She stood before the mirror, staring at her reflection as if she no longer recognized whatever she saw there. Perhaps, she didn't. For the first time, as she surveyed the reflected image of her own body, she felt young. Young, in the sense that— for the first time in so long— Leia Organa had no idea what she was doing. Maybe, the word 'small' was more accurate for the sort of lost sensation that she suddenly felt. She felt so very small, lost in a torrent of foreign emotions and fears.
Diplomacy and combat— those were her strengths. She'd been raised and trained by Bail and Breha Organa to be a sharp-witted politician and leader. She'd grown up in the Senate, mentored by her father on the finer skills of politics. Under his wing, she'd been bred to step up in the Senate, in the Rebellion, to lead the galaxy in revolt. She was an ace shot with a blaster, could certainly survive in hand-to-hand combat, and could even prove herself as a half-decent fighter pilot. She was a veteran among the Empire's eldest senators; she could very well hold her own in a battle of the wills against any other close-minded politician— heck, Han often swore she could talk a hutt into a diet. She had the brains, strength, and more than enough will to take on the Empire with her bare hands, but nothing had prepared Leia Organa for impending motherhood.
Growing up the adopted daughter of Alderaan's ruling monarchs, she had never had a younger sibling aside from her fellow adopted sister Winter who had been so close to her in age that Leia didn't think that counted. She'd never babysat for anyone, never changed a diaper, didn't know if a baby's milk had to be cold or warm. She knew virtually nothing about caring for a child of any age! Yet, here she was, by some joke of fate, perhaps, pregnant at undoubtedly the worst possible time.
How are you supposed to teach a child to talk? How can such an imperative life skill be trusted to someone as clueless as me to teach another human being?
Of course, Leia had taken various health classes throughout her years of education, so she knew the gist of what was expected of mothers as well as what raising a child required. It took dedication, time, money, the simplest life skills— none of which Leia had! She was an officer in a Rebellion, constantly on the run, constantly putting herself directly into the line of fire. Her name was near the top of the Empire's most wanted list. Technically, she was a criminal, for all her moral standards. The Empire was the legitimate governemnt— in one sense— and she was— well, a Rebel. Since the destruction of her homeworld, Leia had spent her life on the run, pulling all-nighters far more frequently than healthy, and she held a role where millions of other lives depended on her.
What's one more? Leia thought sardonically.
No, this wasn't the same thing. This wasn't the same thing at all. This was a life that was relying on just her.
If dizzy were an emotion, that was what Leia felt as she abruptly flicked off the refresher's light and dragged herself to bed. There was a certain comfort in the warm embrace of the sheets that Leia longed for, and she wrapped herself in the covers, trying to will away the fear that was tearing at her from the inside out. Fear. That was what she felt. Crippling, agonizing fear for the future, for her and Han's relationship, their survival, the life of their new unborn child. She was falling, slipping, grasping at silk, trying to grab ahold and regain control. If she could just find a foothold, hoist herself back up from the edge.
Leia felt his warm touch first on her shoulder as he crawled into bed beside her. Han's knuckles ran a gentle path across her curves and over the slope of her hip; her face tingled with warmth as he leaned over her and laid a kiss just below her ear. "You alright? You seem tense."
"What are we supposed to do?"
Han was quiet for a moment, and her words just floated in empty space, but Leia could imagine him blinking, running his gaze across her small form as he pondered her question. "Well, I think that's up to us."
Slowly, as if anxious to avoid another miserable bout of nausea, Leia moved from lying on her side to her back so she could see Han. The moment her gaze found him, Han was cupping her face in one hand. She leaned into it. "How are we supposed to do this? Han, how in the world are we supposed to keep a baby safe? How am I—" she stopped herself, grimacing. Then, she whispered beneath her breath, almost too soft to hear, "The Rebellion." She spoke the word with understanding, admittance. Defeat. She pressed Han's hand firmer against her cheek, and his thumb brushed softly against the pale skin there.
"Hey," Han tried to soothe, but Leia shook her head. "I know," she allowed. "I know what I would have to do. But that almost terrifies me more than just the fact that I am … pregnant."
"Hey, I'm right here with you, Princess. Talk to me. We can talk about this."
She moaned, "Han. I know it. I know it already." She closed her eyes and shook her head again. "We can't have a baby. We can't raise a child with the way our lives are right now. Something has to give. I— have to choose. I can't stay with the Rebellion— not with a baby."
"We," Han insisted. "I'm right here with you."
"But just leaving the fleet isn't enough. What are we supposed to do? Where could we possibly go to stay hidden?"
Leia was afraid, desperate, and she could hear it in her own voice, but the fears were too overwhelming to make her care about maintaining a veneer. Besides, she knew it would take Han less than a second to see through it.
"We don't have a home," she continued, "nowhere safe to hide away. All we have are the clothes on our backs. We don't have the means of supporting a child. I don't even know the first thing about raising one!"
"Hey, I don't either."
"That doesn't exactly reassure me."
Gently, he hushed her, stroking her cheek and meeting her forehead with his. "Do you really think anyone ever knows what they're doing, though? Sweetheart, we wouldn't be the first people without siblings to learn how to take care of a kid." Leia hadn't realized he'd found one of her hands until he squeezed it. "You gotta' have faith in us. If we wanna' make this work …"
"Okay," she breathed. "So, we leave the Rebel Alliance. Where do we go? Do we stay here? How do we get credits, an actual home? What if something— what if something goes wrong. With the pregnancy? And I need—"
"Hey, sh-sh-sh." Han chuckled quietly. "Slow down, Princess. One fear at a time. Now, would you believe me if I told ya' I've been thinking about it?"
"You have?"
He nodded. "And I think I know what we can do."
"Tell me."
"I think I know where we can live." Han sat up in bed and turned on a low light. He grabbed his datapad from the bedside table and turned it on. "Reecee."
"Reecee?"
"It's on the outskirts of the Inner Rim."
"I know where it is, but why there?"
Now grinning, Han repeated, "It's on the outskirts of the Inner Rim. And you know what kind of people you find on the outskirts of territories?"
Leia knew what answer he was waiting for: the scum kind, pirates, smugglers, thieves, fugitives of the law. Instead, she said, "Your kind?"
He feigned a look of offense. "Reecee is known to be a sort of refuge in the criminal circles."
"So, I was right. Your people."
Han rolled his eyes. "The thing is, since it's still in the wide berth of over fifty percent of the Empire's population– well, their population is generously mixed. But any good smuggler knows a secret spot on the planet."
"Secret spot, huh?"
"Yeah, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Try me."
"It's not a rest stop," he explained, "but an actual– home. There's a community on Reecee, a sort of neighborhood. Lotta' smugglers stay there, have a home, have a pretty nice life there."
"And you've been to this– commune?"
"I got some friends there. Good people that are in it for more than the money."
Leia's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Sounds like my kind of people too."
Han smiles back, leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "We could make a home there." And, suddenly, he was touching her abdomen, large hands easily reaching across her stomach. "Have our kid there."
Leia couldn't help but smile, though she still held her doubts. But she'd suddenly gotten the image of a warm, safe home where the war didn't matter because she was happy and safe with Han and their child.
"A lot of the smugglers out there– they don't care too much for the Empire either. Last time I was there, quite a few of 'em were Rebel sympathizers."
"So, you think that we could get the resources we need without raising red flags?"
"We'll find a way," he said, and it was a promise. Leia had no doubt he would find some way— though, she didn't know how— and he wouldn't let anything happen to her or their child. It was a promise, and Leia believed in it.