," she said bravely. "You don't have to do it. Or think about it anymore."
Her expression blazed, and Leia smiled, leaning forward to kiss her forehead again.
"No," she disagreed gently. "You'll send Noura to me," she said simply.
Jaina opened her mouth, but Leia just shook her head pointedly. This was something she would still never discuss in public – but with her own daughters, she felt it needed to be a somewhat open topic. If for no other reason than if something ever, Sith forbid, ever happened to one of them, they'd know they could come to her immediately, without shame, and without feeling as marginalized, alone, and humiliated as she once had.
Sitting back, Jaina turned her head and reached up to wipe her eyes.
"Sorry," she said, "that I'm crying over your thing."
Leia shrugged.
"It's sad," she said heavily. "It's something to cry over."
"JAINA!"
Jaina jumped. Noura's voice shrieked through the house in tandem with her furious footsteps – and she wasn't alone. Leia straightened a little, furrowing her brow, and they both heard Noura on the steps – and then flying back down them. Seconds later, she burst into the office, Marisol Celchu on her heels.
"Jaina, do you know what I found out in class today? Mom – MOM? Why are you home? Ugh, is Daddy here, too? Party crashers."
"Hello to you, too, Noura," Leia said dryly, sharing a wary glance with Jaina - another rumor from the dark days?
"Hello," Noura said breezily.
"Hi Marisol," Leia greeted. Winter's daughter, her hair tied up in pristine, ice-blonde braided knots just above her ears, waved, looking sly. Before she could get a word out, Noura threw her hands out.
"Well, you need to hear this, too, Mother!" she exclaimed, lowering her hands to her hips. "I saw an old photo of Daddy, and he was wearing a vest. A VEST." Noura looked between Marisol and her sister incredulously, shaking her head at what she clearly considered a fashion nightmare. "Did you know he used to – "
"Wear vests?" Leia asked, widening her eyes. "How dare he."
"Honestly," Noura agreed. She turned to Marisol sternly. "I do not know why Xippolyta has a crush on him, he is tragic," she said affectionately. Marisol burst out laughing at the idea of someone calling Han Solo tragic – which was something only his youngest daughter could do without repercussions.
Noura whirled around, suspicious suddenly.
"What's going on?" she asked, softening as fast as she'd gotten fired up. She zeroed in on Leia. "You feel drained," she said intuitively, her brow furrowing.
Before Leia could say anything, Jaina was on her feet, grabbing her bag. She tossed her head, smoothly sidling up and sliding an arm around Noura.
"Well, I already bitched to her for half an hour about my drama, and now you want to talk about Dad's vests? I think he still has some. Let's go destroy them," she said, effortlessly guiding her sister and Marisol out.
Noura cast a fleeting look at Leia, worried, but let herself be distracted – Wait, what was your drama, Jainy? - and then Jaina, ever the antagonistic older sister, informed her she was too young to know, which send Noura into a screechy rage – if you don't tell me right now, I will die - !
Leia smiled tiredly, lowering her hands to her lap. She fiddled with the diamond ring Han had given her their first year of marriage, rubbing her thumb over the gem. It felt like it had all happened so long ago – and not in a 'it happened to a different girl' sort of way, but in a way that – did not, in the grand scheme of her life as it was now, have any bearing of what she thought of herself, or how incredibly content she was with how things had turned out.
Jaina waited, for a few days, contemplating what she'd learned, before she sought her father out again. She went to him on the Falcon, this time finding him less immersed in physical reconfiguration and more focused on a software update on the navicomputer - and he had a specific, harassed scowl on his face that was almost always associated uniquely with -
"What did Noura do?" Jaina asked with a smirk, throwing her school bag down in Chewie's seat.
She backed up and leaned against the co-pilot's controls, careful to nestle her back somewhere she wouldn't hit any buttons or flip any switches. She crossed her feet at the ankle, smugly waiting to hear of her little sister's latest exploits.
Han looked up at her, narrowing his eyes.
"Hi," he muttered. "Did you happen to see what your sister was wearing when she walked out of the house this morning?" he asked tersely.
Jaina shrugged.
"No, I leave before her," she said. "But I've seen what she's been wearing lately."
Han sat back, throwing down the stylus he'd been holding.
"Well, I'm never gonna un-see it," he griped. "Doesn't her school have a dress code?"
Jaina shook her head.
"Only the professional academies do," she said. "Or the trade schools. She's still in general, so they don't want to constrict her individuality - "
"She has to be half-naked to be an individual?"
"Why didn't you stop her, if it was that inappropriate?" Jaina snorted.
Han grimaced. He had wanted to. He had started to -
"Because," he said darkly. "Leia said I had to find a way to tell her to change without making it sound like I was shaming her," he retorted - and he was still trying to figure out how he'd been taught a lesson this morning, or half of one, because he still thought Leia was wrong, when Noura was the one parading herself around as if she were well beyond the age of consent.
He didn't say anything for a minute, and shook his head, leaning back to enter programming on the computer.
"She's thirteen," he muttered. "'M not tryin' to put 'er in a convent for bein' a girl," he griped, shrugging, "but I don't think there's anythin' wrong with tryin' to get it through her head that she's still a kid, and thirteen ain't grown, and any man who thinks it is grown, and goes after her, isn't flatterin' her, he's a predator - "
"Noura's just trying to get a rise," Jaina sighed, rolling her eyes. "She's all talk, you know," she added. "If you're worried," she hinted delicately. "She just likes being liked."
Han raised his brows, sighing harshly.
"That's what scares me," he mumbled under his breath. He ducked his head under something to flip a few switches. "You don't do any of that stuff," he added edgily - one of the most difficult adventures in parenting he and Leia had come across is how different all three kids were, despite growing up in the same house, with the same rules and influences.
"Yeah, I'm not dumb enough to push the limits in front of you and Mom, I just do it behind your backs while you think I'm the good one," she snorted.
Han smacked his head on the underside of the computer sharply as he tried to sit up and glare at her. Rubbing the back of his head, he shot her a scowling look, setting his jaw.
"Jaina," he growled.
She laughed.
"I'm kidding," she placated. Then, shrugged. "Or am I?" she asked seriously, lifting her hand to bite her thumb nail. "I've crafted a very wholesome, academic persona and you may never know the truth," she informed him primly.
Han shook his head warily, giving her a grim look.
"S'long as you can still come talk to me," he forced out seriously, turning back to tap at the new instructions on the screen.
"Yeah," Jaina said. "What do you think I'm doing here?"
"Asking for money," Han retorted dramatically.
"Ha," Jaina scoffed. "If any of us want credits, we just go ask Baba," she said flippantly. "He'll slide us three hundred credits on the sly and just anxiously try to make us swear not to tell Mom. As if she's not going to notice or figure it out."
Han rolled his eyes, keying in the next update sequence.
"Bail's a pushover," he grunted. Jaina was not exaggerating, either - Bail was responsible for both of Max's pittins, which were purebred, imported from a renowned zoological society, and constantly underfoot. Then again, perhaps blaming Bail alone wasn't fair - Rouge had a hand in it, too. It seemed Bail had decided to engage in the very typical grandfather behavior in that all of the firm discipline and gentle guidance he had used on Leia went out the window in favor of attempting to spoil Jaina, Noura, and Max.
Jaina chewed on her nail thoughtfully, watching him work.
"Want an assignment?" Han asked, his voice muffled as he wiped his brow with his arm. "'Cause I got one for you. Someone left dirty dishes in the galley after a Dejarik tournament the other day. She should go clean them."
Jaina looked at him innocently.
"She wasn't playing Dejarik, she was using Dejarik to tutor Arlo in military history - "
"What's that got to do with dirty dishes?"
Jaina sighed.
"I'll clean them," she agreed under her breath. "I want to talk to you, though," she said insistently. "I'm serious. That's why I came by."
Han sat back, tucking his stylus into his pocket. He leaned into the chair behind him, looking at her warily.
"You get another bantha shit history lesson at the Academy?" he asked dryly.
"No, we've moved on to negotiation tactics with non-state actors," Jaina answered. "But I do want to talk about...that."
"About your mom?" Han asked.
Jaina nodded. She pushed away from the console and sat down, nudging her bag up to the side and curling her legs up under her.
"Mom talked to me a few days ago."
Han folded his arms. He nodded.
"Yeah," he agreed simply. "She told me."
Jaina hesitated, her brows going up.
"You guys really talk about everything? Every little thing?" she asked, more of a statement of awe than an incredulous inquiry.
Han shrugged.
"That's what the vows mean, Jainy," he said.
She nodded.
"You got more questions or somethin'?" Han asked, sitting forward a little. He frowned. "'Cause Leia doesn't want it to come from me. She was real clear about that," he advised.
"No, no, I don't have any questions," Jaina murmured. "I mean, not about what happened. There aren't really any...ambiguities," she said, grimacing. She hesitated. "It just seems...really obvious that that happened to her, now that I'm older. When I think about it. I feel kind of dumb for not assuming that was the case."
Han furrowed his brow.
"Don't feel dumb," he said. "You were young," he pointed out.
Jaina shrugged.
"I just wanted to ask...like, um, well," she trailed off. She sighed. "I asked Mom if she was okay. She said yes," she explained. She lowered her hand from her mouth and looked at Han pointedly. "Is that true? She's okay? I thought she might just say that to make me feel better."
Han considered her thoughtfully.
"I'm just worried about her," Jaina said hastily. "I don't think she's a liar, I just want her to be okay, you know."
"I get it," Han said.
He leaned forward onto his knees, rubbing his jaw. After a little while, he nodded slowly.
"She's okay, Jaina," he said quietly. "She's been dealing with that for a long time. 'M not sayin' it doesn't bother her, 'cause it's not somethin' you just get over, but she's been, uh, in a good place," he said, choosing his words carefully, "for a while now."
"She had therapy and stuff?" Jaina checked earnestly.
Han tilted his head.
"Not...professional," he said slowly. "S'nothin' against therapy, it just wasn't Leia's path," he said cautiously. "She had stuff to get through, but it wasn't, y'know, mental illness or deeply buried childhood issues we had to figure out, she knew what messed her up. She - we - just had to cope," he explained gruffly.
"PTSD?" Jaina asked.
Han nodded.
"Yeah, we all had a little bit of it," he said dryly. "That stuff's not the same as somethin' like schizophrenia or other mental health issues," he added. "You get PTSD, you can get better. Takes some people longer, or takes some people different ways, but it's sorta, y'know, got a beginning and an end."
He thought about his and Leia's lives for the past few years. Her reaction to triggers was significantly duller than it had been, and while she still had nightmares - would always have nightmares, they seemed to come with at least an average frequency, no more than any human or sentient being might experience them. They increased around certain anniversaries, perhaps, but she managed them - and rarely stayed awake after them. Han could count on one hand the times she'd needed him, rather than just herself, to soothe back to sleep in the past year.
Jaina plucked at the hem of her shirt.
"Have you always known?" she asked. "About everything that happened on the Death Star?"
He hesitated, not keen on going into too much of his and Leia's romantic history. He shrugged.
"Uhh, yeah, more or less," he said vaguely.
"And you still loved her?"
Han straightened a little, his brow furrowing.
"What?" he snapped. "Hey, 'course I still loved her," he said tensely. "None of that was her fault. Sonofabitch, Jaina - " he swore, his skin crawling.
"I know it wasn't her fault," Jaina protested. "I was just thinking...that's a lot of trauma to take on."
"She put up with a lot for me!" Han retorted. "From me!" he added.
Jaina rested her elbow on the armrest, and put her cheek in her hand, cradling it thoughtfully. She pursed her lips, lowering her eyes.
"I'm not being critical. Or skeptical," she whispered. "It's just...I told her that...knowing about this adds another element to my understanding of what she fought for. What she went through, to stay in that fight. And I know she didn't want to go through it, I get that, I'm not trying to glorify it, I just want to hear all of this kind of because...I need the context. I like understanding what it took for me to be here," Jaina explained. "I like knowing, so I can remember if I ever consider throwing it away, how much happened, and how much my mother sacrificed, so that for me, it's all just a story I heard from someone else."
Han sat back, relaxing a little. He looked at her intently.
"Pretty mature of you," he said. "You don't have to be that mature," he added. "Not yet."
"Yes, I do," Jaina insisted, incredulous. "Look at what we just talked about, think about all that Mom did - before she was even nineteen, when she was nineteen - for a galaxy full of people, half of whom weren't even willing to stick their necks out - !"
"Yeah," Han interrupted quietly, "and she had a lot of pressure on 'er,all the time. Lot of stress, fear, and heartache. Lot of responsibility that she didn't always choose. Most'f it she did. But not all of it." He smiled a little ruefully. "I got to remember that myself when I think she's bein' too lenient on Noura, but that's the whole damn point. She doesn't want you, or Noura, or Max, to be carryin' around the same burden she did, or think that you got to be perfect or you're disrespectin' her legacy."
Han shrugged.
"She had a personal stake in the freedom she fought for, too. She used to tell me a lot, when I got pissed at the way the Media treated her, that she didn't fight for it to be her galaxy, the way she wanted it. She just fought for everyone to be free to do what they wanted, just like she'd kind of always been able to, with her privileges," he said, and then added: "to do what they wanted within reason."
"So," Jaina began slowly. "That's why it doesn't bother her that Noura's so frivolous and irreverent."
Han held his tongue for a moment. That did bother Leia, he knew it did. She just approached it cautiously. She didn't want to alienate Noura. She was also very adamant that neither she, nor Han, use egotistical guilt trips such as 'do you know what I fought for to give you all this privilege?' - even when it was tempting, even when Noura could seem so dismissive of the rights and freedoms she had; she was young, and Leia was careful to remind herself, and Han - she didn't ask to be born, we put that burden on her; we're here to keep her safe, and keep her heart kind, not to make her a carbon copy.
"Look, your mom just loves all three of you more'n you know," he said gruffly. He thought of something Leia had snapped at Rouge once, and repeated it: "You're our kids, not our heirs. There's a difference."
Jaina nodded, staring at him thoughtfully. She took a deep breath and rubbed her forehead, sighing. She scrunched up her nose for a minute, still thinking. Han looked down at one of his hands and frowned before looking back up.
"Don't start actin' different around her, Jainy," he said grimly. "She'd hate that. S'why she doesn't tell people about it."
"Oh, I won't," Jaina said earnestly. "I don't think of her any different," she added. "Do other people know?" she asked. "Like...Baba? Uncle Luke?"
Han tilted his head back and forth, and nodded.
"Uh-huh. Most of the family," he said.
Jaina nodded seriously.
"So, the other night, when she was crying," she started hesitantly.
"It's just a bad memory, Jaina," Han said gently. "And she hasn't talked about it in a long time, and I don't think it made her very happy that you had to find out about it and come to terms with that happening to her."
"I know there's bad stuff in the world. I've always known Mom was...tortured."
"'Course," Han agreed. He smiled heavily. "But it's hard watchin' your kids realize that 'stuff' doesn't just happen to other people."
Jaina leaned her head back, falling silent. She nodded, after a moment, and then reached for her knapsack. She pulled a tablet out, and woke it up, loading some documents.
"I'm going to read," she said. "Let me know if you need a hand."
Han tilted his head. He nodded, and then went back to work, hoping what he - and Leia - had provided had helped Jaina with whatever was going on inside her head. He had just settled back into his work when Jaina looked up, her expression serious.
"Dad?"
He grunted, letting her know he was listening.
"Mom's really important. She's...really inspiring. But so are you," she informed him.
Han laughed.
"Thanks, kid."
"I mean that," Jaina insisted. "Dad, look at me," she said, leaning forward. "It was nice you didn't want to step all over Mom's story. I didn't want to hurt Mom by ambushing her with it, and I'd rather she not cry at all, but I understand why you had to go to her first. And it's really nice to hear that you knew about the things she struggled with and took it all on anyway. You didn't have to. Knowing, you know, you always talk to her, and you just, care about her, and love her, and make her feel safe and everything...I mean, you know that's really good for us, right? Me and Noura? That we see that even if we don't really get it until we're older?"
Han stared at her, blinking. Jaina nodded emphatically.
"Noura and I will always know how men are supposed to treat us. How we react to bad treatment is still on us but...we've seen the right way - and Max has seen how you're supposed to treat a woman you care about. That's thanks to you. That's why you and Mom don't have to worry about Noura as much as you think you do."
Han bowed his head, staring at his hands. He looked back up intently, touched by the little speech. It was really - all he could have asked for at this point. He smiled a little, his expression softening.
"Thanks, Jaina," he said. He took a deep breath. "Please don't settle for anyone who treats you bad," he said heavily. "Watch out for Noura, too."
Jaina nodded. She smiled, bit her lip, and then settled back, going back to her book. She slouched down, and for a time, Han was able to focus solely on the mundane programming work he was doing, until more footsteps on the ramp signaled the arrival of another visitor. Han glanced over his shoulder in time to see Noura sauntering into the cockpit - in a markedly different outfit than she'd been wearing this morning. This one consisted of an overlarge sleeveless sweater with a high neck, a short cape that looked like something Bail would wear, and black leggings.
Han eyed her, resisting the urge to say anything Leia would smack in the back of the head for - something like 'where'd your Twi-Lek dancing girl outfit go?' He kept his mouth shut, but Jaina looked up and said it instead. She was her sister - it was more acceptable.
"Already tired of the junior hooker look?" she asked, deadpan.
Noura tossed her messily braided ponytail with a resigned look.
"I got cold," she said.
Jaina burst out laughing. Han gave Noura a stern look.
"Good," he said pointedly. "Where is your gang?" he asked dryly - Noura was almost never alone after school. She was always holding court. Or being part of someone's court. Or at Winter's, corrupting Marisol.
Noura rolled her eyes and sat down on the edge of Han's seat, folding her arms.
"Xippolyta has gone too far with her crush, on you," she said, glowering. "She said she watched a sex tape of you and Mom."
Han dropped his stylus.
"We don't have a -!"
"It was one of the fake ones," Noura said, waving her hand. "Still, she's a little pervert."
"One of the - there are only fake ones - "
Jaina snorted.
"I know," Noura retorted impatiently. "Because as I told her, you and Mom have only had sex three times - Jaina, me, and Max - and you hated it."
Han blinked.
"...Yep," he agreed.
Noura nodded, eyeing him sharply, satisfied with the lie. She reached up to twirl a strand of her braid around her finger. She looked between them.
"What are you talking about?" she asked, interested.
Han opened his mouth to answer, but Jaina cut him off.
"I was telling him he's a good Dad," she said bluntly. "He needs encouragement sometimes."
Noura scoffed. She shoved her elbow into Han's shoulder.
"Of course you're a good Dad, you lunatic," she snorted breezily. "You think you're a bad dad because I wore those clothes this morning? Oh my god. Ugh," she rolled her eyes. "I was wearing that because Payetza said Mom was a fake feminist, just feminist for politic's sake, and I said that was bantha shit, and Payetza said if I tried dressing like the women Mom pretends to advocate for, Mom would go ballistic and make me change, so I wore that, and obviously Mom didn't bat an eye, because Mom is not a fake feminist," she rambled, "and I could tell you wanted to jump off the balcony, but I was proving a point, and I wasn't even good at proving it, because I got cold - anyway, half my friends have really inattentive parents, and at least I've got a Dad who honestly wanted to kill himself because I was dressing too old for my age - I'm not stupid, I know it's too old for my age, I don't even have breasts, and I'm not going to dress like that for real until I have a better grasp on my own agency, like Mom says -"
"I did not want to kill myself," Han muttered, rolling his eyes. "Take it easy with the dramatics, Nour," he added - though he did notice the last bit she'd said, about having a better grasp on her own agency, and he wondered if Leia had, unbeknownst to him, had a quiet, more subtle conversation with Nora about the spandex tops and miniskirts.
He gave her a disgruntled look.
"Why are you friends with those girls? They aren't nice to you half the time."
Noura shrugged.
"If I'm not friends with them, how will I keep tabs on their scheming?" she retorted.
Jaina snickered.
Han even grinned a little at that, and then hastily shot Noura a look.
"Oh - hey, you're not supposed to say shit," he reminded her bluntly. He reached up and put an arm around her pointedly, studying her. "Noura, don't grow up too fast, okay?" he offered abruptly. "It's not worth it."
Noura looked at him curiously, and then looked between him and Jaina. She sighed.
"I know this has something to do with Mom crying the other night," she said, almost impatient, "and I know no one is going to tell me right now." She took a deep breath. "And honestly, I was kind of...moody about it the past couple of days, because I hate not knowing things. You all know that - but, if it's something that made Mom cry - Mom," she reiterated, shaking her head, "then I think I'd like to stay too young to know for a little while."
She tilted her head at Han, swinging one of her feet.
"You have to just promise you'll always take care of Mom," she chided seriously.
Han smiled at her. He nodded.
"You know I will," he swore, nodding at her, and then Jaina. "You girls, too."
Jaina nodded, burying her head back in her book after a moment. Noura shifted, turning more towards Han, and launching into a more detailed explanation of everything that had gone on that day, including an in-depth analysis of what colour she was considering painting her nails for an event Leia had promised to let her come to next week. Han listened, as he always did. Jaina listened even as she read her book, thinking intently about her parents, and their personal history before she and her siblings had ever been in the picture.
She had always respected their past, and though them excellent parents - but this additional aspect of her mother's imprisonment, hearing about it, gave her a much more sobering awareness of what it had really taken, in terms of the deeply, deeply personal, rather than just the general, overarching themes of the war, for her mother to become the woman she was today. She had also always respected her parents' marriage, thought it ideal, quintessential, but that seemed so much more poignant now. Knowing what she knew, Jaina Solo was in awe - not of the brutality, but of the way her mother had confronted it, and recovered from it, and in turn had lead the galaxy without malice despite transgressions that might rightfully poison her good will - to know she, and her sister, had that kind of strength in their bones was to be humbled, and fierce, all at once.
- alexandra
story #381