As always, thanks so much for reading and sharing your thoughts in the comments! Enjoy chapter 9!

It was past midnight, probably. He didn't have any time tellers within sight range, so he had absolutely no idea what time it was. But he felt like his tossing and turning had been going on for at least a couple hours from when he first laid himself down on the sofa.

He folded the pillow to better support his neck. Oddly enough, it seemed like this pillow was used to such torture and its stuffing was already shifted to make the clean fold. He laid on his back, eyes scanning the ceiling as his one leg stretched across the couch and the other bent off the end, his feet both uncovered by the blanket that was too small for his large frame.

The apartment seemed even stranger at night. Strange shadows from the city lights peeked in, the living space glowed blue. The mainly white walls and furniture reflected the hue well, like a chameleon transforming into its surroundings. He heard a few strange sounds early on in the night, but he deduced they were from the kitchen. Some electronic beeping or resetting itself. Other than that, it had been quiet since her highness last shut the door on him.

She eventually cracked it enough to throw out a pair of comfortable pants and a shirt. He found another 'fresher down the hall and used that to change. He could have gone through the rest of the apartment looking for another place to sleep, but he thought better of metaphorically and physically opening any more doors tonight.

Instead, he resigned to the sofa, only slightly more desirable than the floor. It was hard with only half an inch of padding on the top cushion. Certainly designed for looks instead of for sleeping.

'This could be good,' he thought to himself. 'It must mean future Han doesn't get kicked out of his own bed too often.'

That bright side was short lived as he tossed and turned for hours on end. In the sofa's defense, he doubted he would have been able to sleep anywhere with all this new information drifting through his head, refusing to give him any peace.

It had finally sunk in. This was his new reality. He lived on Chandrila with… his wife and daughter. He made a mental note to ask Chewie what happened to the Falcon first thing in the morning. He was a General in the New Republic military and Leia… his wife, was a renown Senator. He could tell Mon didn't want any news of their amnesia to leak, he assumed that meant to the press. Of course he knew Leia was a minor celebrity during the war, he could only imagine the status her name was now. And the status of anyone attached to her.

A twinge of anxiety at this recognition quickly vanished. If future Leia didn't mind dirtying her pure white reputation by being associated with scum like him… the Leia in front of him shouldn't be either, right? That thought ended more as a question than as a statement.

Of course his nightly thoughts were flooded with the Princess, torn between the shock that a future version of themselves were married and the uneasiness he was now feeling in navigating forward with this Leia, Hoth Leia.

He knew where he stood with her, where his heart was. But Leia Organa was proving a tough nut to crack, a hard onion to peel. He was able to shuck one slice of her today. She said the idea of him and her together wasn't impossible. For now, he'd take it.

Along with thoughts of Leia drifting through his idle brain, the more prominent person was… Rayah. He'd said the name over and over again in his head. When he first clasped eyes on her, he wasn't coherent enough to even begin to comprehend this. But now, it was sinking in.

There was no denying who her mother was. Gods, she was a mini clone of Leia. And seeing that little girl, her pudgy cheeks, her face light up when she saw him, a couple tiny white teeth peeking through her parted lips. Her hair only reached her ear lobes, but it curled at the ends. The girl… his daughter.

And then Leia set her in his lap. He wanted that to happen again, now that he could fully appreciate the gift before him.

All of this, everything he saw today proved one thing. Han Solo hadn't done so bad after all.

He needed to see her again, Rayah. He needed to see Leia again too, but right now his mind was on Rayah. Sleep was never going to happen, so he quickly acted on his decision. Standing and giving his still aching muscles a good stretch, he walked as lightly as he knew how to the door across from the closed master bedroom.

There was a panel to the side, so he pressed the opening mechanism hoping it wouldn't make much noice. The door was blessedly quiet as it slid open and he stepped in.

His hands went to his hips as he took in the space. It was a child's room alright, the room of a very well loved child.

The things were orderly, tidy for the most part. Straight ahead against the back wall was a group of shelves that held a myriad of things, most prominently a tiny stuffed menagerie of banthas, ewoks, porgs, and a tusk cat. He saw a stack of holos he assumed were children's stories. His lip curled as he lowered his observation to the chest below the shelves. Along with a hover ball and some action figure dolls, he couldn't help but notice the plastic space ships in the chest and littering the ground. Signs that this kid had Han Solo's blood running through her.

Turning his view, he noticed the open doors to a closet, revealing racks and hangers of tiny clothes every color of the rainbow. There were cubbies in the bottom half with a myriad of folded items and some pairs of shoes kicked out on the floor. To his right sat a large soft looking chair covered in white cushions with a gray blanket along the back. And beside that, against the left wall in the center was a crib. The sides were solid, so he could't see what was in it yet, but he had a pretty good idea.

There was a glowing mobile that he now realized was the only light source allowing him to make out anything. The holos projected different creatures moving around a single orb. He took a step closer, then another. Peering over the edge, his eyes were rewarded with a peacefully sleeping baby. Only she wasn't exactly a baby. She was almost three quarters of the length of the crib. She had to be, what? A year old? He had very limited experience with children.

She could walk apparently. Chewie was only holding her hand when they came into the apartment. And he saw she had teeth. She liked space ships and reading holo stories. And she was the most beautiful, precious thing he had ever seen.

Her chest rose and fell slowly with each breath, the wisping sound like a soft breeze through wild flowers. When he squinted, he could see her little lips part. She laid on her back with her head tilted to the side, cheek pressed into the crisp white mattress. Her right fist held a fluffy green textured blanket and her left hand lay limp near her head. Chewie had changed her clothes. Now she wore a blue waffled jumpsuit that covered her arms and legs. The outfit stopped at her ankles, letting him see her tiny feet, no longer than his pointer fingers, and 10 even smaller toes.

He was bewitched by this creature. How could someone so small capture so much of his heart so instantly?

His head dipped as his elbows rested along the edge, the adoration on his face illuminated by the blue glowing mobile.

"Hey kid," he whispered almost silently before putting a name to the person. "Rayah." The name sounded even better vocalized from his lips. "It's a nice name. Pretty. Just like you."

He paused, as if waiting for a response.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

His listener didn't deny the request.

"I kinda stopped lettin' myself think about what my future might look like."

What future did a smuggler have to look forward to? Another day alive. Another year alive. Those were the accomplishments of someone in his line of work. But now…

"Havin' a family… That's what this is. A family," he repeated, finding the word left a sweet taste in his mouth. He shrugged. "That's pretty good."

He felt his own breathing steady just from watching her. Though she was a boring audience, she was a good listener.

"You get it," he intoned.

"I think she does."

Another whispered voice almost had his heart jump straight to light speed. His head jerked to the door frame as he straightened up.

"How long have you…"

"Long enough," she said before he could finish. "Apparently there's a monitor on one of our bedside tables."

"Oh," he said half embarrassed. So she heard it all. "Sorry I woke you."

"You didn't wake me," she assured him with an exhausted sigh as she stepped into the room. "Couldn't sleep either."

He watched her walk closer to him, her eyes taking in the same sight he had been fixated on. Sliding down a bit, he let her join him.

Now he had a new scene to observe, even better than the previous one because they were both here. Leia had on some sort of cream robe over top of what looked like sleep pants and a shirt. He could tell she wasn't wearing any shoes because she was even shorter than usual. Her hair looked like it was quickly plaited in one braid over her shoulder going all the way to her elbows. He had never seen it so casual let alone at its full length.

While he took in his observations of her, she fixated on the sleeping babe. From her soft, gaze of wonderment he saw what he hoped for; Leia Organa opening up.

"I'm sorry for shutting the door on you," she began in a whisper, a lighter tone than he'd ever heard the Alliance leader use. "I don't think I'm handling this very well."

He snickered. "Trust me, I know how you feel." He stopped talking. Something else was on the tip of his tongue, but he hoped she would change the subject before it came out. Too late. "Look, Leia. I wasn't thinkin' 'bout jumping in bed with you."

"I know you weren't," she interceded firmly, nipping any fears he had of her misunderstanding him in the bud. "It's just…" she opened her mouth to continue, but a yawn came out instead. "It's been a long day."

They let the silence wash over them, both feeling comfortable in the quiet. Neither feeling the need to fill the space with meaningless words. They stayed that way until she had something of value to contribute.

"Rayah."

The whispered name from her lips was just as sweet. He physically couldn't stop his lips from curling into a childish grin. "She looks exactly like you. That's the first thing I thought when I saw her."

It was Leia's turn to press her lips together in a simper. "She must have your hair texture. It's much courser than mine when I was young."

"You're still young," he insisted.

"Old enough to have a child, apparently." That was obviously true, her miniature right there before them.

Another silence permeated, this time his mind filled the space with an inquiry he needed to vocalize.

"Do you think…" he began before hesitating. "You just stayed with me because of the kid?"

He had to ask. Now, knowing about the child changed everything. Maybe they were just having some fun in the aftermath of the war and one mistake bound them for life to save face.

"Do you think you just married me for my money?" She responded, in no way answering his question.

His eyebrows crossed as he turned to her. "You have money?"

She nodded emphatically, tilting towards him. "Lots."

"Oh…" He pursed his lips to make it look like he was actually thinking about that question before shrugging. "Maybe."

She got the joke, lucky for him. "Gods, I'm glad you still have a sense of humor."

He agreed. "I don't think either of us will make it out of this apartment alive if we don't find the absurd humor in all this."

She let out a short chortle before bringing her eyes back to the crib inhabitant. "I don't want to speculate on all that now."

He heard what she said. He would love to speculate on all that now, but he decided to respect her request. "Then what do you want to do?"

"You were right about one thing earlier." Han waited with bated breath to hear what he was actually right about. "We need to put her first. She needs us."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Shouldn't be so hard. She's not that big."

"You'd be surprised, hotshot." She was clearly amused by his assessment. "Have you every cared for a young child?"

He had to shake his head as she turned to him again.

"You're in for quite an experience," she assured him with a slow head nod.

"Oh yeah," he challenged playfully, still keeping his voice low. "And I assume you've had tons of experience kissing babies and… whatever else royalty does to stay likable."

"I've seen enough to not be cocky about it." Her retort had a little more bite than he expected. "It's a huge responsibility, Han. I don't take any of this lightly…"

"Hey, hey," he called as she started speeding up her words, clearly getting worked up about this. "It'll be okay, alright?"

He realized his arm found its way on its own accord to her shoulder, fingertips pressing into the soft, silk fabric with the reassurance he hoped to convey.

His eyes found hers. "We're in this together, sweetheart. Neither of us are walkin' out now."

No sooner had those words left his mouth, but the littlest among them let out a sound that had both parents turning their heads.

They watched as Rayah shuffled in her bed, her left arm stretching down and her little hand fingering her blanket just as her head turned to the other side, settling down once again.

Their attention was back on her, completely on her. As it should be. So neither of them noticed the fact that Han's hand had repositioned to wrap around to her other shoulder or that she shifted her weight slightly to lean into him.

No, their eyes were on Rayah.