S-3_C-9: First Contact

My entire left side felt like ice. As my eyes drifted open, I noticed that I had rolled myself off my makeshift bed during the night. I eased myself onto my back with a groan, feeling the uncomfortable stiffness in my left leg. I rubbed my arm to warm the metal that had absorbed the biting coldness from the ground.

I didn't even need to read the time to tell it was early morning. The predawn sky was deep blue and still. I gritted my teeth as I fought against gravity to sit up.

Ben…

I glanced down to find him still asleep. One of his arms was flung above his head while the other was stretched across the chilly sand between us. His breathing was deep and even; he was fast asleep.

Feeling reckless, I leaned over to get a closer look at his face. His bangs were splayed across his forehead, wavy and wild. As he slept, his lips were parted ever so slightly. The sporadic freckles on his face stood out more than ever since his worry lines had vanished.

I subconsciously lifted my hand to my forehead, feeling the deep wrinkles that had appeared in recent years. I quickly did some math in my head—I was twenty-eight and he was thirty-two. Most people at our age would have settled down already, started a family, and made a life for themselves. When my eyes fell back to Ben's sleeping face, I felt something click into place inside my mind.

That's it—I'm telling him. I'm telling him today.

I lifted my hand tentatively to touch his shoulder. His breathing changed right away, but it took a few gentle shakes for his eyelids to flutter open. Brow furrowing, Ben looked around with a disoriented frown that relaxed when his eyes found me. I smiled as he looked up at me, his brown eyes wide and blinking.

"Good morning," I said.

He breathed in to reply and immediately started coughing. Must not be used to the air yet. Chuckling to myself, I pushed off the ground to find some water for his parched throat.

After we put up our beds and made some small talk, John appeared with a bag of supplies slung over his shoulder. He mumbled something about breakfast and disappeared into the back to start working. Ben and I exchanged looks as I rummaged through the bag. He'd brought food, a change of clothes for me, and my datapad.

I glanced at him over my shoulder as I set out breakfast for us. "Where's Laye?" I called.

"Not feeling well," he replied curtly.

I munched on some bread thoughtfully. "Amazing," I said mockingly. "Laye's not working today, and yet you haven't thrown her off the estate."

I heard the clunk of a tool being set down. "Lucy," he growled in warning.

Yielding, I shrugged. Ben had an apprehensive look on his face as he stepped towards the back tent. When he spoke to John, his tone was diplomatic. "I would like to help out, if you'll let me. I have welding experience. And I...I'm sorry about yester—"

"That astromech," John interrupted coldly. "It needs new plating on its left side."

I couldn't help but smile; not just anyone could get back on John's good side so quickly. Ben released a relieved sigh as I showed him where we kept our spare parts and tools.

The day warmed quickly. By the time I was ready to open the shop, the suns were already blazing on the horizon. I worked in the front all day, helping customers with purchases and taking new orders. The back was deathly quiet, but, thankfully, there were no explosive fights that day.

My mind dwelled on how I would tell Ben about the baby.

Near sunset, after a full day of perspiration, we were all exhausted. I picked at my dinner as John closed up the shop, still struggling with my thoughts. Ben was cleaning some tools in the back. My heart pounded when I thought of bringing up the conversation. How will he react?

"Are you coming home, Lucy?"

I turned to find John standing behind me with his arms crossed. He had a line of dried sand on his forehead where he had wiped his sweat away at some point. If we weren't fighting, I would have dusted it away for him. His expression was guarded.

"I need to take Ben somewhere," I said.

John narrowed his eyes. "You're not staying in town again, are you?" he asked impatiently. "Do you want to get mugged?"

I didn't answer. Talking about the subject made me uncomfortable, even with John. However, he had seen me during my darkest days after the baby was born, which made him the most likely person to understand.

"Stubborn woman," John muttered, turning away.

Feeling a pang in my chest, I stood from my seat and said, "I'm taking him to Gran Cara's." I felt an immediate spike of fear after the words left my mouth.

He turned around with a look of true concern on his face, and whatever grudge was between us fell away for a moment. He reached for me and pulled my head into his shoulder. Comfort sweeping through me, I reached to pat his back in appreciation.

"Are you sure?" he whispered. "Are you okay?"

I nodded against him. "Yeah, I'm fine," I breathed. "I feel fine."

"...Is everything alright?"

John released me at the sound of Ben's voice, and my head spun for a moment. I looked over at Ben's bewildered face, hoping he hadn't misinterpreted our actions.

"Just saying 'goodnight,'" John said casually, reaching into his bag for his goggles. He turned to leave and threw a wave over his shoulder. "I'll see you when I see you."

Then, it was just me and Ben in the shop. Pulling in a deep breath, I faced him with as much bravery as I could muster on my face. Confusion and concern chased each other across his face, and they only intensified when I looked at him. He really has no idea.

"I need to show you something," I said in a trembling voice.

"What's wrong?" he asked, furrowing his brow. The suns were low on the horizon, lighting his face with an orange glow.

I gestured towards the main road silently; I just couldn't find the words to say. Thankfully, he followed me without question. As I led him through the evening streets, the force with which my heart beat inside my chest made me feel sick. What will he think? What will he say?

I typed the code into Cara's door with shaky fingers. Inside, a homey glow and the smell of fresh soup greeted us.

"Who is it?" a familiar voice called.

"It's Lu, Gran Cara!" I called, shooting Ben an anxious glance. His eyes darted around the small townhouse like a caged animal. I reached to place a reassuring hand on his arm, and his eyes darted to my face. "And a guest," I added.

"Well, come on!"

I led Ben through the kitchen and into the dining room. From there, I saw Gran Cara sitting on the living room floor with the child in her lap. He looked up at us with large, brown eyes as we hovered awkwardly in the doorway. My heart practically hammered in my chest, and I felt suffocated by the tiny room.

"This is Ben. He's…" Cara set the baby down, and he stood on wobbly legs. My eyes lingered on him as I finished, "Been staying with us for a few days."

"Ben," Cara repeated, using her cane to push herself to her feet. She hobbled over to get a better look at him. "What a nice name. I'm Cara Dune."

Ben seemed more at ease as he took her outstretched, wrinkled hand. "Ben Solo," he offered with a nod.

Cara froze, and a look of recognition appeared in her tired eyes. Her other hand came to cover both of theirs, holding him in place. "Ben Solo…the prince of Alderaan," she whispered.

Ben stiffened and pulled his hand away. "You speak of my mother," he murmured, sticking his hand in his pocket.

"I speak of you," Cara corrected gently. She ran her fingers over the tear tattoo under her eye. "There may not be many of us left, but we never forget."

Clearly uncomfortable, Ben shifted from foot to foot. I narrowed my eyes as I tried to read his mind. I had no idea that General Organa was from Alderaan, or that she was—

"Oh, where are my manners?" Cara clasped her hands together fretfully. "It is one of the greatest honors of my life to meet you," she told him, bowing her head.

Ben nodded awkwardly. "...Thank you."

When the child cooed loudly, I made a mental note to ask him about the title later. Our attention returned to the living room, and my nerves came back in a rush. The baby's eyes were trained on Cara, unsurprisingly.

"I'll be in the kitchen if you need me," Cara murmured to me before moving away.

"Okay," I breathed. I stole a glance at Ben; he was looking at me with the utmost caution on his face. Sighing deeply, I reached to take his hand and led him into the living room.

The baby sat on the carpet, staring at me warily as I approached him. I crouched beside him and held out my finger to him. "Hey," I rasped. When his tiny hand grasped my finger curiously, I felt a crushing sensation in my chest.

Ben joined us a moment later. His eyes were fixed on the child, and I could practically sense the thoughts racing through his mind. When the baby noticed his presence, he reached out a hand to pat his father's arm. A shocked smile appeared on Ben's face.

"Guh," the child said, glancing back at me.

I laughed and pressed a trembling fist to my mouth. I felt as though I might cry or pass out from the intense emotions crashing through me. "This is...this is your son," I somehow managed to say.

I looked up at Ben to find him on the verge of tears himself. As a gasp tore through his throat, he reached to brush a large hand over the baby's dark, downy hair. A breathless laugh rumbled in his chest.

"Can I hold him?" he asked shakily.

"Yeah." I watched Ben gingerly pick the child up, and I stood with them. "He's never cried," I added. "Even as an infant."

Nestled on his hip, the baby watched Ben's face with wide eyes. Ben held him as though he was made of glass, likely to shatter at any moment. "What's his name?"

Shame washed through me. "I've always called him 'baby,'" I said, flushing with embarrassment.

From the other room, Gran Cara's voice said, "I call him 'baby boy'!" I closed my eyes briefly, frustrated by our lack of privacy.

Finally, Ben tore his gaze away from the child to look at me. Questions danced in his eyes. "Why is he here?" he whispered.

The question felt like a dagger sinking into my chest. I glanced away before lowering myself back to the ground. Ben sat beside me, and the child seemed content to just sit on his leg.

"After he was born," I began, swallowing thickly, "after the first few months, I started having...terrible thoughts." I lifted a colorless hand to my face, pressing my chilly fingers into my cheek. "I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I lost half my body weight."

The child pulled at Ben's clothes as he listened to me attentively. I drew in an anxious breath and released it with a rattle. "I just wanted to…" The word die refused to move past my lips, and I let my gaze fall into my lap.

"I understand," Ben murmured. "I just thought—" He stopped himself and cleared his throat. "I thought that...since you'd miscarried before—"

"No," I interrupted with the ghost of a smile on my lips. "He's yours."

Several silent minutes passed. After a few moments, I felt relief warm me from the inside out. Now he knows. He finally knew about the baby and why I couldn't care for him like a normal mother. Hope bubbled up from somewhere inside of me—hope for an unknown but exciting future. I wondered if Ben felt the same way.

My hand raised to cover my mouth when I realized I was crying. Tears spilled down my cheeks hot and fast, dropping onto my white shirt. I turned away to collect myself for just a moment, watching the suns setting through the living room window. When I gathered the courage to look back at them, the baby had turned to look up at me with concern.

This is my son. My son.

"It's alright, baby," I whispered, cupping his small cheek. I gazed down at him with tears shining in my eyes. "Mama's happy."

I then felt Ben's hand rest on my shoulder, an instant comfort. I looked up to find his eyes mirroring my own.

Acting on impulse, I leaned down to scoop my baby into my arms. I held him tightly to my chest, feeling myself break down into a fit of sobs. My son. My baby. Ben's arms closed around us, hugging us both in a tight embrace.

Our son, my mind screamed. Our baby.