Ebbing Clouds, Enduring Day

By: Rosy Red Fingured Dawn

Disclaimer: The characters in this are not mine. They belong to Michael A. Stackpole or George Lucas. The story its self is mine, however.

Authors Note: I couldn't seem to figure, using a couple of timelines, out how Hal Horn could have been 10 when the Clone Wars ended and then Corran be only a couple of years younger than Wedge and Luke. Thus I made Hal a few years older and Corran a little younger, but it doesn't really matter for this.

This is my first fic, so I hope it turns out ok. Please respond, constructive criticism will definitely be appreciated.

Summary: The thoughts of Hal Horn as he becomes a father, and a bit before.

She is beautiful. I just did up her dress and now I'm standing there watching. She turns around to face me and jolts me out of reverie.

"I look like a cow. If anyone ever asks you how we would feel about being part of the wedding party when I'm 8 and a half months pregnant, Ask me. Don't just accept!"

"You look ravishing." I tell her the truth, but she won't believe me. The midnight gown pulls out the color of her deep blue eyes and contrasts wonderfully with her pale skin. I grab her purse and state, "But now we have to go," and we head off to the wedding.

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It was a touching ceremony and I'm glad to have been there, but I must admit, I didn't really think about it all too much. I was too busy staring at Nyche and thinking about him. A baby, what are we doing? The universe is so dangerous now and we're bringing a child into this? He would be killed or worse if they know what he is and we're going to have to protect him somehow. I don't want to raise him in a lie, I don't know how to raise him properly. But at the same time I am so happy.

"Horn, ready to be a dad?" Derry asks me. He's one of the older guys in the Smuggling unit and tends to watch out for the rookies or anyone he sees as "young."

"Uhh." I stutter, unable to answer him as much as I am unable to answer myself. Reaching over he slaps my back and with his booming voice announce to me, "Don't worry, you'll do fine. So how far along is she?"

"Eight and a half months." I answer automatically, although the little voice in my head amends the statement. She's really 9 months pregnant. We decided that it may be to dangerous to have the baby in the local hospital, its impossible to know if they do midichlorian counts, so we are going to go away for a weekend after the wedding so we can have a little time before he comes. Well that's what we're telling everyone, in reality Nyche is going to have the baby while we're away, hopefully, so we can avoid the post-birth midichlorian count.

Really how can we think of doing this, how can I raise a force sensitive kid? My father, Nejaa, was reported to have said that parenthood, (and I assume that means me, as I'm an only child) was the hardest thing he ever did. I know he's force sensitive, just not how great. Yeah, I cheated, I felt him, I could help it, but I did it so lightly that no one would know. Can we do this when I can't even tell him the rudimentary stuff about the force? How do you anchor a kid to the light side without even explaining what the light side is? Far from these philosophical worries are simple logistics: kids use the force intuitively. What will I do to keep him from endangering himself? I can now, for the first time of my life, be happy that Halcyon's lack telekinesis. I sincerely hope he's a true Halcyon. If not, well, I remember what the crèche looked like when I once visited, well, they didn't actually have repulsor balls, but you couldn't tell.

"Did you pick out a name for him yet?" Derry's asking me.

"No, but we have a list of oh, about 30 to decide on." He laughs deeply. "Hard isn't it." He jibes.

"I'm not the problem, I don't know what about pregnancy makes her this way, but Nyche's considering the oddest names, like Byix, and for some reason she fell for the old Corellian name Wedge awhile back. I like the sound of it, but I couldn't really name my kid after a simple machine." Again I'm awarded with laughter and I start to relax. It will be ok.

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The hills passing by are beautiful. They're known as the Phusis Range, referring to the amount of life in them. The trees and shrubs cover the ridges, a blanket protecting the many creatures residing in the rolling rocks. They are only green 3 months out of the year, the rainy season, which the area just entered. The color covering all is light green of buds glowing in the fading light.

While my attention is focused to the view outside my window, Nyche shifts her head. She's sleeping in my lap. Lucky for us, we're at the front of the "car," so the seats are a bit bigger. After we left the reception in the late afternoon we went back to the apartment and changed for our journey. Our transport is a ground based tourist trap for people looking to "get away from it all," but its really the only way to get to the fairly remote province we are traveling to without piloting ourselves. Besides, I find the ride captivating.

As I look down at my sleeping beauty I get sentimental and think of when we met. It was at an art show at The Cornet City Art Museum. I was quite interested in seeing the work of Vetal Carak, however, in order to see his prized pieces one had to take the docent led tour. Unfortunately, or so I thought at the time, we were lead through a circuitous path stopping in Abstract Art. The one piece that the docent found so interesting, prompting over 20 minutes of lecture, I could not discern. I stared and contemplated, but frankly it appeared to me that Ewoks with paint cans could create better "art." Opening and closing one eye and then the other as if to find the hidden picture or a 3-D repeating pattern I must have looked quite odd. Although I knew that there is always more than you can see, as well as the fact that eyes deceive I could make no sense of the piece.

Then a resonant alto voice spoke behind me. "She's renowned for being difficult to understand." I quickly turned around to see a beautiful, petite woman with luminous blue eyes. Again she spoke, "I may be wrong but I think part of the meaning of it is about the propagandistic quality of much art so she rebels against these common practices creating this." She gestured to the painting. After this introduction we talked the rest of the tour and at the end, as I stood before the Carak pieces that I had so anticipated I asked her to join me for dinner the next night. She agreed. The next night we went out to a small café and then walked along the streets together. Before going on the date I had met Rostek to drop off something, I can't remember, and we spoke about my date. I asked if I could take one of his Corellian roses to her, but instead he led me though his greenhouse to a secluded spot in the back where one type of his hybrid orchids grew. He presented me with the flower to give her. It was a striking mix of blue and silver that seemed to shimmer, and much to my joy she carried it the whole night when we walked about. It was the same type of flower she brought down the aisle six months later. I still wonder why he chose to give me one of those unique blooms instead of a traditional flower.

From the music of my memories the sound of water emerges as it begins to rain outside. I move my hand to cover her swollen belly almost as protection against the steadily increasing fall of the water. He kicks. That simple action causes a return of the worries which plague me in addition to an apprehension that fills my gut. I really should relax. I need to stay calm. Millions of other people are raising children right now. Nothing should prevent us from being able to accomplish such a task too. I lay back my head, close my eyes just prior to a flash of light and banish all thoughts as a way to deal with the tension that continues to grow. This trip indicates to my mind that she will have the baby soon, and this realization is sobering.

Screech!

Crack!

I hear a crash and an odd ring sound, then I realize that it was my head connecting with the seat in front of me. As every thing starts to go black I grope around to find Nyche in the dark. What if something happened to the baby?