AN: And we are back with the emotional conclusion of our story!

When Han entered the room, he saw Leia propped up on some kind of table that he'd only expect to see inside an interrogation chamber. There were people and monitors and equipment everywhere and he felt distinctly overwhelmed and very insignificant for a moment as the people rushed around him. He snapped out of it, however, when he heard her cry out in pain.

"Is that my husband?" Leia gasped. One of the nurses looked him over for a second.

"Tall, dark hair, is lookin' at me like this ain't his fault?" She asked Leia.

"That's him. Han… get over here!" Leia demanded through heaving breaths, sticking her hand out for any part of him she could reach. He gave her a few fingers, which he regretted immediately when her hand clamped down on them. The worst of the contraction passed and Leia rescinded her fingers to push an errant strand of hair from her eyes. Han took the opportunity to bend his aching fingers, and he wasn't surprised to see the bluish tinge of a bruise rising under the knuckle on his index finger.

"We're almost there, Mrs. Solo. You really waited until the last minute," the nurse at the end of the table announced.

"Told you, sweetheart." He teased. The nurses all turned to look at him for a second.

"Han!" She shrieked again. He started to back away, wondering if he'd broken some unwritten rule of labor and delivery. No senses of humor are allowed in the delivery room or fathers are not allowed to speak at any time. Her hand shot out towards him and knocked into his ribs before latching onto one arm and yanking him closer. The only one who can make insulting remarks is the woman who is expelling a human being from her body. Probably that.

Her hand slid quickly down his wrist to grip his hand with a strength that belied her small form. He found a damp cloth next to her and swiped it across her dripping brow.

"You're doing great, sweetheart." He whispered into her ear. Her entire being was trembling with the exertion. Han continued to mumble encouragements to her.

"One more time. Just one more and it will all be over." The doctor coached. Han wouldn't have thought it possible, but she squeezed even tighter.

"Almost there, Leia. Almost there. It's almost time to hold our little baby." He felt his knees go weak at that thought. It was almost here: the moment he'd been both dreaming of and dreading since that morning in the kitchen.

She had been making kaf and he'd hugged her from behind, pressing kisses into her neck.

'Han, we did something last night.'

'I remember, sweetheart. I was there.' He'd smirked, continuing his affections.

'Close your eyes.' She'd said. She turned in his embrace and brought his hands around to her belly. He'd felt her reaching out to him in the force, her ethereal presence somehow touching his mind. There was something else with it this time, however, something that was both foreign and familiar, and as it moved in his mind, he felt a flutter beneath her skin.

'Leia… is this… is this what I think it is?'

'I think so. Our child.'

Leia cried out in pain, bringing him abruptly back to the delivery room, and suddenly, the commotion was broken by the piercing cry of a tiny infant. Han pressed his lips into Leia's sweat-drenched forehead. "I love you." He whispered. Her cries of pain gave way to gasps of exhaustion and tears of joy as their son was placed on her chest. Everything else fell away as he looked down on his little family. Leia's hand left his to reach up and brush the baby's tiny cheeks.

"Hello, little one." She whispered. Han felt his eyes welling up with tears and there was a lump in his throat he couldn't possibly swallow. He gently traced the edge of the child's face with his thumb. It was staggering to believe that this tiny little baby, this living, breathing human being, was created because of his and Leia's love for each other. He and the annoying, beautiful princess from the detention center had created the life that was screaming and squirming on Leia's chest.

One of the nurses took the child to be cleaned quickly and Han gently kissed Leia and dropped his forehead to meet hers.

"You did it, sweetheart." He whispered, their tears mingling on her cheeks.

"We did it, Han." Their tender moment was interrupted by the nurses coming to move Leia to a more comfortable bed.

"Here, Dad. Why don't you take the little guy while we get Mom taken care of?" The doctor asked, passing Han the tiny baby wrapped in a blanket with a little green hat on his head. Han had been worried for some time that he wouldn't know how to hold a baby, but as the doctor settled the small bundle in his arms, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Time froze for a moment and Han stood in the center of the room in a state of suspended animation, holding his son. A shock of dark hair poked out from under the hat and Leia's brown eyes looked up at him. My son. Our son.

Han felt a pair of eyes on him and he looked over to the bed. Leia was beaming at him, looking more beautiful than he'd ever seen her.

The infant started to whimper slightly.

"He's probably hungry." The nurse told Han, who quickly relinquished the child to Leia.

Luke came back for a few minutes to congratulate his sister and brother-in-law and promised to comm. Chewie as soon as he got back to the Jedi Temple. Leia fell asleep from sheer exhaustion and Han declined the nurse's offer to take the baby to the nursery. He was sitting now in an armchair pulled to Leia's bedside, their fingers intertwined on the bed next to her hip. His other elbow was propped on the arm of the chair and his son was sleeping silently in his protective embrace.

Han could barely remember his family on Corellia. He'd spent much of his youth on his own, doing what he could to stay alive. It hadn't been until he'd rescued Chewie from the Imps that he'd finally had even one being in the galaxy who cared whether or not he lived or died. Even then, it had taken up until his tenure with the rebels and their Princess to know any semblance of family. Now, looking between the sleeping faces of Leia and their child, he realized he finally had a real family. A woman who was eternally bonded to him, and a child, flesh of his flesh.

The silence of the room was broken by the crying of a baby from the next room. Leia, whose body was now set to rouse at the slightest sound of infantile distress, fluttered her eyes open. When she realized it wasn't her child, she tightened her fingers around Han's and shifted in bed to look at him.

"We never did decide on a name, you know." She said quietly, looking into the innocent face of their sleeping son.

"Proof-Leia-slept-with-Han Solo is probably out of the question?" He asked teasingly.

"Most definitely." She agreed, smiling. "Although, that might prompt the heads of the noble houses to finally accept that we're in this for the long haul."

"So you'll consider it?"

"No." She replied quickly.

"Well, since we eliminated the obvious one… we talked about Bail. And Ben."

"Ben. He wouldn't make a bad Ben."

"The old fossil was kinda responsible for getting us together, crazy as he was."

"Benjamin Organa-Solo." Leia said. The idea of their names belonging, together, to another person like that was enough to make Han smile like a kid on Life Day.

He yawned and decided it was time to put Ben in his bassinet.

"I hope I didn't hurt your hands too bad." She giggled as he perched on the edge of her bed. He cracked his knuckles and gave her a lopsided grin.

"You've got a pretty good grip, there, your worship." He teased. She took one hand in both of hers and massaged the palm gently. He clasped his hand around hers and pulled them to his lips. "I love you, Leia." He said quietly.

"I know." She mumbled into his lips. Han returned to his chair and took Leia's hand. She smiled sleepily at him until they drifted off. The Solo family slept.

Please R&R! Thanks again to my wonderful beta-reader, Reading Writing Watching!