Notes: many many thanks to shinewithalltheuntold, who always listens to me, brook-to-broch and ehc6j for being my childbirth, new baby, and nursing experts. I am very grateful for all of you.
thank you so much for reading and commenting, it's been lovely writing this fic and having such a positive response. I think there's one, maybe two more chapters where they go home Leia and Luke talk about her brush with Dark Side, and Han and Leia get to be parents, because they'd be adorable.
I wanted this chapter to be mainly gentle, after all the intensity of the last one. Thanks again!
In the moment before he cries, before he twists in his father's hands, she's merely empty. Exhausted, spent of her purpose, because all she can remember is the struggle to bring him here. He seems both too small in Han's arms and too big. He couldn't have been inside of her, but those feet were up against her ribs only yesterday.
Han passes her their baby, holding the little one against her chest. He doesn't feel real, and her hands move so slowly. If she wasn't held between Luke and Han, she probably couldn't sit up, but then he's in her arms, so warm and wet.
Tears mark Han's face, and she can't find words. Baby, their nameless baby, snuggles against her chest. Looking down, she strokes his ear. She has to smell him, hold him close. His little heart races and hers wants to follow. He's safe. She can't speak, her throat's not working.
"He's all right," Han says, and maybe she needed him to say that for her. "He's perfect."
She doesn't know where to look, between her husband and their child, and Han's trembling chin brushes against her forehead before he kisses her there. Reaching for him with shaking fingers, she leaves bloody marks, more blood, on his face, but he doesn't mind. He understands. His mind vibrates with hers, because this is their shared purpose. This is their son, and he's the middle of their universe, he's everything. Han knows that. She feels that, shares it, maybe she's projecting again because Luke holds her so gently.
She loves them, her family, all so deeply, and the baby most of all. He's so fragile, searching for her with his dark little eyes, with his mind. She takes the love she has for hi, for Han, for Luke, and shares that all with the baby. So he knows what it is to be safe, to be absolutely safe. Even from herself, and her own darkness.
Han rubs him with a towel, taking off some of the mess covering his skin. Baby's lips move, as if to protest, and she rocks him against her chest.
"It's okay."
"We need to cut the cord," Han reminds her. He's so gentle when he touches the baby's belly, so reverent. His hands are stained, drying red-brown, and there's white too, something from the baby.
She knows it won't hurt him, that the little clips Maz slips onto the blue-grey cord connecting her to the baby.
"Cut here," she tells him, pressing the knife into his hand. Han's so careful that Leia's not sure it's done, until they're guiding the baby into a towel and they're separate.
"There you go," Maz whispers to the baby. "Lets hand you to your uncle so we can get your parents cleaned up."
That's what they're doing. Luke releases her shoulders and she slumps forward, unsteady, even while she's sitting. Han has her, but without the baby her arms are weak as the mist over the lake. He holds her, really holds her, not just to keep her upright, but full of emotion. He kisses her head, again and again. She sighs, maybe sobs, into his neck.
"Come on, sweetheart." He slowly stands, offering his hands to help her. Their baby snuggles into Luke's arms; her brother's love washes over her, mixing with her own boundless affection, and it's nearly enough to numb her exhaustion and the throbbing of her body. She's been spent before, injured, ill, but this- this is nearly more than she has. With Han's assistance she stands on quivering legs, but it's meters to the bed and even her feet hurt.
He meets her eyes, his hands on her arms, keeping her up. They stand facing each other for a breath, then another, then he nods, almost to himself and lifts her, scooping her up into his arms. He's been awake nearly as long as she has, and she's taken so much from him; carries her across the unfathomable space to the bed. Han lies her down, shifting the pillows, fussing as she watches Luke and the baby follow him over.
Maz climbs onto the bed as well, moving towels, muttering to herself.
Han undoes the top of the slip she's wearing, taking down the buttons so her breasts are exposed.
"You just can't resist, can you?"
"You, princess? Never," he replies, winking even though he's still crying. "This time it's for the little guy," he promises. Luke hands the baby to Han, beaming, and then her husband lays the baby reverently on her chest.
The baby's little fist brushes against her breast and she remembers why he's on her, why Han opened her nightgown. Maz's wise face peers at her just beside on the bed and Luke touches her knee, and baby's in the middle of everything, of them.
"Will he-?" How will he know what to do? Her breasts are so heavy that they must have been waiting for him. His tiny tongue moves in his lips, and maybe he knows, somehow. Having him squirm on her chest is almost as strange as him moving within her, and his head turns, so clumsily.
"He'll figure it out," Maz promises. "Babies know."
"And he's obviously very intelligent," Han teases.
"Like his mother."
"Yeah," Han agrees. He smiles enough that the skin around his eyes crinkles. She keeps looking back and forth between him and the baby, because she can't look at either of them enough. Baby's fists move along her breast, and his heavy head follows, searching. This is why her nipples ached, and itched, and drove her crazy, why her breasts leaked and changed so much. For him, so he'd find them, so he'll grow. His tiny mouth finding her nipple is one of the most bizarre sensations of her life, because it almost hurts, on top of all the other pains in her body, but it's soothing somehow, calming.
He's okay. This little boy is healthy, and here, and she's so grateful that it almost hurts. Maybe it does. Something tightens while he's suckling, and she's back in the pain, it'll all rush back, but it's not that. It's not nearly what it was. She must have panicked, because Lue's closer, Han's right next to her and Maz pats her shoulder.
"Just the afterbirth, it's all right. It'll be easy." Maz slips around her knee, and she's right. Something soft, warm, wet, whatever it is slips from her as her belly tightens. Baby coninutes to nurse, sucking greedily for someone so new to the world.
She grits her teeth, because it doesn't hurt, not as much as it did, but she's so tired.
"Hey," Han whispers, stroking her face. "Look at him. You got him all this way, and he's perfect. He looks so much like you."
Leia almost laughs. "That's your nose."
Han kisses her cheek. "My ears too, maybe my chin. He eats like you though."
"What?" She tries to see, because the baby's mouth is half-hidden by her breast and she doesn't-
Very gently, Han brushes her breast lifts of a drop of liquid that must have leaked from baby's mouth. "He eats like you when you've been in Senate things all day."
She'd hit him, if she had the energy. Blinking seems difficult, at the moment. Maz moves something wrapped in a towel from between Leia's legs, and then she takes Han's attention and he's gone.
Luke fixes her pillows, he must be able to tell that they're too high on the right. She didn't say it, because it's so difficult to speak. He holds up the bottle they've been making her drink from, and even with a straw, that's hard. She probably loses more liquid than the baby does. Should she move him to the other side? Is that how it works? She read about this, but she can't remember. Her thoughts just won't hold still, and her thighs are still wet. Is that what Maz and Han needed to talk about? She can't see his face, and he's been right n front of her for such a long time that it's weird not to have his eyes be her focal point.
"He's beautiful, Leia."
"He's heavy."
Leaning down, Luke kisses his nephew's dark hair and straightens the blanket over his back. "He is heavier than I thought a baby would be." His hand stays there, protecting them both. "You did so well."
"Luke-"
"I love you. And you," Luke whispers to the baby. "Welcome to the big world."
When he's full, or bored, or sleepy, Leia can't tell, it's all too new, baby releases her nipple and snuffles his way between her breasts. His little eyes start to close, and his fingers stop searching. She could very easily join him, because her agonized body is so very tired, but her mind races in no particular direction. Like lightspeed without a course.
Han returns to her line of vision, standing beside Luke, still shirtless, but cleaner. "Maz and Waceera agreed that the afterbith is what it's supposed to be, for a weird jellyfish thing."
She doesn't know what that means. She can't remember. Han kisses her cheek, then very gently, he kisses her mouth. He sits beside her, beaming at their sleepy little boy. "When you're ready to share him, I want him to meet Chewie, and get you cleaned up."
Smiling at the thought of Chewie with the tiny bundle in his arms, she nods, but her head barely moves. "Yes."
Han kisses her forehead and she just wants him to stay in bed with her. "Luke's going to hold the baby while I get you out of this and into something clean, okay?" The look on her face must say what she can't and he chuckles. "I promise you won't have to do any of the work. I'll make it easy."
That he does well, slipping her nightgown under her hips, then helping her sit up long enough to take it off over her head. Luke and the sleeping baby stand a little away, giving her some semblance of privacy, not that she cares in the slightest. Han wipes sweat from her skin with a wet cloth, and even his hands are unsteady with exhaustion. He does get her into a clean nightgown with very little effort on her part, guiding her arms as if she were as weak as the baby herself. If only she was too tire to be sore, everywhere, and her belly isn't down contracting, even with the baby across the room in Luke's arms. Maz little hands lead his across, massaging her still-painful stomach, helping it start to heal.
Somehow she manages to swallow more water that's salty-sweet. Field electrolytes: she knows the taste. Maybe it's fitting because this was a battle, longer than one she's had to fight for many years, and more person. She hasn't been that far inside herself since Darth Vader, her father, though neither of them knew, held her and she watched her world die.
Emotion thud at her, rushing in like waves against a breakwater. The baby's fine, he's safe in Luke's arms and Han's taking him to meet Chewie while he sleeps, Han kisses her again, holding her face with his hands.
"I always say you're the strongest person I know, but hey, you don't have to prove it for awhile now, okay? I believe you. The whole galaxy does." Part of her would cling to him if she had the strength, but the tremendous effort it would take to move her arms isn't something she can summon. "I love you."
She nods, and smiling at him aches marginally less than just breathing. Maz sits beside her, her small hands still moving across Leia's swollen and now deflated belly, kneading her like a Lothal cat.
"You can sleep, now," Maz says, shaking her head. "You've seen most of a day, You'll wake when baby needs you."
Baby needs a name.
"He's very precious," Ob-Wan adds, smiling down at her with such gentleness. "I remember holding you, when you were that small, and it brings me great joy to see you here, now." His smile broadens, filling his translucent face with warmth. "Though, I think you were smaller."
She licks her lips and Maz fusses and makes her drink more. Swallowing hasn't been this hard.
"When I handed you to your father, he held you all the way home," Obi-Wan whispers. "Kind of like Han. He's come so far from Mos Eisley. "
"You can't say you saw this coming," Maz teases him and they way they look at each other- "You said you only saw the possibility."
"You agreed with me, though, neither of us had any idea that the two of you would be so happy." Obi-Wan reaches out, touching her shoulder in a way that feels like starlight. "Rest, take some time for your family. You've done enough for the galaxy."
She's vaguely aware of Obi-Wan following Maz, taking the light with him. Leia's almost asleep when the other voices arrive. Not Han, who she feels downstairs: he's a knot of joy that gleams like a sun, or Luke, who's softer, but no less pleased. She doesn't know them.
"Can she see me?"
"I don't know. Obi-Wan said the Force is strong here, and the birth brought much of it to the surface. It's easier to manifest." That voice she knows.
Opening her eyes is such a chore, but she forces them. That blue Force-glow is back, but not Obi-Wan. She knows the feel of Obi-Wan.
The unknown voice, the female one, speaks again and some part of her does know who this is. "She's so brave."
"She's like you," the voice promises. "Completely unstoppable."
"Ani-" the voice stops. "Ani, she's awake."
Her vision drifts, struggling to focus on a face, on a person, but there are two. Anakin, whose expression is soft and tentative. Leia starts to try to speak, but there's a woman next to him, that she knows and doesn't know. Someone she's never seen outside of a holocube, but she's here.
Leia knows her. She didn't think she could, her mind couldn't possibly hold the memories for so long ago, but she knows her. This is her birth mother.
"I'm so proud of you," Padmé says, smiling down at her. Having her above is so strange, because Leia only remembers her being lower, and the scent of Obi-Wan and Jedi robes. "You are so brave, and your baby, he's so beautiful."
Did she watch? Are her parents here too? She misses Bail and Breha so much that her chest aches, but they're not connected to the Force, not the way Padmé is, or Han, and she can't will them into being.
"You'll get to be with him," Padmé whispers, and Leia senses her regret. She never held her children, or knew the strangeness of a baby sucking on her breast. "Take care of him, of Han, and Luke. Let them take care of you, because they want to. You don't have to be alone."
Anakin hovers behind her, smiling, but distant, respectful. He admitted his darkness when Leia needed him to. She remembers him helping guide her back from the dark. Maybe Luke's right.
"I'm not-" Leia's voice struggles to have any volume, "-I'm not alone."
"No," Padmé smiles, amused, and looks towards the door. Leia can't make her eyes focus that far, but the Force tells her that Luke, Han and the baby are back.
"Little guy stayed asleep the whole time. Must be as tired as you are," Han says, walking to the bed without seeing the ghosts. Maybe they're not there. Leia's definitely tired enough to hallucinate. He leans close, showing her that the baby's still fast asleep. "Should have seen the fuzzball get all mushy over him. Said he's the cutest bald little baby he's ever seen." Studies her face, catching something. "What?"
"Luke-"
"I see them," he says, standing back. "Our father, and our mother."
"There's enough Force, Ani says, I don't know long it'll last," Padmé explains. "I'm just so glad I can see you and your sister."
"Your parents?" Han repeats. Leia starts to pull herself up on the pillows, because she needs to see them, and Luke. He holds the baby in the crook of one arm and helps steady her shoulders. When that doesn't seem like enough, he sits next to her, letting her lean against him. "They're here?"
"Anakin, and Padmé," Leia says. Touching his mind, she listens for the Force Anakin mentioned. It does fill the room, maybe because there's so much power in the moment, or because she and Luke have been so emotional. Maybe they were enough to bring them. She looks at her husband, smiling at his hazel eyes, and opens herself, sharing her connection to the universe.
"Just look at him, Ani," Padmé says. "Look at his ears."
"Sorry," Han says, almost on reflex. "I think those are from my side."
"They're adorable," Padmé insists. Her eyes meet Han's, and her expression turns to wonder. "How can you-?"
"Leia," Han says, shrugging. "She does something and then all you ghosts are here."
Padmé reaches for him, and the baby, but she can't touch them, can't be solid like Obi-Wan was, but her smile makes her glow. "I am so happy for you. So very happy, and I love you."
If that's meant for Han, or the baby, or all of them Leia can't be sure, because they're all together. Baby asleep in Han's lap, Han half-holding her.
"And you, Luke."
Luke nods, his smile trembling, and he's not out of tears. None of them are. Han kisses her cheek, and then holds her, closer with the baby. She didn't even realize she was crying until he smiles, then brushes her cheek.
"I love you both, and I am so sorry that I never held you."
Anakin takes her hand, uniting their energies. "We both are." Then they smile, and disappear, fading into the Force all around them.
Leia reaches for Luke, wanting him there, closer, and then all four of them are in the bed, holding each other, with the baby in the middle, still fast asleep. They stay like that, Luke and Han sitting on the bed with her while she falls asleep. She drifts, acutely aware of the baby, and what he needs. He wakes before dawn, snuffling before he mewls. Leia drags him to her breast, her hands are stronger after however long she's slept.
Luke appears from the chair where he's been sleeping, leaning over Han, who's awake a moment later.
"He's hungry," she tells them. Trying to determine how to ease her breast into his mouth, Leia gasps when baby finds it, latching on so much harder than she thought someone so small could do.
"Does it hurt?" Han wonders into the back of her head.
"I don't know."
Luke brushes her head with his hand, then returns to the chair. "Maz gave us a stack of diapers, when we need them. Han's been practicing."
"They're complex," Han mutters in defense. She rubs his arm, guiding it around her and the baby.
Diapers are indeed complicated, and being exposed to the air is the only thing baby hates. He's too curious, too wide-eyed, to be frustrated for long. Watching Han and Luke struggle with the diaper and baby's little legs makes her laugh, and even though that reminds her how sore she is, she's healing.
Leia doesn't change a diaper until Ben's three days old. The name comes slowly as well, she and Han can't decide, and though Han suggests naming her for her father, it's not right. Doesn't fit. They probably would have argued for months, leaving baby to be called something in Shyriiwook. Leia sees so much of his father in their son's face, that she nearly argues that he also should be Han.
Luke calls him young Ben first, in jest, because his eyes seem so deep, and that sticks. Old Ben is how they met, and he's been invaluable when she was afraid, when they needed help with the mysteries of the Force. It's a good name, not too big, not full of destiny. Perhaps little Ben will be able to chose his own.
She's barely left the bed either. Han or Luke bring her food, Maz visits to fuss over her and bring her old novels so long out of print that Leia's never even heard of them. Han reads to her, and Luke does, and sometimes she reads to Ben, because he can't get enough of them speaking. He sleeps on her chest, on Han's, and the warm, soft air seems just enough that he can lie naked against her without being cold.
Han won't let her near work, but he reads her the notes of congratulations that come flying in. Those from the other government representatives are formal, and he mocks their fancy accents when he reads them. Most from the military, people they know better, are sweet, even enthusiastic. Shara and Bey Dameron send a video of little Poe asking when Ben can come play with him and Leia has to stop crying before they can write back. Those from the Alderaani colony, and those she knows who have shared the death of their planet, are often too emotional, and Han spends much of his time holding her as she cries over Ben. He's the last prince of Alderaan, legacy of a whole lost world, and so many people see his birth as hope for the future.
She has to write back. Han handles the formal ones, because he's learned to sound like her in a polite message, and it's one of the kindest things he's done. Leia dictates some of them, helping him with the most formal grammar, usually over Ben's head while he nurses. He tugs, and at first it hurts, really stings, and Han holds her while she cries in the shower, because how can it hurt to feed their baby?
The pain fades, maybe her nipples toughen. On the fourth day, when they sit outside, watching the water and trees, the cracks in her nipples have started to heal. Ben's nearly always eating, and when he starts, she's drowsy and thirsty. She has to give him both breasts most of the time, and he eats like a starving rancor. She worries. Maz promises it's fine, that his belly is small, and empties quickly. Han reassures her, but he worries, and Maz has to remind them all that she has raised more infants in her long years that several humans could do over several lifetimes, and Ben is perfect. She knows so.
Ben sleeps on her lap, in his father's arms, on Luke's chest or wrapped up safe against Chewie. Chewbacca teaches them how to wrap Ben in slings, to keep their arms free for climbing. Ben sleeps there best, bound to one of their chests while they eat, and talk, then finally when Han relents and says she can respond to her own communication.
"Don't know why you'd want to read all that," he teases, playing with Ben's hair. "They're still dull, and you've been sent more than you could possibly read."
Leia smirks, leaning against him in the soft sunshine. "We have to go back eventually."
"Do we?" Han asks Ben in mock concern. Ben doesn't answer, so he takes that in the positive. "Ben doesn't think so."
"He doesn't think of much besides sleeping and my breasts-" Leia begins, but he interrupts.
Chuckling, Han leans in to kiss her. "Can't blame the kid for that. Those are pretty fantastic things."
"They still hurt." That complaint earns her another kiss, this one gentler. He knows about the cold packs, the seemingly endless slow leaking as her uterus recovers, and the contracts that bring it back to normal. She's still tender, almost everywhere, and even using the refresher is a chore.
Ben's worth all of it. Seeing Han with him, watching Luke tell him stories, listening to Chewie sing him to sleep: she knows he's as loved by them as he is by her, and she can't begrudge the physical consequences.
Luke's especially careful with her, gentle. They have to talk, because she drew so close to the Dark Side that she can still hear it whispering at her, but there's no pain anything like what she went through. So it's impotent while it waits. He's careful to embrace her, to smile, to make sure she's not afraid. She isn't. Ben's needy presence outweighs her selfishness, and she's so tired that she'd make a poor vessel, in between naps. That the will have to discuss, maybe with Han as well, because he felt it. She used it to touch him. Even if she meant no harm to Han, she caused pain, magnified suffering, and worse, shared her own.
She wouldn't blame the smugglers and pirates from fleeing the sight of her, but even pirates can't resist a baby, and some of Ben's first gifts are from eclectic characters.
When she worries too much, Luke brushes her mind, warm and reassuring. She resisted, she turned away when she needed to. They'll talk about it, work it out together. They have time. Ben will never be this small again, and that, she can't waste worrying about the Force, or galactic politics.
She sets aside the data reader, lets her thoughts still, and curls up next to Han in the sun. Ben's little face scrunches in his sleep and she reaches for his tiny fingers. They're so long, and maybe his hands will be like his father's. She's always loved his father's hands.