Again, much to my regret, I cannot claim any ownership of the worlds or characters… they all belong to George, except for the first few lines of the poem. That poem is titled High Flight and was written by John Magee. Anyone wanting to read the full poem can send me an email and I'll send it to you. It's a little "earthbound" to include in its entirety here. Also, I would be remiss in not thanking GoldenJedi for some inspiration and technical advice. GoldenJedi, if you're reading this, I'm sure that you'll recognize where your inspiration falls. Thank you.
And finally, thank you, George, for creating a galaxy that I can play in. As usual, send him any money and me any reviews. Scarlet.
Unexpected Detours, part 14
Leia moaned sharply, and with a strength born of years spent living with emotional pain, Han pushed his inner thoughts to the background and focused again on her. She squeezed his hand tightly as the contraction gripped her and he dabbed at the perspiration on her forehead with a damp cloth.
"Han, how is she?" Luke's voice carried ahead of him as he entered the crew area.
"She's holding up, but we need to get her some real medical attention."
"And, the…"
Han was thankful that the question had been left unasked. Something in his expression must have warned Luke against completing his question, or more than likely, had answered it. He wasn't ready to speak the answer to that question aloud. He wasn't ready to give the weight to that truth that speaking the words aloud would give.
He moved away from Leia's bunk, taking Luke with him. "Where're we going and how much longer 'till we get there?"
Luke looked slightly uncomfortable as he answered: "I think our best bet is to hang on until we get to Hoth."
"Hoth?" Han tried to keep his emotions in check. "Hoth is still a few hours away. There has to be somewhere closer."
"There isn't anywhere that's going to be safe. You said she's holding up, right?" Luke paused, glancing over Han's shoulder to the prone figure on the bunk. "The Falcon's got a great med-kit, one of the best according to Chewie. We can take care of her 'till we get back to base."
"Han," Leia called his name and he rushed back to her side.
"Are you okay? Does it hurt? What can I…?" he stopped as she placed a weak finger against his lips.
"Luke's right," she answered. "I can make it until we get back home. You can take care of me until then."
Han wanted to argue further, but couldn't make himself argue with her at a time like this. A part of him recognized the fear that was the driving force behind his argument; fear that he would lose her; fear of facing her and fear of the responsibility of taking care of her. He didn't know how long he could keep his grief buried before it overwhelmed him. Even now, he wanted to flee to his cabin and turn off all the lights and hide from this new reality in his life.
'She must be feeling all that and more,' he thought. 'She's hurt and in pain and dealing with a loss that she probably feels more deeply than I do. How can I not take care of her?' He grasped the hand that she had used to silence him and, pressing a kiss against her knuckles, lowered it to her side.
"Okay, Leia, we'll go all the way to Hoth. But," he turned to address Luke while still holding her hand, "have Chewie keep track of safe ports along the way. I want us to be able to stop if we have to."
Luke nodded his agreement. "After I tell him, do you want me to come back and help?"
"Yeah."
"No." Leia's simultaneous decline of the offer for assistance nearly drowned out Han's acceptance, so forceful had it been. Her eyes pleaded with him silently for a moment before she plead with him aloud. "Please, Han, please. Just you, okay?"
He couldn't deny her… he would probably agree with anything she asked of him at this point. Luke's offer had been his chance to escape, but he knew that he didn't deserve to escape her pain. He had caused it; the least he could do was bear witness to it. Almost as if cued by his thoughts, she closed her eyes and squeezed his hand, crying out as the pain increased again.
"We'll be fine. I'll call you if I need you, kid. Okay?" Han dismissed Luke and watched him leave before turning to read the medical computer again. He already had a pretty good idea of what it would say: that she was in labour and that he would have to help her deliver their baby… their dead baby. The computer beeped and it gave him information on her contractions - some of which didn't make much sense to him - and an estimated time until delivery. Forty-seven minutes. Forty-seven minutes. There were nine hells in Corellia and he was certain that he was trapped in one of them and would be for another forty-seven minutes.
Leia released the breath she had been holding as the pain in her abdomen faded. That pain, and the ones that had proceeded it, were almost a blessing - a welcome distraction from the real pain. The real pain that she hadn't yet fully appreciated. The real pain that threatened to crush her heart and devastate her senses. Each contraction served as a cruel reminder that she was in the process of giving birth to her dead child. And yet, as each pain twisted her abdomen, it helped her forget that horror, even if for just a few brief moments. Time seemed to stand still and stretch for eternity as she embraced her pain while longing for its conclusion.
Too soon and not soon enough, she felt Han's fingers fumbling at her legs. A soft blanket brushed her inner thigh and then the end to the pain that she had both wanted and feared came at last. Visions swam through her mind - dreams more than visions, really. And in those dreams, once the pain subsided, she could hear the faint sounds of a baby's cry. But in her reality, the end of her suffering was greeted with an eerie silence.
She opened her eyes, just realizing that she had closed them as she had strained to hear some sound in the silence, and her gaze fell upon Han's ashen face. He had just lain a cutting tool next to the blue cloth and with a clenched jaw, covered the baby with the soft material.
"No, Han. Wait. I want to see." She was surprised at the steadiness of her voice in spite of the tears that were wetting her cheeks. "I need to see…" her voice trailed off as she faltered, realizing that she didn't even know if the baby he held was a boy or a girl.
He turned to her and the agony she met nearly made her recant her request. At the same time, it reminded her that she wasn't suffering alone. Grey eyes rimmed with red searched her face and she watched as he swallowed visibly, seemingly unable to speak. Still silent, he breathed deeply and turned to the bundle in front of him. Cradling his burden in one hand, he unwrapped the blanket with the other.
A sob escaped her as she gazed upon her impossibly tiny, perfectly formed, completely still, baby boy. She lifted a hesitant hand and caressed his cheek gently with the back of her finger. Her chest constricted as she took in the tiny form that barely filled Han's strong hand. This tiny life that had depended on her; that had depended on her to keep it safe for a lifetime and she hadn't even managed to do so for a few short months. She chanced a glance at Han, but couldn't bear the devastation she read on his face and returned her watery gaze to memorize this last glimpse of her son. 'I'm sorry,' her mind screamed, knowing there would be no forgiveness - asking anyway. Her sobs grew stronger until her vision blurred and she barely saw the blanket as it was replaced over the small form.
Unable to bear her suffering any longer, Han had re-covered their son. He carried him to his quarters where he placed him gently on the bed. Moving to his closet, he scattered his clothing and any other items stored there, searching for the chest he had given Dewlanna. The pride he had felt as he had presented her with his creation seemed a distant memory… something that he hadn't felt and wouldn't feel for a long time. Still, that sunny afternoon when he had offered the only mother he had known the first thing he had created stood as a bright spot in a dark life. He wanted to give some of that light to his son, albeit much too late and in no way retribution for his sins. He hadn't been able to give him anything that mattered and had taken away the only thing that did - his life - but this he would give him and it would never be enough.
His fingers brushed a rough-hewn corner and he slid the box down from the high shelf. Taking a moment to brush the dust off the lid, he tried to recover some of the hope he had felt that day so long ago. Tried but failed. Blinking against tears that he refused to allow to fall, he placed the chest next to his bundle. Kneeling so his elbows rested on the mattress, he unwrapped the blanket again. The tiny baby engulfed by the small blanket bore little resemblance to the baby of his dreams.
A dark-haired baby lay curled against Leia's shoulder, chubby fingers entwined in a lock of her hair. A shaggy-haired toddler raced up the Falcon's ramp with arms stretched out to greet him. A lean boy sat dwarfed by Chewie's over-sized chair, playing at the controls of his ship.
Unbidden, the tears escaped, tracing a path down his cheek and splashing onto his son while images of the life his son would never live continued to flash through his mind. He quickly wiped at the tears, trying to erase both their evidence and the images in his mind. Bending, he kissed the spots where they had landed on the baby and replaced the cover. He gently placed the baby in the box, trying not to notice the finality of the sound as he closed the lid. He laid a hand on the dark wood, pausing briefly before leaving the room.
As he exited, he was greeted with Leia's broken figure on the med-bunk. He fought against the powerful urge to flee back to his quarters - going so far as covering the opener with his palm - until he was finally able to take a step forward. Her breathing hitched occasionally and her face was blotchy with tears, but, thankfully, she seemed in control of her emotions once again; he knew that he couldn't give her the support that she would need if she hadn't been.
The med-computer beeped its recommendations and he noted that the recommendations had been repeated several times before this last. Rifling through the first-aid kit, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he found most of the medications that had been recommended. Administering them quickly, he moved to the unpleasant task of cleaning up the remains of the birth. 'Is it really considered 'birth' when it doesn't result in life?' He shook his head both in answer to and to clear the question from his head. Leia remained silent as he worked and he tried to complete his task as quickly as possible, unwilling to remind her of the ordeal any longer than necessary. Quick glances told him that she was barely keeping herself awake, completely drained from the physical and emotional trauma. Covering her with a blanket, his grim work completed, he dabbed at her face with a damp cloth and pressed a kiss against her forehead.
Leia watched him leave after he had kissed her. He hadn't spoken to her and she couldn't bear to speak to him; he had been so hurt and angry when he had left his quarters and she had caused it. She had insisted on going on the mission. She had insisted that she was the only one who could help the rebellion. She had fought to escape their captors instead of waiting for Luke and Chewie. She had killed their son and she couldn't do anything to ease the pain that was etched in Han's features. The set of his jaw and cold grey of his eyes told her more than his words would have had he spoken. His silence screamed his accusations and she knew she could never repair - never ease the pain she had caused him. Her heart clenched with her grief, but it clenched with her guilt as well and she closed her eyes as his departing form rounded the corner and fell from her sight.
Her eyes fluttered open as the sound of his voice carried to her as he returned.
"Put her in orbit around the planet. I'm not ready to go down there yet."
Chewie growled a question in return.
"No, she'll be okay a little while longer. I'm not bringing him down to that ball of ice. He'll have a spacer's funeral."
Leia struggled to sit upright, failing to do so and called out to Han instead. "What's going on?"
"I'm giving our son…"
"Ayrdon," she interrupted.
He had been striding quickly past her, but stopped when she had spoken. "What?"
"Ayrdon," she answered quietly. "His name is Ayrdon… I mean I want to name him Ayrdon. It's Alderaanian. It means…"
"Strength. I know. Okay, Ayrdon. I don't want to leave him in the ice on Hoth. He should be with the stars, free. Ayrdon. I'm bringing him to the airlock now."
Leia had nodded as he had expressed his wishes. She hadn't thought about leaving their son in the desolate cold of Hoth. She struggled again to rise. "I want to come, too."
"No, you can't," Han had begun to continue to his quarters when he stopped once again to address her. "You can't… I won't… You're not… No."
As he had watched her struggle to join him and he had refused her company, the words he needed to say remained lodged in his throat. She could barely sit upright and he wouldn't risk her health by dragging her to the Falcon's airlock. Her tear-stained and bruised face reminded him all too readily of the pain he had caused and he couldn't bear to witness her suffering any longer. He couldn't imagine what he would do if he lost her as well. 'Kest, I probably lost her already. She must hate me now.' At least, he could live knowing that she was still living. Without her, he wasn't sure that he could go on.
Leia craned her neck to watch him disappear into his quarters, emerging moments later carrying a wooden chest. The well-rubbed, dark wood shone in the dim lighting and she could make out the curving lines of detailed scroll-work that were carved into its surface. It was beautiful and she wondered briefly how he had found something so perfect so quickly. It dawned on her then that this piece was something close to his heart.
Chewie growled softly and Han answered: "I know, but he needs it more than I do." The Wookie then threw his arms around the pilot and his low rumbling brought fresh tears to her eyes even though the meaning of his words escaped her. The pair separated and Chewie headed off in the direction of the cockpit while Han moved to the airlock.
"Han," she called after him, but his only answer was the echo of footsteps as he walked away. She began removing the various lines that kept her tethered to the Falcon's med-bunk. Freed, she struggled to her feet, fighting the waves of dizziness that washed over her as she secured the blanket around her. Taking one hesitant step after another, she moved slowly in the direction that Han had gone.
"Leia."
Luke's arms wrapped around her, and his presence surprised her, so focused had she been on her journey. She allowed him to support her, a dim awareness that he was in fact carrying her more than supporting her blossomed briefly in the back of her mind.
"Come on, Leia." Her axis shifted and she was cradled in his arms. "Han needs to do this alone. We'll watch from the turret."
Han stood in the hold of the Falcon's airlock, his son - Ayrdon - placed at the outer seal. He stood, arms crossed and pressed against his chest, huddling within himself, his chin pressed down toward his chest. The first lines of an old spacer's poem repeated in his head and he whispered them aloud.
"Oh I have slipped the surly bonds of earth and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings."
He opened the com to the cockpit. "Chewie?"
His partner's affirmative growl told him that the Falcon was in position and he could open the airlock when he was ready. He hesitated at the inner seal and for several moments, entertained the idea of opening the outer seal while he still remained in the airlock, but then quickly shook the thought from his mind. The pain of a death in the vacuum of space seemed a welcome reprieve from the pain he now felt, but he had never believed in running away from his penances. He deserved the sentence of living with his grief and he would serve it duly. His eyes traced the curving lines of his son's casket one last time as he stepped through the inner seal.
"Dance in the skies, Ayrdon," he whispered, and closed the hatch. He quickly palmed the outer seal and stood to watch as his son was pulled into the vacuum of space.
Leia touched a hand to the transparisteel overhead as the dark chest passed over her. "Good bye, Ayrdon. I love you," she whispered as the box was pulled toward the white planet below them. It picked up speed as gravity took hold and its course became more focused. Luke's arms tightened their hold on her as the edges flamed, the atmosphere heating its path. Suddenly, with the radiance of a tiny sun, it flared brilliantly and then was gone.
She buried her head in Luke's shoulder and sobbed quietly against his chest. She longed for Han's arms around her, for his support and his love. She feared she had lost him forever, lost him with their son. Their love having flared and extinguished as their baby had. Her sobs grew fiercer and Luke's arms tightened again.
Han entered the crew's quarters as Luke entered, carrying a sleeping Leia to the med-bunk. Silently, the friends re-attached the monitoring leads and tubing that she had detached earlier. Patting Han on the shoulder, Luke offered him his silent sympathies, before leaving to rejoin Chewie in the cockpit. Han sunk to his knees and buried his head against her belly as the tears he had fought so fiercely finally broke through his last defences.
"I'm sorry, Leia. It's not enough, I know. But I'm sorry."
A/N: Please send me your thoughts. All that remains is an epilogue to wrap things up, bringing us to where they were at the beginning of Empire Strikes Back. I hope this latest chapter was worth reading. Please let me know if it was worth writing. Scarlet.