This chapter is a bit long, apologies if it overwhelms!
3
The surprise appearance of her twin brother on the base was as awful as the surprise discovery of a twin brother was lovely. Which was to say, Leia Organa was not happy to see Luke Skywalker.
Not happy seems angry. Not "not happy" as in displeased. Just genuinely – not happy.
Yes, she hadn't seen him in person since the week after Endor when he'd traipsed off to chase after more Jedi lore; yes, she appreciated that his arrival simultaneous to hers deflected attention away from her and Han; yes, the hug she gave him in the hangar was sincere and warm. But when he looked at her immediately with inquiry, Leia felt instantly uneasy. Especially because the rationale for Luke's surprise appearance was that it "just felt right to come back for awhile."
But then again, Luke always spoke that way now. And they said she sounded pretentious.
Now she was seated in mess, distractedly poking at her food. She was seated with the few members of Rogue Squadron who were on base as well along with some others, but without Han or Luke, it felt very silly, like lying. These were not her friends. They were censoring themselves around her, as well, looking at her curiously. She made small talk mostly with Kes about Shara and the baby – otherwise, she said nothing.
She wished Han were here, but knew his absence was on her and her insistence on haste. Selfish, selfish, weak weak weak. Leia had felt distinctly like cargo when he'd touched down the Falcon, hugged her so tightly she thought she would burst, let her down on the ramp and sped back off to get the medicine they needed. She needed. His way of showing he took her anxiety seriously; he kept saying he hated the idea of leaving her alone though and she said it was fine. It had to be fine, it was no big deal, and it would only be two hours tops. But stepping into the hangar without him, holding only a case and blinded by the bright light of day had felt so impossibly lonely. So did her curt visit with Rieekan asking for an immediate leave, to which his reply was to ask where Captain Solo was.
But maybe he wasn't feeling so bad, wherever he was, procuring drugs to make all this go away as quickly as it had started? Maybe she was making a big deal out of nothing. Probably she was making a big deal out of nothing. She swirled her rice into her stew idly. Sensitive, sensitive. What would your mother think?
Wedge Antilles was trying to explain the merits of some disgusting-looking, nausea-inducing combination of the food items served when Luke appeared, striding up to his friends with a look of confident delight. She couldn't help but beam for a second; he was so little and young, but he looked so at ease with himself, so joyful. Then everyone stood except Leia, who'd seen him earlier and didn't think to get up; she felt every sense of out-of-placeness abruptly magnified to a degree so dramatic she wanted to cry. Stupid, stupid! Hormones! Weak!
Luke looked so well, Leia thought as he clasped himself to his friends in that exuberant half-hug, half-slap men seemed to favor. His sandy hair was shaggy but appealing, his coloring tanned a bit with sunshine, his eyes bright. He looked so happy, so at home. A space orphan like her, yet this was her Rebellion and so why did she feel so uneasy?
"No greeting for your big sis, huh?" Wedge goaded. "Who's the cold one now?"
"We saw each other when I landed," Luke said lightly. "And anyway, I'm older."
Leia rolled her eyes, an action that thankfully made her feel like herself again. "You're older, I'm colder, how charming." She stood up and squeezed his hand, though, for good measure. "You look well."
"You too," Luke said kindly, even though she knew she looked like utter worthless garbage. Leia gave an ironic half-smile.
"Hell, Luke!" Wes interrupted. "No one's seen you in… how long?"
"Ten weeks," Leia said immediately.
"Ten weeks. And it's not exactly like you've kept in touch. Ten weeks – you must not even know about the incoming Baby Rogue!"
Without warning, Leia found herself in Luke's tight, ecstatic embrace, his Force presence all bright sunshine. "I knew it!" he beamed, squeezing her tighter. Leia felt her entire body go rigid as marble, her arms glued to her side, her expression stiff discomfort. "I knew it I knew it – where's Han? I've got to–"
Please, please, Leia thought, squeezing her eyes shut and willing the embrace and the misunderstanding to end. Please…
Blessedly, the surrounding men burst into good-natured laughter. "Might wanna get that Force-sense checked out, bantha-brain," Wes chuckled. "Think you're confusing the Princess with Dameron."
And just as quickly as it happened, it was over; Luke gave a startled, surprised laugh and released her, then clapped Kes on the back and congratulated him enthusiastically. As Luke cheerfully peppered the father-to-be with questions about Shara, Leia took the moment to clear her tray. Feeling somehow disembodied, she looked across the crowded mess, her eyes scanning carefully. It wasn't until she found one that she realized what she'd been looking for: another woman. She looked about Leia's age, maybe a bit older, her hair back in a severe ponytail and a scowl on her face. The man beside her spoke animatedly, probably explaining something to her she already understood lightyears better than him, by the looks of it. Abruptly, her mind was brought back to the time she'd wanted to make accepting women into combat roles a contingent of other planets' ability to ally with the Alliance's military forces, how Mon had gently reminded her that the Alliance had only recently enacted such a policy itself. Leia did her best to concentrate, send warmth and confidence to the woman via the Force. Just tell him off, she tried to whisper to her, focusing on the waves of energy and light that connected every lonely living thing. And do check your implant.
XX.
"Leia!" Luke called out, jogging to catch up with her as she strode down the hall back to her place. How long until Han? "Hey, I'm really sorry about what happened in there, I feel like such a doofus–"
"Not a problem," she said kindly, not slowing down but not speeding up either.
"Hey, what's Han up to? You never said–"
"Oh, he's running an errand, he'll be back any minutes."
"Is everything okay?" Luke asked earnestly, finally caught up. "You seem tense."
"I have been known to be tense." She felt her exterior harden and was thankful for it – felt like Leia again, tough and all-business, somewhere to be.
"I really missed you guys," Luke offered genuinely.
Leia kept her eyes fixed ahead, trying to focus on navigating the confusing corridors – how she longed for a place she knew how to get around, how frustrating it was to always be new and in need of assistance. "We missed you too. Did you find anything interesting on your trip?"
"Loads of stuff, I can't wait to tell you all about it – are you guys staying long? I'm so glad we're here at the same time––"
"Just a few days. Yourself?"
"Oh, I'm not sure… if you guys aren't sticking around, though…"
Leia tried to force a sympathetic smile. "You know I'm on such a tight schedule these days. It's exhausting."
"I bet."
"I'm really glad you're here too," she said genuinely. "You really do look so well, Luke."
"Try not to sound so surprised!"
"Apologies, apologies. Do you know if it's a right here, or––"
"You're trying to get to where?" he asked. She told him. "Oh, straight still." Leia felt a prickle of envy – how did Luke learn his way around here before she did?
"Thanks."
"So, I was thinking – think Han would be up for dinner on the Falcon? You and me and him and Chewie – like old times? I miss that bucket of bolts."
Leia chewed on the inside of her lip. "Tonight's not a good time."
"No worries, tomorrow then?"
"Probably, that sounds lovely. Straight still?"
"Mmhmm, it's all spread out, lots of long walks." Without missing a beat, he continued, "So are you going to tell me what's wrong or do I have to ask?"
Leia frowned, stopped. "Nothing is wrong," she said seriously. "Why do you think something is wrong?"
Luke shrugged. "Just a feeling."
"A Force feeling?"
"No, a you're-not-talking-to-me-and-Han-is-missing feeling, actually. What happened? Did you guys have a fight?"
"No," she said tightly.
"You seem really – on edge."
"I'm not," she said through clenched teeth.
Luke almost laughed. "You are! How can you even pretend!"
"Could it be that I'm on edge because you keep pestering me?" she asked nastily, the stabbing pain of self-loathing returning immediately at his crumpled expression.
Luke raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry, I know you need your space. I'll see you around though?" he said, moving to go. The voice her head crowed, its suspicions confirmed: You need your space because you're selfish, and you're going to not have a baby because you need space, selfish, weak, unlovable, slut—
Leia suddenly felt herself tearing up, of all things – she quickly swiped at the tears. Slut's new, she thought darkly. "Luke, wait—"
Of course, he waited. "Yeah?" he said, his voice sympathetic but guarded.
"I… can you… can you help me find the room, please?" she finished lamely, hating the sound of her voice. Pathetic, helpless, liar.
"'Course," Luke said kindly, reaching for her arm to guide her – she was, she realized to her horror, trembling. "It's just a little further."
As they continued down the hall in silence, Leia found a question bubbling from her lips: "Luke? What you said – about feeling like you had to come back – and what you, ah, said in mess––" She gulped, didn't know how to say it: do you feel it? Is it something there, in the Force? Am I flushing away something bright and real that called to you across systems to come protect it? She felt hideously ill at the idea.
"Mmhmm?" Luke asked lightly.
"Did you, uh… did you – mean anything by that?" she said, almost whispering by the question's end.
Luke frowned at her. "How do you mean?"
She shrugged weakly.
Luke laughed a little, friendly but amused. "Are you asking if the Jedi have some kind of intergalactic pregnancy test powers, sis?"
She found herself nodding helplessly.
Luke made a big show of concentrating, touching his temples and leaning forward with closed eyes. Then he opened them, chuckling a little. "As far as this Jedi master can tell, you are baby-free. Or alternately Jedi aren't well-trained in the art of midwifery…" He laughed again, but then frowned, looking genuinely concerned. "Lei? Did you and Han have a scare or something?"
Leia shook her head numbly. "No, just – curious, because of what you said."
"Your Force presence is as clever, sleep-deprived, and annoyed as always. Same old Leia," he said teasingly.
Same old Leia, she thought to herself, clinging desperately to those words. Same old, same old.
"This should be you," Luke said as they reached her quarters.
"Thank you," she said, her voice genuine and full of emotion.
"Let me know about tomorrow night, alright? And tell your boyfriend I say hi," he added, winking.
"I will," she said seriously.
"And Lei? Don't be so hard on yourself, okay? You seem – well I dunno, it's just a feeling." He shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugged. "But you're amazing, and you know that, and Han tells you that all the time I'm sure, so whatever. But you know, I'm just another person telling you that, I guess? That you're amazing. You're amazing, sis."
"Mushy," she said, trying to hide the tightening in her throat.
"Yeah, but you all love it. I'll see you," he said, flashing her a small smile.
"See you," she agreed, and palmed herself inside.
XX.
Wringing out her soaking hair, Leia considered the neat grid of items on the bed of their assigned apartment. Her apartment, technically. They spent very little time here, mostly as a place to touch down between trips, but she was grateful to be in a place that was still hers. And she relished in this ritual at the start every trip ever since she was young, though these days she packed considerably lighter: organizing all of the things she'd brought in a neat rectangle, an even finger-width of space between each object. A trim white dress, a case of pins, a comb, her three pairs of slacks (black, taupe, white), her four crisp blouses – everything had its place.
But those things, which normally were stowed in the compact charcoal case she'd bought just after they liberated Coruscant, had been left in a drawer in one of the ship's fickle dressers, stowed away for another time. No dependable nude flats, no neat cosmetics bag.
Leia grimaced. Her things always looked sparse laid out like this; now, they looked positively dismal.
A pair of his sweatpants, folded at sharp angles. A heating pad from the Falcon's med bay. A datapad with briefings she needed to catch up on. Her worst undergarments, the pair she wore only during her cycle. The ever-present comb and pins. A box of the sort of sanitary pads one wore overnight, the long kind that turned every walk into a waddle. A pair of his thick socks, a little holey. A standard-issue Rebel camisole.
Everything had fit, with room to spare. She'd laid her things out in just this way as she packed, too – the array here a perfect mirror. Leia loved packing. Her mother had taught her how to gracefully layer delicate jewelry and fragile talismans in between heavy gowns, how to ensure crepe slips wouldn't be crushed; like so many skills she spent childhood mastering, there was no use for this knowledge now. Abruptly, Leia remembered how she would fly through the palace after arranging her things in their grid on her spacious bed, calling out Mama! Mama, I need you! – sliding down banisters, even at fifteen. Mam, will you look it over? Tell me how to pack it all up, tell me what I've forgotten?
Mmm, beloved, let me see… oh, Lei! Where are your stockings?
Stockings, of course, she'd groaned. Held up a pair fished from her underwear drawer – runs all the way through them. Oh, hell! Damn it all.
Such language over stockings, her mother had murmured, amused. Let me see. And she kneeled at Leia's trunk and sewed them up herself while Leia had asked her advice on how to fit each delicate item inside. Make a layer of heavy, soft things on the bottom, Lei. That's it. How long will you be gone this time, darling?
And Leia, annoyed by any semblance of hovering, had always lied: Not long, Mam.
So many things for not long, she'd observed, but said nothing else. Stockings are fixed, there you go. You have to remember to wear them, Lei. You're always so forgetful. Or, I can never decide – willful, or forgetful.
When she had folded the few items into the case, she had put the sweatpants on the bottom – heavy, soft things. The sanitary pads, too, were heavy and soft. She had considered taking them from the box and layering them all over the case's base, but stopped just sort of doing so – everything she owned now was sturdy, dependable. She had no fragile things to protect.
Leia looked over at the case, then at the disappointing array on the bed. Abortion-in-a-box, she thought grimly – just add medic. She felt the nausea coming on again, squeezed her eyes shut. Are you willful, Leia? Or are you forgetful? She suddenly wished she'd brought one sentimental thing with her. Did she miss something in the case? Had Han slipped something in slyly? She'd seen Rebels wearing meaningful objects on slender chains into battle, or tying engraved leather bands onto their wrists. Even Han had a collection of various belongings about which he was affectionate, that told stories: a bright purple shirt that inspired a chuckle of That old thing? You'll never believe – a small pillow in the dresser drawer about which he was especially protective. Hell, the Falcon itself was a sort of security blanket. Suddenly, Leia found herself ripping the case back open – surely she'd brought something else – something that meant something – ratty underwear with period stains couldn't be the only worn thing with her in the sparse apartment, the only thing old enough to give her comfort…?
The palace had been filled with sentimental objects. Leia had both owned many and was destined to own many. Her bedroom was an affectionate altar to private memories: dried bouquets and worn stuffed animals, scraps of fabric from favorite too-small garments, pressed leaves snatched from the tops of trees she'd climbed despite her father's express prohibitions – she'd called them her medals. General Queen Leilei, reporting for duty with leaves pinned to her chest, a military as fantastical and far-away as faeries or ghouls. But she also often found her mother quietly polishing old things she promised to Leia – things to which her only connection was the promise of future meaning. The elegant pearls from her mother's wedding, the white wicker bassinet she'd been cradled in like her mother before her.
Like your child will too, beloved.
A younger Leia had grimaced, responded hotly, Well, that's about a million years away.
But her mother had only grinned good-naturedly and kissed her forehead: Well, in a million years you and your husband...
(Here Leia had always groaned)
Or wife...
(And here she'd groaned louder – her mother had made far too much of the time she'd caught Leia kissing Benna Deceur...)
Will thank me. For keeping it in such good condition, for all this long, long time.
A long, long time indeed. But all of that hard work meant nothing now – the bassinet was hurdling through space as a fine white shrapnel, indistinguishable from the debris of a sewer system. Leia closed her eyes and tried to focus on her mother's face, but it was merely a blur, a beautiful golden pearl of jumbled, lovely features that looked nothing like Leia's own: amber and sunshine and earth and hardy and height, all royal. She waited for a moment longer. Sure enough, the mush of familiarity darkened, transformed into Padme Amidala's like they always did these past few weeks: the Leia-like dark features, the fragile porcelain skin, the sickening, obsequious smile, the eyes contorted into a vision of domestic submission that Leia herself would never, ever assume. Want me, Padme's big brown eyes said, enormous and obvious in their need. Need me, I need you, sweetheart. Sweetheart?
"Sweetheart?"
Leia's eyes snapped open at the sound of Han's voice coming through the intercom. He was outside the door; she moved to it like a ghost and let him inside. This was her place, officially. And I you. I'm having your abortion, Han. So he still didn't have access.
She pressed a button to unlock the door. "I'm getting dressed!" she called, her voice sounding strange and strangled. She paused, then inhaled deeply. About a million years away. Everything in working order. Be brave, Lei. Your husband. No, don't sweep them up – these are my medals, Mam! Do you remember our mother, Leia? I love you. And I you. I know, I know. With confident hands, she slapped the long, puffy napkin onto the ratty panties, yanked them on with the sweats – how many times had she pulled on assigned outfits, dressed the way she'd been instructed, unflattering camouflage, armor? This was no different.
Again, Leia looked at the impoverished grid of items. Was there really nothing? Not one intimate object? Not even a scrap? She pictured one of her embroidered handkerchiefs from home floating through outer space. Learning to somersault in zero-g – hug your knees and push off the wall and trust your Mam and your center of gravity. Suddenly, she couldn't remember the color of the thread. Are you forgetful, Leia? Or are you willful? She thought of the women who wrote to her office, their confidence in her, how had no idea how quickly she was forgetting. Dear Princess, When I think of you I am able to find peace... Some kind of green? Mam, when I think of you I am able to find something, but right now it isn't peace.
"Leia?" His voice was thick with worry.
"One second!"
Her gaze moved slowly: the socks, the datapad, the sanitary napkins, the heating pad, the comb and the pins. And then in a quick instant it occurred to her, and she began to vigorously comb her hair. How many times had Leia watched her mother twist and pull, the slim gold pins with pearl insets gleaming as they came together to form Breha's formal style of choice? Memorizing the quick flicks of Breha's wrist and the subtle succession of fingernail-sized elastics. No fair, Mam, my hair's not long enough! Her braided buns were still wisps of babyhair then, always slipping out of any styling. Nothing like her mother's robust, textured curls. When you're older and wiser, beloved, you'll be able to, I promise. Now Leia repeated the movements with exacting precision, with care. Soon enough, her long tresses were yanked into a complex web of spiraled pin curls and teensy braids coalescing in a bun set back on her skull, the tilt designed to accommodate a crown. She patted her hair delicately. One small, intimate thing. Mam, I'm so sorry that I'm not more sorry. She thought of what Breha would be doing if she were here, right now. Probably smoothing down the flyaways? Smoothing them down, kissing her forehead. Saying with pleased surprise, beloved! You didn't forget! Tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Of course I didn't forget. Of course not. Oh Mam, I am beginning to think maybe you would understand.
Leia emerged from the bedroom looking like two different people: cozy and homey below her neck, regal and elaborate on top. Han was sitting at the table, but once again he stood up upon seeing her, this time rushing to pull her into his arms. She pressed her face to his chest, inhaling. "You look beautiful," he said seriously, his grip around her almost too tight.
Leia couldn't help but snort, but the tears welling up in her eyes again left her covered in snot, which she swiped off onto her arm unceremoniously. "I look beautiful," she deadpanned, skeptical, still staying close.
"Absolutely gorgeous." His voice was low, heavy with emotion. He ran his fingers delicately over the braids. "Your mom teach you this?"
"Mmhmm," she murmured into his chest.
"I love it."
"How was your trip?" she said, muffled by his shirt.
"Quick, easy."
"Yeah? No Imps trying to steal abortifacients?"
"Not one," he said, kissing the top of her head. "But I missed you, so there's that."
"It was only a few hours…"
"I always miss you," he said seriously, voice low.
She tried to bury deeper into his shirt, said nothing, relished in the warmth of his arms around her. Mam, there's something I have to tell you. Mam, my stockings, his abortion, your face… "Han?"
"Mm?"
She clenched her whole body, anxious. "I feel so bad," she whispered.
She felt him go a bit rigid, but he continued stroking her hair, holding her. "In what way?"
"I feel like I'm–" There was the voice again, ready to fill in the black: pathetic, slut, selfish, weak. "I feel like I'm not a very good person," she settled on, her voice catching in the confession. "I didn't even consider keeping it. I knew immediately… and I feel so bad… for being so casual, so selfish."
"You're not selfish," he said gruffly into her hair. "You're not."
"And then I feel bad," she went on, her throat constricting further, "for feeling bad about not feeling bad, because if I'm so upset, doesn't that mean it's the wrong choice? If I feel like such worthless garbage for – isn't that a sign–?"
He pulled back from her, setting his hands on her shoulder and dropping to eye-level. "Leia, you are not worthless garbage. Don't you ever say that again, ever."
She nodded with emotion, looking away.
"And as for – feeling like shit. I don't – this thing's hard for anyone. Okay? Nobody has an easy time with something like this. Or not most – I think it's gotta always be a little sad, right?"
Leia sniffled but smiled a little. "You speaking from experience, captain?"
"Just 'cause it's a road you didn't take, y'know? Doesn't mean that road was better, or that you can't take it again, right? But it's just you know. A little sad. Right?"
She looked up at him through her damp lashes. He was looking just past her, his expression serious, contemplative. Familiar. "You're actually quite brilliant, you know that, don't you?" Home.
"I've been told." He kissed her forehead. "You still wanna go through with this, then?"
"I do."
"Alright." He led her over to the table, where a white folded bag was waiting with a cup of water, and sat down across from her, taking a small vial from the bag.
"This is it?" she asked, peering carefully. Something so small, so insignificant…?
"This is it. You take the pink one now, and the blue in an hour."
Leia snorted, turning the delicate tube over in her hands. "Pink and blue? Isn't that a little macabre?"
He shrugged as Leia clicked the two pills together idly.
Leia inspected the label. It bore a variation of the name she often used when undercover, which combined the given names of her two beloved older female cousins. What would they think of her? She put the vial down. "The names," she said.
"No need to reinvent the wheel."
Leia clicked the pills again, lost in her thoughts. "You know this sort of thing wasn't exactly sanctioned on where they were from."
"Yeah, I know," he said. "But Alderaan was never at war. And you aren't Alderaan. You're Leia. An' you're sanctioning it."
Leia clicked the pills. "Right, then," she said, nodding. "Right." Be brave, Lei. This is stupid, this is easy. Oh, Mam. "Do we have any – liquor, or anything?"
He gave her a Look.
"Sorry, sorry." She opened the vial, surprised at how simple it was to do. "Cheers," she said, and saluted him with her cup. She swallowed the pink pill easily and made a face.
"Bad?" he asked anxiously.
"Sort of metallic, ugh."
"Hour until blue, then."
Leia drummed her fingers against the table. "I still think that's pretty perverse."
"Send a note?"
"A very strongly worded one." She made another face. "Ugh."
"S'wrong?"
"Just feels weird. Not bad, just bizarre."
"S'a numbing agent . Might make you a little drowsy, I think. Shouldn't hurt yet though. Hurt?"
"Doesn't hurt."
"You feel tired?"
"Not any more than usual."
They sat quietly for a moment, the vial between them. The only thing we've bought for this apartment, Leia observed, but not with judgement. She reached for the bag idly, pulled out the informative packet. "Apparently that one also detached it from my uterine lining," she noted neutrally.
"Gotcha," he said, nodding and looking a little out of his depth. He went and got himself a glass of water, his movements deliberate and careful. "So, did you catch the kid?"
Here, Leia broke into a small smile. "I did, actually. You'll never guess what happened in mess–"
"Want tea?" he interrupted.
"Yes thank you. So, Wes made a comment about Kes and Shara's baby…"
They passed the hour accordingly, Leia's thoughts tugging her away from their gentle conversation every so often. Breha continued to circle through her thoughts, leaving her insides swirling even as she talked lightly with Han about nothing of importance. I think you would understand, Mam, right? You would want what's best for me. You would trust my decision, wouldn't you? Be proud of me for standing up for myself, for being brave?
"Sweetheart?" Han said, pulling her from her thoughts. "S'time to take the other one. The pain's probably going to start soon after this, so just–"
Leia reached for the vial, opening it and staring at the pill as Han kept talking in the world outside of her. It was a cool, breezy blue, like her favorite play dress growing up, a shapeless smock from before she had a body that was able to disobey her intentions. Take me back to her, she tried to say to the small capsule, but it had no Force presence. Nothing living, here. How many miscarriages had her mother had? They'd only broached the subject once or twice – like the wicker bassinet and the pearl necklace and the regal hairstyle, it lived in the promised land of when you're older. Was it more than two, more than three? Dear Princess, when I think of the Disaster and of dear Queen Breha, I am overcome... Willful, fearful, selfish, brave. But then I think of you, and all you've managed to accomplish despite your personal suffering... Had her mother also worn these awful sanitary napkins? Accept the way they immobilized her as righteous punishment? Why did the thought make her want to cry while also leaving her feeling closer and more connected to mother than she'd had since her death – a warm, glowing connection that made her feel confident, reassured?
For the first time, Leia tentatively reached out internally to brush against the intended area. Held her breath. But no – there was no real Force presence in her abdomen either, it was too early for that. Just as well. She forwent the water and swallowed the blue pill dry.
Two more parts after this one – your comments have meant so much to me, please keep them coming!