a/n: an Identity 'verse interlude. Setting is pre- "The Naberries" - the incident that kicks off the underlying drama between Han and Leia in that story.
6 ABY
For days, Leia had been struggling with recurrent, persistent nausea - it was peripheral, and intermittent, yet bothersome enough that it had the peculiar effect of nearly provoking her to tears when it flared. The startling near-tears moments that accompanied said nausea were alarming in their own right, primarily because despite the underlying personal issues she coped with on a daily basis, in the grand scheme of things she was not a woman who was prone to tears - not for something as mundane as feeling sick. She loathed being ill; she had so rarely been ill in her life that she never handled it well - she was always torn between a panicked desire to quarantine herself completely, and a seething resentment towards her immune system that motivated her to power through the affliction.
Still, given the choice, she'd rather be knocked out of commission by some virus, truly and thoroughly stricken with it, than subject to whatever - this - lurking - plague - was that had accosted her for the past week or so; she kept taking valuable time out of her day to lay her head on her desk, eyes closed lightly, breathing very carefully, feeling the urge to vomit without ever actually doing so - she was dizzy, tired, and when the rush of queasiness struck her - always unpredictable - her eyes burned with inexplicable tears of - frustration, or distress, and then she was furious at herself - it must be some mild flu, Leia; enough with the weepy self-pity - but she had no fever, and no other symptoms, just -
Nausea, and she failed to pinpoint a possible reason for it until it intensified one morning, gripping her just after she had wrapped herself in a robe post-shower and swiped her hand across the steamy mirror to check her reflection. Her head spun, her mouth watered, and her stomach twisted, and she closed her eyes, leaning forward over the sink instinctively, bracing herself - nothing. It was the same nagging false alarm - her stomach turned, and the nausea eventually faded. She grit her teeth and lowered one elbow to the counter, pressing a palm against her chest and curling her fingertips into the silk fabric of her robe. She took a few tentative, shallow breaths, and then a deep, calm one, still holding her eyes lightly closed - they burned, and she grimaced, angry with herself - why the hell was did she have such a strong desire to cry - she wished she would just get sick, really sick, and flush whatever poison this was out of her system.
Leia took another cautious, deep breath and started to straighten up. She heard Han grumbling something roughly in the bedroom, then heard him moving around - he'd been grumbling about it being morning when her alarm went off prior to her shower, and the scent of brewing kaffe indicated he'd managed to drag himself out of bed - he usually did, while she showered; he started breakfast, or shaved, or poked his head in to see if she wanted early morning company -
She was nauseous again, and compressed her lips, leaning forward until her hips pressed against the edge of the counter. She hesitated to move her head too abruptly, so she reached out and groped lazily for mouthwash, figuring the mint taste would sooth her stomach. She did not have time to mill around waiting to see if she was going to vomit; she had a full morning: meetings, a hearing, a tense interplanetary treaty negotiation -
Morning; morning. It was morning, and she was queasy - it didn't matter that this had been an all day sort of thing for the past week, its happening in the morning seemed to make everything crystal clear, and Leia's hand fell from the mouthwash; she drew it back like she had been burned, her head snapping up sharply. Her nausea abated for a moment - considerate of it, really - while she caught her reflection in the hazy mirror, and she stared at herself with a raw, wide-eyed expression - she couldn't possibly be - she had an implant, for Sith's -
- but these things are never perfect, a clinical sort of voice reminded her, and Leia bit down on her lip hard - it's a base biological imperative of homo sapiens to reproduce, and try as we might to wield control, in the end, it is what we are made for, and nature does what nature does - Leia wanted to scream; fuck Alderaanian philosophy; it wasn't what she needed right now, right now she was - reeling, suddenly; Nonononono, I can't be -
A quiet groan escaped her lips and her shoulders fell; she braced both elbows on the counter, swiftly trying to calm herself down. She had no other reason to believe that she might be - that that was the case, and there was no need for her to jump to conclusions, or let her mind run wild - in that split second of realization that told her there was a very real possibility that she could be pregnant, she felt so overwhelmed, so alarmed, so out of control, that she almost did give into tears.
She held back, breathless over what she suspected, and suddenly combating a thick, suffocating sense of guilt - this is not how you are supposed to react to a baby - ! She had to cut that train of thought off, sharp and militant - she needed to breathe, think about this logically; it was much more likely that she had some sort of obnoxious, slow-burning flu -
Obnoxious, slow burning flu that you'll have for the rest of your life - that will be sweet and little for a short while and then turn as cold and dark as Vader -
She opened her mouth as if she would scream, but no sound came out - these intrusive thoughts were debilitating - she blinked a few times, and stared down at the crisp, white basin of the sink, blinking slowly at her distorted, upended reflection in the faucet - her weight bore down on her elbows, making the hard edges of bone tingle, and she started to drown in her thoughts, so lost in them that Han severely fractured her composure when he half-stumbled into the 'fresher door, nudging it open and inching into the room with her.
She looked up jerkily - he smelled like kaffe grounds, and the toast he'd blackened in the kitchen, and he looked at her blearily, still not entirely awake, his hair licked up in odd angles, tangled from sleep, thinking it any run-of-the-mill start to the day.
"Morn'n, Sweet - "
Leia had no idea why she chose to ambush him the way she did - it was likely because she was so shaken; she cut off his mumbled greeting, words spilling out of her mouth without preamble -
"Han," she gasped in a strained voice, "I think I'm pregnant."
The pronouncement came out in such an unholy rush that she nearly choked - and then the nausea she'd been struggling with finally struck her without negotiation, and she spun back to the sink violently, retching up panic and stomach acid all at once.
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut against the burning in her nose and throat, and the sour taste in her mouth, possessed for a moment with the simple relief that came with finally getting sick after endless discomfort - and then the other mix of emotions flared back, and she opened her eyes, lifting her head apprehensively. Still half awake, his expression reflected in the mirror, Han was giving her a bewildered look, almost uncomprehending, as if he definitely wasn't alert enough to process words in Basic - and his hair was still sticking up in its harmless, comical way.
That innocent knot of hair inexplicably mesmerized Leia - she stared at him, her chest tightening, on the verge of - irrationally - shouting at him to do something. He only stood there for a few - long - seconds. Her lip trembled, and Han jolted forward, his movements somehow as smooth and calm as they were firm and determined. He placed one hand on her lower back, applying slight pressure with his fingertips, and reached past her to take a cup from their small toothbrush shelf. Wordlessly, he held it steady while she fumbled the faucet on, and handed the cool drink to her, his hand remaining on her back as she straightened up.
She rinsed her mouth, spit, then took a drink, her stomach roiling - she thought she'd vomited not solely because of the nausea, but because she'd said her suspicion out loud, and that was so outwardly indicative of how it made her feel - sick, not ready, scared - there were a handful of simmering problems suddenly demanded to be confronted, and she felt lightheaded.
Her knees buckled and she stumbled forward, and Han sucked in his breath, startled, and seized her around the waist to hold her up.
"Hey," he mumbled. "Hey, whoa, whoa," he soothed, almost to himself.
He took the glass from her and set it down, no doubt firmed up by her nearly passing out. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath - one Leia thought had a hint of a shudder to it - and then tilted his head towards the bedroom, an impassive expression on his face - his mouth was a little tight, but he looked at ease, and his hands were warm on her. He started to let go of her gently, and then paused, looking closer.
"You good?" he asked. "You gonna faint?"
His brow furrowed a little - Leia almost laughed; Han must think it was absurd as she did that he was checking to make sure she wouldn't faint - Princess Leia, faint, like a - delicate flower, or innocent maiden - it was unheard of. She shook her head, breathing in and out slowly, and Han nodded, indicating the doorway with his head again.
"C'mon, let's go sit down," he said gruffly.
Leia turned towards him, placing two hands on his chest for a moment. She took another deep breath, and then nodded - at least there was no need to brace herself, or agonize over how to tell him; she wished she hadn't unleashed on when he was still groggy and unprepared - but how could he be prepared - and what was he thinking - ? He looked a little pale, but he obviously wasn't having the sort of devastated, shock and awe reaction she was -
She nodded again - and rather than let him slip an arm around her and lead her to the bedroom - or lead her anywhere - she slipped away from his grip and fled towards the living room, her footsteps tense, trusting him to follow.
His hands were steady as he poured two mugs of fresh kaffe and carried them into the living room, where Leia had settled tensely on the edge of the sofa, her knees pressed together and her hands clasped between them. She worried her lower lip between her teeth, scraping the skin, her eyes fixated on an innocuous part of the kaffe table - when Han placed her mug in front of her, and sat down next to her gingerly, she continued to stare at that spot, distracted, though now a thin curl of fragrant steam was her focus point.
Han took a long first sip of the black brew, and then placed his mug down next to hers, reaching over to rub his palm casually over her shoulder. He squeezed lightly, and tilted his head, trying to catch her eye - his mind was in a thousand different places, in fact one part of his subconscious was screaming, but he ignored it; one look at Leia's face in the bathroom, and he'd realize it was imperative for him not to be shaken - she was a mess, and the last thing he wanted to do was make it worse. Leia blinked, looked up at him, and straightened, clearing her throat. She flushed, and turned, reaching out to gratefully accept the kaffe - and then, as she touched the rim of the mug to her lips, she seemed to startle, and placed the mug back down with a harsh scraping sound, shaking her head roughly, flexing her fingers as if she'd been burned.
"I can't drink that," she said, defensive and hoarse, rubbing her wrist and still flexing her fingers. She gave the mug a wary, distasteful look. "It's caffeine. I can't, if I'm - "
She trailed off, compressing her lips, the flush on her face fading as quickly as it had flared. She turned pale, and closed her eyes lightly. Leaning forward, Han frowned a little. His hand pressed against her for a moment, and then slid down to her elbow, and he reached out to touch her knee, as well, his shoulders tensing slightly.
"Hang on," he said quietly. "What's going on?" he asked carefully. "You - you're pregnant, or you just think...?" he paused, hesitating for a beat - he swallowed hard - his immediate, knee-jerk reaction to hearing the word - pregnant - moments ago was to go tense all over, consumed with dread, but just as quickly that had faded - he wasn't unconcerned, so to speak, but he had almost immediately realized that response was residual from his smuggling days, his fleeting affair days - he and Leia hadn't talked about this, but it was - it was alright -
Han pressed his palm into her knee. Leia leaned forward, pushing her hand back through her hair, tightening her fingers in it.
"No, I'm not - I don't know," she ground out roughly, her teeth clenched. "I'm not - I shouldn't be, I have an - but I've been nauseous for days, and weepy," she trailed off, her voice shaking. "I think I - well, if I suspect, I can't - drink that," she burst out, waving her hand at it. She turned away from the offending mug, and towards him, letting go of her hair - damp, and tangled from her shower, it fell over one shoulder, and she reached up to press the neck of her robes closed, her eyes reddening as she held back tears. "I feel like that has to be - I've felt off," she forced out, "and - I usually bleed - one or two days a month, at least a little, with the device, but I don't think - I have - "
She stopped again, catching her breath, and Han's heart sped up a little - his mouth felt dry, and he felt - nervous, mostly nervous; kriffkriffkriff, a baby? He couldn't get a handle on the feelings coursing through him - did he want a baby? He'd spent his whole life explicitly avoiding - but this was Leia, he loved her more than anything, and when he - decided he wanted her, married her, chosen her, he'd sort of figured they would - he wasn't ready, though; he'd be - he'd be awful at this -
Han slammed a wall down on his more negative thoughts again, bracing against them and steeling himself - anxiety clawed at the pit of his stomach, but he wanted to make sure Leia knew he could handle this, they'd both be fine. He didn't know - how her birth control could fail so spectacularly, but at the very least, he could remind her there would be no - public or professional stress, no disapproval, no politics to deal with - they were married; even Bail himself couldn't find fault with her.
Han reached up to push his own hand through her hair. He took a deep breath.
"Hey," he drawled, nice and easy. "Least we're married, huh?" he teased gently, hoping it would ease some of her obvious panic a little - he tilted his head, studied her face, tried to figure out what the major trauma was - surely she didn't fear he would run off or somethin' - he'd just sworn his entire life to her not that long ago, better or worse. He - and he hardly thought this was what the vows meant when they talked about the bad.
Leia blanched.
"We haven't been married that long," she snapped hoarsely, curving her arm against her abdomen. She hunched forward, shaking her head. "This can't have happened, this can't have," she shook her head. She closed her eyes, and Han watched her worriedly, his chest tightening - what's wrong, Leia, what's so wrong - ? The question was on his lips, but he held it back - he felt somewhat smacked around by this possibility, but it didn't have to be so bad - did it?
Leia's lips trembled, and she reached up to wipe at her eyes, furiously holding back tears. Han shifted back, leaning against the back of the sofa, scrambling to think of something to say to comfort her - he rubbed his jaw, his brow furrowing.
"D'you - want to take the morning from work, let me run and grab a female med kit with a scanner?" he offered. He shrugged.
Leia spread her hands over her face and then slammed them down, her face pale.
"I have commitments I cannot cancel this morning, Han, I," she broke off. "Maybe I - I might be overreacting, I just can't," she hovered her hands around her head. "I can't think straight. I can't wrap my head around - Han, I'm scared, I'm so," she rambled for a moment, her shoulders falling. "I'm so scared."
He swallowed hard.
"Well I'm - 'M not goin' anywhere, Leia, you don't have to be scared," he said edgily.
"I know you're not going anywhere," she said quietly.
"You've got to - take some deep breaths," he sat forward again, taking one himself. He gave her a smile. "It could be worse, right? Could be durin' the war, or - "
"Han," she snapped tensely, "Are you saying - this isn't - doesn't this," she fumbled for words. "Aren't you - bothered?"
He didn't know what to say to that; he shrugged a little.
"S'not - what I thought you were gonna say to me this mornin', Leia, but it's not the end of the world either, is it?" he asked tensely.
"How can you take this in stride like it's nothing - "
Han gave her an incredulous look.
"You're not even sure, Leia!" he pointed out, leaning forward.
She pushed both of her hands out at him sharply.
"And what if I am?" she demanded hoarsely, her voice cracking.
Han stared at her for a minute, lost for words. He pointed at himself roughly, his eyes narrowing.
"I'll be right there," he fired back, nettled now. "Dealin' with the same damn thing," he reminded her. "Leia, it'll be okay," he said forcefully. He softened his tone and reached out for her again, placing his hands on her shoulders. He reached up and ran his palm across her cheek, smearing away tears. "Leia," he called calmly. "Leia, it's okay, honey, we'll see what happens. 'M - 'M not mad," he assured her, his brow furrowing with the absurdity of that thought.
She shook her head, looking up miserably.
"No, no - Han, I can't. I don't want to do this - I don't want it," she said rapidly, still with that faraway, distracted attitude - and Han still held her shoulders gently, his brow furrowing with concern - he didn't ask what that meant; he told himself it didn't matter right now, but an unexpected sorrow clutched hard at his chest at the thought of - she was just unsettled, though, and nervous.
"Sweetheart," he began, again as calmly as possible. "You've got to breathe."
She all at once dipped her head forward, bending gracefully at the waist, and tucked her head against his ribs, pressing her palms against him tightly and holding on for a moment. He felt her shiver, clutch at him, and he leaned over and kissed the back of her head, letting out a breath of relief. She just needed to be reassured that he was there, that was all, he was okay with this - and the more he told her it would be okay, the more he calmed down from the shock of it - or started to.
Leia sat up, wiping her face with her sleeve, and breathed out, pushing her hair back. She cleared her throat, and held up her hands, compressing her lips.
"I need to - breathe; yes," she agreed, taking another breath. She hesitated, and then glanced at the holo, swallowing hard. "This - isn't helpful; I need to get ready for work," she said in a low voice.
Han frowned, leaning back against the couch again.
"You sure?" he asked warily. "You can be a little late if I need to run out - "
She shook her head.
"I need to - compartmentalize, Han, I," she sighed, "let me go to work," she said softly. "Let me go to work and be in that - efficiency mode and - get," she clutched her fist at her chest, "control."
He nodded, wanting to argue, but not wanting to start a fight - not wanting to cause undue stress when she was already at her wit's end - he sometimes picked his battles in terms of when to intervene, and now he teetered on the edge - I'm, uh, kind of unsure, too, Leia, you could hang around and we can figure out - if you are, and we can calm down together - Leia stood abruptly, pushing her hair back again, her fingers catching in the tangles. She folded her arms tightly across herself, and then stepped forward, giving him a tight, sweet smile.
"I'm sorry I - lost it," she said.
Han shrugged.
"Don't be," he gave her a charming, soft smirk. "Hey, I never planned anything in my life, Princess. It worked out for me so far," he said bravely.
The comment seemed to do the opposite of cheer her; she looked away, withdrawn suddenly, and Han sat forward, reaching for the hem of her robe. He started to tug her towards him, but she pulled away gently, murmuring about work, already starting to compose herself. Left alone, Han reached for the lukewarm mug of kaff, only then noticing his knuckles were white, and his hands were shaking a little - kriff, Sweetheart, holy fuck, this isn't fair, a man's supposed to be ready for this, and I -
He didn't think he'd do her proud; he felt insecure, but he'd be damned if he dumped all that on her when she was so worried - Leia was such a meticulously organized person, and this would throw her for a loop - and somewhere in all of that, he was sure she was thinking of Vader - and he hoped, even if he didn't have much faith in that hope, that work would do her some good, but in the meantime - he stayed calm, Leia could always relax if he didn't seem bothered - he'd noticed that about her years and years ago, on some of the most dangerous missions they'd ever worked together - and in their personal relationship, too, he knew she was better off when he seemed unfazed.
Her morning spun by like a tempest, grueling and fast-paced, and it satisfactorily kept her thoughts at bay – the nausea continued to flare, and then ebb, and Leia was sure it was actually exacerbated by her fears regarding the root cause of it – yet she kept it in check, and kept herself in check; true to her word, work focused her, kept her balanced, and braced –
Until the afternoon hours crept in – her schedule wound down, diplomatic notes became less urgent – and she sat in her office with the door tightly closed, desperate for something to absorb herself in as the apprehension started to weigh on her again – her stomach turned, and she closed her eyes, tucking her head down on her desk.
'M not goin' anywhere, Leia, you don't have to be scared.
Her head popped up abruptly and she bit her lip, a sharp pang striking her heart as his words echoed through her mind – she hadn't at all meant to make him feel as if she had no faith in him; she knew without a doubt that Han wasn't going to flee from this – she hardly even thought he'd run off if they weren't married, if they hadn't been through so much – and she felt guilty for making him think, even for a second, that she was worried about that.
Her eyes burned, and Leia glanced at the door, ensuring it was shut, before leaning back and reaching up to draw her fingers across her eyes, catching tears. She tried to take a deep breath and had to cover her mouth to keep from sobbing out loud; her eyes widening – what the fuck is wrong with me; what is wrong with me – she demanded answers of herself, utterly startled by her reaction.
Shock, anxiety – those emotions she would have expected; that was the sort of thing any woman felt when faced with a possibly unplanned baby – but she was married, she loved her husband, they had money, privilege, and Leia – when she was a younger girl, at least, had always assumed she'd have children –
The feelings that wrenched through her when she suspected this morning, though, they incapacitated her emotional stability because she was so unprepared – all she thought about was Vader; she had suddenly doubted herself, her emotional health, everything in life.
She felt the desire to run, to reject this, immediately, and then when Han put his hands on her, and tried to calm her down, and looked at her with that calm, devil-may-care-expression – it set off another hopeless chain of indefinable emotions; she resented herself for reacting with such unanticipated horror at the idea of a baby – she was scared of Vader's genetics, but this was – this would be – if she was – Han's, and she should want that –
- and then the look on his face when she'd said, without thinking, that she didn't want it – well, she had expected Han to be more shocked, more unsettled by this, and somehow he was collected, and sweet, and he'd seemed more wary of what she said than she was, and that, too, made her feel isolated, and insecure.
How was it possible, though – how was it possible that Han's steady, careful reaction, his concentrated effort to calm her down, figure this out, could alienate her so –
He wants it, a small voice inside of her whispered, burning in her chest, he wants a baby, he can handle it, and you can't, and you're not happy to have it – that makes you a bitch.
Leia wiped at her eyes again, pressing her lips together hard.
She just wasn't ready, she wasn't – they hadn't discussed it. They hadn't had time together – they were still coasting through post-marital bliss, wrapped in a saccharine honeymoon phase; Leia wanted time with him, and time to enjoy all they'd earned, and in the midst of all this lurked her ever impending confrontation with Anakin Skywalker's family, and the public – the public - !
You're not even sure, Leia!
She tilted her head back and breathed out slowly. He was – right; she wasn't, and there would be no peace of mind until she was – she just couldn't imagine having it confirmed, having to suddenly deal with all of this. There were clearly – hidden issues she hadn't even anticipated; how could she be a mother when she couldn't even fully understand and cope with her own origins; how could she raise a confident, happy child without being resolved in her own identity?
She couldn't think straight – and if she was; what would she do? She didn't have it in her to terminate Han's –
Leia brought her thoughts to a screeching halt, sitting up straight in her chair, her eyes darting as if someone might read her mind – why was she even thinking about this – not only getting ahead of herself, but even daring to weigh that option, when Han was supportive, and cool-headed, and she loved him so much; so much –
Her office door opened, and Tavska glided in, giving a respectful bow at the waist.
"Your Highness," she greeted. "Master Skywalker would like to know if you have a free hour to discuss your upcoming trip to Naboo."
Leia, unprepared, looked at Tavska blankly, her face still pale – eyes reddened slightly. Tavska noticed, and bowed her head, breaking eye contact with quiet understanding, and Leia was immediately sure the last person she wanted to see was Luke –
Leia, it's okay, honey; we'll see what happens.
She blinked several times, standing up with purpose, clearing her throat at the same time she clenched her teeth with strength – yes; they would see, and she still couldn't think straight and she just – felt lost, unable to decide if Han was comforting for her right now, or inexplicably agitating her, and she needed – she needed to know – what she was facing.
Han had been unfocused for the duration of the workday – distracted in an intelligence briefing, irritable with some of his new pilots – prior to leaving the office, he'd had a sour exchange with General Dodonna – an occurrence few and far between, these days – and he had shrugged off a conversation Luke attempted to have with him –
Asking if Leia was okay; if she was all right – kriff, that kid and his sensory abilities; Han hated them as much as he was fiercely jealous of them. If he could tell what Leia was feeling, really tell, as easily as Luke sometimes could – he'd find so much more relief when he worried about her.
It figured that Luke knew something was up – Han said nothing; Han ditched his office early and retreated to the Falcon, and when the Falcon – disrupted by Chewie's pensive, watchful glare – only distracted him for a brief time, he abandoned all – with a home scan kit in his pocket, which he'd swiped from Military Headquarters' Med Centre, he went home, wondering if Leia would work late – or run home early, as unable to focus herself with the usual distractions as he was.
He was tensely pulling out things for dinner, when she walked in the door – he hadn't decided what to make; what he was making was a mess, as he rummaged through what they had in stock – and he was so absorbed in it, he didn't hear her; she was standing there when he turned around, and he stopped, rearing back.
His eyebrows went up sharply.
"Snuck up on me, Your Worship," he teased dryly.
Standing beyond the edge of the bar that jutted out from the kitchen's prep island, she looked back at him, an expression of unreadable clarity in her eyes – she looked tired, but fortified, and Han lowered his hands to the counter, tilting his head at her.
He waited for her to speak; when she didn't, he filled the silence.
"So," he started. "I uh, grabbed one of the, um – home female scan kits, from Med supply," he said gruffly. He shrugged. "'S in the 'fresher," he offered. "I figured…you'll take it, and we'll check it after dinner."
She compressed her lips, and he hesitated.
"Or, uh, we can wait a few days," he offered slowly. "If you'd – I'm not sure, what'll be easier for you, but if you wanna kind of – adjust to the idea," he tried – he wanted to kick himself, but he thought – perhaps a positive test would go over better if she got over the shock, and was acclimated to the idea –
"I saw my physician today. I'm not pregnant."
- because then she might not have such a devastated reaction -
His thoughts halted abruptly, and he blinked.
"You - what?" he asked aloud – a little too loud, when he registered what she had said.
Leia took a deep breath, and came forward, cocking her hip against the counter. She pursed her lips, and said, a little more softly, with less finality –
"I saw my gynecologist," she said. "I'm not pregnant," she sighed, "my implant is expiring. It's caused the nausea, and the disrupted bleeding – "
Han shook his head, folding his arms – not defensive, but uncertain, tilting his head towards her.
"You went – today? Why didn't you – without me?" he asked, stumbling over the words.
Leia hesitated delicately.
"It would have – drawn attention, Han," she said softly. "Men don't accompany their wives unless," she trailed off.
His chest felt tight, his mouth dry again – he wasn't disappointed; in fact, he felt a significant wave of relief, knowing that this was not a milestone they were going to face just yet – he didn't think he was ready; he wanted more preparation for it – but it was so disarming that she had - seemed to need him so badly, and done this – alone.
"Who gives a damn about attention?" he asked tensely. "Leia, you were – so upset, you were – "
"I have a – hormonal imbalance," she said, a bitter edge striking her voice. "The expiring implant causes poor management of emotions and the Two-Onebee noted an – abnormal hormone concentration," she trailed off, her voice coarsening. "Han, I had to know. I couldn't - focus."
"I offered to find out with you this morning!" Han said – he felt utterly panicked, suddenly; Leia hadn't done something so isolating – pulled away from him so intensely – in such a long time, and this felt – cold – he felt like he'd failed her somehow.
He had done his damndest to make her feel like this was no big deal, this was something they could easily deal with –
She crossed her arms tightly over her chest.
"I had the faulty implant removed," she said in a tight rush, "and I'll have the new model imbedded in two days – my appointment is set," she licked her lips, saying nothing more – implied was the directive that they couldn't have sex until then, unless he wanted to resort to more rudimentary prophylactics.
He still stared at her, conflicted – relieved they had more time to address this, unable to understand her motives, unable to understand what was at the root of her obvious distress – and here she stood, collected and at ease again.
She looked up at him as if begging him not to jump down her throat.
"Leia," he said, harsher than he meant to. "You didn't have to do it like this – "
"Han, I had to know. I have – we are going to Naboo in a month; all I can think about is the Naberries, and Vader, and I cannot – I could not deal with this," she broke off, and her eyes filled with tears. "I shouldn't have ambushed you this morning," she said hoarsely, her eyes wet, "I should have kept it together, waited until I was sure – "
"This is an ambush, too," he snapped, interrupting her. "You – all day, I've thought I was gonna be a father!"
Leia flinched – hard, and Han drew back, shocked. His eyebrows went up, and he was hard-pressed to understand why she suddenly looked so miserable, guilty and hurt – so he immediately deflated, his shoulders relaxing, and stepped forward. He touched her cheek gently, letting out a breath – I was getting' ready for it, Sweetheart, I was scared, but I swear it was gonna be okay –
He'd thought, hell, there was a time in his life when this would have been the worst news possible, an yet when she'd sat in front of him this morning, crying in her short silk robe, he'd thought, no, it's okay; it's good, 'cause it's Leia's.
"Han," Leia said quietly. "I'm not pregnant," she said again, softer, and final.
He nodded. He started to say something, and then thought better of it, swallowing the words. He leaned down to kiss the corner of her mouth, sliding his arms around her and pulling her close. He tucked her head against his shoulder, and ran his fingers through her hair.
"It would've been okay, Sweetheart," he murmured huskily. "I swear it would've."
Leia shook her head, and he felt – physically felt – her shrink a little, and it bewildered him. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and hugged her a little tighter, falling into silence, because he lacked any other option; she was hurting, and conflicted, that much was sure, but he had the sudden, stricken feeling that he was the cause of it – and he had no idea why.
Two Days Later
Dousing the lights, slipping into bed with a satisfied, tired groan, Han rolled over in the soft sheets to slip his arms around Leia, burying his face in her hair – it still had a few subtle wet strands, air drying from her shower; she smelled faintly of her honey-fruit shampoo, and he pressed a kiss to her throat, somehow always enamored of the now habitual practice of going to bed with her.
She turned into him like clockwork, her thin t-shirt slipping against his skin, and brushed her hand under his chin, and her lips against his bicep, her lashes fluttering tiredly against him.
He coaxed her towards him, sliding his leg in between hers – there had been too much subtle, underlying tension between them for the past few days, and she had seemed so much lighter today – he ran his hands over her spine, over her hip bones, the pads of his fingers roaming over the fresh, raised little scar that denoted the place where her new implant was.
I feel safe now – she'd said quietly, at breakfast this morning - she still seemed a little haunted, by what had been no more than a scare.
His hand dipped between her legs, and Leia gave him a slow, gentle kiss – at the end of which, she extricated herself a little, loosening his grip, and nudging him away – taken aback, Han drew his hand away, lifting his head in the dark - she was settling onto her side, tucking her head to the pillows, and he looked at her, hesitant, cautious – he didn't want her to think he expected, or demanded, sex, but this would be the first night since their honeymoon they hadn't – other than the past two nights when her implant was missing –
And to his knowledge, neither of them had nudged the other away, not when they were in bed together, not like this –
She sensed his consternated look, and sighed.
"Han, I," she started. She looked up. "I'm tired."
He nodded. He settled down next to her – and cleared his throat warily, already regretting his next words –
"Leia, we got to talk about this."
She made a sharp, clicking noise with her tongue.
"I said I was tired – you've always told me I don't have to have sex with you – "
"Yeah, and I mean that!" Han interrupted shortly. "I mean that, but you've been all knotted up since the other day – I get it if you're shaken up, but we can't - never have sex again 'cause you're afraid you'll get - "
"It sounds like you're whining," she cut him off, turning onto her other side violently. She yanked covers up around her.
He saw her take a deep breath, and he stared at her back for a long time, considering rolling over and letting her go over what she'd just said, and regret it.
Instead, he reigned in his temper a little, and bowed his head, lowering his voice.
"Leia," he reminded her quietly. "I don't make you do things you don't want to. I never have."
She was still, and quiet – then, she nodded, the movement very small, and contrite. She turned over slowly, wiping her face with the back of her hand.
"I know," she said shakily. "Han, I need a little time to – recover from that scare," she admitted.
He nodded, settling down next to her and reaching out to brush her hair back.
"S'okay," he mumbled. "S'just – we got to talk about – we can just lay here and talk, Leia, 'cause I want you to know I – "
"Han," she interrupted, "please."
She swallowed hard.
"I need to focus all my energy on getting through this thing with the Naberries," she said huskily. "I don't want to talk about this right now."
She thought she might shatter if she let him finish that sentence, let him say – I would have wanted a baby – because she had sat in her office earlier, and had the fleeting thought that'd she'd end it, and she was so unhinged by her reaction to the idea of a baby that she didn't think she could bear the idea of Han wanting one.
She slid her arms around his neck as if to hold onto him in more ways than one, and she caught her breath, steadying her voice.
"I love you, it's just – I can't, I can't right now."
He saw it on her lips again – I can't – formed soundlessly, and he nodded, running his hand over her back to soothe her – in the back of his mind, his better angels, battered and soiled as they were, nagged at him not to let her bury this – make her talk now! – but he had tried to be there for her earlier, and it had seemed to backfire, and he felt lost in the new waters to navigate –
So he nodded, and Leia bowed her head in soft relief, and moved closer to him, her lips, nose, and forehead against his chest, and she pushed the anxiety burgeoning in her into the back of her mind, and Han turned his back, as well as he could, to the bewildering tension that seemed to slowly trickle into their marriage.
the POV scenes go Han-Leia-Han-Leia and then a mix, and as you can see, they're super not on the page the whole time. i usually feel sad ending things on a not great note, but The Naberries is already published - so you know how it ends.
-alexandra
story #359