AN: This one is ... just a tad longer than most of the other chapters. So, pull up a chair and get comfy.
Han had never particularly been a morning person. Back before he'd joined up with the Rebellion— when it had just been him and Chewie— long days had been the usual. He had always preferred running his cargo shipments in broad daylight than waking up at some ungodly hour and piloting the Falcon until the afternoon. Early mornings had never been worth it. Such was Han's lifestyle and regular routine until he stumbled his way into a crappy deal with the Rebellion where he agreed to stay without official status for less pay than Jabba the Hutt was offering for his head. And he got up early at the most unholiest hours more days than not. Very little could drag Han out of bed before daylight. Lucky for the Rebel Alliance, they'd had Leia.
Leia believed firmly in the doctrine that early to bed and early to rise made an alert and productive person and all that, but, in the time since they had met, Han had found himself up in the middle of more nights than just early mornings. There were nights plagued with nightmares, nights when sleep refused to come, other times when Leia was simply too distracted by work, and now—
He wasn't with her right now. Rewa had banished him to the hallway, insisting he wouldn't be allowed back in until he was calm. "She needs you," the older woman had assured him. "She's going to need you more than me, but it isn't going to help her if you're panicking. She needs you to be her rock and comfort." However, Han wasn't finding it any easier to relax when he was apart from Leia, left with nothing but his own anxiety.
He'd called for Rewa and Nakia when Leia's water had broken. The contractions had been subtle leading up to that, so much so that Leia had managed to sleep through most of them. Since she entered her third trimester, she'd experienced false contractions off and on, and she'd insisted before going to bed last night that these felt the same. Of course, Han had opted to listen to Leia because— well, what did he know about any of this? But Han had called it and convinced Leia they should get Rewa when she could no longer sleep through them. Leia had remained composed, insisted she'd be fine while he ran to get Rewa— although, he'd gotten Nakia just because her home was closer. She was strong enough to keep a neutral face through the pain and tease him for being so nervous. Of course, she was fine. After all, this was Leia. He wouldn't be surprised if she hardly cried throughout the rest of this whole process. Han knew she would be fine; he knew she had more than enough strength and willpower. He couldn't think of anyone more capable than Leia. But it was Leia, and he was stressed and overwhelmed and afraid anyway. He wanted to be at her side and make sure she and the baby were both fine. He wanted this to be over with, prayed that her suffering wouldn't last long. Rewa had explained to him that Leia's labor pains would get worse before she could deliver, and Han didn't think it was fair that she would have to suffer through that. Hadn't she suffered enough since he'd known her that she deserved to have this day to simply celebrate? But that wasn't how this worked, he understood, and it would take pain and tears for Leia to bring their child into the world.
"Oh!" Han grimaced at Leia's groan, instinctively moving to press himself against the door. Rewa was still in the bedroom with her, coaching her through each new contraction. Han heard her now, talking to Leia, gently encouraging her. "Breathe, Leia, breathe. There you go. Keep it up, dear. Just like that."
Han curled his hands into fists, braced his forehead against the clay wall, and tried a breathing technique of his own. It was driving him mad just hearing her, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could take it. He wanted to comfort her, take some of her pain. He just wanted to ease her suffering, to be there and help her. Before she'd left to watch her kids for a while, Nakia too had told him that Leia would need him, that he wasn't completely helpless in the middle of this chaos. All Leia needed from him was exactly what he wanted to give her.
Han wiped a hand down his face before he opened the door and calmly walked in. Leia was squatting on the floor, hands fiercely gripping the back of a chair. Her hair was tied up in a sweaty braid, hanging down her back, and she was wearing nothing more than one of his extra-large sleep shirts— which fell off one shoulder and draped around her neck, but clung to her rounded form— and her feet were clad in thick socks. She exhaled aloud just as he entered, some of the tension in her body momentarily disappearing. As she relaxed, Rewa caught sight of Han in the doorway. "Well, would you look who's back," she smiled.
Leia's eyelids fluttered open and she craned her neck to look at him, and when their gazes met Han could see the pain in her eyes. "About time, flyboy."
He settled to kneel at her side, leaned forward with hunched shoulders, and took her hand. "Hey, Princess." He brushed loose strands of hair past her forehead. "I'm sorry I left. But I'm here now. I swear I'm not gonna' leave again."
She shook her head, apparently not upset. "I called it."
"That I would leave?"
Despite her pain, eyes closing once again, Leia caught a mischievous smile. "You panicked," she grounded out. "I told Rewa you would."
"Hmph. Real funny, Princess. You say that like you aren't."
"Panicking?"
Han nodded. "I know you better than that."
She laughed— a throaty, tired chuckle that pulled at the corners of her lips just a little. "I'm managing, aren't I?"
Han merely repeated himself. "I know you better than that."
Leia nodded to herself, and Han noticed she was beginning to lean more heavily against the chair. "Remember when we were escaping Hoth? You were working on repairs in the Falcon's underbelly and that toolbox fell on you."
"Yeah. I think I taught you a few new curses that day."
A hint of true humor lightened her composure, and she murmured, "You got nothing on me, Solo."
His hands replaced Rewa's on her back, and he kneaded her tense shoulders. "You know, I'd take all this pain on myself if I could. In a heartbeat."
"But I would make you before you could offer— if you could."
"No, you wouldn't." He kissed her temple. "Unless you thought you couldn't do it. Which you know is a load of bantha crap."
"I'm not screaming yet, am I?"
His hands stopped their work across her back, froze above the base of her spine where he knew the baby was grinding down. "Do you want me or not?"
He watched her profile, watched with a side view of her face as every muscle began to tighten. Her forehead met the back of the chair, and their meaningless conversation was at once forgotten. He watched it peak, then fade as quickly as it had hit. She eased her hold on the chair, turned to no one in particular as she mumbled, "I wanna' lie down."
Rewa simply nodded, taking her hand and helping her slowly to her feet. She and Han half-carried Leia back to bed, helped her onto the mattress and rearranged the pillows around her. Han's hand was still caught in hers as she curled in on herself, fingers threading between Han's, digging into his skin. He let her keep his hand, let her have whatever she needed from him.
Rewa set to adjusting Leia's position, gently moving her legs, stuffing Han's pillow between her knees. Soon, Leia had Han's hand caught in both of hers.
He wiped at her wrinkled brow, cleaned off the fresh layer of sweat, and applied loving caresses where he thought she'd appreciate it. "I love you," he leaned forward with hunched shoulders and whispered against her forehead. "Love you even more for doing this."
"Not like—" Leia panted, "You gave me— a choice."
Han managed to smile, honestly relieved to see that even this couldn't beat her down enough to take away the most essential parts to her. Thankfully for them both, her humor was still intact.
"Yeah, well, I know it hasn't been easy. I'll be glad when I'm actually helpful to you and the kid."
Dark, exhausted yet aware eyes opened, a piercing gaze that was devoid of most of Leia's pain. Her jaw trembled— though Han wasn't confident enough to bet between pain or tears— and she spoke firmly and clearly despite her current state. "You've been invaluable to me these last several months. I don't know what I would have done without you."
Han decided that there were plenty more tears to come throughout the day and that Leia could use something closer to reassurance. He scoffed. "Well, to start with, you wouldn't be pregnant in the first place."
Her response was a half-groan, and her eyes fell shut once again. "Mm. It could be worse."
"Yeah," Han agreed. "Gotta' be honest, sweetheart, I'm having a hard time imagining anything better."
"Me too."
Han kept talking. Leia responded when she could, but he had noticed she'd been growing quieter over the minutes as she was washed away to a point where Han couldn't do anything more.
He knew that this was all part of a process, that there was only so much he could do, but that parcel of understanding didn't stop him from worrying, and his anxiety got the better of him once again when she stopped responding. He wiped her brow, combed back the stray and sweaty strands of her hair sticking to her face. "Hey," he tried to sound calm. "You still with me?"
"I'm—" She grimaced. "F-i—" Leia forgot words as another contraction rolled over her. She rolled her head, burrowing her face deeper into the bedsheets, a long groan following.
"Blow," Rewa gently reminded. She leaned in from Leia's opposite side, pressed a fist to the base of Leia's spine. "Blow it out."
In protest of the pain, Leia shook her head, pulling Han closer as she curled in on herself.
Rewa pulled Leia's knee up, carefully parting her legs. "Let me take another peek. It might be time to change tactics."
At the contraction's crest, Leia exhaled and muttered a soft-spoken, "Kriff."
Han might have laughed if the circumstances weren't what they were. He'd heard Leia swear plenty, but she generally refrained from such obscenities around anyone she wasn't intimately close to. Which was everyone save for himself, Chewie, and Luke.
"Five centis," Rewa announced. "You're already halfway there."
Leia shook her head persistently, the first tears of the day streaming down her face. At once, Han leaned closer yet, one hand going to caress her cheek then sweep her hair from her face. "It's too soon!" she gasped, jaw tight. "I can't! It's too early!" Her mouth opened involuntarily and a growl escaped from between her gritted teeth.
Thumb still stroking her cheek, Han glanced up at Rewa. The older woman's face sagged in defeat. "I know, Leia. But we're working on the baby's time. There's nothing we can do to stop it."
"It's too early!" she cried again, clawing at Han's chest with their intertwined hands. "I can't!"
"Yes, you can," Rewa argued. "And you will. Cub's already on their way. The best thing you can do for your baby is to keep going. It's too late to go back."
That was something Han decided he didn't want to think too much about. Before today, Rewa had warned both him and Leia that it was very likely— due to Leia's diminutive size— that she wouldn't carry full term. She'd estimated that the baby might come a couple of weeks early.
Han pressed Leia's hand to his cheek and spared the calendar hanging on their wall a glance. Thirty-three weeks. Just three and a half weeks since he'd returned from his last smuggling run. He didn't want to think about how easily he could have missed it had Cub been any less patient or Han had taken up another run before Leia's due date. Instead, he considered them all lucky that he was here and he wouldn't have to suffer such a guilt.
From the end of the bed, Rewa caught his eye. In a single look, she promised him that she would do everything she could to make sure the baby was healthy. He nodded back. Nothing seemed to be wrong yet.
It was almost funny, Han thought, because he had never thought anything could reduce his heart to a heavyweight pile of mush in his chest. Yet, he found himself holding on to Leia, muttering every comfort he could think of, praying this day would still end a happy one.
She's going to need you more than me, Rewa's voice repeated in his head.
Han kissed her temple, taking Leia's free hand between his as well. "Baby has to be early to everything just like you."
"I wish baby was more like you!"
He laughed softly. "No. I hope our kid is just like you, Princess. Maybe even just as cute."
Leia had quickly lost the concept of time. She'd lost track of the hours in between pacing and walking laps around the upper floor of the home, kneeling on the ground or against the bed, standing, rocking in Han's arms. Her eyes were closed for most of it, focused on facing the pain, breathing with Han, feeling the baby sink slowly into place. Rewa didn't have the drugs most hospitals did for laboring mothers, and Leia sensed that she felt guilty, but she'd faced horrid pain before, and pain of all kinds. She could face this one just as well. Besides, this one would be different in that it would end in joy.
Han spent the hours holding her, switching hands for her to squeeze, still breathing out loud for her to hear when she opted to cry out instead. She loved him even more for it all.
Over the hours, Leia sunk into her own state of being, hardly aware of anything happening outside of her and Han's bubble. She fought just to stay aware of Han. She felt exhausted, both physically and mentally. Her head bobbed and she blew through it until she became aware of her surroundings. But they weren't the last ones she remembered.
From what Leia could tell, the room appeared to be an operating theater. The lights were bright, stark in the cold room, all pointed at a sterile bed in the center of the area, and the theater was flogged with medical droids who wore gentle, feminine faces. A dozen monitors were displayed above the medical bunk, flashing different warnings and statistics, all measuring and tracking different things. One of the motherly droids hovered at the end of the medical bunk where lay its patient, and sang to her in a gentle tone, "Uba, uba."
The figure of the patient was somewhat blurry in Leia's vision, but she could make out the form of a woman with dark hair framing a face twisted in devastating pain. She looked like she could be beautiful with a kind face and deep, sympathetic eyes, but for now, she was just— sad. A long screen shielded her body from the belly down, only revealing her legs which were propped with knees pointing up. The diverse monitors around her lit up with various warnings, holo displays showing failing vital signs. She cried out in her agony until the droid's scooped hands presented a tiny bundle of a squirming new babe wrapped in the purest cloth. "Isita … oiga," the droid announced— a girl. The baby was briefly presented to her mother before the woman named her, "Leia," then breathed her last.
Leia didn't have to blink for the foreign scene to transform into a setting more familiar as well as comforting. She saw a much younger version of herself, a small 8-year old little Leia walking through Breha's gardens outside the Organa palace. She walked with her arms stretched out at her sides, letting her fingertips tickle whatever plants she encountered. Her mother loved tending to plants and flowers; she spent so much of her time out here. Sometimes whole days. With careful footsteps, Leia followed the small stone pathway leading to the far corner of the gardens, the one part Mama never showed guests. She made sure she didn't step off the stones as she approached the patch of dead arralutes where her father buried all the reminders of the children he and Breha were supposed to have.
Life was filled with death. Pain and suffering in the wake of what was supposed to be jubilee. Leia's past, the circumstances that had brought her into life were shadowed with death and misery. But that was her past. Leia had left the Rebellion to make a new life for herself, to be with Han, to give her baby a chance. It wasn't going to end now. No. Leia swore to herself that this was only the beginning.
She shook off the remnants of the nightmarish visions, returned to her own time, trembling in Han's arms. Her body shook with pain, frail and weak from the strenuous labor, but Han held her up, kept her on her feet. She couldn't handle being confined to the bed, so Rewa had agreed it was time to change positions. Together, she and Han had gotten her to her feet, and now she stood across the room from the bed, squatting low while Han kneeled right in front of her, letting her lean against him. She rested her head against his shoulder, taking every breath with him.
Her awareness was flooded with fear; gone was the bubbling innocent curiosity and wonder that had grown so familiar. She was afraid, yes— terrified, honestly. But this fear— it didn't belong to her. At its roots, it was disconnected from her body, from the kind of fear she was feeling. She was afraid of failing, afraid of meeting her new child and having no idea how to be a mother. She was afraid of a responsibility she wasn't equipped for. But this fear— Leia could feel it as if it were her own while simultaneously recognizing it as its own entity. It was fear of the unknown, fear of danger, of being forced out of the familiar and into an entirely different world. It was the fear of living outside the known safety and security of home.
A few thoughts flashed across Leia's mind at once and, overwhelmed, she leaned more heavily against Han. Before she could so much as grunt, Han took the clue and readjusted them both, allowing Leia to lean as much as she needed to without fear that he would start to tip. He sat cross-legged while Leia was on both knees, chin resting on his shoulder. She shook her head in the crook of his neck. "I need to move." Han tensed for a moment, but then said something to Nakia whom Leia didn't remember returning, and, together, they helped Leia turn and settle onto a low bench. This time, Han sat behind her, holding her upright.
She was aware of Nakia bending to peek between her legs, but her focus was already returning inward. That fear— it wasn't her own. Somehow, she'd always known that those unfamiliar feelings— sensations weren't hers. They were the baby's. And yet, she could feel them as keenly as her own, just as aware of every mood change as if they were hers. At once, it all made sense, and yet none of it did. She couldn't explain it, couldn't explain how she knew or how any of it was possible. She just knew that it was the baby.
"Rewa." There was an edge to Nakia's voice as she spoke, an excitement. "Ten centis."
Leia's mind was still clouded with fear, panic. "Hand!" she sputtered, and Han found hers immediately.
She had meditated with Luke before. In an effort to ease her grief, Luke had taken to finding Leia every now and then for a session to just rest. She'd struggled to empty her mind for even a moment, to release all her worries and give it up to the spiritual Force Luke said was there for her too. Now, she prayed she'd gained enough from those brief moments with Luke. She took a breath, closed her eyes, forcefully pushed aside every individual fear and worry and stray thought clouding her mind. Leia tried to imagine what focusing her thoughts looked like, envisioned directing her thoughts like a trained laser. She let herself float in the sensation, sinking lower and lower and lower, then pressed her and Han's threaded hands to the downward swell of her belly. Hear me, baby. Don't be scared. You're okay. We're both okay. This is supposed to happen.
Beneath her, Han's hand relaxed, and he settled his chin on her shoulder as he stroked his thumb across her belly. "Hear that, Princess? You're almost done."
"Time for the fun part," Rewa agreed, smiling softly up at her.
For a moment, she panicked. No, not just for a moment. Leia would be kidding herself if she thought she was prepared for this moment. If anything, her own fears were renewed, and she was terrified of the moment it happened— when her and Han's child was suddenly out in the world with them and no longer simply safe inside her. Yet— while she couldn't quite comprehend how— Leia struggled for the words to say just how much she yearned— more than she'd ever yearned before— to finally hold her baby, clutch a little hand within hers. Her own fears began to seep back into her mainstream of thoughts, but she was quick to fight just enough of them back to return to soothing the baby. I'm scared, too. I'm terrified. But we're both going to be okay. You belong outside now. Daddy and I are going to take care of you now.
Much like her own, the baby's fear refused to fade, but Leia couldn't blame him or her as she considered what they were going through.
"Just rest for a moment," Rewa instructed as she nudged Leia's knees apart. She opened her eyes and looked to see Rewa squatting below her while Nakia stood close behind with a towel hanging over her arm. She stepped over to Leia's side and gave her a hand. "Squeeze if you need to," she offered. "This isn't going to be easy."
"But you got this," Han quickly added, sliding a hand under her thigh, and Leia wanted to smile. There was the slightest tremor in his voice— something only she could pick up, but it was there and, more than anything else, it comforted her. "You got this, Princess. You're the strongest person I know."
She could feel the pressure building within her own body, gathering in a harsh storm. She gritted her teeth, pulling on Han's hand. "I'm scared!" she cried out when she could finally breathe.
"I know," Han nodded. "You wanna' hear a secret? I am too. But this is going to be amazing. This is going to be amazing, Leia."
Rewa bent between Leia's legs, then patted her foot. "You should feel some pressure in—"
Leia nodded vigorously as she felt it return. "Can I push yet?"
Rewa nodded. "Next time you feel it, you can push. Nakia will count and tell you when to rest."
She nodded once more to acknowledge, adjusting her grip on Han's hand. It was his natural response to gently squeeze her hand in both of his, kiss her temple, then wipe the sweat and stray hairs from her forehead. Oh, Han. She loved him so much. There was no one else she'd ever want to do this with.
Nakia handed Han a damp cloth. "There. No use in getting your hands all slippery."
He pressed it to her forehead, dabbing at the collecting beads of sweat. "You ready?" he asked as he slipped an arm over her shoulders.
She shook her head. "Stars, no!"
Han chuckled softly in her ear. "We'll figure it out," he promised, though Leia wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her or himself.
The pressure returned and Leia gave way to it, surrendering her body to do as it naturally longed to. She tucked her chin against her chest and pushed to the encouragement of Rewa and Nakia. Han kissed her knuckles and muttered sweet nothings. "One, two, three," Nakia began to count off while Rewa shouted, "Good, Leia! Perfect! Keep going!"
"Eight, nine, ten," Nakia finished. Leia gasped for air, head swinging back to fall on Han's shoulder. Another kiss on her temple.
Rewa squeezed her foot. "Take a breath, and again!"
Leia pushed again, trying to ignore the sensation of the baby's mind flaring in protest. She dug her feet against Nakia's and Han's hands and pressed on, silently counting along with Nakia. "Eight, nine, ten!"
Rewa rubbed the front of her hand along Leia's leg. "Rest! Breathe. Good, Leia!"
The next contraction started and, with it, the urge to bear down. Leia prepared herself, sitting forward, but Nakia quickly stopped her, forcing her back gently as she pressed her palm to Leia's shoulder. "Let yourself rest," she insisted. "If you go too fast, you're going to hurt yourself."
"I want to push!"
"I know. Blow instead. Blow through it just like you were earlier." She modeled again, and Leia obeyed, blowing and panting between her lips.
"On the next one, you can push again," Rewa promised her. "For now, take the break. Baby can wait that long."
Without the physical exertion to focus on, however, the baby's rampant emotions flooded her own awareness. Leia grimaced. Cub didn't like being pushed and moved out of their home. But this is good! she tried to explain to the infant mind. Outside is home. There is a lot more space. It may not be what you want, but this is what's going to happen. It will be okay, baby. I will still be here. But we have to do this together.
The next one came and Leia started just as Rewa nodded her permission. "Easy, Leia. There you go. Nice and easy. Oh! I can see the head! Looks like they've got thick hair!"
"Ten," Nakia squeezed her hand. "And breathe! And one, two, three—"
The head came out on 'six' and Rewa cheered, hollering loud enough to be heard outside. "Wahoo! It's a head! My, that's a lot of hair!"
Leia wanted to laugh, but infant thoughts once again crashed in on her own and Leia's awareness flooded with panic, desperation. She got the impression of being— separated. No! No, baby. We aren't being separated. You're joining me. We are going to be together. But the baby was not reassured, and the panic grew overwhelming.
She'd had nightmares like this— an outpouring, a flood of feelings, images, thoughts that didn't belong to her. Emotion that wasn't hers. She was merely a witness. Yet, she was as much the victim as she was the witness, for she felt this outpouring as if it were her own, fresh and raw as her own memories. And so the panic became her own, and she lost her breath to it.
"Leia …" Han was the first to realize she was going down as her body slowly slumped against his. "Leia," he spoke more firmly. "Leia, hang on!"
"Leia?"
"Oh, sithspawn! Leia, can you hear me?"
"Leia? Leia, dear, you gotta' stay awake! Stay with us! Your baby needs you!"
The panic had replaced the fear, so Leia knew it was the baby. She rode her pain while allowing herself to melt into the emotional turmoil emanating from within her. Perhaps, if she could comfort the baby at the source of their fears, they would calm.
Just as she felt it as her own, Leia studied the feeling, tried to trace exactly what this was. Babies couldn't think as adults could. They didn't understand or have the words to express complex thoughts and share what was wrong. Leia had never paid attention to emotions like this, but it was her only shot. She picked at the sensations like individual threads, surveying them individually before she could see how they all fit together. She traced back the panic until she thought she felt something she recognized, an emotion she was familiar with.
Anxiety. Loneliness. Separation.
She could hardly remember ever feeling such anxiety before. The closest thing she could think resembled this was when she was a small girl, the fits she'd throw when her father Bail would leave on trips to the Senate— she'd had such terrible separation anxiety as a child. Breha would have to spend hours rocking her, rubbing her back, promising her he would come back. They'd comm him when he was on his ship, and Bail would smile a broken-hearted smile and promise her, "I'll be back, my dear Lelila. I miss you too, but I'll be back." Still, it was never enough until the late nights when he would finally return and Mama would let her stay up so she could wait in the hangar for Papa. Then, being reunited with her father, crying in relief when he came hurrying down the boarding ramp and swept her into his arms, holding her close …
But this was like having half of her own body ripped apart limb from limb. As if half of her was being dragged away. Her heart, perhaps, torn out from her chest, leaving a great gap in the middle of her, entirely barren and empty— a part she so desperately needed. She was missing a part of herself.
No. The baby—?
"Leia?"
She opened her eyes to look at Rewa whose eyes loomed large with concern. "I'm okay," she nodded.
Han looked at her with much the same expression, full of doubt and worry. "Are you sure?"
"Just hold me. Please. I need you."
Without hesitation, without a question, Han moved to sit behind her, spreading his legs so she sat between them. "You're more than strong enough for this."
"I know."
"I don't know anyone more capable than you."
"Hm."
"Our baby will be the luckiest kid in the world to have you."
"I still need you."
"You got me, Princess. You got me."
He took one of her hands in each of his and Nakia nudged at Leia's legs until Rewa was satisfied. "Deep breath," she instructed. "You tell us when."
When the next wave hit, Leia gave way and surrendered herself to an instinct she didn't know she had. She hung onto Han, focused on her family. Her, Han, and—
"One, two, three, four—"
One shoulder at a time. Han whispered, "I love you," in her ear. Once, twice. Enough to make up for every ridiculous insult either of them had ever slung at each other, every laughable encounter they'd shared in the chilly corridors of Echo Base back on Hoth.
Round little belly. Nakia wrinkled her nose and smiled brightly at Leia before sliding the towel off her arm and moving to join Rewa.
"Almost done, sweetheart," Han told her, and Leia blinked as she wondered if she was just imagining the tears she thought she heard in his voice.
"Two more pushes! Baby is almost here. Deep breath, Leia!"
Han seemed to be squeezing her hands more as she gave her last effort and baby slipped free. Leia forced her eyes to remain open as she panted for her breath and watched Rewa quickly hold up—
"It's a girl!" Nakia sang. She swiped her finger into the baby's mouth and Rewa held her stomach-down until, all at once, heaven seemed to bend down to meet the earth, illuminating Leia's view as she got her first glimpse of her daughter. Baby girl chose that moment to cry, a piercing wail that was certainly loud for such a small little thing. Her arms flailed and little legs kicked in anger, shrieking and wailing.
With a joy Leia had never known, she cried, "Jaina."
Rewa laughed as she laid the babe in Nakia's open blanket and gently wiped at her tummy around her umbilical cord. "Jaina, huh? Well, Jaina is a fierce little one! Mommy and Daddy have their hands full!"
She was so red, such smooth skin that appeared so raw, all covered in blood and gook. But most startling was how her anxiety shone like a star gone supernova. "Let me hold her!"
Rewa beamed and quickly relinquished the baby girl to her. Leia reached for her, brought her to her chest and cradled her close. Jaina was tiny, so impossibly tiny in her arms; her head fit perfectly in the palm of her hand. So small, so fragile. At once, Leia was overtaken with the fear of crushing her while simultaneously assured that there was no safer place in the galaxy for her daughter than in her arms. The minuscule features of her face were all squashed and stretched in her fit, and Leia ached to hush her cries. "Oh, my love," she wept, anxiously wiping her off with the edges of her blanket. "Oh, Jaina, it's okay. It's okay, I've got you." She kept her nestled in one arm so she could wrap the towel over her squirming body. In her flailing, Jaina caught her finger, and Leia's heart surged. Her gaze flashed to Han, disbelieving. There was no way … it couldn't be … this precious little package, this tiny beloved baby … she was theirs. When Han met her gaze, he didn't seem able to believe it either; his mouth hung open in wonder, matching his wide, misty eyes. Soft, broken Han Solo. Leia laughed in more joy than amusement at his expense. No, she loved him so much. She'd never loved him more than at this moment, faced with the true depth of their love and devotion to each other. Jaina was love.
But their love, so new and strong and abundant, had multiplied.
Mother and daughter's sweet interlude was then interrupted, Leia grimacing as she fought not to squeeze Jaina. "Han. Take her."
"Wait, Leia—" She would have given nearly anything to watch Han hold their daughter for the first time, but the poor babe was still wailing, screaming at the top of her little lungs, reminding Mommy that her job wasn't done yet.
"It's alright," Rewa soothed. "It's just the placenta. Leia, you can hold Jaina while you do this if you'd like."
She shook her head even though she wanted nothing more. Trusting Han, she released Jaina, left him in his hands. From the corner of her eye, Leia thought she might have seen Han's purely flabbergasted look once their daughter was in his hands. She trusted Han wouldn't get over it any time soon, and there would be time to enjoy that moment later. "I can't," she insisted.
"It will give you something else to focus on."
"I need— focus."
"It's alright. This isn't fun, but it isn't much trouble."
Leia hardly had the strength to speak let alone the patience or energy to explain to Rewa, so she merely pulled herself back up.
"Leia?"
She squeezed Han's arm. He lowered his face to hers, and Leia told him, "Jacen." She hadn't spent hardly a second thinking about it before she said the name. Somehow, she just knew. Without a doubt in her mind, she knew it was a boy.
Han chuckled. "No. Leia, it's a girl." Ever so slightly, he lifted the wailing bundle in his arms. "You just held her. Our Jaina."
She shook her head firmly as the urge to bear down returned. "Jaina and Jacen."
Han had never held a baby before. He'd never thought he would, but Leia had changed him in all sorts of ways and made him do crazy things he wouldn't have dreamed of doing a year ago. So, he was holding a baby. His daughter. The thought struck him as absurd, and Han was terrified that— if he blinked— it would all disappear.
He didn't understand what was happening as Leia was clearly in pain again. His arms were busy holding Jaina, and he was afraid of letting go with one arm. Jaina. His daughter. Jaina, his and Leia's child, their baby girl. For months, the question had been Jaina or Jacen? Girl or boy, daughter or son? Leia was reasonably exhausted and hadn't gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep before her labor had started. She was tired and needed to rest before she could think clearly. Jaina. They had their little Jaina.
"Nakia." Rewa's voice was even and calm, yet carried an edge of alarm— just enough to grab Han's attention. "We need another towel."
Nakia frowned. "Should I grab one from my closet?"
"Do we not have any more with us?"
"No. We used them on the bed. We saved one for the baby."
"Han!" Leia gasped, and his attention snapped to her. Through gritted teeth, she panted, "Your shirt! Give Rewa your shirt."
Maybe it was underlying understanding, a parcel of logical thinking buried beneath his confusion and panic, but Han would later reflect and opt that it was more likely three years of running missions with Leia for the Rebellion that he didn't hesitate to put Jaina in Nakia's arms and then pulled off his own shirt. He tossed it into Rewa's waiting hand, returning to his position behind Leia without a thought.
Time became a blur of tears and groans and pain. His hand was practically numb in Leia's grasp, but he didn't notice. He was enraptured in Leia, could hardly think over the sound of her cries, couldn't make out whatever Rewa was saying, words flying at meters a second until Leia gave out one last strangled scream—
The room was nearly silent. Having gone from such chaos, such pained cries of both mother and daughter, until a third suddenly joined the medley and it turned to harmony.
Han looked, but he wasn't sure he could trust his eyes. Rewa immediately looked to him, smiling, laughing as she gathered the baby in her arms and wrapped the new child up in Han's shirt. "It's a boy."
And the name fell from his lips, a sound full of wonder and unspeakable joy. Both understanding and disbelief. "Jacen."
Rewa laid the newborn to rest in his mother's arms, and Han's gaze followed. He watched over Leia's shoulder, lips sputtering in dumbfoundedness as he settled eyes on the babe. His son. He was just as tiny as Jaina with the smallest everything Han had ever seen— so small, yet impossibly large for two of them to have been squished inside Leia's belly. His cry was quieter, but so was Jaina's as Leia beckoned Nakia to bring the baby girl back. Nakia laid her on the same arm as Jacen, cuddling the two babes side by side. Immediately, their cries turned to silence. Leia laughed. "I told you guys it would be okay!" She sniffled.
Han watched over her shoulder, watched the baby girl in the crimson-stained towel squeezed beside the baby boy in the large, soiled t-shirt. Jaina and Jacen, his daughter and son, his children.
"There's two of them." He couldn't believe it. Something in him wanted to explode, a flood breaking down the barriers holding it back. He couldn't believe it was real.
Leia craned her neck to look at him, smiling through tears and sweat. "What do you think, Daddy?"
Han brought his hand down to touch his son, cup his head in his palm. Little Jacen wriggled at the touch but seemed more than content to rest with his eyes closed peacefully. Little crescent eyes, delicate dark lashes batting against his puffy cheeks. So smooth, so perfect, so sweet and pure. And they were both his. His and Leia's. He was 'Daddy' now, and no title or job description Han had worn had ever felt so right.
"I think we should keep them."
Rewa instructed Han in clamping and cutting the cords, wrapped both twins up tightly, and handed them back to Mama. Once Rewa had finished cleaning things up, a sense of peace had settled over the room, betraying the chaotic surprise Leia still felt at staring down at two angelic faces rather than just one. After Nakia had finished checking over both babies, weighing and measuring them, she'd helped the new mother settle into feeding, and now Jacen was suckling on her breast, eyelids heavy, and nearly asleep. Jaina was still waiting her turn, but she had yet to be cleaned and dressed, and Leia— while she already knew she could never tire of staring at either of her babies— had happily handed her off to her father for the time being.
There was no doubt that Han was just as wonderstruck as she, for it was clearly displayed on his face the pure awe he was still experiencing as he gazed upon his daughter and stroked her cheek. Leia could practically feel him itching to unwrap the pale blanket so he could count her toes and drool over her tiny nails and every other centi of her. But they were quickly learning that Jaina was easily disturbed, and the slightest change she did not agree with would start a whole round of tears and screaming, and Leia didn't doubt it would likely shatter Han's tender heart if he made his daughter cry. So, she remained bundled up, all but her sweet face hidden from view.
"I can't believe they're real," Leia heard him mutter, eyes still glued to their daughter in his hands. "Already knew I was lucky." He managed to look away for just a second to wink at Leia. "But this ... the Corellian myths don't ever say anything 'bout having this much luck."
Leia considered. "Or, was it just that you never let yourself believe in it. Believe in yourself. That you could have this."
Han grinned. "Gotta' be honest, sweetheart, I never prayed for twins."
She blew a sigh out her nose, rolling her eyes. "You know what I mean. You never had faith in yourself, did you? You never thought your future might turn out brighter one day."
"No," he admitted. "No, 'cause … good things never happened to me before I met you. At least, not very often."
Leia didn't often consider their relationship in such a light. She was indebted to the scoundrel who had come to her rescue, whisked her from her ice fortress, and 'annoyed' her until she'd finally melted. She didn't often consider that, perhaps, Han felt she'd also rescued him from his own cynicism. There had come a new light to him shortly after they'd first met— and not the same mischievous, cock-sure one she'd grown used to. Han wasn't very well known to be the poet, so Leia took his broken eloquence for what it was.
Everything about this moment was pure bliss. And she never wanted it to end. Never wanted to stop staring at her beautiful babies. Never wanted to put them down. Never wanted to spend one second thinking about anything else. All of a sudden, they were her center of gravity.
It astonished Leia enough to realize she hadn't had a real point of gravity since Alderaan.
Han's eyes were torn between Leia and Jacen and Jaina. But he couldn't deny that— after staring at Jaina for a considerable amount of time— his attention was drawn back to Leia. Some great and mighty shield in him may as well have been shredded and spit on for all its worth when he settled his eyes on her now. The desire and love he'd felt for her moments ago now paled in the wake of this: the mother of his children. Their children. Han could hardly fathom how it had happened; what had slipped between them— or from between them— in a matter of months that his tongue struggled to fire back with its usual retort, and now he found himself stumbling over words like he was writing her a psalm. Nothing had changed between them, yet everything had.
Once Jacen had finished feeding, they'd switched off babies, and Han glanced away from the babe in his arms to catch the mother and daughter battling wills as Leia held her to her breast. Her brow crinkled with anxiety, and Han could tell she was growing frustrated before she said it aloud. "She's not latching on like Jacen did."
From where she kept close watch and guided Leia, Nakia soothed, "It's Jaina's first time too. Just like anything else, she'll have to learn."
If he were being honest, though, Han was feeling just as nervous as he thought Leia was. Little Jaina's face was red as she wailed, angry lips sputtering against Leia's skin. Her tiny fists were balled up tight, stretching and flailing in her misery.
Han stood nearby, rocking Jacen back to sleep, but the effort seemed futile while his sister wailed her discontent. But he remained content, and Han couldn't have been more thankful. He wondered what he was supposed to do when they cried, how he was supposed to know what would soothe their fears and hush their cries. He felt almost guilty, too, that Leia was handling the first cry, and he didn't know what to do besides watch while cuddling a perfectly content child in his own arms. It was clear how exhausted Leia was, how wasted she felt from the long labor, and how clear it was that she hadn't slept in far too long. But even with their daughter crying at her breast, her dark and sunken eyes were illuminated by a light Han had never seen there before— brighter than he'd ever imagined finding there. For so long, he had wanted to find a light and put it in her eyes, make it show across her face, give her a reason to smile, something to have joy over. But this— this radiance was more than he could have imagined her ever possessing. While it was foreign to see in Leia's face, however, Han recognized the light as a mirror reflection of some new instinct he felt within himself. He was different from the person he had been just an hour ago. He supposed that seeing life in its purest form could do that to someone. Already, Jaina and Jacen had transformed him, maybe opened his heart beyond how much Leia had.
Han lowered his gaze back to Jacen, his son, and what he felt when he looked there couldn't be held back. It was too overwhelming to keep in, and he was too surprised, too fragile in this innocent moment to put up his usual defenses. He knew Leia had been right— spot on, really, when she'd guessed at his vulnerability. Even after a year with Leia, he'd never seen himself as worthy of this kind of love and possessing such joy in his life. He wasn't worthy of Leia, of having her to himself, and coming home to her every day, and receiving her love in return. He wasn't worthy of Jaina and Jacen, couldn't possibly deserve to be their father, to get to call them both his, to watch them grow up and explore their world. Of course, now he lost his cocksure confidence in himself. Han knew his own past, knew what his hands had touched and done and what his mouth had said in the years previous to his chance first meeting with Leia Organa. But he realized that none of that mattered anymore; it was just as he realized— he wasn't the same person anymore.
A sudden gasp from across the room caught his attention, and Han's gaze flashed up to see that the light in Leia's face had just intensified, and she met his gaze with a familiar wild love and thrill in her eyes as she exclaimed, "She did it! Han, she's feeding! She got it!" Just as quickly as she had looked up, her gaze was set back on Jaina in her arms, still smiling wildly, tears making a beautiful mess of her face. "You did it!" she cried in a whisper, cradling Jaina's head ever so carefully. "You're doing it, Jaina!"
Rewa chuckled gently, stepping away from the bed. "I told you she would."
Just as soon as Leia had announced it, Han looked to see Jaina perfectly content while she fed, crescent eyes already drifting shut. Sure enough, Jacen, too, relaxed in Han's arms. He and Leia caught each other's gazes, and they shared a smile that seemed to say it all, communicate the mutual awe and love they both felt. Both could only show it; there were no words for this, nothing adequate enough to express half of the sensations presently overwhelming them both.
And everything that he was feeling— this great range of intense vulnerability and sense of protectiveness— Han wondered if that was what Leia had been feeling throughout her pregnancy, her so-called 'sixth sense'. Whatever this was, this rush that wanted to expose both the best and worst in him, Han decided that he was okay with it. He welcomed it. If this was what it meant to be a father, to love something so much that he never wanted to part with it— an eternity of this would be worth it. An eternity with Leia, with their daughter and son. An eternity wondering at what point he had happened to take just the right turn that had landed him here— a quick and unforeseen exit from his rougher past, from being a cynic about love and hope and faith to— well, to freely tearing up at the sight of his baby boy in his arms.
Whatever lucky star Han had happened to wish upon as a kid— from his clouded bedroom window above his rickety, creaking bed of some wretched foster home or another— he thanked it now as he bestowed a gentle kiss on Jacen's forehead and vowed over his unknown mother's grave that his twins would always know their father's love.