Notes: tech-related delay because my laptop died (woe!), and apologies for the laziness delay, because I went to LA. (it was great).

"I'll fly carefully," he says, almost to himself because Maz is working on the safety straps a meter away and she might not hear him. "Really carefully."

She says, tossing a scrap of fabric in his direction. "You'll be fine. Babies have travelled safely on starships for thousands of years."

"You can't tell me you were nervous with your kids."

"Of course I was," she answers, tugging on the strap to test it before starting on the next one. "I was terrified of so many things. Foolish things. Other people made fun of me for those fears and I realized that they were foolish. Which did not make me feel better. Now, I make fun of you."

Chuckling, he nods and accepts it. Like her help, it's probably something he needs in the long run. He turns a screw, setting it in place, because it's as sturdy as he can make it. Within reason, welding it down in the middle of the Falcon is probably out of the question. Trying to focus on the task at hand, he makes some progress and tightening the other screws and smoothing their covers, so there are no sharp edges.

At first, he thinks his thoughts have wandered, because he feels Leia, as if she's here, but she's with Luke, meditating. She wouldn't have come back. Lifting the wrench, he turns a nut, but Leia-

She's here. It's like she's reached out and touched his cheek. He could swear that she's here. Han tries to shake the feeling that she's here, with him, that she's plucked him like a string.

The commlink sits on the workbench less than a meter away. It hasn't made a sound for hours. If she needed him, he could be in that part of the woods in ten minutes. Less, if he needed to. She could call him with that, if she needed him, if the baby decides to arrive today.

Or to start, because everything he's read suggests that it might take awhile.

Leia's hand runs across his neck and he startles, dropping the wrench so that it hits the worktop and then falls, clanging as it bounces on the deck.

"What is it?" Maz asks, slipping off her stool and walking towards him. "What do you feel?"

"Leia," he says before he can stop himself. There's no way, it's not possible, but he feels her. She's here with him. He can just about smell her hair. "It's like she's here, but she can't-"

"She's training," Maz reminds him. She climbs another stool and gets onto the workbench with the baby seat so she can look at his eyes. It's always about the eyes with her.

"Is plucking me some kind of training?" He sighs. Leia's presence runs up the back of his neck, teasing him with the promise of her. "Can she even do that? I'm about as sensitive to the Force as this spanner."

Chuckling, Maz takes the spanner from his hand and sets it down. She holds up her hand, reaching for his, and when he touches her, the ghostly fingers on the back of his neck soften. "Your inability to feel the Force doesn't mean she can't reach you, Leia has great power. More than she realizes."

"That's what Luke says," he replies, squeezing Maz's hand. "And that's why she has to train it, because that much power with control could be dangerous, and she's usually so controlled, and she'll get this, she picks up most things so quickly." Somehow Maz's touch mediates Leia reaching for him, making it less overwhelming. Leia's okay, this is just practice. "She's just tired."

"I know."

"And she's already given the New Republic so much." He toys with the spanner, unable to look up because it's almost selfish to say so. Leia's priorities are so much bigger than his, so is what she has to offer the galaxy. She makes everyone's life better, without hesitation, without stopping to think about herself. Like a Jedi, maybe, but she can't do both. She can't form all the connections and relationships she needs to while building up the same aloofness Luke has.

He turns the spanner over, toying with it in his hands. "Now the Jedi want something too. I know it's just Luke, and he's her brother, and it is important that she learn."

"But you see her at the end of the day, when everyone's fed on her light."

Han sighs, leaning against the wall of the Falcon, spinning the spanner in his hands. The commlink's just sitting there, waiting. He could pick it up and see what Luke and Leia are doing. If they're done yet. He shouldn't interrupt.

"In the early weeks, when we hadn't told anyone, she'd come home so tired that she'd fall asleep while I reheated her dinner." He continues spinning the spanner, alternating which side of it hits his palm. "I'd wake her up just long enough for her to eat, then she'd be out again until morning, and we had to get up early, so she could eat before she got nauseated, because she always did around sunrise, but she was never late to a meeting, never snapped at the idiots who always wanted her input on their ideas but never really listened to her."

Maz nudges his creation, adjusting her thick lenses to see better. Then picks up where he left off, covering the screws, checking the seals. "She loves that."

Han stops moving the spanner through his hands, surprised. "What?"

"That you get so annoyed when people waste her time."

Pushing off the wall he returns to her, forcing himself to put the spanner down and stop fidgeting. "She said that?"

"You're one of the few people in her life who remembers she has to be a person," Maz reminds him. "Leia's wise enough to appreciate that." She flips the baby seat, turning it over to get a look at it. "It's good."

"Thanks."

Her gaze follows his until they're both looking at the commlink.

"Go," Maz says, picking it up for him. "She's studied enough."

"I don't want to interrupt."

She presses it into his hand, easing his dirty fingers around it. "You're important," she reminds him, shaking her head. "Besides, she's had enough."

Staring at the now-dirty commlink, Han smirks. "How do you know?"

"She wouldn't be focusing on you instead of her lessons if she found the lessons interesting," Maz explains, and that clicks. Luke's never been good at reading his sister's emotions and there's always something bigger than Leia being exhausted, or nauseated, and there was that time Luke helped her ignore her physical body, which worked great until they stopped.

Then Leia had to deal with the everything she'd been using the Force to push away, and for the first time since their honeymoon, she took a day off. She hadn't been nauseated before then, and he spent most of the day sitting with her on the floor, trying to keep enough in her stomach so she could throw up something. Luke apologized, a lot, because Han was perfectly willing to give him all the dirty looks Leia wouldn't. Luke still thought it was worthwhile, that she'd need to be able to draw on that skill someday.

And sure, someday. Someday didn't have to be right now. Maybe Luke didn't know how tired she was, but he had to. They had that twin bond thing, and he had to feel things through that. Maybe he had a way to ignore those things that Han didn't. Some kind of Jedi overarching compassion that drowned out the little things.

Han couldn't help being ruled by the little things because Leia didn't show them to anyone else. Mon Mothma didn't know how tired she'd been and that battalion of senator's aides had no idea that for a month or two, Leia slept nearly every moment she was behind closed doors.

Which at the time Han had been so worried and angry about that he'd started to hate Luke every time he brought up Jedi training. It had been fine for him to disappear to a swamp with Yoda. Leia already had so many responsibilities that making sure she had time to eat was a struggle. The Force could give her a break, couldn't it?

He taps the commlink, opening a channel. "Leia?"

Something rustles, then she's there. "Han, it worked." She sounds so pleased; he can picture the light in her eyes. "You felt it, didn't you?"

"What did you do?" Luke's voice carries over the link, soft and concerned.

"I thought of Han and he felt it." She sounds so proud that Han hears her smile through the link.

"That's unlikely."

He'd nudge Luke, even glare at him a little, if he was there. He can't really glare at a commlink, but that doesn't stop him from trying. Leia reaches for him again, and this time he doesn't have to imagine her frustration because he shares it. Her annoyance bleeds over into him like hot sand against his skin.

"Can we argue about this over lunch? It's ready."

"Was ready an hour ago," Maz says, adding her voice to his. "Yoda always stopped to eat regularly. 'Haste helps not the student or the teacher'."

Luke laughs, but it's weary, tired somehow, and far older than the kid should sound.

"Han?" Leia starts, and she doesn't have to finish.

"I'll come get you."

She and Luke are perfectly capable of finding their way back to Maz's castle, but he wants to walk with her and she wants him so it's entirely normal that he walk all the way out into the woods.

Luke could help her up, but the separate of her time spent training feels like days and he's just calmer when he's with her. Unless that's her projecting, because she puts up with enough during the day.

Warm sunlight streams through the trees around them, and he finally notices the green once he can see Leia up ahead. Luke picked a nice spot, a little circle of grass, some stray rocks that might have been part of something long ago, and the trees. Luke sits cross-legged, ever calm, and Leia sits across from her, one hand on her belly, but she's far from calm. Her forehead's lined with worry and her voice is sharp enough that she doesn't have to project her frustration.

"We should study this, experiment, see how far away he can be and still hear me. It could be useful."

"It could be dangerous," Luke corrects, catching Han's eye as he approaches. "Telepathic communication between Jedi was fairly rare, between a Jedi and her mate is rarer still. We don't know how it works."

"All the more reason to test it." Leia turns her eyes from Luke and her forehead softens as she reaches for Han. He doesn't have to share her thoughts to guess that her back hurts, her hips hurt and she's starting to get one of those 'training with Luke hasn't gone well' headaches.

Her hands stay in his, her fingers warm. She's like an old hyperspace relay coil, on the verge of overheating, Leia shuts her eyes for half a moment, leaning against his chest and he wants to take her away, to tell Luke that all of this can wait because he brought her out here to have a baby, not to dissect her psyche, but this is important. It's pulling teeth, and they're both so damn stubborn, but important.

"Han's my husband, I wouldn't hurt him," Leia says, turning back to Luke. One of her hands sneaks around his back and he holds her close.

Luke can't even smile, even though he tries. "Not intentionally."

"What does that mean?"

"We're taking a break," Luke reminds her, and his smile this time is more believable. "We'll talk about it later."

They take a merciful few steps out of the clearing, towards lunch and company, and the promise of lighter conversations, but Leia stops. "You think I might do what, exactly? Mind trick Han into doing what I want?"

"The mind trick is surface level, for the weak minded, not Han. A connection like the one you have might transfer emotion, perhaps sensation. Under stress-"

"Han might have to feel what he put me through?" Leia says. She has the inflection in her voice that she's teasing, but her eyes are too stern.

"Not like that." Luke sighs, and the weight Han hasn't been able to figure out settles onto his shoulders. The kid he met on Tatooine is buried deep in ancient Jedi responsibilities, and his General-Senator-Princess sister isn't an easy pupil. He drags his hand through his hair and looks at them both, half-lost. "Your abilities are increasing, and there's anger in you, resentment-"

"My planet-" Leia starts.

Luke nods, lifting a hand to calm her. That hand isn't even real, because Vader took it. Luke wants her to forgive that too. "I know." His eyes flick from Leia to Han, then back to her. "The Jedi records are mostly destroyed, but I don't need them to know that giving birth is an intense experience. It'll open your mind, test your ability to shield yourself. All of your anger, your fears, they'll be stronger too."

Shaking her head, Leia tightens the arm around Han's back. "I'm not angry with Han, and he makes me less afraid. He's only tried to calm me down since I told him I was pregnant. You must be able to feel that. You're my brother."

Luke looks down at his boots before he looks at her. "But our connection never made that much sense, did it?"

"I can feel you."

"Thanks for that," Luke replies, his expression softening. "I'm glad I'm not still falling into Bespin."

"It's not like that for you, is it?"

"You're in danger less than I am," he teases back, but that's not it.

"Luke, tell me."

Han rubs his fingers across her back, because he can't help with this.

"You can call to Han, but not me, and that worries me, because Jedi-"

"Aren't supposed to get married and get pregnant." Leia takes a step, and they start walking and it's possible that they'll make it to lunch without another argument. "I'm not a Jedi," she reminds him. "That's a commitment I can't make."

"Of course, but you're powerful, if you'd started younger-"

"Before I was training for the Senate?" Leia asks. The question's soft enough, but Luke doesn't stop when he should.

Maybe they aren't as connected, because Luke hasn't learned to stop.

"Before the politics, and the war games, the galactic history, and the nights when my father had to stay up with me practicing courtesies and languages so that I could be the face of Alderaan when I was old enough. Maybe Yoda should have found me when I was a child, taken me from my parents then. He knew where we were."

"The time wasn't right."

Leia releases Han and turns, glaring at her brother "According to who? You told me that Anakin became Vader because he learned to be a Jedi when he was too old, too impulsive, too attached to Padme Amidala. I'm too old, too impulsive and far too attached to him!"

She didn't call him scruffy. It would be easier if she was in a light enough mood to do that.

"I've only had two days of leave, a baby that could arrive any day, and you think now I need to study the ways of the Jedi, which by their own rules should be off limits to me because I'm as attached as I could possibly be to a reformed space pirate and yes, I can feel him through the Force better than I can feel you, and I don't know why that is, or why you can't explain it. Wouldn't figuring that out be more useful than trying to teach me shielding? Don't you know how long I've shielded myself? I kept our father out of my head before I knew that I had a hint of the same kind of power you have."

Luke stands before her, and Han can see the collision of wills like a star destroyer hitting an asteroid field. "You don't need to learn how to keep people out," he says, holding up his hands, keeping his voice measured and soft. "You do that better that most. Anakin lashed out with his anger."

"He wasn't Anakin then."

"He killed our mother."

"He lost control."

"Is that how he describes the murder of children?"

Han can't stop them, and all of this needs to come out because Leia's held in enough. Luke saw the man underneath on the Death Star, but she's never had that. Every time she's encountered Darth Vader there's been pain, and death. He's never let up because he recognized his daughter.

"There's your anger," Luke says, and maybe he means to open the gates, because there's no closing them now."

"You want to talk about anger?" She vibrates under Han's hand on her back, so livid that Luke must be able to feel it like a flare.

"Leia, you can't hold onto feelings like that."

"Do you understand how long Vader tried to batter his way into my mind? How many different settings he tried on that interrogation unit? How many injections?" She takes a few steps away, almost trembling as she glares at Luke in the warm sunshine. "Then Vader tried to pull you to Bespin, and he tortured me again, tortured Han, ripped him apart just so you'd feel our suffering."

Luke nods, but his face is soft, almost blank with that weird Jedi compassion. "Vader was evil, our father isn't, not now."

Leia's eyes shine with fury and unshed tears, but her expression is fixed. "I had a father, and he died on Alderaan, with my mother and billions of her people. Vader watched that. He stood beside Governor Tarkin and allowed all of that death, because I-" She stops, and has to swallow, because she can't. She thinks it every day, but she can't say it unless it's the middle of the night and she's wrapped up against his chest.

Han runs his hand slowly up her back, then down again, making a route along her spine.

"I didn't tell Vader about the base on Yavin. Our father failed torturing me and my planet died. My people, died. Thousands of years of history, art, music and culture was destroyed. Millions of plants, insects, even the horrible Uretti flies that drew blood in the summer if you got too close to the northern swamps. They're gone."

"It's not your fault," Han says, still rubbing her back. He says it so quickly because it's a mantra between them: a prayer he repeats in the night when she can't let go.

"That's not him." Luke adds, but that's not what she needs to hear.

The hair on the back of his neck stands up, climbing as if the air's full of electricity, like before a sandstorm. The sun still shines, but it's almost cold. The birds quiet, the insect hum evaporates and it's so quiet that Leia's breathing, as harsh as sandpaper, carries like blaster fire.

"It was him," she answers, her tone flat, threatening. "He stood there. He just stood there and watched, like he let our mother die after her choked her, like he let the Emperor drag the entire galaxy into darkness and pain. We fight. Our mother fought and she kept us alive, our father gave in, and that's the worst kind of evil."

She retreats to Han, taking his arm, looking at him before she turns back to Luke. "I can't. I can't talk to him, not today, not now. Maybe after the baby..." Leia lets the thought trail off and Luke could have left it. He could have let the conversation go quiet and calm.

"You shouldn't put this off. You have a responsibility-"

"What do you know about responsibility?"

"Leia-" Han shouldn't have said anything, but she's not mad at Luke. Not really.

"The Jedi left, they retreated, Obi-Wan and Yoda let the galaxy fall into darkness around them because they decided it wasn't the right time. They could have helped my father, helped the Rebellion, maybe even helped keep some of our troops alive because we lost so much in that war."

"I know."

"You didn't send them." Leia wipes her eyes and reaches for Han again because her hands tremble, and he just wants to take her away and make her sit down and eat lunch. "You didn't write the letters to their families."

He opens his arms, then pulls her into his chest. After the cease fire, she wrote letters in their bed until she fell asleep with the paper beside her, and he sat with her and tweaked blaster parts while she wrote. Luke carries a weight; Han's seen it settle onto him, but Leia's carried pain too.

"She needs to eat," he mouths to Luke. If he leaves, she'll cry and then Han can make sure she eats and does something about her inevitable headache. She'll let him take care of her, put up with his fussing, because she allows that from him. Sometimes he doesn't know why, but it works.

Luke nods and leaves, disappearing silently into the trees. Maybe he'll find his own lunch, or they'll see him when they get back to the castle. He can look after himself. He's hardly a kid (though he has so much to learn about his sister), because Han doesn't have some magical gift that lets him understand her. He's just quiet when he needs to be. He can't be sure if she's crying out of anger, loss or frustration, and his arms are full of her until her breathing has slowed and her heartbeat's even.

"You need lunch."

"I'm not hungry."

He lifts her face from his chest, stroking tears away from her red eyes. "Not hungry because you're still mad at Luke or not hungry because baby's up to something?"

"Baby's just heavy."

He runs his fingers down her back and digs them in along her spine, where it always hurts. "Not that much longer."

"What if he's right?"

"The kid?" Han teases, kissing her forehead. "I mean, I can see why he'd rather stay with you then come out on Corusant, or one of the fancy interior worlds. Too clean, too weird and white and shiny, but it's pretty here."

Leia smiles, and her breath skips enough that it's almost a laugh. "I won't hurt you."

"I know," he promises so quickly that the words trip over themselves in his mouth. "I know, I didn't even worry."

He offers his sleeve for her eyes and she smirks. "Thanks."

"Anytime." He kisses her, then studies her dark brown eyes, searching for her humor and hope. "I've got a spare, but someone keeps borrowing it."

"I like your shirt."

"And none of yours fit right," he finishes for her. "Maybe I should get another spare."

"I think you can afford it."

Chuckling, he starts them down the path to castle. "I have a clothing allowance or something, don't I?"

"I told you, and Chewie."

"I thought his new leather was nicer than he usually gets." He jokes more about Chewie stealing his clothing allowance, and Wookie fashion sense and by the time she gets back to the castle, she's herself again,

And yes, she was hungry.

Maz takes Leia to show her the treasures in the basement, all the old things that she's been collecting over the centuries, because Leia, unlike most of her guests, appreciates art and history for more than a monetary value. Leia's mind still reaches for him, brushing his thoughts. He knows that's her, not his mind wandering, and that makes it kind of sweet.

Luke slips into the empty seat next to him and Han pours him a drink. Luke sniffs it then takes a sip.

"It's good," he says, running it over his tongue.

"'Course it is."

"Leia's all right?"

"She's fine, just tired, hungry, sore, exhausted, pregnant-"

"I'm sorry."

Han claps his shoulder. "Good."

"But you know-"

"See that waiter?" Han interrupts him. "Over there, the one with all the smoking cocktails?"

"Yes." Luke turns to him, waiting for clarification.

"He's a spy."

Luke starts to shift, reaching for his lightsaber and Han shakes his head. "No, he's Leia's spy. He's been passing her updates on the scout team in the Outer Rim, when she thinks I'm not looking."

"You said she wasn't working."

"I thought she wasn't working," Han corrects him. He lifts his own drink and stares at it. "I'm not really surprised. She's worried about that mission."

"She hasn't mentioned it."

"You haven't given her much of a chance," Han reminds him. "Keep pushing resolution with Darth Vader and you don't give her a chance to bring up much else."

Luke winces, then finishes his drink. He hands over the glass for more. "She doesn't understand."

"Enlighten me then, maybe I can pass it on to her."

"Leia has advanced projection abilities, and she's used them long before she even knew what they were. Battles go better when she watches them, pilots fly better. It's a rare gift in a Jedi. She can magnify hope, increase a sense of competence. You've seen it."

Pouring more of the dark grey alcohol into Luke's glass, Han nods. The smoky scent of it hangs in the air. "She's a good leader."

"Because she can tap into the emotional state of those who follow her, help them believe in what they're doing, put aside their fears, but that has a Dark Side."

He adds a few fingers worth of the whiskey in his own glass. He'll need it if they intended to have a second round of this argument. "She could magnify negative emotions."

"Or project them. It's not something I can do, I can't lead people the way she can. Obi-Wan-"

Han lets the whiskey sting his tongue and fill his mouth with spice before he swallows. "Why doesn't he just talk to her? She likes him."

"He's trying to give her space."

Laughing dryly, Han glares at Luke over his glass. "Gotta give one to the Old Man."

"Hey."

"Look, kid, Your sister's pregnant, and that's the big thing she has to worry about, because the baby's going to turn up any day now, and it's fair that the baby's all she can think about. The rest of it, the scout team, her Jedi powers, Darth- Anakin- your father, all of that should wait, take a seat, and let her focus on what she needs to."

Luke opens his mouth and Han nudges his attention towards his glass.

"Not what you think she needs to pay attention to, what she does. I think she's given the galaxy enough to deserve a few days off until the kid shows up."

He sips his whiskey, coughs a little and then grins. "She's a lot like him, you know."

"Yeah, she probably is, but telling her that will get you nowhere, so find another way."

Luke looks at Han and he shakes his head.

"Not through me, I'm neutral. I've got to be the one who she can talk to when she thinks you're an idiot."

That makes Luke grin, finally. "That's probably good."

"I know you mean well, and she does, but you have to give her some time. She's not going to hurt me, no matter what your father did to your mother. Leia's not like that."

Luke doesn't seem convinced, and Han pours him more whiskey. He'll need it.