She's pregnant. Leia is pregnant. His wife is pregnant.
All the stars in the galaxy are askew.
"I can feel her," she says, brushing her fingers down her still-flat abdomen. "There's hardly anything there, but I can feel what she'll be like."
Her face glows with delight. She won't announce until she's halfway through. Women are funny that way. Han wants to shout the words to the streets. He can wait.
They make simple plans, silly plans. Leia will take a sabbatical while she recovers from the birth. Among Han, Luke, Chewie, the droids, and any number of easily-hired helpers, child care should be simply a matter of determining who will be on world when.
Luke rests his head on her belly. "She'll need a name."
"Breha," Leia says, and will brook no arguments.
Han feels her pain before he even knows what's happened, and without question, he leaves the spaceport to find Leia. She's been rushed from the Senate to the hospital. Luke has already arrived. It's good, Han knows. Someone has been there to hold her hand. They can both hold her when she cries later.
"I'm sorry," intones the med droid with programmed empathy.
"It's fine," Leia says. "Thank you."
Her face is tight, and she's in pain for a while afterwards. He never sees her shed a single tear.
Han's not as stoic, and Luke holds him when they both know Leia isn't near. "She's like that," Luke soothes. "She doesn't grieve out loud. We met her the day her parents died. Leia moves on. It's how she survives."
She returns to work the next day, because she doesn't want to sit around their home and mope. Han wants to sit around and mope.
"We'll try again when she's ready," Luke says, and goes back to his ancient books.
Two months later, she's pregnant again. Han's less sure this time. He wants her to be safe. Luke is happy enough, finally allowed back with her. Han watches her astride Luke, seeking her own pleasure. Her belly is flat but they both are sure she's caught again.
Han bends in to kiss her stomach, kiss his way down until he can just get his mouth where she wants it and where he can give Luke a lick. Han's worried, and a little superstitious. Maybe Luke's seed is too strong for her. Maybe that's what caused her to miscarry. Maybe it's Vader's dark legacy. Any sane person would look at the two of them and immediately pull them apart, but Han is hard as iron watching them writhe together. His hands shake as he drips the oil, and shake more as he guides himself into Luke perhaps a little too soon, pushing in as Luke thrusts up and pulling a shout from Luke's throat. Han settles behind Leia, holding her, and praying to whatever presence is listening that he can keep them all safe this time.
Han's allowed in the birthing room, and they get Luke in by claiming he has a Jedi trick for easing her pain. The med droids are unsure about this. Han's not sure he's not conning them, but as soon as his hands touch Leia's face, Han can see the tension drop from her straining body.
After five hours, Leia pushes their son out into the dimmed lights of the birthing suite. Droids and the doctor zoom around, siphoning mucus from his nose, helping her pass the placenta, sewing the small place where she tore. Han kisses her forehead but otherwise stays out of the way, and so does Luke. They keep meeting each other's eyes, and Han sees his own fear and excitement mirrored back.
They have a son. He's alive. They're all alive, and they have a son. Han's got that hyperspace feeling all over again, and he can see Luke does, too.
At last, Leia is presented with her baby. She's pleased, and she's tired. They still haven't settled on a name. She doesn't want to name him after her adopted father, not now, her own superstitions flying into her face like flocking mynocks. She will not name him after her birth father. Han doesn't remember his own parents. Luke loved the aunt and uncle who raised him, but he's not naming a child for either one.
"Ben," he says, after the droids have shuttled out and the doctor has gone away. He's settled into a chair on one side, and Han on the other. Leia's nodding off, the baby still in her arms.
"Ben," Leia agrees sleepily.
Han wants to suggest Jehoshaphat or Ebeneezer, just to be contrary. Another argument he has no chance of winning. He takes his son from Leia's slackening grasp and tries to hold him right side up. "Hello, Ben."
Luke watches him from across Leia, giving her hand a squeeze. There are pain lines on his face. When he eased her, he took that pain into himself. There's nothing he won't do for Leia.
"He's so red," Han says, tracing every line with his eyes.
"He's perfect," Luke says.
The early days are the best days. Ben eats and sleeps and poops, and not much else. Leia spends most of her recovery time in bed with him, nursing or cuddling or resting. She doesn't even take a datapad with her, which is unheard of. Han referees the well-wishers away from her, and shows pictures of the scrunched up red face to everyone who asks and to plenty who don't. Lando brings a huge gift of a bassinet and toys, and he gets to pay his personal respects to mother and son.
"He looks just like you," Lando says to Han after the door is closed.
"I don't see it."
"You scrunch up and cry the same way."
"You do," Luke agrees. Lando is the only other person except Chewie who is allowed to see Luke play proud papa. To the rest of the galaxy, he's the doting uncle. Lando stays for a while, and it's been a long time. He's as busy as Leia these days.
"We could use more pilots," Han reminds him.
"I've got skills that are better used here, I'm afraid."
He and Luke talk, and that's weird. Han has Lando in a box of 'my friend' rather than 'our friend' but he worked with Luke way back getting Han's butt free from Jabba. They've stayed friends outside of Han's influence. Part of him worries for Luke, wondering what trouble Lando is setting him up for, because Han can't let go of the notion this is all one big score for his old friend. The other part of him has noticed Lando officially went straight around the same time he met Luke, and maybe it's not a long con after all.
There's a loud cry from the bedroom. Luke's the first up, offering to walk Ben around to calm him.
"He's got a temper," Leia says, settling herself onto the sofa. "I have no idea where he gets that from."
Han and Luke meet eyes past her. Leia continues to have a Leia-shaped hole in her thoughts about Darth Vader. She will acknowledge, under pressure, that he was her biological father. She's far more interested in stories of her biological mother. She's researched Padmé Amidala almost as much as Luke has researched Anakin Skywalker. She doesn't care about Anakin Skywalker, and she will not admit her son shares one single gene with him if she can help it.
Lando's not saying anything. He doesn't know everything. He's just thinking how many times Han has lost his temper and that one time Leia threatened to kill him, and he's not sharing.
Han's the expert feeder. Luke's the expert pacer at midnight to soothe Ben back to sleep. Chewie's good at burping but he hates the mess Ben leaves on his fur three times out of four. Leia is the center of Ben's whole world, his face lighting up as soon as she's home, and crumpling into despair when she leaves the room.
The first real indication they're in for trouble is the first time Ben drops his pacifier onto the floor and no one immediately retrieves it. Ben screams, and before Han has suss out what the issue is, a small piece of plastic and silicone is hovering in the air, tumbling towards Ben's chubby hands.
"Luke," Han says, watching his son. Luke doesn't reply. Han opens his door, still keeping Ben in sight. "Luke, how old were you when you started showing your powers?"
"I always knew things I shouldn't have. I didn't learn to use the Force until the time you and I met. Why?"
"Guess who's an early developer?"
Luke is already making plans for a school. There are other Force sensitives out there, and Captain Syndulla has been a treasure trove of new contacts. He wants to gather them together. He wants to train them, and be trained.
Ben is his first tentative experiment.
"Close your eyes," Luke says patiently for the sixth time. Ben giggles and plays with his own fingers. "Close you eyes, Ben. We're going to play a game. I want you to imagine a blue ball."
This has taken days. He goes through the words again, never growing tired. Han is bored after the second try. Leia tries to follow along, because she too wants to learn how to harness the powers she's always had living under her skin, but there are meetings to take and formal missives to write. She hasn't fled into her office, but Luke's gentle voice is grating on her. Han can tell.
"Imagine a big blue ball," Luke says again, and suddenly, Han is far back enough.
"Luke, he's doing it."
Luke glances at Han with a touch of annoyance. Even Leia looks up from her work. And then they see what Han has seen.
The entire room is taken up with a glowing blue ball, so faint they can barely see it although they all stand inside.
Luke looks back at Ben, face breaking into a smile. "Good job."
Ben's almost two, and has levitated the table twice, and Luke is packing.
"I don't understand," Leia says. Her hands are clearly itching to put his clothes back, to push him back. "Luke, you live here. You don't have to go."
"He's talking." Luke takes another shirt and folds it. "He's smart, Leia. He's so smart. He knows the three of us share a room."
"Of course we do. We are his parents." She yanks the shirt away. "We are all his parents."
"I know." Luke's voice is heavy. Han can't move from the doorway. "I can't stay here and be his other father any longer. He will tell someone. He doesn't know it's wrong."
"It's not wrong," she says, and there's that steel in her voice. "I love you. I have loved you for years. And you love me."
"I know!"
Luke never shouts, never at Leia. It's enough to break Han's heart now. It's more than enough to break the hold on his feet and propel him into the room. "Don't do this."
Luke's gaze is torn from her to Han. "I have to go now. Before he understands. Before he remembers. He'll remember I lived next door. He'll know I love him. He'll call me his uncle, and we'll do things together. I will visit every day that I can. I'll show him how to use his powers. I'll take him on trips. I will be there for Ben, Leia, I swear. But I can't let him grow up seeing us together. You know that."
"I don't care what other people think."
"Yes, you do," Han says. "You're the one who has to. Luke and I can hop in the ship and go to the outer rim and work our way across the galaxy and back, and no one will care if we're friends or lovers or married. But you love your work here, and you will lose everything the day Ben tells his first teacher he's got two dads." It's killing him to say the words.
"Plural marriages are going to be legalized by the Senate. I've got the legislation past the last committee."
Luke closes his eyes. "There's no legislation that will ever make it legal for me to marry you."
"Then you two get married. Take the Falcon to Corellia. They don't care about prior marriages."
There was that. But they have talked this through, on cargo runs and diplomatic envoys, and remained carefully circumspect around others. Han doesn't let himself hold Luke's hand where anyone can see. Luke certainly never greets him with a kiss outside of their home. Making their relationship public would lead to questions about Leia, and now, about Ben.
Luke takes her hands. "You know I will never stop loving you or Han. There is no power in the universe that could make me feel even an atom less."
"Then stay here with us." Leia doesn't cry when she's grieving. She doesn't cry when she loses someone. But Han has seen her cry before when Luke walked away, and he knows what's coming.
Han can't prevent what's happening any more than he could hold back a flood with his hand. He doesn't have to like it. He goes to Luke, and he takes his face in his hands, kissing him deeply. He can feel Luke's sorrow pass through the kiss. He can feel Luke's heart crack, or perhaps just the echo of his own. "Stay tonight. Stay one more night. You can go before we wake up."
Ben's asleep in his crib in another room. He won't hear. He won't remember, and that's how things must be.
They take their time with one another. Han knows every scar on Luke's skin. Luke has stroked every line of proud flesh on Han's and Leia's old scars. Hundreds of kisses patter down now, marking out a past they can never return to. Hands join hands, tender and mindful and wanting. Luke guides himself into Leia and moves inside her.
Leia's throat catches as she says, "Both. I want to feel you both together."
They haven't tried this. Han's terrified they'll hurt her, but her eyes plead in needy want. Her body stretched to accommodate a child. Luke keeps up his tender pace, eagerly wetting Han deep inside his mouth and down his throat. Spit-slick and ready, Han waits for Luke to withdraw, then holds them both together. Leia hisses as they slide in yet urges them onwards.
This is too tight, too much, with Luke's prick hot and sliding against his in perfect friction, and Leia bearing down on them both as she moans. "More," she says, and he's not sure she means more, but he can see the pain lines moving onto Luke's face, and he can feel Luke thrusting faster, deeper.
It's enough to be here. It's enough to feel their minds, both fluttering on that knife edge between pleasure and pain. Luke can barely hold himself together now, and Han takes over, driving them both at his own speed, focusing on the talcum smell of Leia's skin and the velvet softness of Luke's where they meet.
It's good, it's better than good, and it's awful because they will never hold each other this way ever again. Han comes with a long, heavy sob.
Luke is gone when Han and Leia wake.
He is good on his word, and comes by almost every day. He trains Ben, and he teaches him. In public and in private, Luke is the perfectly polite, perfectly normal brother for Leia, and steadfast friend for Han. He still talks them through their fights and bruised feelings, and makes dinner. He loves them enough to pretend he isn't dying a little each day when he leaves. Han's more selfish. It's a failing.
He says the same thing over and over and only where Leia can't hear. "Stay over. It's dark out. It's cold. Stay here." Sometimes he tries for a kiss.
Luke never stays, and his eyes accuse Han of cheating as he says, "Give Leia my love."
On a particularly selfish night, after yet another round of arguments with his wife over nothing they both blew up into something, Han takes Luke by the shoulders. "Give it to her yourself." He squeezes. "We need you here."
Luke's face is drawn into that same pain, the shadowed valleys of his thoughts clear.
"A Jedi cannot afford attachments." His eyes are on Ben, who is playing on the rug. He's not paying attention, but they both must be careful what they say.
"You said you were the last Jedi. You said you could choose what a Jedi does and doesn't do."
"Then let me choose, Han. Let me choose to let you and Leia live your lives. Anyone could use you to get to me, to turn me. The Emperor almost succeeded, and I can't go against that choice again. I nearly fell to the Dark Side for Leia once. For the three of you?" He looks at Ben again. "I'd destroy worlds."
Han kisses him, unheeding of their plan to hide away. Luke allows the kiss, and that's how Han knows he isn't coming back tomorrow.
"I love you," Han breathes into his mouth, and Luke's eyes are wet as he pulls away, mouthing the only two words he can say to that.
After, when the Jedi training school is in ruins, and Ben is gone to the Dark Side, there's only one message left in R2's databanks. Leia replays Luke's hologram over and over, as if she thinks he will change his plans if she listens long enough.
"He's my son, too. I have to try to save him."
"He didn't say where he was going?" Han asks.
"No." But her face is set, and they both know exactly where Luke is headed.
end