Normally, intergalactic comm calls were a small fee, hardly worth the attention, but cheap comms required a fancier plan or grander expense to make such calls. Thus, Han and Leia had agreed he would be permitted two calls at most while he was away— one, presumably, when he knew how soon he and Chewie would be returning. For the first couple weeks, Leia had been on edge, felt rather uneasy about the run, and had hoped Han would use his first call sooner than later if only so she knew he was still alive. Logic and reason had soon returned, however, and Leia continued to remind herself that Han had had a lot of practice at smuggling; he'd been doing it for years. And he was good at what he did if everyone was being honest. He'd rarely dropped a cargo! Once, he'd dropped a delivery, but Han still swore there had been no victory to be gained that day, and dropping the shipment had been his best option. Nevermind that, Leia didn't know what he was transporting this time, but she knew that he was a damn good pilot and smuggler, and he would make it back home as soon as he could.

As for herself, there was no peace of mind to be found in their empty bedroom which Han seemed hell-bent on keeping Leia constrained to. She didn't care to hear his latest excuse— Rewa couldn't find anything wrong with Leia or her pregnancy, and she would not endure bedrest just to reassure Han.

Of course, that didn't mean Han needed to know what she was doing instead.

Isa, Rewa's second oldest child, scrunched up her nose and turned to Leia for help as she raised her blaster above her head. "I didn't hear the click!"

Leia smiled as a natural response to Isa's sheer grit. She could practically see the wheels working in the young girl's head as she surveyed the machine in her small hands. Leia stepped beside her, laid her hands over the girl's, and repositioned her fingers around the butt and trigger of the weapon. "Right there," she encouraged. "Keep your pointing finger on the trigger. Let it rest quietly there. Like a feather. Real softly."

"And my thumb ... " Isa bit her lip. "It goes here, right?"

"That's right! So, you'll use your thumb to change the setting. And we want it at 'stun' when we practice. Just tickle the dial with your thumb until it's set to that orange mark. Got it?" Already tuned back in, Isa nodded silently. "Then, you put your thumb back here—" She gave said finger a gentle nudge back into place. "And rest it there. Then, the rest is up to your trigger finger."

Isa raised the small holdout blaster before her, aimed it at her target, breathed for a few counts before she depressed the trigger and fired at the clay pot ahead of her. The laser nicked the protruding handle of the pottery, but Leia beamed with pride as Isa dropped the blaster and squealed. "I got it, Leia! Did you see that?"

"I did see! Very impressive for a beginner like yourself."

Isa retrieved the weapon and returned it to Leia for handling. "Leia?"

"Yes?"

"Who taught you to shoot a blaster?"

"My father did."

"Why?"

Leia looked down at the weapon in her hands thoughtfully, considered how natural the feel of the cool metal in her hands was, how comforting it was to have it there. She sighed silently to herself. "He wanted to be sure that I could protect myself."

"From Imperials?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"But the Imperials killed your planet, right?"

Another nod.

"Mama says that Alderaan was beautiful. Everyone on Alderaan was nice and friendly. So, why didn't the Empire like Alderaan?"

Leia didn't have to force a smile, though it was a pained one, when she met the small girl's gaze. "You have a lot of questions in that big brain of yours."

Isa shrugged. "I'm curious."

"There isn't a thing wrong with that. In fact, I'm glad. Never stop being curious." Slowly, Leia lowered herself so she could sit in the grass beside Isa. "The truth is that the Empire doesn't like smart and brave people. Smart and brave people know that the Empire is evil, and they aren't afraid of speaking up against the Emperor and his followers."

"Were there a lot of smart and brave people on Alderaan?"

She nodded. "A lot. Most Alderaanians were smart and brave— including my mama and papa. That made the Empire really mad, so they punished them."

"Leia," Isa frowned, stretching out her name. "I know they're all dead. My mama explained that much to me."

Isa was too smart for her— so smart, she'd assumed Leia had been trying to censor her language for the younger, innocent child. But she hadn't. Of course, she knew she should, but it was that, sometimes, Leia couldn't use such strong language around herself.

Tears welled up in her own eyes, and Leia fought to keep them at bay as she settled her hands on Isa's small shoulders and looked her in her bright eyes. Bright eyes full of youth and innocence, hope for the next generation, for her and Han's child. She offered the girl the most buoyant smile she had in her, grasped Isa's shoulders between her hands. "Then, you know that the galaxy is in desperate need of more smart and brave people. Just like you."

Isa's brown irises dilated to nearly twice their size. Leia didn't have it in her to laugh; rather, it made her proud, filled her with joy to see such wonder and awe in a child's face. This was the future of the galaxy. All right here. "You think I'm brave?"

"Braver, smarter, stronger," Leia vowed. "The Empire should be shaking with fear."

Isa smiled to herself, eyes turning downcast, and Leia wondered what was going through her head. What was she dreaming? What greatness was this one small child preparing to bring to the galaxy? What potential was about to unfold from her?

"I want to join the Rebellion."

Leia tried not to appear so surprised even as she felt her eyes pop.

"Not now," Isa amended, "but when I'm older. And I can shoot a blaster like you can."

Leia patted her back once. "You have some work to do until then, but I know you can do it. Just keep working at it like you are now, and you'll do amazing things."

More than satisfied with Leia's encouragement, Isa beamed brightly and scampered off just as Rewa came to check on them. "Sounds like lessons are going well."

"You have raised very determined daughters."

"Have I? Then, I have done something right?" She lent Leia a hand to help her back to her feet, and Leia caught the laugh she was holding back watching her struggle. "And yours will be a big one."

"Oh— fierfek, Rewa. No!"

"But these lessons— they are doing well?"

"Annah is a natural," Leia remarked. "Isa is young, but she is doing as well as she can."

Rewa's smile was understanding. "You are proud of them."

"I suppose I am."

"You don't have to be their parent to be proud of them."

"It's the maternal thing, isn't it? Han told me he thought he saw it coming out more."

"It is! And it suits you well. You'll make a wonderful mother."

With all the good intent Leia knew the older woman meant, something about the compliment irked her, and she voiced it at once. "Breha Organa was a wonderful mother. When I was younger and I considered having a family sometime in my future, I thought about my mother. I compared myself to her, and I realized that I was nothing like her. I'm not soft and loving like she was. Mama was kind and funny and affectionate. She was fair, but she was still gentle and patient. She never raised her voice or threatened me. She was just so— so gentle. And I'm not like that."

"Well, of course, you aren't just like that. You aren't her!" Rewa shook her, freshly impassioned. "Is Nakia like your mother? Am I?"

Leia smirked. "Only when you get protective."

If she were being fair, Leia understood what the older mother was driving at: obviously, not every mother had the same easy smile that disintegrated away all your worries that her mother had worn. Just as she'd proclaimed as a child that she had the greatest mommy in the galaxy, there was no mother quite as gentle and kind as Breha had been. There was no one quite like her at all, really. But a significant part of Leia, a portion steeped in self-doubt and insecurity, berated her for bearing no resemblance to her own mother. How could she be a mother without her own mother's gentleness or silent authority? How could she nurture any child when she had no trace of Breha's kindness or patience? She could hardly handle Han for a day without wanting to pull her hair out. But a child who made messes and needed to be bathed and didn't know how to do everything and screamed for attention whenever something was wrong— So far, Leia had seen no sign of herself bearing any of these helpful traits. In fact, Han seemed to enjoy pointing out that she was just as stubborn and short-tempered as he was.

It was the 'instinct', she supposed, which she was looking for but lacked. She'd never drooled over holos of babies or stopped new parents to congratulate them as her mother often had. She didn't feel soft, or like this maternal side to her Han claimed to be seeing was really there. She cared about her and Han's child— she even knew she loved it— but it was like she was back in the early months of her pregnancy when none of it had felt real and the morning sickness and aches and pains had felt more like symptoms of stress. But things had progressed well past that point now— Leia's bulging baby bump and intense emotional rides being only a couple of prime reminders— yet, Leia couldn't come to terms with it. Simply, it didn't seem right. It didn't seem real, and it didn't feel acceptable that she suddenly turn from an officer of the galaxy's largest resistance cell to a stay-at-home mom. How could she be fit to raise her own child when she didn't feel hardly any of the motherly instincts and cheesy jealousies and joys everyone else seemed to feel for her?

More than ever, Leia wished she still had her mother to run to, to curl up in her lap, cry, and beg for her sage advice. Maybe, then, she could figure out what it was to Breha that had made her the mother she'd been …

"You're not her," Rewa persisted with a genuine concern behind her voice that reminded Leia or her late mother. "You're your own person and you'll be a mother in your own way, but fierfek, Leia, if it bothers you so much, I do see a maternal side to you, and it's rather startling! I've been standing in the kitchen, watching out the window while you interact with the girls. It's more than just good practice. Leia, I can tell you care about them and you care about watching them succeed. That's a huge part of being a mother. Of being a parent, I should say!" She seized Leia's hand, squeezed firmly. "Don't let your own hormones cloud your judgment. You are much more prepared than you think you are."

"You really believe that?"

"Well, you're the one who keeps saying you had such a great example."

Casita had no connection to the HoloNet which Leia was fine with— she didn't care for Imperial gossip channels, anyway. Instead, the village people had their own community collection of holonovels and books. To entertain herself on the lonely and quiet nights, Leia had taken to sorting through these texts, reading whatever drew her interest. Her latest favorite finds had mostly been sappy romance novels until Nakia had turned up with a holodisk of names. She and Han couldn't seem to come up with a boy's name they both liked, and Leia was determined to find one in these records that Han would agree with. Though, none of them were catching her own eye yet …

She was already half asleep where she sat on the couch when her comm lit up. It had been long enough since she'd received regular comm calls that Leia's mind mind now recognized that calls were not a normal privilege. A call to her private comm unit was special. She nearly tripped over her blankets reaching for the communications device and answered the ring. "Han?"

"Hey, Princess," came his baritone voice, and Leia exhaled in relief. Cub seemed to sense her elation as they stretched across Leia's belly and delivered a firm kick. She rested her hand over the spot, smiled in further joy when that foot pressed against her fingers. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"No," Leia stifled a yawn into the crook of her elbow. "No, you're fine. I've been up reading."

On the other end, Han snorted with amusement. "Rewa found another name book for you?"

"Nakia did, but yes. We have to find at least one we agree on."

"We'll find one. Just the right one."

His response was enough to soothe her anxieties, and Leia relaxed just a little bit. Settling back into her cushion of pillows, she asked, "So, do you know when you're coming home?"

"Sorry, sweetheart. Not yet. Uh … Rewa actually called me this morning."

She stiffened. "This is your second call?"

"Leia, we can pay for a third call if we need it."

"Why would you waste a call now—?"

"Leia. Rewa told me the two of you got into talking about your mom."

When she was just a child, it had typically been her father, Bail Organa, who had carried her or held her hand when the Organa family was seen in public. Breha had been queen and stood her post high with her family beside her. Thus had been born in the eye of the public an image of Princess Leia, who had been a daddy's girl since youth. No one ever saw inside the family's palace home when Papa was away on trips for the Senate and Mama was all she had to run to. She could still feel the fine silk of her mother's skirts when she would hurry and hide in them when strangers came to meet her parents.

But it was the condolences, she supposed, that she'd received from fellow diplomats and Rebellion colleagues who had known her father and offered their sorrows because 'they knew how close she'd been to Bail'. Hearing him brought up so often in the months following Alderaan's demise had, naturally, opened up the option to grieve her father as a separate entity. Of course, there were memories and other things to mourn for her father that was different from the memories and things she had to mourn her mother. So, she'd mourned Bail, the loss of her greatest mentor and supporter in the diplomatic field. Only recently had she been able to get over the initial loss with Han's help. But her mother … that spot still felt as sore as the day it happened. She'd hardly thought about Breha— hadn't allowed herself to dwell on her memory in so long. It was a part of Leia that hadn't yet received the attention it needed, and Han knew that, knew how tender that spot was, how much it still hurt.

Now more than ever.

Cub seemed to know their cues because they chose that moment to once again stretch across their compact space and dig into Leia's back. Grimacing, she stood with her comm link. "I don't need you to worry over me. It wasn't like I had a panic attack. I was the one who brought it up, and I'm fine."

"Hey, alright! No need to jump on the defense."

"So, you weren't just about to jump on my tail and barrage me with a hundred questions until you were satisfied that I'm okay?"

"Well, you couldn't even give me a chance …"

Leia realized she could only pretend for so long before Han came to realize his irrational instinct was right. Typically, she was able to hold out for much longer but maybe was Han was right as far as to make her talk through this one. She didn't feel like putting up the fight this time, and old memories of her mother's kind smile and warm touch were pressing harder than she was comfortable with. "I wish I had her now," Leia admitted, her voice but a soft-spoken, broken whisper into the comm. "My mother. So she could show me what I'm supposed to do."

Han was silent for a moment, and Leia knew he was trying to give her time to think, let her take the reins on this conversation. "Yeah. I bet she would have loved to be here too."

"She loved children." Her voice cracked— noticeably, and Leia could have cursed herself if she weren't swept up in the sudden tidal of grief she felt for what wouldn't be. "There was nothing she loved more than being a mother. It keeps hitting me today that she should be here. Not just to help me— though, I could really use it. But I know she would love being a grandmother, too. She should be here so she can spoil her grandkids. But she isn't."

This time, the silence was different. The slightest bit of discomfort if only because … she'd surprised him. It took her a moment, but Leia quickly realized what she'd said to trip up their conversation. Grandkids. Kids.

There was clearly a better option for getting around this rancor, and Leia decided that was to simply ignore it and run. "I just wish I could share this with her. And Papa, too. But Mama— this would have meant so much to her."

"Yeah." A part of Leia wondered if her mother's spirit was sprinkled among the stars, and now the queen gazed downward to watch her daughter's life unfold and her first grandchild come into being. She wasn't sure if Han ever considered such things, but it wasn't something he would voice aloud which Leia didn't mind. But the response he came up with was equally unlike him, Leia thought, and she was nearly tripped up again when Han asked, "You wanna' name our kid after her? You know, if it's a girl."

Stifling her slight shock, Leia was otherwise confident, and she spoke so. "No," she promised without hesitation. "No, I like the name we picked."

"You sure? 'Cause I picked that one out."

"Then, you have good taste. Treasure those words, flyboy. Something tells me you may never hear them again."

On the other end, Han snorted, and Leia smiled at the image she instantly got of his lopsided grin. "Sure, sweetheart. I'll keep that in mind. Anyway, just wanted to make sure you were okay. This line is going to get spendy if we don't hang up soon, but I promise I'll call and let you know when I'm heading back."

"I'll hold you to that promise. I'll call you again if you take too long."

"Deal."

"Okay. … I love you."

"Love you too, Princess. And Cub. Bye."

"Bye."