a/n: chapter two, you!
Two
7 ABY
It was towards the end of a work week when Han swung by his father-in-law's office to tell him they would be having dinner - dinner or somethin', as he phrased it - later; it was the end of the work week when the actual event was to take place. Han - increasingly nervous, for some unidentifiable reason - whined to Leia that it felt too much like a date, at which she only rolled her eyes and retorted that it was no different then all the times he had met up with Luke or Wedge or Lando at some dive bar and drank himself under the Sabacc table - You were perfectly capable of making plans with them and retaining your manhood, she quipped, while Han grumbled a protest at her - Yeah, but this is diff'r'nt, it's all formal, like askin' a woman out - Leia laughed at him goodnaturedly - Then in your case it isn't formal at all; why don't you scream at him in a public hallway...?
He scowled at her - accurate - barbs, but did the deed, because it was important to her, and she'd asked him to, and he was slightly tired of having to bite his tongue about the whole affair anyway - Leia's allusion to his wilder days with the Rogues did give him an idea, though, a way to both amuse himself - which would relieve some of the persistent anxiety that kept tugging at him over the idea of telling Bail - and antagonize the Viceroy, which was one of Han's favorite pastimes.
He'd been casual about telling Bail he wanted to see him over dinner - and Leia was right; her father had immediately looked at him sharply, narrowing his eyes with alertness - Dinner? Without Leia present? - he had asked intently. Don't get excited, 'M not comin' on to you, Han quipped, and Bail gave him a withering look for a moment, still preoccupied with the invite as a whole - I'm to understand Leia will not be with us? - That's what I said, ain't it? - Han's response was a little tense, but Bail sat back, fighting a grin. He shrugged - You've never taken it upon yourself to have dinner with me - sans Leia - before, he pointed out. At which Han shrugged, and gave him an unreadable look, his arm braced against the Viceroy's office wall - Huh, I haven't? - he muttered, feigning ignorance - somethin' must be up then, eh? He left it at that - left Bail giving him a somewhat smug, knowing look that nettled Han - not because he cared if Bail knew, because the whole damn point here was to tell Bail, and he figured he and Leia were sort of looking forward to telling people - no, the look bothered Han because he did not like being predictable, and so when he took one of his and Leia's sleek personal speeders out to retrieve Bail on the established time and date, he had already decided he was going to have some fun with him first.
Departing the Embassy Residence, he diverted them away from the swankier, elite establishments in the posh levels of Coruscant, and dragged his father-in-law to an old haunt of his - brought to the forefront of his memory by Leia's casual teasing about the sorts of places he used to run while on liberty with fellow smugglers and soldiers. He took a considerable amount of pleasure in subtly watching Bail's expression become more and more wary at the sites around him, culminating in his mouth actually hanging open slightly when Han effortlessly guided the speeder into a rickety docking garage and hopped out casually.
He gave Bail a friendly whack on the shoulder.
"What're you waitin' for?" he asked blithely. "C'mon, place fills up fast," he urged.
Bail's head swiveled around as he stood in the speeder, eyeing the locale warily.
"Your speeder is going to be stolen immediately," he decided suspiciously.
"Nah, it won't," Han retorted breezily. "This is a smuggler's hub, not a thief's den," he said, as if that made it entirely safe.
Bail gave him one of his withering, lofty looks, and climbed out of the speeder, his feet hitting the ground roughly. Han looked down at the Viceroy's tanned leather boots, and gave a thoughtful nod.
"Those shoes, though, they might get snatched," he joked, and beckoned cheerfully. "Don't worry 'bout that speeder, Bail," he said again. "It's got an anti-theft beacon. It's alarmed."
"Can't your people disarm that sort of thing?" Bail groused.
"My people? My - you mean Corellians? Handsome devils? Kings of - "
"I mean criminals," Bail interrupted loudly.
"Aw, Dad, I thought we were past that," Han retorted. "I'm a reformed criminal. So's Leia."
"Leia was never, in her life, a criminal."
"You hang on to your delusions, Viceroy."
Bail glared at him, and Han shook his head.
"I mean it, that speeder ain't gettin' touched, no one here's that stupid," he said roughly. "They'd be askin' for trouble if I was still just Han Solo. Stakes're higher now."
"Because now you are General Han Solo?" Bail asked, catching up to fall into step beside Han and give his surroundings damning, piercing glares.
"No," Han muttered, half-serious, "'cause I'm Mr. Princess Leia."
At that, Bail laughed, forgetting for a moment that his surroundings were making him wish he had a palace guard security detail - a thing he had considered tedious, and usually worth ditching, back when he had first married Breha, and moved to Coruscant. He ducked into the bar Han had brought him to thinking - to borrow a phrase from Obi-Wan Kenobi's colourful lexicon - that it was a hive of villainy and scum in which he was likely to be murdered or robbed - at best. Han seemed thoroughly unconcerned - though Han often seemed that way, and Bail was usually unable to determine when Han was actually nonchalant about something, and when he was presenting a front to hide the fact that he was losing his mind.
Han breezed through the throng of people inside straight for a dimly lit booth in the back near the bar, situating himself in the chipped seats comfortably, and though he did look comfortable there - aware of himself, capable of defending himself, and street smart - Bail noted that he didn't quite seem to belong there, not like he might have back in his younger days. He wondered if Han was aware of that - and Han pointed sharply at a seat, giving Bail an incredulous look.
"Will you sit down? You're makin' yourself stand out," he snorted.
Bail sat, leaning forward on the table and folding his hands instinctively. Han reached over and shook them apart, rolling his eyes. He gave the Viceroy a look, and leaned back, slouching his shoulders and indicating how one usually sat in establishments such as these - Bail stared at him, and Han smirked.
"Have you ever done anything indecent?" he demanded.
Bail gave him a cool look.
"I kidnapped Darth Vader's baby," he fired back.
Han laughed, taken aback by the quick response, but amused.
"Good start," he said bluntly. "Now try slouching."
Bail slouched back a little, but gave Han a sarcastic look.
"Why is this the locale you chose if I am so unsuitable for it?" he asked.
"Try again," Han said dryly.
Bail arched a brow.
"Why did you bring me here?" he amended.
"Better," Han said, with a short nod. He gave him a lopsided grin. "'Cause you're gonna need a drink," he announced simply, lifting his hand with three fingers raised, and the thumb tucked towards the ring finger - a gesture which apparently called for a server, as a waitress materialized out of nowhere, scantily clad in something that could only loosely be called clothing.
While Bail stared out of the corner of his eye, trying to discern just - what - exactly he was looking at, so he could determine if he was offended or not - Han ordered drinks, though did not place a request for any sort of menu - and set the female on her way, clearing his throat for Bail's attention when she was gone.
"Y'okay there?"
"Did you see what that woman was wearing?" Bail demanded.
"No," Han retorted, deadpan. "I'm married. I don't look at other women."
Bail arched a brow, and Han shrugged, leaving the Viceroy to wonder for a moment if that was, indeed, the truth, or if Han was giving him a hard time - he squinted his eyes suspiciously, and Han shrugged at him.
"If you're saying that to impress me, there's no harm in looking," Bail said flatly. "I didn't go blind when I got married."
"I don't want to," Han said. He waved his hand vaguely. "She's workin', anyway, y'don't hassle girls while they're working - unless it's that kind of working," he said flippantly, and then pointed at Bail with a sly grin. "Don't go gettin' any ideas, Viceroy, I can get you a girl somewhere else."
Bail shook his head, consternated, turning his head when the drinks returned quickly and were left in front of them. Han moved so quickly Bail almost didn't see it, but in a flash he had flicked his credit reader over to the woman, and sent her off with the payment.
"Are we not staying?" Bail asked cautiously.
Han said nothing, and Bail looked at him in curious exasperation, frowning a little. He sat forward and curved his palm around whatever Han had ordered - a whiskey-brewed ale, by the look and smell of it - waiting impatiently. After prolonged silence, he cleared his throat and glared at Han more intently.
"What the hell are we doing here, Han?"
"Told ya, you're gonna need a drink," Han answered breezily.
He sat forward, drawing his own glass towards him by splaying his palm over the open face of it and gripping it at the edges. His shoulders tucked in, he flashed a smirk, and then cleared his throat, feigning solemnity - he knew - exactly what he was here for, but he figured he'd managed to throw Bail off at least a little - if the way Bail's knowing smirk had disappeared on the ride here revealed anything.
Han looked across the table at Bail, his expression unreadable - hesitating for a moment only because he was struck again with an unexpected anxious itch, something that had been clawing at him specifically concerning telling Bail about the baby - it felt final, so real, and tangential to that, for some absurd reason, Han kept getting the sneaking - irrational - fear that Bail was not going to be happy with him, that for some reason, despite having come around to Han marrying his daughter, the Viceroy would take offense to him having a baby with her -
But Han knew that was ludicrous, and he chalked it up to nerves connected to impending fatherhood as a whole, the same way Leia chalked her lurking sense of wariness up to hormones and personal worries - after all, everything was fine; her physician had told her everything was fine, that was why she wanted to at least start telling those closest to her.
"Why do I need this drink?" Bail asked boldly, setting his glass aside after tasting it.
Han nodded, taking a sip of his, and then setting it down. He reached up to rub his jaw, composing himself for the short prank he intended to play - if for no other reason than he needed to loosen himself up a little bit -
"Yeah, uh," he started, his brow furrowing seriously. "So I've got to talk to you, and Leia told me it works like this," he waved his hand, "it's got to work like this."
Bail straightened up, suddenly alert. He leaned forward a little, clearly compressing a grin. Han pretended not to notice, and looked intently into his drink as if finding the right words. He held out his hand, and then shrugged as if to indicate he was just going to go with it -
"Leia and I, we're gonna add a third person to our marriage," he began slowly. "She figured you'd - well, uh, it's not conventional, and we wanted to tell you before the press gets a hold of it - "
"Han," Bail interrupted, a smile breaking over his face. "I thought that might be what you wanted, I," he paused, his head twitching suddenly, as if he'd just processed the rest. "I - wait, what isn't conventional?" he asked, his voice sharpening.
Han continued to look at him, deadpan, his jaw set.
"Well, s'not for Alderaan, she says, I guess it's more common on Iridonia or Christophsis," Han drawled. "We've been - "
"You're - talking about adoption?" Bail ventured faintly - that must be it, Han, or so help me -
Han feigned a very confused look.
"That'd be kind of perverted," he said seriously.
Bail leaned forward, his face red, and glanced from side to side, grabbing the table and narrowing his eyes at Han.
"A third - you cannot possibly be talking about polygamy," he hissed dangerously.
"Polygamy?" Han repeated loudly, and Bail turned pale, looking around in alarm - the place was too loud, and self-absorbed, for anyone to be paying attention - and for a split second, Bail did marvel at the fact that no one seemed to give a damn that two rather famous men were sitting in their midst. "That's goin' a bit far," Han continued brazenly, "we're only lookin' at one other person."
He leaned back, waiting, watching Bail have a silent fit across the table from him - and Han ordered himself not to grin, continuing to maintain a serious, set expression.
"Yeah," he said heavily, "so we've been vettin' suitable people, and," he paused pointedly, as the waitress returned with his credit reader, and handed it off to him - Han tucked it in his vest pocket, "we think we might be close to pickin' one, so she wanted me to tell you - break the news easy," he continued.
Bail continued to stare at him, his face flashing different colours, his eyes narrowing, and then widening, and finally he seemed to settle on an appropriate reaction, which in Bail's mind was a heavily diplomatic one - in other words, he decided to use all of his self control to pretend he was entirely unperturbed by this development - which he was positive had to be some infernal joke - and throw Han off whatever game he was playing.
"You see why I'd bring some place like here," Han was saying soberly, "so you don't make a scene - "
"Will you be adding a male or a female to your union?" Bail interrupted stiffly. "Human?"
Han looked marginally taken aback, and gave Bail a suspicious squint. He took a moment to figure out what would likely scandalize his father-in-law more, and decided - male, definitely male; the Viceroy already grumbled constantly about the one, single man his daughter was married to, multiple would send him into cardiac arrest.
"She wants a guy," Han answered flatly.
He looked at Bail stubbornly, his expression unwavering, while Bail looked back, both of them waiting for the other to break. Bail clenched his teeth - he was almost positive Han was messing with him, that this was a jest; he couldn't imagine Leia agreeing to such a thing - and frankly, considering how enamored he usually seemed of Leia, Bail had a hard time believing Han was amenable to sharing. Yet - both of them, Han and Leia, had a penchant for doing unfathomable things, and there was a sliver of a chance - but no, no -
Han ticked up an eyebrow, wondering what exactly was going through the other man's head, and as he lazily took his time piecing together what he was going to say next, Bail folded his arms coolly and lifted his chin, narrowing his eyes.
"Well," he said crisply. "That is the more acceptable sex, I suppose."
Han was half-absorbed in his next ludicrous statement, so the comment did not register immediately - when it did, he sat back with a comical expression on his face, his head cocked to the side. He stared at Bail for a moment, and then a crooked grin broke out over his face, and he started to laugh gruffly, nodding his head at Bail's drink.
"Yeah, alright," he drawled hastily, snorting. "'M jerkin' you around, Bail," he said dryly.
Despite the fact that he had been - mostly - certain of that, Bail visibly relaxed, and reached for his drink gladly. As he was glaring - and taking a much-needed drink - Han sat forward abruptly, his grin fading intently.
"Hang on," he protested, "Hang on - what'd you mean, that's more acceptable?" he demanded. "You're sayin' if Leia and I really wanted to be polygamists, it'd only be okay with you if it was another man?"
Bail mustered a shrug, and glared at Han stubbornly.
"Yes."
Han stared at him in disbelief.
"But it was like pullin' teeth to get you to accept me, and I'm only one!"
Bail folded his arms.
"Yes, and she should be enough woman for you," he fired back sternly, narrowing his eyes for good measure.
Han considered him for a moment, a dry look on his face, and then sat back, shrugging lightly.
"Huh, okay," he said. "Fair 'nuff,."
In fact, he grinned, 'cause he figured it made sense for Bail to think that way. He'd probably think that way about his own daughter, wouldn't he? Want whoever loved her to give her all of their attention? Or - no, he'd want men to stay away from her...right? In a split second, Han went to smirking at Bail with his usual roguishness, to giving him a somewhat slack-jawed, distracted look. What if he had a daughter - and then everything Bail had ever done for Leia seemed obvious and logical - did he want a daughter? She'd be like Leia, probably - and Leia was incredible - but Leia also got hurt a lot - well, maybe they'd better hope for a boy, then, except when he'd been a kid, he'd put himself through the wringer, and he still remembered his mother crying over some near death experience he endured, and he didn't want Leia going through that, either -
Han's thoughts scuttled around wildly, and Bail raised an eyebrow at him.
"Looks like you're the one who needs a drink now," he pointed out, tilting his head.
Han blinked a few times, and then cleared his throat. He jerked his head to the left roughly.
"C'mon," he muttered. He gestured around with a half-smile. "This was part of the scam, I ain't really gonna make you sit here," he snorted.
Bail tried not to look too relieved, and scrambled - gracefully scrambled - out of his seat to follow Han. On their way out, Han acknowledged a tough-looking pair of females at a card game near the back, by touching his thumb to his forehead with a short nod. Bail tilted his head curiously, wary of asking, but Han filled him in anyway -
"Couple of smugglers I used to run spice with," he grunted. "The one with the green streak in her hair, missin' the eye? She was booted from the Academy, too. Imps gave her a position in the Intelligence Unit, then told her she had to sleep with marks for information. She refused," Han said, "they martialed her for insubordination - she spent the next few years blackmailing Imperial instructors with their spice addictions."
Stepping out of the place with Han, Bail looked interested, and fascinated.
"Did the Empire take her eye?"
"Huh? Oh, nah - the Black Sun syndicate cut that out when she freed some of their slaves," Han muttered.
Bail tilted his head, stopping next to Han at the speeder.
"Despite everything, I don't know much about your past, or your people," he reflected, emphasizing the world wryly. "Were all of them like that? Smugglers you knew?"
"Like what?"
"Closet revolutionaries," Bail supplied.
Han snorted.
"No," he said darkly. He shrugged. "But most of 'em ain't criminals for the sake of breakin' the law, if that makes any sense to you."
Bail tilted his head back and forth - it did, more so now than it would have back at the height of his Old Republic power, perhaps. He had a better eye for acknowledging his own privilege than he used to, and part of that was realizing he was able to exercise such morality because for all of his life, he'd had the wealth and security to do so.
"Han," he began, and Han pointed at the speeder.
"You want to get back up to the levels where we can see daylight first?" he asked, and Bail closed his mouth, deciding that was best.
Han smirked a little, and fired up the speeder, expertly directing them back up to - as Bail would call it - the civilized sectors of Coruscant, at least insofar as Coruscant could be civilized, being a teeming city planet. He redirected them to the places more familiar to Bail's palate, wracking his brains for a good place to go - he hadn't thought it through too much; for most things, that wasn't his style - though he had taken to thinking things through, almost meticulously, when it came to Leia. He sure as hell hadn't made a reservation - but then again, he'd grown almost shamefully used to the way his name and power, relative to Leia's, precluded wait times at most places. He took a swift turn towards the casual quarter - fine dining, but without requiring fine clothing - and found a spot at a port near a quiet restaurant, killing the engine almost hesitantly.
He tilted his head, brow furrowed. He paused, then swung out of the speeder, followed slowly by Bail.
"You think they're gonna gossip about me'n'you eatin' dinner together?" he asked dryly, and Bail caught his elbow, stopping him at the speeder.
"Only the Alderaanians," he said firmly. "And as you know, we abhor most gossip," he said, studying Han. "Will you tell me what this is all about, really?" Bail asked simply, his expression patient.
Han turned back towards him and leaned against the speeder. He reached up to rub his jaw, and then crossed his arms, and his ankles, tilting his head up. He nodded.
"You know, don't you?" he ventured. "Leia said you'd know."
"I have an idea," Bail said earnestly. "Leia mentioned cutting back on caffeine, and I wondered," he trailed off, as Han was nodding slowly.
There was a moment of silence, as Han felt - weighed down, though not in a negative way - with the responsibility of being the person who got to deliver this news to Leia's father. He felt almost as if he was taking something away from her, even though she'd asked him to do this; after all, Leia wasn't able to tell her mother - shouldn't she get this privilege? He also felt nervous again - for several weeks, this had been something that was just between him and Leia, and even between them it was something in the back of their minds, a thing that was blooming, not yet at the forefront.
Until earlier this week, when she'd had a second round of blood work and a second examination that seemed to really reassure her -
Han nodded again.
"Yeah," he said. "Ah, yeah, so I wasn't kiddin' about the third person," he said gruffly. "Leia's going to have a baby."
Bail beamed at him, the expectant look on his face morphing into an expression of delight. He reached out to clap Han on the shoulder firmly, and put out his hand. Han unfolded his arms to accept the shake, and when he grasped Bail's palm, the Viceroy pulled him into a casual, quick hug, the grin never leaving his face. He drew back, still squeezing Han's hand proudly, and gave an encouraging nod.
"I thought so," he said. "I knew it," he added smugly, letting go of Han's hand and stepping back.
He folded his hands into the sleeves of his robes and took a deep breath, clearly satisfied with the way the conversation had gone. He gave Han a mildly reproachful look.
"You had a well played trick there," he allowed.
Han snorted dryly.
"Thought it'd be memorable," he drawled.
Bail gave a small laugh.
"Sentimental," he said wryly. Arching a brow, he leaned against the speeder next to Han, tilting his head at him intently. "How is she?" he asked. He paused. "I know she was...undecided."
Han nodded, uncross his ankles and scuffing his foot.
"Mm-hmm," he mumbled. "We been talkin' for a while, and she started lookin' at it differently," he said vaguely, and then shrugged. "And...it didn't really take that long," he offered.
Bail looked relieved.
"She was worried about that, yes?"
Han nodded again.
"She's good, Bail," he said honestly, answering the more important question. "She hasn't been sick, not much. Some headaches. She's tired," he listed off quietly. "She's nervous," he allowed, "but she's happy. We're happy."
Bail nodded.
"She hasn't been sick," he repeated. "Good, I'm glad to hear - Breha was," he paused, shaking his head, "so sick, always so sick," he murmured.
"What about Padme?" Han asked.
Bail looked thoughtful.
"I don't know. I suppose not. She was able to hide it well enough, early on. It can't have been too bad."
"It's still early," Han said. "Leia says," he added. "She found out earlier'n most."
Bail did not ask how, and Han was glad, because he didn't know what to tell him - Leia had simply insisted she was sure, and damned if she wasn't right. He never doubted her, but he did wonder what that was like for her - and her physician had been surprised, too, when she confirmed the pregnancy; she asked Leia to tell her what had alerted her, and Leia gave the same quiet response - I just knew.
"How far along is she?" Bail asked.
Han shifted, leaning back against the speeder again.
"Almost ten weeks," he said slowly. She'd had her second appointment earlier this week, but it hadn't been anything major - Leia wanted the available tests done, but they weren't done until later on in the term, for safety reasons. So far she had only had two appointments - one to run an initial test and outline a projected timeline, and more recently for her first 'routine' appointment.
Bail nodded, his brows lifting.
"Found out eight weeks ago," Han added.
Bail swiveled to look at him in shock.
"What?"
Han laughed hoarsely.
"Yeah, that's what the medic said." Han tapped his temple. "Women's intuition, I guess," he drawled.
Bail looked skeptical - he doubted that, and he was sure Han thought exactly the same thing he did; it likely had something to do with Leia's Force sensitivity, whether she consciously used it or not. He was quiet a moment longer, and then turned, facing Han intently.
"What about you?" he asked, interested. "Nervous?"
Han didn't look at him immediately. He stared in front of him, one brow cocking up, and tilted his head to the side, focused on nothing in particular. He swallowed hard, steadying himself - he was, but he was in a good place about it. Leia was healthy - Leia seemed to be handling herself just fine - and so with that stress gone, he had only his own normal worries about what was to come. He finally turned to look at Bail and shrugged a little.
"Yeah," he said honestly. His lips turned up in a resign smirk, but he didn't feel weakness over the admission - if anything, he figured Bail knew exactly how it felt, and as it turned out, he was pretty damn glad about that - if they hadn't pulled Bail out of Alderaan's wreckage, he and Leia would be alone with this, and while he was sure they could handle anything after what they'd been through, it was a relief to have someone around who had raised a child before - Bail, he realized, was the only human in their circle who fit that bill.
Han narrowed his eyes.
"You want me to buy you that dinner now?" he asked.
Bail snorted.
"You'll be pleased to know that in this tradition, I purchase you dinner," he retorted. "In honor of how expensive children are - as it were," he said, as Han gave him a smirk, "I'd much rather procure some carry out and see Leia, if that would be alright," he said earnestly.
Han shrugged.
"Don't think she'd mind," he said - he thought Leia would probably be happy to see her father, and something told him that in most cases, this sort of situation probably ended up with the father and husband returning to congratulate the new mother anyway.
Bail nodded firmly.
"Would you mind making a stop by the greenhouse at the Embassy?" He asked lightly. "I'd like to take her some flowers, as well. I'll enlighten you as to the importance of arallutes for Alderaanian mothers," he offered.
Han pushed off the speeder, nodding.
"Rattles, right?" he asked quickly. "You turn 'em into rattles?" He made a motion with his hand, mimicking how one might shake a toy at an infant.
Bail looked impressed, and hesitated at the door of the speeder, cocking his head.
"Yes," he agreed pleasantly. "Did she tell you?"
Han sighed, pretending to shrug it off casually. He reached up and scratched the back of his neck.
"I looked a couple things up," he admitted.
He'd been looking for an idea of something to get Leia. He didn't know what for, he just felt like he should - like he wanted - to get her something. He knew she wasn't doing anything just for him, but it still seemed like - such a big thing they were doing, and it was primarily carried on her shoulders, at least for this part. He'd come across the notes about arallutes when he was sorting through things that were important in Alderaan, but the flowers seemed like something it was best for Bail to give her - and he had decided he needed to do something more unique to him, anyway.
Reaching across the speeder, Bail clapped Han on the shoulder again, jolting him out of his thoughts. Han blinked, and then swung himself into the speeder and revved it, turning to his father-in-law, and sporting what was absolutely definable as a proud grin.
There were, at present, tensions dividing Leia and her brother - mutually acknowledged tensions. Where in the past, any discord that flared between them had more often than not resulted in Luke's earnest attempt to resolve them, this minor personal conflict was different in that Luke remained as stubbornly resolute regarding his side as Leia usually did. Given that, she was forced not only to confront how overbearing she could be with her firm convictions - not a negative trait, in her line of work, but one that was less than desirable in many familial relationships - but also to reflect on what was fair to Luke, after all she had asked of him.
His frequent absence from Coruscant made resolution difficult; it often had the unfortunate effect of allowing her to compartmentalize the tension, and downplay it, or in some instances, cause it to flare up irritably and remind her why they had fought in the first place. She still harbored resentment regarding a harsh argument at the beginning of the year - occurring just after Han had returned from his deployment - but the more he was gone, the more she missed him, the more amenable she was to revisiting the issue - and now, particularly, she wanted to reconcile as best as possible with Luke.
It was a happy coincidence that he made one of his customary returns to Coruscant - to put in duty hours and return to military life for a stretch of time in order to adequately balance New Republic involvements with his slow, steady efforts in rebuilding his Jedi Order - around the time Leia had decided she wanted to start telling family. She couldn't imagine leaving Luke out of the inner circle of those in the know, and she'd hated the idea of telling him via comms.
She was much more at ease with having him here, in the comfort of her living room, drinking her tea and looking earnest and kind and predictably disheveled, delighted to see her again, and - if she was reading his emotions correctly - as embarrassed as she was over their respective stubbornness.
He looked up when she entered the room - she noticed he was intently studying the vase of arallutes she had on the kaffe table. Her father had brought them to her a couple of days ago when he'd come home from dinner with Han - he'd plucked the youngest ones he could find; they would be well suited for rattles right around the time they needed to be. She smiled at them fondly, and turned to her brother.
"Thanks," Luke said, as she handed him a cup of the soothing lemon-mint tea she'd taken to drinking lately - it helped with the mild nausea she had, which was worsening slightly by the day, though still not reaching the epic proportions one always heard about. He cupped it in his hands and inhaled the scent, tilting his head curiously. "Interesting flavor choice."
Leia hesitated before sitting.
"I can get you something - "
"No," Luke said hastily, flushing. "That's not what I - you just usually have herbal teas."
She arched an eyebrow, taking her seat.
"It's alarming how observant you are," she mused.
"Off-putting," Luke snorted. He sighed. "I know."
Leia gave a mild shrug, and leaned back against the sofa, propping her elbow on the back.
"It doesn't alarm me," she said.
Luke smiled, and looked at her heavily, skipping ahead of pleasantries without mincing words.
"I'm...glad you wanted to see me as soon as I was back," he said, "but, um - I wasn't expecting it."
Leia looked a little apologetically grim.
"To be entirely honest with you, I don't think I was planning on welcoming you so warmly," she said, with a little shrug. Her lips turned up at the corner. "When you sent the message letting us know you were coming back I felt differently, and I'm glad - "
"Me too."
Leia nodded. She rubbed her nose, and then sighed - the thing was, they hadn't been on hostile terms; they hadn't stopped speaking - they had just, for a bit of time, been cautiously formal with each other; loving, but the way one might be with a relative they rarely see, rather than a treasured immediate family member - and it had been clear that they had disagreements to sort out, which were either exacerbated, or mitigated, by his lack of presence on Coruscant - depending on the day, and their moods.
She shifted, deciding to reach out and take her own mug, but Luke retrieved it from the table and handed it to her, a gesture for which she gave him a nod of thanks. He waved his hand casually, and tilted his head. Leia cleared her throat, tipping some of the tea up to her lips, tasting it, and then averting her eyes to watch the steam, beginning delicately -
"How is your friend?"
Luke's lips turned up in a lopsided smile - friend; that was how Leia had chosen to refer to Mara Jade, whom she had never met, and about whom she knew little more than what Luke had told her: that Mara was a romantic interest of his, and that she was, in no uncertain terms, a former Imperial assassin and Sith apprentice. Though Leia had lit up a bit at Luke's mention of a significant other, her interest in - and amiability about - such a person had faded immediately upon hearing about Mara's past, and it was from there that their initial fight had ignited.
"She's well," Luke answered simply - the truth, and not much more; he sensed Leia's ultimate purpose in eagerly asking to see him as soon as possibly had nothing to do with Mara, and little to do with a total reversal on her position regarding Mara, but he did appreciate her inquiry, and it seemed mostly neutral, in terms of her tone and aura.
Clearing his throat quietly, Luke offered -
"She's taken some time to hunt down her roots," he said. "She wants to rediscover memories of the family she was stolen from," he explained - in a non-threatening effort to gently remind Leia what he'd tried to tell her initially: that Mara had suffered at Imperial hands, too.
Leia compressed her lips. She inhaled the scent of her tea, and tilted her head.
"Well," she said carefully. "That can be a disturbing undertaking," she said, snorting faintly. "You and I should know."
Luke nodded, pleased with the conversation so far. He took another sip of tea, set it aside, and folded his hands, looking down at the cup for a moment. Staring at his clasped hands, he cleared his throat again.
"Do you want to discuss Mara?" he asked. "Or, I guess," he trailed off for a moment. "Look, I'm not going to force her on you, Leia, but I'm not giving her up, either, that much remains the same."
Leia nodded. She traced her finger around the rim of her mug.
"I never said you had to give her up."
"Not in so many terms," Luke agreed politely. "But you implied - an ultimatum, which was bound to hurt me in some way. I don't have any interest in abandoning my relationship with you. And I...as much as I respect your political career, I certainly won't put it ahead of my personal happiness in this regard."
Leia sighed softly, cringing at herself.
"I know."
She bit the inside of her lip to keep it from trembling - normally, a calm discussion wouldn't necessarily reduce her to tears, but she had appropriate excuses for emotional instability these days. She still - smarted, over what she'd initially said to Luke when he tried to outline, very respectfully, the complexities of his current relationship; he had told her what Mara's past was, and Leia, in a fit of shock, had snapped back - A sith apprentice? A sith...lordess? You can't be serious, Luke, I barely convinced this galaxy I'm not Vader's usurping evil spawn, I can't have one of his pets for a sister-in-law. The look on Luke's face had been awful - a mixture of hurt, anger, and bewilderment - no doubt at least a sliver of it was Leia's sudden assumption he was involved enough to be marrying this woman. Her words had been a misfired reaction, anyway - sure, she had some panicked, peripheral concerns about the political shitstorm that would probably come of it, and as callous as that was, her career was a part of her, and she had that sort of mind regardless of the context.
The root of her discontentment, though, was what it usually was - why did that bastard - that bastard being a term she used to describe Vader, the Emperor, and Tarkin, collectively - keep fusing himself into her life in the most inane and intrusive of ways? Why was it that everywhere she turned, she could not seem to be free of connections to him, of Imperial poison? She was both scared and miserable at the idea of Luke falling for someone like that, and despite the logical arguments her better self spouted - everyone has a past, everyone can be reformed, you don't even know her - it was another thing she had to come to terms with, and while her reaction had been admittedly selfish, she saw that even then, and she had handled it poorly, she of course felt justified in her own feelings.
"Luke, I do want to apologize for that comment," she said, soft and sincere. "You stood by me, and followed my directives, during the whole," she frowned, as she used the cultural phrase, "Skywalker Reckoning, and that was more incredible than you'll ever know." She nodded to emphasize that, and took a deep breath. "I will never again ask you to subjugate your life to my political orchestrations."
She caught his eye intently.
"I promise, Luke."
He nodded simply.
"I trust you," he agreed. He swallowed hard, and lifted his shoulders casually. "As much of an - irritation - as our little...spat," he snorted, "has been, there's a reason I didn't just barge into your apartment with her on my arm one night and then ambush you with her past later."
Leia nodded, and Luke shrugged again.
"There wasn't any way it was going to go over...well," he said dryly. "And Mara is cagey. She projects herself with aggression. You'd have sensed hostility immediately."
Leia arched her brows.
"She doesn't like me?"
"She doesn't like anybody," Luke said seriously. "She's wary of you. You can't blame her for that. I can't blame her for that - look at how you reacted."
Indignation pricked at Leia, and she gave Luke a slightly darker look.
"You didn't exactly soften the edges of what her position with the Empire was," she said sharply.
"That would have been misleading, and dishonest -
"Yes, I agree, but your honesty does not mean I am obligated to accept her with open arms - she wasn't some foot soldier broken by economic desperation! She was a key member of the ruling apparatus."
"A weapon, manipulated and raised by a brainwashing Emperor," Luke said calmly.
Leia drew her lip between her teeth tensely.
"So you've argued before."
"And I'll keep arguing," he said, in that same gentle tone. "Leia, Han doesn't have a spotless past either. You have to see the hypocrisy in refusing to acknowledge that Mara might be reformed when you accept that Han was once an Imperial cadet himself."
"Don't you - " she started loudly, almost shouting - and then she stopped immediately, stricken, and swallowed hard to calm down, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "Don't go there, not again," she said tensely - it was the same argument that had sent them into heightened hostility last time they talked about this. Leia's fierce protective drive regarding Han - "Han joined the Academy because he wanted to be a pilot. He was a starving - street orphan, and at the first instance - the first time he witnessed Imperial cruelty - he intervened," she said passionately, "and he was," her voice cracked, "he was whipped for it."
Leia's eyes stung, and she reached up with one hand to swipe at a tear or two.
"You can't compare his Imperial ties to a woman who - only had a crisis of self after her side lost."
Luke sighed. He tilted his head back and forth.
"Okay," he said, "but it isn't as simple as Mara deciding she wants to be good just so she lives, either," he retorted firmly. "You don't know her. You don't know what her...motivations are, or were, but Mara has...been important to me, when I felt I didn't have anyone to turn to who understood."
Leia pursed her lips.
"Redemption isn't about one good act or a sudden change of heart," she said. "It starts there. It progresses from there - but I have spent years now sentencing Imperials for their crimes, and you...think that some heartfelt discussions erase what she has done?"
"You don't know what she's done."
"Your refusal to tell me, and your attempts at keeping this under wraps for a rather long time tell me enough," Leia said warily.
Luke smiled a little sharply at that.
"There's where you don't get to chastise me," he said. "You were never forthcoming about your relationship with Han, not in the least - I don't think I knew the full extent of it until well after we rescued him from Jabba," he reminded her. "And I don't fault you for keeping your private life private until you were comfortable discussing it. You can't fault me either."
Leia turned her head into her palm and rubbed her forehead. She nodded at that, acquiescing, and rested her teacup on her knee.
"I'm trying to understand...Luke, it's just - the way you came to me, to break this news to me, it makes me feel like there is something horrendous that must be a part of her past, and I'm exhausted by the idea of that," she admitted. "I don't want to be at odds with someone you love," she said earnestly. "I'm just...intimidated by what you're not telling me."
"I don't know the depths of what Mara's Imperial work consisted of," Luke said flatly. "If I did, I wouldn't tell you, because she shares things with me in confidence, just like I'm sure you share things with Han. But I know she's not a rotten person; she's not irredeemable. Not in my eyes."
"No one is irredeemable in your eyes," Leia said emphatically. "That's the point. If Vader had survived the final battle, you would have wanted him absolved, and that never would have been palatable to most of the galaxy. Redemption is not just unless a person pays for their crimes."
"There are more ways to pay for crimes than the traditional systems you operate in," Luke said mildly. "You told me yourself that Anakin Skywalker spoke to you of the trials he faces engulfed in the Force, answering for his sins."
Leia nodded. She tapped her finger against her head, and her eyes welled up again.
Luke let out a quick sigh.
"You understand that the onus is on you to decide how you're going to handle this, right?" he asked. "It's one time I can't pander to your emotional needs, not at the sake of mine - "
"Yes," Leia said. "Yes, I know. I'm trying to remember the lessons I learned when we were at odds about Vader. I don't want to be insensitive, and I don't want to demand you cater to me."
She took a deep breath, pausing to have a sip of tea.
"I want you to be happy, Luke. I'm sorry we fought, and I'm sorry," she paused, sighed heavily. "I'm sorry I'm so unforgiving, but," she looked up at him with a resigned shrug. "It's the Empire, and it's so...so associated with all the worst pain in my life and my reactions are ... visceral."
Luke nodded.
"I understand that," he said candidly. "And to be clear, Mara is a matter-of-fact person, and she doesn't particularly agonize over the past, she is moving forward - and I know that would be hard for you to stomach," he said. "But at some point, if I can convince her, I want you two to meet and - then you can just talk to her. You can ask who she is. I don't want to say I think you'll like her, but," he shrugged. "She means a lot to me. And she's been...fierce, in her desire to detach her Force sensitivity from corruption."
Leia bit her lip.
"Ah," she said huskily. "She doesn't want to meet me, either."
"Like I said," Luke answered. "She's wary of you. With fair reason," he pointed out. "She told - well, specifically, she told me that you're going to outright hate her, and for much of the same reasons you just listed, so," he shrugged. "I guess I'll have to tell her she's sort of right about what she expected." Luke's lips turned up ruefully. "She plays off her reluctance as disdain for politics and pacifism, but I think it just makes her feel terrible for being unable to break the Emperor's hold on her."
Leia pursed her lips.
"You can begin by telling her I'm not a pacifist," she said shortly. She clicked her tongue. "And hopefully not as self-righteous as that all just made me sound," she muttered, grimacing.
"I don't think you're self-righteous," Luke said simply. "I think you've got a lot of honor, and a lot of strength...and that some people might not have had the privilege to uphold the short of strength of character you have."
Leia bristled at that, too, but bit her tongue - privilege? She thought angrily - the privilege of having my world destroyed, my body violated and abused, my family ripped at the seams, my very self challenged - ? But quickly, she quelled the resentment, taking a moment to think beyond her personal ailments - privilege, yes: the privilege of being educated, of having had money, of having had a support system that allowed her to rebel, and hide, with much less risk of death than some less protected, of having people who believed in her no matter what, loved her no matter what - and the fact that she had been gruesomely hurt in more ways than one was not diminished by her also acknowledging that another woman, in wildly different circumstances, might not have had the capability or the impetus to buck authority.
"At the very least, on some level, you and Mara have a lot in common," Luke said dryly. "Both of you think it's hilarious to mock me."
Leia gave a small smile, and wrinkled her nose, sitting forward abruptly, and then bowing her head.
"Leia?" Luke asked quizzically. "You went completely pale," he noted.
She scooted to the edge of the sofa, setting aside her tea roughly and holding up her hand -
"I don't want you to take this as a reaction to what you just said," she managed dryly, standing up, "but I'm going to be sick."
Luke sat up straighter, watching as Leia quickly excused herself from the room - he heard her footsteps hesitate, and then deduced she went for the kitchen sink instead of the 'fresher in her bedroom, and he heard her - though he would be she was trying to be quiet - vomiting. Frowning, he leaned over to look at both of their teacups, and then got up, leaving them. He hesitated on the threshold of the living room, second guessing himself - most people didn't like being watched, when they were ill - so he stood awkwardly, long enough that Leia returned, a different glass in her hand - ice water, with crushed mint leaves - and nearly ran into him headlong.
"Luke," she murmured, arching a brow. "Sit back down. I'm fine."
She ushered him back towards the couch, and with one hand on his shoulder gently sat him back down. She collapsed heavily and leaned against the corner of the sofa, rolling her eyes lightly as if he shared in some private joke. Luke just tilted his head worriedly, while Leia picked a leaf from her water and bit it between her teeth.
"Are you sure I shouldn't take that as an angry physical reaction to being compared to...?"
Leia nodded, smiling wryly.
"I'm sure," she answered.
Luke frowned.
"Are you okay?" he asked. "You never get sick," he pointed out. "And, uh, not that you're not allowed to cry, but you don't usually just...casually tear up in conversations, even if they're heavy."
Leia nodded.
"Both new developments in my life," she said dryly. "A temporary personality change - Luke, I wanted to try and clear the air between us because we should, and I shouldn't have let you leave again without having a second conversation," she admitted, "but I, ah...had a new incentive, which in hindsight is a little selfish - regardless, I don't want hard feelings between us, and certainly not simmering over the next few months."
Luke blinked.
"Well, I don't want that either," he said lamely. "The Haven opening is set in stone, then?"
She looked curious.
"It's - what? Oh," she said quickly. "Ah. That. Well, yes," she said, "though that's not really what I'm talking about - though please forgive me if I tell you point-blank you cannot bring your former Imperial Sith lady assassin girlfriend to a memorial for Alderaan. We just aren't there yet," she said, narrowing her eyes - with just a hint of ascerbic mirth.
"I wouldn't try," Luke snorted.
She smiled gratefully, and picked at another mint leaf.
"I sincerely hope your reaction is vastly different from Chewbacca's," Leia began, and sat forward, reaching out to set her water aside - she anticipated Luke lunging forward to hug her.
He tilted his head with interest.
Leia bit her lip, and took a deep breath - Luke was, after all, the third person she'd told, and yet she still felt a rush of nerves doing it, a sense of exhilaration and anxiety, saying it out loud -
"I'm pregnant."
Luke leaned back, his eyes widening in shock - she was a little delighted to read, immediately, that he hadn't been expecting her to say that at all. It delighted her because she had wondered if there was a way Luke would have known, and she was pleased that he hadn't. He blinked at her a few times, and then burst into a grin, leaning forward to - exactly as she'd predicted - hug her.
"Leia!" he nearly howled, excitement rushing off of him in a whirlwind.
She grinned and reached up to squeeze his shoulders, allowing herself to enjoy the fraternal affection.
"That's incredible," Luke said earnestly, leaning back. He held her elbows tightly. "That's - good, congratulations - are you - wait, good, right?" he said rapidly, and Leia nodded.
"Yes, good," she said huskily. She licked her lips. "We're very happy," she confirmed.
Luke beamed.
"See, I just didn't want anything between us overshadowing this," Leia said hurriedly. "And I feel - how important family is right now, and you're my brother - "
Luke was nodding rapidly.
"That's it, that's it," he said, as if discovering something. He let go of her, and gestured at her like an artist appraising a painting. "You feel different - I thought I was imagining things," he went on eagerly. "You feel - bright, and um," he snapped his fingers, "alive."
Leia laughed.
"You mean I usually feel dead?" she quipped.
Luke shook his head.
"I can't explain it," he started, and Leia placated him with a look, returning his nod.
"I understand," she said softly. "I," she paused, and tilted her head back and forth. "I know it's there. I know something's different," she said slowly. "I can sense it. I think it's too little for anything to be very...pronounced. I think if I wasn't somewhat in tune with my sensitivity, I'd not have noticed."
Luke's eyes drifted down to her abdomen with interest, and he started to reach out. His hand hovered for a moment, and he furrowed his brow.
"Can I...?" he started respectfully, and though he had his hand out, Leia knew he was asking about something other than a physical touch, and she reached out, grasping his hand gently and pushing it away.
"No," she said, answering both questions. She tilted her head, apologetic, but firm. "I know it's of interest to you because it's a new concept that incorporates the Force," she said. "I expected that - but Han can't feel anything yet," she explained. "He won't be able to for a little while longer, and he should be first. I don't want to take that away from him."
Luke drew back, nodding in understanding - Leia was his sister, anyway, not an experimental subject for him to study the nuances of the Force through. He imagined if he was in Han's position, he'd be pretty nettled - jealous, even - if someone else was able to feel something, or connect in a way he couldn't - with his own baby, so Luke refrained, not bothered by Leia's request.
"How is Han?" Luke asked, smiling. "Did he pass out or anything?"
She laughed again, and shook her head in her husband's defense.
"Not in the least - he's nervous, but we're both a little nervous," she hesitated, "I have a ... lingering bad feeling, but I think I'm just - dealing with some fears that aren't ever going to go away," she admitted.
"The Dark Side?"
"Maybe," she allowed vaguely.
Luke reached out to take her hand.
"I know you were so conflicted - hell, I'm so happy for you, Leia," he said sincerely. "You guys'll be great. I can't wait to see Han hold a baby."
Luke's comment was tongue-in-cheek, yet Leia whole-hardheartedly agree with it, though she was sure her reasons were far more sentimental and biologically primitive than his were.
"Does Bail know?" Luke asked.
"Han told him a few days ago," Leia answered. She nodded at the arallutes. "He gave me those."
"Han told him?"
Leia laughed quietly.
"It's a tradition in Alderaanian culture," she told him, just as she'd told Han. "The new father tells the old father, and the new mother is supposed to tell her mother-in-law," Leia trailed off, shrugged gently. "I told Chewbacca."
"You," Luke nearly choked laughing. "You told - Chewie - as a proxy for Han's - oh man, I bet - I can't wait to give him hell for that," Luke laughed, doubling over. "Wait - how did Chewie, react? You said something about his reaction?"
Leia looked sheepish.
"Oh, it was a mild - cultural misunder - ah, he licked my face," she said.
Luke stopped laughing, his eyes wide.
"He - "
"You heard correctly - its apparently a blessing of good luck for - Wookiee women," she explained. She held her hand up near her cheek. "He licked...my entire face," she said, eyes wide. "It was alarming. He caught me off guard, so I shrieked a little," Leia admitted, "and Han almost killed him."
Luke burst into laughter again, silent this time.
"I'd have - paid to see it," he managed, taking deep breaths as he calmed down. "So - who else knows? Is it public?"
Leia looked appalled.
"No, not in the slightest - you're only the third person we've told," she assured him. She reached out to pick up her water again. "We're only going to tell close family and friends for the time being, throughout this week," she explained. "And I'll tell Tavksa soon, because she and Evaan will need to help me plan maternity leave."
Luke was nodding along to her words, fascinating. He watched her drink, and sighed, crossing his arms and shaking his head in wonder.
"It's great, Leia. It's just...it's great," he said. "I'm going to hang around for a while, then," he said firmly. "No disappearing acts, just time in the Core," he decided.
"You'll have to make time to see your girl," Leia said gently - a peace offering.
Luke tilted his head.
"She's very independent," he said wryly. "But don't worry. I've managed to do just fine - and under your nose," he noted slyly.
He uncrossed his arms and leaned back, resting his elbow on the back of the sofa, looking at her happily.
"You and Han," he reflected smugly, "and a baby - can you imagine going back, and telling the version of you we met on the Death Star - "
"No," Leia said, with a good-natured laugh.
Luke compressed his lips, and reached over to squeeze her hand again, conveying in silence how genuinely thrilled he was for her. He sat forward abruptly, straightening his shoulders.
"Where's Han?" he asked. "I want to see him, too. Gotta wish him luck," he quipped.
Leia smiled, tilting her head, arching a brow - Han was off handling some software issue in some of the new ship weaponry, otherwise he'd have been here as well - but when he returned, Leia was the sheer smug pride he took in this whole experience so far was bound to give Luke some serious amusement.
The thing about genteel, average domesticity was that Leia was rarely on the Falcon anymore. Not for lack of loving it - she still harbored intense affection for the ship, though her love for it would never come close to rivaling Han's. He still spent considerable time on it because it was his prized possession, his secondary safe haven - outside of his home with her - and his never-ending project, but Leia herself, save for private travel with Han, was distanced from it. It had saved her from certain death at before the Battle of Yavin, it had run blockades for the Rebels throughout the war, it had evacuated her from Hoth, been home more times than she could count - including for a brief time while she and Han found their penthouse - and it held a special place in her heart; yet she never seemed to have a reason to be on it anymore. When Han wasn't working on it, or avoiding some work responsibility, he came home to hang out with her, and so they didn't linger there in their free time.
It was almost a thrill, for Han to stop her from showering after dinner and instead coax her down to the private hangar - C'mon, Sweetheart, the old girl misses you - instead of sinking into a hot bath, which she was doing a lot more of lately, she left her casual lounge wear on and went with him down to the ship, blithely curious about what had gotten into him this evening. The air in the hangar was a little musty, but it was warm, and it was one smell that Leia was relieved didn't affect her negatively - too often of late, things she previously liked had made her feel nauseous. She'd forced Han to throw out all of the current brand of shampoo he was using and just use hers until this - irritating - symptom subsided.
To his credit, Han set his teeth and did not complain about shampoo that made him smell like summer honey.
The oily, engine-heavy, metallic ship smell, though - that didn't seem to bother her and neither, she was glad to discover, did the familiar interior scent of the Falcon - fresh polish, singed wires - and something indefinable that was just distinctly Han.
He closed up the ramp behind them, and Leia paused near the entrance to the cockpit, tilting her head curiously.
"Where's - Chewie?" she asked, starting strong, trailing off in half-hearted distraction when she noticed something different.
"He's been bunkin' with the Kashyyyk delegation for a few days," Han grunted. "Some new junior senator is his...nephew, or somethin'? Or an intern? Dunno," Han said explained lazily.
Leia tilted her head, vaguely running through her political directory - Kashyyyk did have a new crop of young trainees; she'd have to look into it again. She'd feel terrible if she hadn't gone an introduced herself to someone in Chewbacca's inner circle. Han was saying something about Chewie being able to communicate with Malla more clearly over at the delegation's massive artificial Kashyyyk environment, and Leia stepped into the cockpit, running her hand over the chairs.
"Is this new leather?" she murmured.
"Huh? Yeah. S'new. Ish," Han said.
Leia turned to him, her lips pursed curiously. He looked a little sheepish, but shrugged as if it was nothing.
"It needed it, y'know, old stuff was cracked and," he waved his hand jerkily. "It could kind of - cut bare skin," he shifted his weight, holding his arm out pointedly. "If you scratched against it, it wasn't great," he explained.
Leia pressed her lips together lightly.
"You mean it could hurt a baby's skin," she amended softly.
Han tilted his head, attempting to look gruffly noncommittal. She smiled at him a little, but she didn't want to needle him, so she said nothing, and stepped back up to him, placing her hands on his hips and leaning her head back to look up at him.
"What's the occasion, hmm?" she asked. "Why are we having a Falcon date?"
Han shrugged, touching her shoulders and tilting his head down the hall, back towards his - their - cabin. She bit her lip and nodded, slipping past him and making her way back there – she certainly didn't mind whatever had gotten into him. Though she'd never admit it out loud, she liked it when Han had his mysteriously romantic episodes; they made her feel delicate and feminine and admired in ways strong women weren't supposed to want.
She ran her hand along the wall and ducked into the cabin, looking around fondly, and striding over to the low bunk, where she sat down comfortably, pursing her lips. Han stopped in the doorway, bracing his arms on the arched frame. He looked at her wordlessly for a moment, staring at her there, sitting on the bunk like she had so many times before, and he flashed her a grin.
His arms slid down and he strode forward, walking not towards her, but towards the spare bunk. He crouched down, and ran his hand along the bottom of it, feeling for a switch, and Leia turned her head, her brows going up slightly when she heard the subtle hum as it turned on.
"You fixed the temp controls?" she murmured.
Her question trailed off though, as she realized – the spare bunk looked a lot different; much different than it had the last time she'd seen it – in fact –
"Han," she began. "What…?"
He gripped the edge of a safety railing on it, and turned to look at her, still crouched down level with the bunk. He ran his free hand over his mouth and then held it out, gesturing to the bunk.
"Yeah, I fixed it," he said. "Heating works, core temp monitoring is all set," he listed, his knuckles turning white on the railing. "I added this for safety, y'know, so nobody rolls out," he said, and then ran his fingers down between the slats, "and I left this open, with these," he tapped a slat, and shimmer screens electrified to life, the soft, humming kind often used to keep children in designated playpens in public places – not painful, of course, but gently unyielding; they warmly nudged would-be escapees back to safe areas, "so we can see inside, 'n case we need to," he explained.
He stopped, giving her a moment to process it, and then cleared his throat almost nervously.
"I, uh, - look, I know, we've got to get an actual thing," he said, waving his hand vaguely, "the carriers, and stuff for securing in hyperspace," he shrugged, "but I figured…we need somethin' like this eventually."
Leia continued to look at him silently, her head tilted softly to the side, her expression intent. She tried to find something to say, but nothing suitable enough came to mind, so she got up, moved closer, and knelt down next to him, running her hand over his thigh, up along his side, up to his chest. She leaned forward, and kissed the corner of his mouth.
Han lowered one knee for balance, and turned his head a little, giving her a wary smile.
She grasped his arm.
"It's a safe place to play, too," she assured him. She pointed in to the modified bunk. "You can let him or her sit in there," she murmured, trailing off a little. She kept falling short of getting too far head of herself – she didn't know why. Here Han was, fixing up his beloved ship to be an appropriate place, and she hadn't quite gotten around to telling her Aunt Rouge or Winter –
She just wanted to get through the first heartbeat appointment –
Leia swallowed hard, blinking a few times, and turned to kiss Han's cheek again, nuzzling her face against his hair to brush off a few of her constantly persistent tears. She squeezed his arm, and then used his shoulder to stand up – and experienced a rush of dizziness at the abrupt change.
She stood, contemplating a deep breath, and decided whirling around and darting into the 'fresher was a better idea – Han, having learned his lesson a couple of weeks ago, did not follow her. She didn't like an audience, and his concern over her had quickly become peripheral, because this really couldn't be helped, and it wasn't so bad that she didn't bounce back.
When she came out of the 'fresher, a somewhat playfully exaggerated pout on her face, clicking her tongue distastefully, Han had gotten up and moved to the bunk, stretching out on comfortably. Propping his head up, he crooked his finger at her.
With a lingering glance at the spare bunk as she crossed the cabin to him – he did that for me; her thoughts whispered; there's going to be a baby asleep in there – and climbed up next to him, stretching out next to him with her head on the pillow. Han leaned over and wrapped an arm around her waist, lowering his head to kiss her.
She parted her lips, touching his chest lightly, her eyes carrying a warning.
"I only rinsed my mouth out," she mumbled. "I didn't brush."
"You're too used to it, then," Han retorted, and kissed her anyway.
Her nose crinkled at the idea of it, but she smiled nonetheless, and when Han pulled back he still ran his hand loosely over her side, content to lie close to her, in the familiarity of the cabin.
Leia rested her head on her arm, tilting her head up a little curiously.
"Have you been…cleaning up the ship?" she asked.
Han shrugged.
"Just felt like I should be doin' somethin'," he said, after a moment. He furrowed his brow darkly. "Chewie's been making fun of me."
Leia made a soft tsking noise and ran her fingertips over his chest.
"How dare he," she sympathized.
Han smirked, basking in her support, no matter how facetious. She turned over a little and rolled onto her back, so she could look between him and the littler bunk, her gaze lingering on the latter.
"What do we think about all this now?" she asked quietly. "Father knows, Luke, Chewie," she listed. "It's not just us anymore," she turned her head back to him, flicked her eyes around nervously. "It's really not going to be just us."
Han nodded slowly.
"Think we'll be okay," he said. "S'just a baby, right? Not the Empire."
Leia laughed hoarsely.
"Better the devil you know though, isn't that what they say?" she quipped.
Han grinned, and moved closer to press his nose into her neck.
"You still got that bad feeling?" he ventured.
Leia sighed.
"I don't know," she answered heavily. "It's not persistent, it's just," she sighed, closing her eyes. "I think I had…enough nightmares about this – several at Varykino," she hesitated, "and I was so…worried there'd be something wrong," she hesitated again.
"You think it might help to do your meditating thing?"
Leia tensed, physically shying away from his words. She shook her head apprehensively.
"It always leaves me feeling so…weak and drained; I don't think it'd be healthy, or," she shook her head again, "it tweaks my trauma sometimes."
She just wasn't sure if it was a good idea – she had no one to turn to and ask for advice or wisdom; there were, of course, Naberrie women who had children – several each – but none of them were Force sensitive, and because she was more attuned to this than she thought she'd be, she had more fascination with that aspect of herself than usual.
She shrugged a little and rolled towards him, burying her face contently in his shoulder. She closed her eyes, listening to the faint sound of him breathing in and out, and silently amused herself with the smell of her shampoo on him – nearly lulled to sleep, until she felt another twinge of nausea, and shifted to give herself more room to breathe.
She took a deep breath, and Han shifted his head next to her lazily.
"You thought about any names?" he asked gruffly.
Leia breathed out, shaking her head after a moment. She pursed her lips.
"Have you?" she asked.
He shrugged.
"Nah," he said. "Just wonderin' if you did. 'Cause maybe you had ideas when you were little."
Leia smirked.
"Because all little girls name their future babies?" she teased.
Han grumbled something, and Leia laughed – and when she quieted down, she shifted her head on the pillow, falling back into easy, reflective silence for a moment, before hesitantly offering –
"I like Rue."
"Ryoo?" Han asked, thinking of her cousin.
Leia shook her head.
"Rue," she corrected crisply, "none of that yuh- sound," she explained.
"Does it mean somethin'?" Han asked groggily.
Leia nodded, running her hands back through her hair.
"Gentle," she translated. "In Alderaanian."
They looked at each other silently for a moment, and then Leia smiled, tucking her head into the pillow. She rolled closer, pressing her nose into his shoulder. She laughed under her breath.
Han grinned, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"It's too early for this," Leia said into his chest. She sighed and drew back a little. "I don't mind drawing this out. Taking it day by day," she said.
He touched his knuckles to her jaw.
"Is somethin' bothering you, Sweetheart?" he asked. "You're fixated on not thinkin' too far ahead."
Her sigh was heavier this time.
"It's just that lingering dark feeling," she admitted. "I've had it before. I get it when I'm happy."
His brow creased with a frown.
"You sure that's all?"
She nodded – as far as she could tell. It was such a perplexing feeling because, because – she had been told, twice at this point, that she was healthy; nothing in any tests run on here were problematic – it would be another several weeks before she was at a point where her physician would preform the amniocentesis that would identify genetic problems, and that she supposed was hanging over her head, that must be it – it was one last hurdle, to ease her fears about any lingering Imperial torture – she kept pestering Dr. Mellis for an advanced test, but the doctor was adamant that Leia was so healthy at the moment it was unnecessary to engage in a test that heightened the risk of what she was afraid of, anyway.
"I'm okay, Han," she assured him.
He nodded, willing to trust her. He stretched and draped his arm over her loosely, closing his eyes and giving an exaggerated yawn.
"Wish you could get rid of that," he sympathized. "Y'know, get to enjoy just bein' happy."
Leia nodded, smiling at the thought – she did, too, but she supposed all people who had suffered sometimes had a suspicion of utter happiness. She was doubly wary of it, in the back of her mind, sometimes, because of how quickly her happiness had been snatched away back on Bespin – the searing shock of that still lingered, sometimes more than she knew.
She had gotten it – him – back, but the effect remained.
Han cleared his throat, his eyes still closed, tilting his head up at the top of the bunk.
"Figured you'd like Breha," he said.
After a moment, Leia gave a low laugh.
"Han," she said, with a good-natured cringe, "I hate to break this to you, but you do not say my mother's name right."
Han shifted, taken aback.
"What?"
"You – pronounce it like your old girlfriend's name," Leia admitted. "Very hard, very Corellian."
"You're just now tellin' me – ? No wonder Bail hates me – "
"Father doesn't hate you," Leia mumbled, rolling her eyes.
"How do you say it?"
Leia gave him her mother's name with the correct inflection, rolling the 'r' in a musical purr, even very faintly but distinctly pronouncing the 'h'. Han blinked a few times, apparently enlightened, and then frowned.
"Well, that's kind of subtle," he muttered dryly. "Sounds like you gotta speak your language to say it right."
"Some names are like that," Leia answered simply. "We," she said, touching his chest lightly, "should pick something more flexible."
She smiled to herself, and trailed off a little, letting her hand fall from Han, and rest at her own chest, fingertips against her heart. She chewed on her lip for a moment.
"I miss my mother," she whispered. "She'd be happier than anyone."
Han nodded – he wasn't really sure what his own mother would think; she'd been busy, during most of his life, trying to keep him out of jail, or keep him from killing himself in some vagabond, unique way – he hoped she'd be proud; realistically, she'd probably say something like – little man, where'd you find yourself a woman like that? You be good to her – you be good, Han.
He only nodded, and Leia's grief was brief, healthy, and quiet – he thought she was asleep, after a moment, but she kept shifting – shifting, and then she moved her hand between them, her knuckles brushing at his belt. He looked down, arching a brow, but she wasn't aiming for anything salacious.
Leia brushed her fingertips against her ribs, then lower to her abdomen, her shoulders relaxing – she knew, by so many standards, she wasn't supposed to be able to feel anything yet, and she wasn't sure if she could, or if her sensitivity made her feel things in a nerve-deep way that was inexplicable, and more inherent, than physical.
Still, she felt something like butterflies, faint and living, and she pressed her fingertips against her navel – there was little there but the barest hint of a swell, and it made her feel humble, and sovereign, all at once. Without a word, she reached for his hand, and laced her fingers into his for a moment, before loosening her grip and pressing his hand against her abdomen.
"Can you feel anything?" she asked quietly.
Han hesitated. He shook his head, his touch cautious. Leia drew his hand over her hip and rolled towards him, shifting lightly to lie on her stomach – something she had precious little time left to do.
"You?" he ventured.
Taking only a moment to think it over, Leia nodded – she could, and that may be unorthodox for most women, but it wasn't for her. She even – she pursed her lips, on the verge of saying – I think it's a boy – but sometimes, still, her power felt too much like witchcraft, and she wanted to let life take its course the way it should.
Han grumbled something, and Leia laughed huskily.
"You will," she promised. "You'll feel it in a few weeks."
Han gave an exaggerated sigh, and moved his head closer to hers on the pillow.
"Want to sleep here?" he drawled temptingly. "Old time's sake?"
Leia's eyes fluttered, and she turned her head, nose brushing his – and smiling intensely, suddenly, fiercely delighted – she nodded, and turned to him, clinging ever closer, close enough to whisper in his ear – well, if we're talking old time's sake, Hotshot, we shouldn't just sleep.
There was a small congregation of people gathered in Han and Leia's apartment – members of their intimate circle of family and friends who were now collectively all of those who were in the know. Winter had taken it upon herself to organize a quiet, celebratory evening – Leia gave her blessing, and used it as an opportunity to deliver the news to some of her Naberrie family.
Adding to the chatter and bustle in the apartment, Jobal and Sola were active on the holo screen, the only two available – other than Pooja – at the time. They would pass on the news to the other adults – for good reason, the little ones would be kept in the dark until things were more publicly obvious on Leia's part.
It was an interesting evening, a good mix of people – made more unique by the virtual presence of Leia's grandmother and aunt, whom had never met Winter, Aunt Rouge, or Chewbacca – Leia, you have quite the same look about you as Sola, Rouge had remarked, with interest, rather than malice, cautious about the newcomers, but civil all the same.
Sola, witty and sharp as ever, had responded that she was honored to be considered as beautiful as an Organa Princess, and left Rouge vaguely unsure if she was being teased or not.
"How are you feeling?" Jobal asked, leaning forward at the desk in Ruwee's office – that was where she had answered the call, and Leia had let Han do the honors of telling them, since it had caused such a ruckus while they were at Varykino – You ain't gonna believe it – I convinced her – he started, and Jobal had nearly burst into tears before he finished speaking, a reaction with Leia found endearing, and a bit humbling.
"Well," Leia answered honestly. "I haven't had it very bad," she explained, lifting a shoulder – she was perched on the arm of a recliner, with a good vantage point of her whole sitting room. "I hardly had any nausea at all, until last week," she said, with a grimace. "Two days were particularly miserable."
Han ran his hand over her lower back, currently occupying the seat of the armchair she was sitting on. He grinned a little, and nodded, peering around her to see the two Naberrie women.
"Still went to work, though," he noted smugly.
"Of course," Sola said, matter-of-fact, "there would be speculation, otherwise."
Leia nodded, arching a brow, and Rouge laughed.
"There is always speculation about high profile women and that," she pointed out.
"There's been speculation about Leia since she set foot back on Coruscant after her honeymoon," Bail said dryly, shaking his head.
"Can't blame 'em," Han quipped. "They knew what we were up to for two weeks straight," he drawled, and Leia elbowed him gently, rolling her eyes.
Bail glared at him, and then shook his head, choosing to ignore it.
"It's a shame they can't leave women alone regarding the subject," he said, his brow furrowing. "I remember how they hounded Padmé," he trailed off, frowning.
"You remember?" Sola snorted. "It wasn't just the press, either. The Nubian Political elite seemed to think it was their Force-given right to know who the father was," she said distastefully. "You think Naboo values women's agency, for all it's focus on pre-teen queens, and then you realize we only value chaste womanhood."
"Which is why I could never be queen," Pooja piped up, sighing dramatically.
"Since her father isn't here, Bail, would you mind being scandalized on Darred's behalf? I think that's what she was going for," Sola said pleasantly.
Bail pointedly turned an annoyed look on Pooja, and she laughed, backed up with amusement from Winter.
"The older generation is full of prudes," Pooja said, clicking her tongue.
Winter crossed her arms, leaning to her left to nudge Luke hard with her shoulder.
"They've rather missed out, I'd say," she said.
"As if you would know, young lady," Rouge sniffed reproachfully, and Winter just gave the back of her aunt's head an incredulous look for a moment, before turning and looking at Leia in disbelief – Rouge still, still maintained her wildly unbelievable belief that Winter was somehow a completely clueless maiden.
Even Bail arched his brow a little wryly at his sister, at which point Rouge scowled darkly.
"I will thank you all to stop looking at me like that, I shall maintain my delusions how I please," she said pertly.
Winter bit back a grin, her shoulders relaxing, and Leia shrugged – once again, Rouge was smarter, and more aware, than they all gave her credit for.
Sola leaned forward, clearing her throat to be heard better.
"How far along did you say, Leia?" she asked. She looked over Leia carefully. "It isn't noticeable."
Leia inclined her head, taking that as a compliment – though she wasn't sure why she automatically did that; she had no control over the physical change in her body, and she shouldn't take it as a positive or negative indictment of self – it was just socially ingrained, she supposed, to take it nicely when told she didn't look – bigger.
She pursed her lips, tilting her head and glancing at Han a little sheepishly.
"It's, ah," she started, "about thirteen weeks, close to fourteen," she answered.
Han sat forward again, shifting to the edge of the sofa.
"Hey, let me grab," he said, and then got up, brushing past Leia with a hand on her shoulder – he seemed to be unable to refrain from touching her lately – even if he just walked past, he'd place a hand on her shoulder, or squeeze her fingers, or run his thumb over her hip.
He walked off towards her office, and Leia looked around, taking a deep breath.
"As I said, it's still very early," she murmured, "and we aren't making anything public."
"I wouldn't expect you to," Jobal said. "Regardless of all the waiting physicians often want you to do, I imagine you don't want to be harassed."
"Or want Coruscant Daily running polls on what the baby's name is going to be," Luke said, crossing his arms.
"That could be funny, or terrible," Pooja muttered darkly, imagining them asking her silly things, versus offensive things – like if she was going to name it after Darth Vader.
"Where'd Han go?" Luke asked.
Chewbacca, coming out of the kitchen with a tray of juices, teas, and various other snacks, tilted his head and grunted – [He went to get the sono].
Leia parted her lips.
"Sonogram," she translated for the Naberries.
Jobal clasped her hands.
"I never get tired of seeing those," she admitted. "Leia, if you have a secure enough line, would you mind sending me a locked file of it?" she asked.
Leia nodded.
"Of course," she murmured, as Han came back into the room with Leia's datapad in his hand.
He strode back over to her and stood next to her for a moment, showing her the screen. Leia looked at it, looked back up at him, and saw he was confused, and smiled a little.
"What file is it in?" he asked.
She took the pad delicately and showed him, clicking into citizenship documentation, scrolling past the records that awarded her Corellian citizenship by virtu of Han's, and then a second file, labeled Corellia: taxes. Han watched her, skeptical, and then frowned.
"Why's it under our taxes?" he asked.
Luke gave a snort of laughter, and Han looked over at him narrowly.
"I don't…ever think I've heard you say taxes before," Luke cackled.
Chewbacca gave a quiet grumble of laughter, too.
"Yeah, I pay taxes," Han retorted. He flipped up his fingers to tick off a list – "Property, income, marriage tax, tax on my mental health from dealin' with him," he pointed at Bail and smirked, and Leia's father rolled his eyes. He looked back at Leia quizzically, and she handed him back the tablet.
"In case I am hacked," she answered.
Han nodded.
He quickly pulled up the digital imaging recording of Leia's sono – the first one she'd had, taken and downloaded for her three days ago – and maximized it best he could, turning it so Sola and Jobal could see. He grinned, while both women nodded in approval, obviously having experienced such a thing before.
"The rhythm monitor looks strong," Jobal murmured, noting the recording that ran along the top was steady and reliable.
Leia sighed, twisting her hands in her lap a little nervously.
"Yes," she said tensely, hesitating, and then deciding not to say anymore – it had taken the Two-Onebee a long while to find the heartbeat, though Leia's physician said that wasn't out of the ordinary, and that sometimes it wasn't even ready to be heard at this stage.
Leia told her she could feel movement, and her medic – kind and helpful as she was – warned Leia that she might be convincing herself she felt something, but it was too early for that –
Leia knew, though; she knew she was identifying something.
"…or a girl?"
She blinked back to the conversation at hand when Han nudged her shoulder as he sat back down with her, looking down at the sono. She turned slightly, her lips turning up a little – it was such a strange thing to look at, the little shimmering, moving, breathing image – so impossibly small, and yet –
She looked back up, searching for whoever had asked the latest question. She arched her brows.
"She asked if you know if it's a boy or a girl," Luke said, nodding at Sola.
Leia turned back to the screen and shook her head.
"It's too early for the sono," she said. "I was told the blood test can determine that, but we've decided we aren't going to find out."
"Blood test?" Rouge asked. She looked worried. "Those ones Breha used to have, the amnio," she waved her hands. "Weren't those responsible for – "
"No," Bail said sharply. He cut his sister off and gave her a harsh warning look. "That was never it. We needed those."
Rouge closed her mouth thinly, her expression apologetic. Leia hesitated for a moment, and then cleared her throat.
"It's for genetic peace of mind, Rouge," she said. "Mine's in a few more weeks," she explained.
Han sat forward, handing the datapad over to Winter. Winter inched away, and Leia laughed.
"Han – don't give her that, sonos freak her out."
Han tilted his head.
"What if you have kids someday?" he asked.
"I can look at them when they're out of me," Winter retorted, taking the pad and passing it delicately down to Pooja and Rouge. The two of them leaned over to peer in, Pooja sticking her finger out to try and trace an outline for better focus.
"You really don't want to know what it is?" Pooja asked mildly, glancing up cursorily.
Leia shook her head.
"We don't care," she said.
Han folded his arms and shot her a glare.
"She knows, though," he said, pressing his arm into her side.
Leia twitched her foot at him.
"I do not," she murmured in response.
"You do," Han said under his breath.
"You think she'd hold it over your head, Han?" Jobal laughed. "How could she know?"
"She might," Luke said, with a shrug.
"Ah," Sola said, arching a brow curiously. "Well, that's interesting – Mami, didn't Anakin used to say he could talk to Padmé's baby?" she asked.
"Yes," Jobal said, unconcerned. "Though now I don't know if I believe him. He might have told us it was two."
Luke snorted, and Sola leaned forward, smirking.
"I'm afraid we'll have to end the call, Leia," she said. "Ryoo's on her way over, and the children," she trailed off pointedly, and Leia nodded, clasping her hands on her knees.
"I'm glad we got ahold of you two," she said sincerely. "You'll tell the other adults?" she asked.
"Gladly," Jobal said. "Expect a call from Ryoo, of course, she'll want to talk your ear off – probably claim something she said to you changed your mind."
"She's a wise woman," Leia said wryly, and Bail stepped forward, leaning forward in a respectful bow.
"Good to see you both again," he said. "I hope you're all still planning on coming to the consecration of the Haven," he said warmly.
"Ryoo's family certainly is; Maiah is nearly bursting with excitement," Sola promised. "Unless anything completely unexpected comes up, so will the rest of us," she assured him.
Bail beamed, and Leia lifted her hand in a little wave. Goodbyes were said – and the call was cancelled, leaving the holo humming and blue, and the Coruscant gathering alone with each other.
Han slid his arm around Leia's waist and leaned over to kiss her arm, resting his head there for a moment.
"That went well," he said.
She nodded, and reached over to push his hair back, catching his eye pointedly.
"I don't know if it's a boy or a girl, Han," she reiterated. "I don't know half of what I feel most of the time."
Han pretended to grumble, and then sat forward, gesturing at the datapad. Pooja slid it past Rouge and gave it back to him, but Luke intercepted, taking it to give it a fascinated look.
"You saw this up close?" he asked.
"'Course," Han retorted. He shrugged. "I could hear it," he said. "You can't really hear it on that thing."
Luke looked up, passing the tablet to him.
"What's it like?" he asked – asked Leia, more than anything.
"Um," Leia answered quietly, lifting her shoulders. "Strange," she admitted.
Han stood up, taking a few steps to hand the tablet to Bail.
"You ever seen one of them?" he asked thoughtlessly, shaking his head.
Bail took it gently in hand, gingerly drawing it closer to look. He nodded carefully.
"Yes," he answered, his voice lowering. "Yes, I have."
Leia watched her father study the sonogram, and her heart dropped a little for a moment – her smile faded, and she thought of her mother, though of all of the times her mother and father must have looked at one of these and hoped, this time, maybe –
She felt a twinge of discomfort in her chest, and then in her abdomen – felt sad, and then apprehensive, and took a deep breath, standing up. She looked at her father a moment longer, and then cleared her throat.
"Chewbacca hasn't seen that either, Daddy," she said quietly, sharing a private look with him to convey that if he needed an out, she was giving it to him. She read nothing particularly forlorn on his face, but he nodded, cleared his throat, and turned to hand the tablet to Chewie.
Leia ran her hand over Han's shoulder and squeezed pointedly, casting him a quick look, and then gestured at the kitchen.
"I need something to eat," she said, excusing herself briefly – she heard Chewie give a delighted roar and then Winter, apparently having been forced to finally see the sono, give a quiet shriek – I can't believe it's living in her –
Han followed her into the kitchen a few moments later, summoned by the light squeeze she'd given his shoulder, and making a generic excuse about helping her do – whatever she was doing.
He found Leia getting more ice, and taking a bowl of frozen fruit she'd cut up earlier out of the freezer. She unwrapped the fresh seal, and popped one of the tart slices into her mouth, holding it between her teeth while she balanced the ice and the fruit. Han took both from her, nudging the freezer shut with his shoulder.
He gave her a curious look, setting the items down. She cocked her hip against the counter and reached up to bite off a piece of the fruit, nodding her head towards their sitting room.
"We ought to offer them a bottle of wine," she murmured.
"Nah, we can start given hints for them to wrap it up," Han joked.
She smiled a little, and he stepped forward, curving his palm around her hip. He tilted his head at her.
"What was that about, eh?" he asked, jerking his chin back towards their somewhat full living room.
Leia shrugged a little.
"I'd rather you not talk about that too much around him," she murmured. "The sonos. It's difficult. He gets a look in his eyes."
Han frowned a little, fingers brushing over her hips.
"You don't think he's happy for you?" he asked.
Leia looked at the fruit in her hand, and then back up at him through her lashes. She reached out with her other hand and placed it on his chest, taking a deep breath.
"I think he's thrilled, Han," she said honestly. "I also think it's hard for him. I want to be sensitive."
Her parents had suffered so much, when it came to pregnancy, and all that came with it, and she wanted to balance her own joy and excitement with sensitivity to the tragedy in his past. She knew how much he missed her mother as it were – this must make it somehow worse.
Han nodded. He didn't think Leia's father was as unable to handle this as she thought, but he recognized her effort. He squeezed her hip gently, and Leia popped the rest of the fruit in her mouth, nodding back towards the sitting area – she could hear the easy hum of conversation out there. He let go of her, and grabbed the ice, tucking it into the crook of his arm, and paused, to look at the fruit.
"I thought you didn't like skappi?" he asked.
Leia picked up the bowl lightly, and tilted her head. She smiled, and lifted her shoulders.
"I don't," she answered vaguely, balancing the bowl in one hand, and pointing down to her abdomen.
Han gave her abdomen a wry look, and then looked back up at her, snorting.
"Can you tell it to start liking my shampoo smell again?" he whined. "'M tired of smellin' like Nubian Honey Syrup."
Leia grinned and brushed past him, pausing to nudge his hip with hers.
"I like your pretty flower smell," she teased, and Han groaned, dragging his feet to follow her back into the living room.
"Leia," Rouge said almost immediately, turning around eagerly as soon as Leia handed Luke the bucket of ice to help her offer it to people.
"Don't be waiting on us," Winter said, outraged. "Sit down," she ordered Leia.
Leia ignored her, and folded her arms, looking down at Rouge. Rouge swiveled, to face Leia better, and spared a glance for Han before pushing forward.
"How would you feel about a formal announcement going out with Haven invites?" she asked. "It would be – so fitting, moving forward like that," she said.
Leia hesitated, looking first at Han, and then her father. Her father looked neutral, Han gave her a shrug, but wary look, as if to say – you do what you want, Sweetheart, but when we talked, you said -
"Rouge, Han and I aren't sure we'll be making a formal announcement," she said demurely.
Rouge sat back a little, consternated.
"Darling, people are going to notice," she said, gesturing at Leia's figure. "You'll – well you'll – you'll show, Leia," she explained, as if she wasn't sure her niece knew how this worked.
Leia smirked.
"I'm well aware of that," she said. "And in that way, it will be obvious, but I'm not obligated to cater to public interest on the matter," she said.
Rouge blinked at her, pursing her lips.
"There ought to be a royal announcement," she said. "At least for our people," she went on. "We – I suppose we also need to talk titles," she added. "Consider inheritance papers and – if it's a girl, we'll need aristocracy decrees from the Elder Houses – "
"Rouge," Winter murmured gently, resting a hand on her aunt's shoulder.
Pooja looked from Rouge to Leia warily, and Leia took a moment to look back at her father, hesitating again.
"I don't want to argue right now," she warned her aunt. "I need you to prepare yourself for a…less formal upbringing, for," Leia paused, holding her hand in front of her abdomen carefully, "this – our baby," she explained.
Rouge closed her mouth, her head tilting curiously.
"You don't want a title, a formal decree announcing your blessing…?"
"I want privacy," Leia said earnestly. "Rouge, don't take it as disrespect, just," Leia sighed. "There are…certain responsibilities I would rather be a choice than an inheritance for," she paused uncertainly again "this baby."
Rouge turned to look at Bail, and he gave a small nod, a shrug.
"This is the sort of thing that can be discussed in detail at a Council meeting," he told her – and Leia knew it was placating, rather than mostly serious; she had already candidly told her father she and Han were leaning towards ensuring their family life was almost militantly private, if – now, when – it came to children. Leia had no intention of titling any son or daughter of hers with the honorific of prince or princess.
Rouge took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. She nodded.
"Well, suppose – that makes sense, if you are truly to be the last of the Princesses," she allowed slowly.
"Look at you, Rouge," Winter was quick to chime in in her sly, sweet way. "A regular liberal."
Rouge gave a faint, soft scowl, and Han, sitting back down with the datapad tucked down next to him on the armchair, gave her an appreciative look.
"S'just, y'know, 'cause all the backlash Leia faced 'bout Vader," he said, and Leia noticed both Bail – and Luke – give Han a completely startled look, as he was clearly extending a hand to explain things to Rouge. "We, uh, want to protect our kid from that," he said. "'Cause it's kind of hard to…y'know we wanna keep people from starin' at 'em, 'cause it's not the same as it was with Leia, on Alderaan, we're just kind of… havin' 'em for them to be people."
Rouge looked at Han quietly for a long time.
"That's sensible," she remarked mildly. Her brow furrowed. "Them?" she asked. "It's not - are you having twins?"
Leia gave a startled laugh.
"No," she choked emphatically.
"Nah," Han snorted. "But we might have more than one."
"Han," groaned Luke. "She hasn't even had that one yet!"
Leia compressed her lips, and returned to sit on the arm of Han's chair, silently going back to her fruit. Rouge took the moment to turn again to Han, and give him a matter-of-fact look.
"Regardless of how you are going to raise it, you are the father of Leia's baby, and she is a daughter of House Organa and the last Princess," she said firmly. "That gives you considerable standing in our culture – "
"More than marrying her? I'm married to her, Rough," Han said loudly. "I've been married to her for a year and a half – "
"I know," Rouge said, "and yes, more than marrying her, particularly if it's a girl," she explained. "I assume you've been told you will be on the dais at Leia's side during the Haven's opening ceremonies?" she asked.
Han kind of made a face, then hastily hid it, and nodded. Leia bit down on the tip of her thumb, suddenly positive she knew exactly what was coming – Rouge had mentioned it once, in the most recent council meeting –
"I would like you to wear traditional Alderaanian dress during the celebrations," Rouge said firmly. She nodded her head at her brother. "Bail can assist you in choosing the attire. I'll provide a tailor."
Han said absolutely nothing. He stared at Rouge blankly, and because she seemed to sense she had the upper hand at the moment, she stood abruptly, and went over to stand near Leia, placing her hands on her face, and smiling.
"You ought to be getting as much rest as you can," she said softly, and leaned in to kiss Leia's forehead. "Congratulations, darling," she said earnestly.
She turned to Han, gave him a sharp, pointed look for a moment, and then leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead as well, quick, swift – almost fast enough to miss, though everyone saw it – Winter and Chewbacca shot gleeful looks at their respective best friends.
"I am sure this means a lot to you, Han," she said quietly. "You have earned it."
Taken aback, Han nodded. He cleared his throat gruffly.
"Thanks, Rouge," he said simply.
She nodded, and turned to give the rest of them piercing looks.
"There's no need for us to stay too late; Leia will be here tomorrow," she said firmly.
Bail grinned, and nodded, acquiescing. He stood, and in the next half hour or so – as that was how long it took for small, close knit groups of people to say goodbye, even when they lived close – they took their leave, with Bail and Luke being the last to walk out – Bail leaning close to Leia – She was like this with your mother, too – he said of his sister.
Leia smiled and kissed his cheek.
"Don't worry about me, Leia," Bail said, stern but gentle. "Nothing about seeing you happy upsets me."
She blushed a little, and nodded, while Luke stepped in to say his goodbyes, finally own trading insults with Han about something.
"Be honest – can you tell what it is, boy or girl?" he asked.
Leia gave him a look, and crossed her arms.
"I think I'll wait for it to tell me," she quipped.
Luke laughed.
"Fair enough," he said. He tilted his head at her. "You're tougher to read, you know," he said. He gestured at her. "Even when you have your walls relaxed, there's more protection," he said.
Leia pursed her lips – interesting. She wondered if it was the Force affording her some extra insulation, keeping her – this – the new life – safe from outside influence, and prying eyes, and any kind of disruption –
Luke and Bail finally left, and in the loud silence that fell – the loud silence that always fell in an eerie way, when crowds of people dissipated – Han turned to her with his head tilted, an incredulous look in his eye – the look on his face that had first appeared when Rouge made her suggestion returned, and Leia bit her lip, applauding the restraint he'd exercised in the moment –
"She wants me to wear what?" he demanded out loud, the hint of a whine darting through his voice.
Leia held up her hands, biting her lip in amusement, and placated him silently.
"I heard her," she said calmly. "I heard her. Han – more than anything, you should take this as a compliment," she said softly, her expression sincere. "My very traditional, elitist, difficult to please aunt asked you to wear traditional Alderaanian attire."
Han clamped his mouth shut and looked alarmed - that was precisely why he was so caught off guard - he thought he'd fought his last battle with Rouge and her constant, subversive attempts to spruce him up. He stared at Leia for a moment, eyes narrowing – she sure as hell was a clever one, that Rouge - he didn't think he could realistically fight this without being extremely offensive in some way.
He gave a half-hearted shrug, and folded his arms.
"It'll look," he started, fumbling. "Leia," he griped. "It'll look - ridiculous. I'll look like – "
"My father?" she suggested, arching a brow.
Han frowned hastily.
"Hey, you put those words in my mouth!"
Leia laughed.
"Well, what were you going to say?" she asked pertly.
Han gave her a grim look, and scratched under his chin.
"Yeah," he grumbled vaguely. "Ol' Viceroy looks fine in that getup, though – c'mon, you don't want me to wear that," he said skeptically. "It'll look stupid on me," he asserted dismissively.
Leia hesitated. She crossed her arms, started to speak, and then bit her lip. Han dipped his head, looking at her suspiciously.
"Hang on – you do want me to wear it?" he asked, translating her facial expression.
She hesitated again, her lips parted.
"I don't think you would look stupid," she said diplomatically.
Han blinked at her. He dramatically gestured to his current clothing – his usual half-ironed, dashing style – blood-stripe pants, well-worn vest, shirt that was casually and purposefully left open at the neck. Leia nodded, as if to imply she understood, and then tapped her fingers on her shoulders lightly.
"You, ah – well, remember that I grew up on Alderaan," she began calmly, "and – from a socio-cultural standpoint, the environment in which one grows up often influences what one finds attractive – for example, I enjoy Alderaanian style dresses and hair designs more than others, and there are certain fashions that I – by consequence of seeing them, and seeing childhood crushes wearing them – "
"Alright, Your Worship," Han interrupted loudly. "You tryin' to say you think I'd look good in one of the Viceroy's robe sets?"
Leia blinked at him carefully.
"I am saying that I might not find it…unappealing."
He stared at her, shaking his head.
"You think I'd look hot," he translated bluntly.
Leia said nothing. She wrinkled her nose in a cute little way, compressing her lips with an innocent look on her face. She shrugged gently. Han's demeanor changed slightly – he straightened.
"Fine, I'll wear it," he said simply.
Leia arched her eyebrows. She started to smile, and Han glared at her wryly.
"Don't look so satisfied, Sweetheart, wait 'til I find you some traditional Corellian clothes to wear," he drawled.
"Traditional Corellian clothes?" she asked skeptically. She cocked her head to the side, anticipating exactly what he was going to say –
"Yeah," he answered seriously. "The nude."
Leia laughed, folding her arms across her chest.
"Han, I'm not going to look very appealing naked for much longer."
Han laughed skeptically.
"Bantha shit," he told her confidently.
He reached out to slip his arm around her shoulder, leading her back into the living room. He sat down on the couch, and Leia stood in front of him, reaching out and sliding her fingers through his hair lightly. She smiled at him gently, massaging his scalp with her fingertips, and Han reached out first to touch her hips, and then run his palm over her abdomen tentatively.
"You think it's asleep?" he drawled, amusing himself.
Leia looked down at his hand for a moment, and started to reach into herself with her sensitivity – yet she hesitated, and pulled back; she didn't want to disturb any peace – and suddenly, she felt a prickling sense of foreboding, not illness, not nausea, just fear.
"Han?" she ventured, her voice trembling.
He looked up sharply, confused.
"What?" he asked – not unkindly, but a little bewildered, because he had no idea what could be wrong right now; it was such a good evening, he and Rouge had been good to each other, she got to tell the Naberries, her father was still so thrilled –
Leia opened her mouth, and looked at him helplessly, confused herself.
"I just have such a bad feeling," she gasped quietly, suddenly struck with it all over – shaking, almost.
Han leaned back heavily and stared at her, and then he lifted his hand and beckoned. Leia sat down on his knee, and he pulled her closer to his chest, his chin resting on her forehead.
"Well, kriff, Sweetheart," he murmured. "S'okay. It's gonna be okay," he soothed clumsily.
Hormones – normal nerves? He wasn't sure; he just wrapped his arms around her tighter – tighter, but in the careful, conscientious way he'd been holding her lately, because he was a little skittish about gripping her too tightly, in case he hurt her, or the baby – even though she kept saying he wouldn't.
Leia rested her head on his shoulder and breathed in and out deeply, not quite crying, but clearly on the verge of it. He said nothing, unwilling to give her useless platitudes if he didn't even know what was wrong. Had she been – downplaying her emotions on this, had he pushed her into something she wasn't ready for…? But no, Leia had come to him – Leia had said she was ready to take this step –
Maybe it was happening too fast –
"Stop thinking, Han," Leia whispered in his ear. "I can tell what you're thinking. It's not you," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Its just hormones."
She held on to him tightly, though, tighter than he was comfortable holding her, and left him thinking – is it, Sweetheart; is that all it is?
In a much more professional, quiet meeting at the beginning of a work day, Leia informed Evaan Verlaine, Carlist Rieekan, the Chief of State, and Tavska of her condition - and decided that for the time being, they would be the last people privy until it was noticeable. She needed Tavska to begin making contingency plans for her schedule - since she would be into her third trimester at the time of the Haven opening, she set that as her last stretch of formal appearances - and Evaan was to prepare to take on the mantle of regent Princess, leaving Bail to handle his symbolic duties, and Evaan's senatorial ones. She considered asking Winter to stand in for her, as Evaan was generally uncomfortable as a consort, but Winter would be nearly married at the time, and Leia refused to cut into that time for her. Carlist she told in order to prepare him for Han needing leave - what would likely be extensive leave, if Leia knew Han at all - and Mon Mothma for much the same reasons, though she admitted to a small bit of eagerness to tell her old mentor, wondering how she would react.
Mon was appropriately congratulatory, seemingly pleased on all accounts - as was Carlist, grinning ear to ear while trying to maintain a veneer of professional disinterest. Evaan paid her respects in the usual way - by seeing to it that a bouquet of arallutes was sent to Leia's office shortly after she had left the informational meeting, and Tavska, as collected and stoic as ever, had simply given a small bow, inclined her head respectfully, and set off to begin making notes in Leia's schedule, asking Leia only to inform her of when the projected due date was.
Leia told her, and an hour into the afternoon, when she experienced a lull in work and looked over her schedule for the rest of the week, she noticed Tavska had already blocked out the date in red, indicating the few weeks before it as light or limited duty, and projecting at least twelve weeks of time off following - a number that brought a wry smile to Leia's lips. She was, naturally, entitled to significantly more than twelve weeks maternity leave, but Tavska knew and understood her well enough to anticipate what Leia thought immediately when she saw all that down time: I can't be off work for that long; I'll suffocate.
There would always be time later to extend if she needed it - she lacked capacity to really understand how she'd feel after the baby was born, anyway; all she could comprehend currently was how she felt now, carrying it, and that was indescribable in its own way, so she tried not to make inflexible plans. She'd been thinking it might be smarter for she and Han to alternate stretches of leave, rather than taking their full rights concurrently, and all at once - that way, there was less chance of them getting burnt out, or feeling trapped and cooped up - and aside from that, she wasn't so sure infancy was when she should be home constantly. She certainly didn't remember her own infancy, but what she did clearly remember was her mother and father making time to tuck her in and read her stories and play with her when she was a toddler, and not yet given to a governess for lessons, or sent to an academy for schooling. If she and Han both banked some of their leave for later years, when the baby knew them -
They had yet to discuss much of that, though; there was time. Well - there was time, and then there wasn't; already, she had gotten pregnant faster than she anticipated, and it seemed to progress so quickly - two weeks, then ten weeks, now verging on a second trimester - there really wasn't much time, after all; things seemed to fly by, and creep by, all at once. Han was still wrapping his head around Leia's remark that they would need a nanny - You want one? I figured that's somethin' you'd fight Rouge on, he'd said warily. Leia was hands-on, but practical; it was unrealistic to think she and Han could respond to all their commitments without help - and despite Han's flippant jokes about quitting the military and staying home, she doubted he understood how stifling it would be, for anyone. It was one thing she'd agreed with her aunt on, and she'd tentatively told Rouge that once it was more commonly known that Leia was having a baby, Rouge was more than welcome to vet final candidates for Leia and Han to interview.
It was the one thing she'd agreed with Rouge only lately - she had ultimately confirmed there would be no formal announcement. She had also forbidden Rouge from attempting to find a - of all things - a wet nurse for her, which led to an awkward conversation that Han had wanted out of almost immediately - Surely you aren't going to do it yourself, Leia, Rouge had protested hastily, even Breha had a wet nurse. Nettled, and irritated, Leia had reminded Rouge that of course her mother had used a nurse; Leia was adopted. Rouge was unshaken, though; she had retorted that despite what Leia might want to think, Breha had contracted a wet nurse for most of her other disappointments - a fact that Bail confirmed, but told Leia quietly that it was due to medical advice, not out of preference.
In the midst of all of this, Rouge had tried to wheedle Han onto her side, imploring him - You don't want her doing that herself, do you? She'll be even more exhausted - Han, of course a little confused because Rouge had so effortlessly avoided saying the word breastfeed, had stared at her warily for a few minutes and then asked, rather bluntly - Are you talkin' about her breasts? - Rouge then immediately gave him an affronted look, appalled he'd mentioned them, and while Leia tried to roll her eyes back into her head and out of her body, Han retorted, edgily - She can do whatever she wants with her breasts, don't drag me into this! At which point Rouge tried to argue that Han would be slighted if Leia was allowed to feed her own baby, informing him point blank - She'll likely keep the baby in bed with you so the little one is closer and you won't have carnal pleasures.
It was the only time Leia had seen Rouge succeed in thoroughly embarrassing Han enough to make him get up and leave the room - and Leia had to put her foot down - Rouge, this is ridiculous; if you do not stop, I will start swearing - a strange woman is not going to feed my baby. Not when I am capable and not when I want to -
Rouge backed off, nursing her damaged sensibilities - and in hindsight, Leia tried to be understanding; it was actually a common practice for members of the Alderaanian royal family to obtain a wet nurse, in many cases for the reasons Rouge gave: it alleviated demands on the queen - or princess' - time so she could rule more effectively, it was thought to ease pressures on her and expedite recovery - in a way that was somewhat ludicrous, but well-intended, the wet nurse was an important part of Alderaan's cult of matriarchy. Leia, however, was not in her mother's position; she could choose to take time or leave time as she needed it, she shared governing duties with other high ranking members of the Diaspora, and Coruscant was much less coddling of new mothers. Some saw Coruscant's almost callous disregard for the new motherhood of its political elite as detrimental Leia - for the time being - found it to be a relief.
She wanted to be left alone. She knew that was unlikely once the Media started to notice, but she at least wanted to be treated no different by her peers, and the political apparatus.
The technicalities of it all were starting to weigh on her heavily, and each time she brought someone new into the circle, she felt like she was chipping away at something, chipping away at - certainty, safety? She wasn't sure what to call it, but she knew she had felt nothing but thrill, exhilarating anticipation, when she'd told Han, and Chewie, and Luke, and yet she kept being struck with dread now, kept getting a dry, bad taste in her mouth.
In her office late in the afternoon, she felt restless, and she felt - she felt sick, in a subtle way; she almost felt like she had the flu. Not entirely unheard of, considering, but she kept experiencing an ache low in her abdomen that was setting her on edge - it wasn't pain, per se; she just felt - off. Her temples throbbed with the beginning of a headache, and she wondered if she was suddenly afflicted with a literal one due to the figurative headache that coordinating everything was starting to be.
She massaged her head lightly, staring with bleary focus at the vase of arallutes on her desk - Evaan knows, Tavska knows, it's on the calendar - apprehension swam in her chest, and she closed her eyes a little dizzily, grimacing. She tried to stave off the ominous feeling she'd been intermittently experiencing - the one that had struck her so hard two weeks ago, and so bewildered Han - there's nothing wrong, nothing wrong -
She opened her eyes; reached out to touch a petal, and then drew the flowers closer, leaning in to take a deep breath - -she was grateful the scent of arallutes didn't bother her, but then again, her aversion to certain scents had abruptly faded over the past couple of weeks, and rather than give her some relief, it made her feel anxious - as did the sudden absence of nausea. She prided herself on not being an overly panicky woman so far - she hadn't spiraled down into a mynock nests of what ifs - what if the baby has this, what if this happens - yet this past week, she had called her doctor to check in twice, espousing worries mildly, hiding internal conflict in calm questions that she pretended were off the cuff.
Her medic was patient with her, understanding, and calm - Leia, please don't be shy of calling; ask anything you want - all I can tell you right now is everything looks normal, safe, and healthy - it didn't seem to matter how many times Leia heard that, though, very recently she hadn't believed it. She had called her last earlier this morning, reaching first her midwife apprentice, who patiently soothed her, and then had her pass her concerns on to an obstetrics droid for precautions. Leia had been unable to convey most of her concerns except, except -
I can't feel anything, she said curtly into the comm - I can't...feel any movement.
She grated her teeth at the mechanical response - The average woman does not feel quickening in her first gestation until well after sixteen weeks. You are barely at sixteen.
She tried not to bite her tongue off tensely - Will you run statistics for Force sensitive women? She snapped, for once stating out loud her suspicious that she was much more finely tuned - regardless of medicine, she knew herself, she was certain she had been feeling - and now she wasn't -
The respond from the obstetrics droids was clinical, and matter-of-fact: No data to report. Female Jedi eschewed pregnancy.
Frustrated, Leia ended the call, left to dwell for most of the afternoon - the uncertainties piling in the back of her mind as she worked, and now coming to the forefront as her demands slowed down into the waning hours of the day. She should be reassured by the constant refrain she was hearing: you're fine, Leia; it's normal to be anxious, but you are fine - she just - she just - was preoccupied with an increasingly strong feeling that she was not fine - that she, herself, might be okay, but something was wrong with the baby.
The apprentice had told her if she thought she was experiencing emergency symptoms, she should come in - but Leia had nothing out of the ordinary to report, nothing that couldn't be chalked up to normal system stress brought on by pregnancy. She didn't feel comfortable bursting into an emergency room and demanding to have her irrational fears assuaged - and she called them irrational because they were based on nightmares, and peripheral intuition.
Doctor Mellis told her gently that these persistent worries would likely disappear after Leia had her amnio genetic tests and could be assured of a routine bill of health, but Leia's heart always clenched in her chest in the mention of that - there was no guarantee that the amnio test would assuage her fears; what if it confirmed them? What if it told her - that this had all been a cruel trick; sure, the Empire hadn't robbed her of the ability to conceive, but they had made her body incompatible with life, and things were so genetically compromised and wretched that she and Han had to make a decision.
She didn't know how to tell an average - a very intelligent and talented, but average - human doctor that she was different; she likely needed - hadn't the Jedi had healers, in their cadre of knights? Healers who had specialized in being who had the added complexity of Force sensitivity - Leia was listening to her body, almost pleading for guidance, but wary of interfering; not confident in her own power. She scowled, and cursed the Jedi Order for its archaic laws - disallowing reproduction - what an insult, what a disservice to Leia, personally, now, trying to navigate this all her on her own.
Taking a few deep breaths, Leia stood up, moving slowly over to the cabinet where she kept a cooler of drinks - offerings, for when she had private meetings in her office. She found some sparkling water, infused with citrus, and halfheartedly undid the fastening cap, first breathing it in, then taking a sip - her stomach was upset again, and for once she welcomed it.
I feel like I have the flu, she thought again, and then almost immediately relaxed all over - perhaps she was sick, plain and simple, and if she was sick, the baby was sick - sleepy and listless inside her, and needing comfort, at at this stage, the only comfort she could give was soothing, gentle extensions of her power and, most importantly, taking care of herself.
She almost laughed in relief, taking another sip of sparkling water - it wasn't uncommon for her to misidentify run of the mill illness as something dramatically unique. She was so rarely ill - and had been so rarely ill as a child - that her mind tended to go into overdrive if she happened to actually be stricken with some virus; Carlist had commented on it once, in a damn near comical moment on Hoth, one of the first times he had politely treated her as just another soldier. He had responded to her telling him she had strange symptoms with a short - 'Organa, just take an antihistamine' - and then, seeming to realize he'd been too rough, added hastily: I believe what you have is a cold, Your Highness. Leia had been completely abashed to realize that was exactly the problem, and Carlist had amended his amusement by point-blank telling her that other than one case of Iberian Measles, Leia had never even had so much as an allergy as a child, so it was fair that she reacted over aggressively to illness.
She took a few steps back, cradling the sparkling water against her chest and leaning over to press the call button under her desk. There was a time - Hoth, in fact - when she would have ignored something as mortal as illness, worked herself into exhaustion, and made herself worse by not confronting the underlying problem, but now was not the time for that.
She put in the call for Tavska, and then nearly jumped out of her skin when the door immediately opened - in fact, it opened at the exact moment she touched the button, and so Leia thought it impressive that she managed not to spill her drink all over herself when she started and then swiveled around to look at Tavska with barely hidden alarm.
Tavska looked back at her, taken aback, and then glanced down at the light on her communique bracelet right as it glowed and vibrated, indicating Leia's call. She relaxed a little, a wry smile spreading over her lips.
"I was just knocking, Your Highness," she said calmly. "I must have an enhanced sense."
Leia put her free hand to her chest.
"I thought you must have been listening at the door," she managed, shaking her head as she got her heartbeat under control. "You scared the daylights out of me," she accused good-naturedly, shaking her head. "Damn, Tavska."
The Togruta compressed her lips in a grin, and stepped in, hesitating with the door open.
"No official business," she said mildly. "You were calling for something?"
"No, nothing official," Leia said in return, and waved at the door. "Shut it," she murmured.
Instead of returning to her seat, she sat on the edge of her desk, leaning against it heavily, and placed her water on the flat surface next to her, looking at her assistant expectantly. She took a deep breath.
"I am," she began, and grimaced. "I am...not feeling well, Tavska," she admitted. "I need to go home and rest."
Tavska inclined her head in understanding immediately.
"I can easily shift your last two meetings to late tomorrow morning," she agreed, her hands hovering in front of her, as if protecting something at her belt. "Or would you prefer to take tomorrow as well?"
Leia shifted uneasily, looking back at Tavska with her lips parted, her mind wandering. She felt a prickle of unease again, and then compressed her lips, lifting one shoulder wordlessly - she said nothing, and Tavska still nodded with understanding; she would handle the schedule flexibly, planning for a contingency if Leia was still feeling poorly tomorrow.
"Is there anything pressing I can do to ease the stress of leaving early?" Tavska asked firmly - shifting schedules was often twice the headache of working, and she knew that well; if Leia wanted to depart the office quickly, Tavska could find ways to make it run smoother - and be less conspicuous.
Leia looked down at her bubbling water, frowning.
"No," she murmured. She cleared her throat. "No, just - ah, handle the changes, give my apologies," she listed, trailing off. "I'll run a flu scan on myself and get some sleep. I'm alright, I just," she paused, trailing off.
Tavska nodded.
"Understood, Your Highness," she said simply, requiring no justification - Tavska was the type not to bat a lash say anything Leia asked of her,and she would never divulge gossip, either; it was one of the reasons she was so invaluable. She cleared her throat, and shifted her hands, removing something from the satchel she always wore at her belt, and cupping it in her hands. "If that is all, Princess, I would like to give you this."
Leia arched her brows curiously, nodding and beckoning, and Tavska came forward, her head dipped forward. She presented her palms to Leia slowly, revealing a small, stained-glass box, the likes of which one might put ear bangles, or matches in.
"I noticed Madam Verlaine sent you flowers," she explained. "On Shili, we have a similar tradition. We give new mothers seeds to plant."
She tapped the lid of the pretty little box.
"My mate designs these trinkets," she explained. "Maisi has wanted me to give you one for some time. I did not want to bother you with her frivolity," she said -but she said it fondly, the way those who brushed elbows with the elite often gently teased their starstruck significant others.
Leia reached out and let Tavska hand her the gift.
"It's lovely," she complimented sincerely. "She paints them?" Leia asked.
"Crafts the glass, and paints by hand," Tavska said. She pressed her palms together, then gestured: "I filled it with rainstar seeds. It is a flower that grows in Shili's fain forests. It produces nectar we give to our younglings," she said, and then furrowed her brow. "I believe it is unsafe for human infants to ingest, but the scent puts them to sleep."
"Well," Leia said softly. "I think we'll need that quite a bit," she quipped.
Tavska smiled her usual calm, small smile, and inclined her head. She took a few steps back, before raising her eyes and tilting her head to the side.
"Many blessings, Leia," she congratulated kindly, dropping Leia's honorific in a rare, personal gesture before departing to begin handling the cancellation of Leia's schedule.
Leia smiled after her a moment, then getting up gingerly and moving around her desk to resume her chair, and begin close-out procedures on her secure terminal. She sat back, and admired the box sitting in her hand, unlatching the tiny lock for the lid and peering inside at the collection of blue-green, pearl-like seeds. She picked one up and held it closer, mesmerized by the colour - she could detect a faint scent of aromatic rain even from the little bud, and she could only imagine how nice it was from blossoming petals.
Her head ached insistently, and her attention was wrenched away from the rainstar seeds, demanded by the discomfort. She set the stained glass trinket aside, and sat forward, reaching up to cradle her head in her hands, a cool, dark place to assuage the worsening throbbing for a moment. With cruel swiftness, the relief she'd felt in determining that she must be afflicted with a seasonal cold was gone, and she felt threatened again, uncertain, and daunted. She parted her lips, her mouth metallic and water, and turned, grasping for the waste receptacle she kept under her desk, her stomach churning.
She leaned over it and vomited, closing her eyes and flinching at the sour taste, and the burn in her nose. Siting back slowly to reach for the cool sparkling water, she rinsed her mouth and spit, listening to the vaporization systems in the wast receptacle, and trying to determine if she was dizzy, or recovering - she was so tired so suddenly. She lowered her hand to her ribs, running her fingertips across them, and then settling her hand on her lower abdomen, breathing in and out slowly - she felt a sharp flutter of movement, and almost gasped in relief, her eyes stinging harshly; it felt like a shiver - a weak shiver, but it was there all the same.
Tucking her shoulders in, Leia leaned forward, her hand still pressed against her abdomen. She wrapped her other arm around herself, reacting the the shiver with a sudden chill of her own - if the baby's cold, I'm cold, she thought in a vague murmur, but more harshly, she wondered how it could be cold; there was nothing but warmth -
Gritting her teeth, Leia, sat up, turning to bury her face in her hands again, sliding her fingers into the loose wisps of hair at her temple. She was driving herself mad, thinking something was wrong with her, and it had to be putting stress on the baby - despite her own stumbling use of her sensitivity, she was sure the baby could feel her emotions, unfiltered - she needed a hot cup of tea, a relaxing 'fresher, some more sleep - she would go home, get that - she could be a little pitiful, and Han would take care of her - and she would wake up refreshed, and if she and Han could just get this damn so-called scary test over with, she could relax, she could - she told herself that over the persistent, lurking shadow that crept into her heart, that whispered, inevitably, that something was not right.
- alexandra
