a/n: Zozy!
much like i have inspirations for Aunt Rouge (Pitty-Pat Hamilton and Violet Crawley!), I have one/always have had one in mind for Breha, and that's Catherine of Aragon - who I think of, obviously, for the fertility issues, but for so many other reasons as well.
Five
7 ABY
In obvious lack of adherence to what was conventionally thought to be sanitary – and civil – the latest addition to the Solo family was perched on his haunches on the kaffe table in the center of their Coruscant apartment, his tail gently sweeping happily behind him, tongue lolling out of his mouth in anticipation – and with bright, delighted green eyes, he gazed at Han with a somewhat endearing vigor.
Han glared right back at him, currently in the throes of one of his moments of intense regret – the more it – no, he – no – Han nearly closed his eyes in exasperation as he mentally called him by his name – Zozy – the more Zozy looked back at him in oblivious, adoring anticipation, the more Han questioned what the hell had gotten into him when he decided to –
Zozy lunged forward and licked Han's cheek, giving a happy chirp to go along with the gesture, before settling back on his haunches expectantly, as if waiting for Han to return the gesture.
Han raised his hand and pointed square at the mooka's face, narrowing his eyes sternly.
"I said," he growled, "don't lick me again."
He was pretty damn sure Zozy was, at that moment, gearing up to completely ignore him and disobey for a third – no, fourth – time, so this time, when the little guy lurched forward, Han grabbed him up gently and turned him around, giving him no access to his face.
He smirked, and Zozy gave a disappointed chirp, dissolving into little ksshhing sounds that were obviously meant to emotionally manipulate Han – and it worked, because if Leia heard it making those noises, she was likely to whack Han with a pillow like she had the last time he'd inadvertently made Zozy cry.
Han turned him into the crook of his arm to peer at his face, giving him a stern look.
"You gotta learn to listen," he told Zozy seriously, and then narrowed his eyes. "Stop bitchin'," he muttered, rubbing it between the ears affectionately. "Zozy," he added, scowling – it figured that Leia had somehow come up with the frilliest sounding name in the damn galaxy –
She said it was a derivation of a word in her native language, but she had also refused to tell him what it meant, as a punishment for him laughing at her. A quick message to Bail had enlightened him; evidently, Zozy was colloquial adjective for a little boy who was somewhat of a rascal.
Zozy? Bail had responded. Rascal, or scoundrel, roughly – has Leia taken to calling you that? - he mocked.
No, I got her a pet. She named the pet Zozy.
A pet?
Han had sent him a snapshot via the holonet, and Bail retorted that Han must be screwing with him, and maintained that belief until Leia was photographed holding the living, breathing mooka on her way into work several days ago.
She had taken Zozy with her on her first day back at the office, an action that had fascinated – and distracted – the news cycle. Han was unsure if she took Zozy specifically to dangle at the Media to redirect their speculation, or if she'd needed the little guy with her for support, and the effect on the Media was secondary.
Likely a little of both – he'd learned to never underestimate Leia's games with the press.
Zozy squirmed in Han's grip, trying to escape and dart around the apartment – he had been beside himself at the chalet, beside himself on the Falcon, and beside himself upon being introduced to his new home, and Han was vaguely alarmed at his energy levels.
Despite having his own bed that Leia had settled into the corner of their bedroom, he had huddled in it and made his kssshing, scared crying noise the first night in the new place – on Corellia, he had explored and scampered most nights, and fallen asleep wherever he found patches of moonlight or sunlight – and successfully ended up snuggled in their bed because Leia couldn't stomach the sad noise.
He won't be in the way, he's little, she murmured, trying to placate Han – who was inclined to agree, until he woke up to Zozy licking his ear, the mooka having wedged himself between Han and Leia in the night.
Han narrowed his eyes and glared at the little guy, frowning sternly.
Zozy chirped.
"Don't make me take you back," Han threatened edgily – good-natured though; he never would – Zozy could probably destroy all the internal wiring on the Falcon, and Han would still keep him, because Leia loved him so much.
He released Zozy, and the mooka scampered off, darting off the sofa, pouncing on Han's feet, and then trotting off to find Leia – and Han leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his forehead in his palms. He sighed stiffly, listening for Leia in their bedroom – the 'fresher had shut off half an hour ago, and she hadn't reappeared.
His brow furrowed and he rubbed his temples, his jaw tightening – returning to their routines wasn't exactly smooth. Rather – it had been somewhat smooth, with an indescribable cerebral affect – they both had a tremendous amount of grieving and thus the foundations of healing, under their belts – but being back home was – jarring, he thought, more so for Leia.
What happened to the sheets? – she'd asked, having not had the peace of mind to ask before they left – her face white, and apprehensive, as she waited for Han to answer her.
Han told her Luke had taken care of them, and Leia still seemed unnerved – which was why Han had hardly protested when she wanted to let Zozy sleep in the bed.
It seemed like that question had triggered a dampening of spirits for her, overall, for both of them – so, too, had her return to work, even though she was doing limited labor, half-days – and Han was still on liberal leave himself –
It was just – difficult, readjusting, and that had become – abundantly clear earlier this evening, when nothing, not even something that should be normal, and simple, and comforting – was easy.
Han lifted his head a little, gritting his teeth – it had been a long, long time since – he couldn't remember the last time intimacy between them had ended in tears. He still wasn't sure if he'd hurt her, or if she just wasn't ready, or both – and she hadn't articulated herself very well, she also hadn't stopped him and he was left wondering if he was despicable, or if she didn't understand herself what was going on – he was waiting for her to emerge, to want to talk.
They'd been back a few days now and – and it was probably – time they had another long, intensive talk; there had been a lot of that on Corellia, but very little since then, and perhaps both of them had fallen into a trap of thinking return to Coruscant equaled immediate resumption of the norm – and that just – that just wasn't…right.
"Zo-zy," he heard Leia sing, her voice muffled by the rooms, and hallway, separating them. "Where's Han, Zo?"
A few moments later, Zozy came rocketing back into the living room and took a flying leap into Han's lap, proudly chirping over his shoulder, his feather tail mounting an all-out assault on Han's face.
Scowling, Han plucked Zozy off his lap and placed him back on the kaffe table, giving him another stern look – and to think, he'd let sentiment get the better of him, and decided it was a brilliant idea to bring the little pest home and make it family –
"Oh, you found him," Leia murmured, coming in to the room slowly, smiling softly at Zozy. "Good boy," she praised quietly, running a towel over her hair – clad in a only a short, cotton robe, she came to stand near Han's knee, looking down at Zozy, falling silent as she methodically dried her hair.
Han sat back and looked up at her, anxiety gripping at his chest. He set his jaw and looked up at her, trying to think of something to say, and Leia took a deep breath, clearing her throat softly and tilting her head at Zozy as she spoke.
"Sorry about that," she said softly. "In there."
She looked up at him, and tilted her head towards their bedroom, her face flushing.
"I didn't mean to freak you out," she murmured.
Han ignored the apology.
"Can you talk about it?" he asked gruffly. "Did I hurt you?"
That was his main concern, more than anything – he would never forgive himself if he –
She shook her head, and sat down heavily next to him, lowering her hands to her lap, leaving the towel draped over her shoulder. She smoothed the edges of her robe out.
"No," she said softly, and then winced, looking up at him honestly. "You didn't hurt me, not you," she tried to explain, gesturing at her thighs. "It hurt," she tried, and then frowned, giving him a reluctant look. "I don't think there's any nice way to put it, Han," she said finally. "I'm…a little…raw," she said quietly. "That procedure was invasive. I'm sore."
"You don't gotta be nice," Han said gruffly.
He turned his head a little, watching Zozy scamper around the table, happily attempting to herd the inanimate object.
"We didn't wait long enough," he said tiredly – and he was furious with himself; he hadn't – he knew he hadn't been restrained enough, it hadn't automatically clicked that – their sex live would not immediately return to its former state.
Leia shrugged a little.
"She said two weeks," she murmured – it had been that, just about, and Leia didn't think it was Han's fault – she was less worried about the pain; it hadn't been terrible, just uncomfortable, and not what she was used to – but more startling was – she just –
"I was – it was not that, mostly," Leia said shakily, looking down at her hands. "I, um – I thought – I remembered, we're safe right now, because I had that shot at the Med Center," given to her as a precaution, because Dr. Mellis discouraged an attempt to immediately get pregnant after a miscarriage, "but – I shouldn't need it, because I should," she broke off, biting her lip, and looking up at him.
She sighed.
"I should still be pregnant."
Han tilted his head, listening – he nodded slowly, processing her words, giving himself time to understand.
She reached up and wiped one of her eyes.
"And I'm not."
Han leaned closer, his arms folded at his chest. He pressed his lips to her shoulder, letting his forehead rest against her, and nudged her knee with his comfortingly. She shifted, relaxing a little, hunkering down on the sofa. She reached out and brushed his jaw with her knuckles.
"I didn't think…it might be hard…to, ah, to…have sex," she said. "Emotionally hard."
Han nodded.
"Didn't really think about that either," he conceded – he hadn't felt anything that she felt, clearly, but he was able to step into her shoes at least a little and see why she was having trouble – hell, he himself had pointed out there was something different, back when they'd first eliminated her hormones altogether.
Leia licked her lips, her lips turning down unhappily.
"I hate this," she lashed out huskily, her brow furrowing, voice breaking, "I love having sex with you," she protested.
Han blinked, and he was – struck with a ridiculous urge to laugh, because it didn't seem like a very Leia thing to say – not in so many words, at least, and it seemed a peculiar thing to be angry about –
He did laugh, and then nearly choked on it, he was so horrified at himself –
"Kriff," he swore. "'M not laughing, at you – fuck, Leia, I don't know why I laughed," he started, his shoulders tensing.
But Leia pressed her nose against his shirt tightly, and then lifted her head; her eyes red—crinkled at the edges with a helpless, bewildered smile.
"It's okay," she promised, catching her lip in her teeth, then releasing it, then shrugging – she placed her elbow on the back of the sofa, and cradled her head in her palm. "It's a stupid thing to care about," she said, wiping her nose on her wrist. "Sex," she muttered.
Han shrugged.
"S'not stupid," he said. "That's how we," he broke off, and looked down at his hands, digging his thumb into his palm with a mild grimace. "Y'know, connect," he said gruffly. "Uhh. Feel – "
"Good?" Leia supplied bluntly.
"I was gonna say safe," Han muttered under his breath. "Good works, too."
She compressed her lips.
"Yeah," she whispered, "and I – we – can't even have that right now? When I need it?" she asked, her face darkening - she sat forward, her eyes narrowing. "How is that fair? That's taken away from me too? I can't fuck you?"
Han blinked, taken aback.
"Leia," he murmured.
"It wasn't all about having a baby before," she raged huskily, "why is that all I was thinking about now – oh, he'll – get me pregnant again, and I'll lose it – again – and it hurts, and," she broke off, reaching up to wipe her cheeks again, her hand shaking, "I don't understand," she hissed. "I don't," she trailed off, her eyes searching his.
Han looked at her helplessly.
"I don't know, Sweetheart," he said hoarsely.
"You didn't feel that way," she pressed. "Did you?"
Han looked down at his hands, and she reached out to tap his wrist very gently, lowering her voice.
"I'm not angry with you, Han," she whispered, her shoulders falling. "I want to know how you're coping."
He didn't say anything for a while, and then he looked up, still with that somewhat helpless expression on his face.
"It didn't live in me, Leia," he said finally, almost on edge. "I can't – I don't know, 'm just – I just want you to be okay."
Her lips trembled, and she leaned into him, tucking her head into his shoulder. She squeezed her eyes shut, some of the anger in her dissipating – of course, he couldn't relate the same way – of course. And even so, he was still so understanding, and so supportive – she sighed.
She rubbed her hand against his shoulder, swallowing hard.
"I think I'm…struggling," she said quietly. "Facing people who…know what happened," she said, "who…want to make me feel better, but don't know how," she murmured "and I don't want to talk to them about it," she kept going, slowly forcing out her feelings – "I want to work, and work is…a blessing, but I'm…dwelling on the doctor's appointment, and," she sighed. "It's hard, it's just…it's so hard."
Han leaned back, looking down at her hand on him, and then up to his face.
"It's got to be hard," he said hoarsely. "I get it. We didn't just…get over it and move on," he said, shrugging.
Leia nodded, resting her cheek on her knuckles again.
"I forgot there has to be a balance," she whispered, "between…unrestricted grief, and healing, getting back to…a good place."
"You think we shoulda stayed on Corellia longer?" Han asked gruffly.
She pursed her lips, shrugged a little.
"No," she murmured. "I might have…been a little more pragmatic, in preparing to come back," she said. "You were…readier than I was, to face it."
Han snorted. He gave her a look.
"Leia, I'd stay on Corellia with you forever," he retorted pointedly. "New Republic be damned."
That drew a smile to her lips.
"I know," she said, nudging his shin with her foot. She bit her lip, and shifted her head, reaching up to draw the towel on her shoulder into her lap. She shivered a little – the steam from her shower had dried off, and it was a little cold in their apartment. "No," she murmured again. "I think if we'd stayed too long," she trailed off for a moment. "No, I needed to come back. It's just hard," she repeated.
She tucked her hair behind her ears.
"The strange thing is, Han," she began faintly, "the negative, I suppose, with – learning how to grieve again," she looked up, her brow furrowing almost quizzically, "I don't know how to be healthily sad…and function."
She lifted her shoulders in a dry shrug, clearing her throat.
"I used to just…repress it and work. Feel nothing."
Han nodded, his head cocking slightly.
"Hmmm," he murmured.
Leia clicked her tongue hoarsely, her expression skeptical, and consternated.
"I don't know…how to learn, how to…navigate this."
"Talk to someone who's been there," Han suggested.
She sighed heavily, flicking her eyes downward – her father, to an extent; she should reach out more to her father – she was skittish of talking to him, because she hated to dredge up old tragedies, and she just – she was still fragile, when it came to intense grief around other people.
"'M not just talkin' about him," Han said carefully, implicitly understanding her thoughts. He paused, and then nodded over at her comm, which had been sitting on the kaffe table since she came home from work this afternoon. "Call Jobal back."
Leia followed his gaze, her eyes closing lightly – yes, call Jobal; her grandmother had left her a gentle, kind message about a day after they returned from Coruscant, asking only that Leia call her, when she was ready, if she wanted to talk to someone who had been there.
Leia was unsure if Jobal meant herself, or – one of her daughters – but she just – hadn't had the strength do return the call yet; she felt wary of it, like talking to someone other than her own mother was not good enough – but she couldn't have her own mother –
"I will, Han," Leia murmured – she intended to, soon.
She stared at the comm for a moment longer, and then sat forward, looking down at her knees. Han rested his hand on her back, then ran his knuckles up and down her spine gently, tilting his head to watch her. She started to run her fingers through her hair, sectioning it into loose bundles for a plait – and she cleared her throat.
"I want to, ah – need to," she began in a small voice, "talk about this…appointment."
Han nodded, stopping his hand near her hip and massaging in circles, listening attentively – they had a follow-up appointment scheduled with her Dr. Mellis, at which she would ensure Leia was healthy following the miscarriage, and the dilation and curettage procedure she'd had, and give them some insights on what might have – on anything she could.
Leia had asked that she analyze what tissue she could to try and determine a cause, either unable to process, or deliberately ignoring, the doctor's quiet, calm assurances that there was going to be no indication that this had been Leia's fault.
Leia took a deep breath.
"I know what she's been telling us, that it's…that it's…normal," she said the word distastefully. "That there's…likely nothing she can tell us, no explanation. Genetic…problems," Leia murmured – nature, weeding it out, she thought – but she felt like that wasn't it, she felt, on a deeply embedded level, that something was wrong, and she could only interpret that as something – must be wrong with her.
Han kept up his soothing massage, and Leia bit her lip, clearly struggling with something.
"I need you to…understand something, to um," she sighed. "Prepare yourself for something."
"Okay," Han muttered simply, still watching her.
"If they can't find anything wrong with me," she started.
"Nothing is wrong with you, Leia," Han broke in. "Look, even if there is a problem that we gotta…look into, you're not wrong."
Leia swallowed hard.
"I understand what you're saying logically," she said, in a very controlled voice. "What I mean is…I can get pregnant," she said, "that happened…immediately," she said, letting out a breath. "That wasn't a problem. If it's," she hesitated, "if it's something chemical that…makes it difficult for me to keep a pregnancy," she swallowed hard, her face turning pale as she thought of her mother.
She shook her head.
"I don't know if I can keep trying."
I am nowhere near as strong as my mother.
Han sat forward gingerly, his hand roaming up to her shoulder. He squeezed tightly.
"We can't know if that's – "
"Yes, I know," Leia said, her voice cracking, "the only way to know if it's that kind of problem is to – keep trying, and then if I keep losing," she broke off, shaking her head rapidly. "I can't describe how it felt, Han. I don't think I can," she sighed heavily – she didn't think she could do it again, and even now, thinking that was killing her, because she wanted – she wanted –
"I want to have a baby, Han, I just can't – go through what Mama when through."
Han squeezed her shoulder again. Leia shifted restlessly, and got up.
"I know you think I'm being too pessimistic," she started tensely.
"I didn't say that," Han answered slowly.
She turned back to him, folding her arms tightly across her chest, her face flushed.
"I keep having this recurring thought that I don't want to try again," she said shakily, "and I want to be honest with you about that."
Han took a deep breath, swallowing hard. He reached up and rubbed his jaw, nodding – well, he couldn't fault her for honesty, but he'd been so afraid – and no matter how hard he tried to constantly reaffirm that he'd never completely understand how she felt, he knew, part of him knew, somehow, that it wasn't right for them to give up yet.
"I know we just need to sit down and talk with Dr. Mellis and go from there," she said flatly. "But if she tells me there's something – that made it hard for me to carry," Leia broke off, her lips trembling. She shook her head firmly.
Han looked at her, choosing his words carefully.
"Leia, the medics all said it's most likely the same kind of normal thing that happens a lot," he began, and when he saw her start to protest, he lost some of his foresight, and burst out – "I don't get why you're so determined to think somethin's wrong with you."
Leia folded her arms across herself tightly, biting the inside of her lip and lowering her gaze. She looked at her feet, then looked up and stared at him, her eyes filling with tears.
"Han," she answered, her voice cracking, "I don't want to feel this way. I just do."
He grimaced at himself, reaching up to rub his forehead. He swore at himself internal, and got up stiffly, coming forward.
"Yeah," he mumbled, reaching out to hug her close. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I'm sorry." He pressed his lips to the top of her head, then released her, and gestured back to the couch to get her to come sit back down.
She allowed him to lead her back, and collapsed heavily, rubbing one hand against her ribs tensely.
"I have a lot going on I'm having a hard time sorting through. It was difficult admitting I want this and…I don't want to give it up," she said fiercely, "but right now…I can't imagine going through this again," she said softly.
Hard to decide she wanted a baby, hard to sort through all of the worries and fears surrounding it – and now she wanted it, so much. Han leaned over to kiss her temple, and refrained from offering any verbal comfort at the moment.
He wasn't sure he could say anything – he thought, for the next few days – was it five, until the appointment? Four – he didn't quite remember, but regardless, they had to take it day by day, still.
That Corellian chalet – it really froze time, and he had to remember that it hadn't been that long – it hadn't been long at all.
Leia's eyes burned, and she turned towards him a little.
"What if it doesn't work out, Han?" she asked quietly
She chewed on her lip, leaning back, pulling her knees to her chest and clutching at them.
"What if it just…doesn't?"
Han sighed. He pulled her closer, leaning into her heavily, turning his head to stare at her profile. He reached up and pushed some of her hair back, gently running his fingers through it. He was quiet for a long time, thinking of something to say, and then he leaned over, and took a deep breath, burying his lips in her hair.
"I love you so much, Sweetheart," he told her firmly.
Leia smiled tiredly.
She turned her head to nudge his jaw with her nose appreciatively, starting to feel a little better – Sith, the constant ups and downs were so awful, and even though she knew they were normal, didn't resist them, she was starting to ache to feel – the way she had before.
She relaxed in his arms, taking a few deep breaths – and then sat up abruptly, her eyes narrowing.
"Zozy?" she called. "Han, where's - ?" she asked suspiciously – Zozy was still a baby – a pup, that's how one referred to baby mookas – he got into things -
"Zazu," Han called lazily, and Leia elbowed him.
"Stop doing that," she hissed – Han kept deliberately getting it wrong to tease her – Zazu, Zoku, Zizi. "You'll confuse him. Zozy?" she called again.
She heard an unidentifiable thunking noise – one that got louder – and muffled chirping, and a moment later Zozy came bounding around the sofa. Or rather, one of Han's boots, with a feathered tail sticking and two hind legs sticking out of it, bounded around the corner.
Leia squeaked in alarm.
"Han," she yelped, reaching over to slap at his arm insistently. "He's stuck. He's stuck, get him loose!"
Alarmed by her alarm, Han sat forward, snapping at Zozy – "Zozy, c'mere, you idiot," he scowled, trying not to laugh – how the damn thing had managed to get stuck in one of his boots – "Hold still," he snapped, snatching up Zozy.
Zozy writhed happily as Han tried to gently yank the boot off of his head, and then let out a chirping howl of gratitude, unfazed, when he was free. Leia had a stricken, pale look on her face, somewhere between amused, and scandalized; when she took him from Han to fawn over him –
"We – can't even – watch – the mooka!" she gasped, half-panicked – they'd almost had a baby – and here they were, letting Zozy get his head jammed up in a shoe –
Leia's face fell, and she didn't know whether to feel – appalled at herself, for thinking it was funny, or relieved, that she found something to laugh about, again, because that was always a relief - but even the thought that she and Han had been so nervous about being parents for the first time – and that it might have been a disaster – didn't really alleviate the pain of it being taken away from them so abruptly.
The cathedral located amongst the outdoor gardens was a magnificent testament to classic Alderaanian architecture. Its status as one of the last remaining truly Alderaanian structures, as well as one of the last places - being that it was on the grounds that were owned by Alderaan's Embassy - considered consecrated Alderaanian soil, made its already imposing beauty all the more meaningful. It was a small haven of its own, tucked away within the sprawling, defensive white-brick walls of the Embassy compound, fiercely preserved, and meticulously attended to, a quiet, clean place in the midst of Coruscant's shadowy, metallic smog.
Given that he had, at one time, been only a vaguely faithful man - more interested in the active philosophies of the living Force than the spiritual theology of his home world that held dear tenants of the Old Religions tempered with progressive and liberal ideology - the cathedral had been little more than a treasured, traditional part of the complex, when he worked out of Coruscant during the Old Republic; now, in light of all that had happened, and all that had been lost, it meant infinitely more - it was a true sanctuary, a way for him to connect with hearth, and home - the place where he had seen Leia married; the place where he came, often, in quieter hours, to remember a world now lost forever, and to miss his wife.
In this - in this place, he felt her presence was strong, and he did not dwell on whether that was a truth, or if he willed it to be a truth; what was important to him was the memory of Breha's quiet, strong faith - he knew that of all places, she would be happiest to be remembered here, and so this is where he sought her. Most often, he sat quietly in one of the pews in the middle of the main altar hall, studying the stained glass, sitting in quiet reflection; on this evening, in the lulling hours after dinner, he secluded himself in the prayer chapel - the very one where he had sat with Leia, moments before he walked her down the aisle - and engaged in an old ritual, one that had meant much to Breha - and somehow, meant more to him now than it had then.
At the front of the chapel before the simple, carved wooden altar, Bail knelt on the stone floor and bowed his head over the row of carved wax flowers that decorated the low railing - gorgeous confections of pale gold and soft blue, green, and silver, little representations of Alderaanian dew roses. His gaze lingered on the pearly, mismatched, dry droplets of melted residue in the petals - indications that others had prayed here, come here to seek light in darkness.
From his pocket, he pulled a spark igniter. He flicked it once, the sound eerily loud in the silent prayer chapel, and gingerly lit the tiny wooden fuse in the middle of a wax flower, watching it gently crackle and spark. He watched the glimmering flame for a moment, tilting his head, thinking of the times he had watched Breha do this; thinking of the one time he had realized it was important for him to be there with her when she did, so she felt less isolated.
He watched the light flicker, and then with great care, he repeated the lighting ritual six times, giving the same detailed attention to each one. He paused, his gaze heavy in an unlit flower - and then, with grace, he lit an eighth.
The ritual was not one that got easier with time, or with repetition; rather, repetition - reiterated the magnitude of the pain.
Bail tucked the spark igniter back into his pocket, and bowed his head, folding his hands neatly at waist-level, the subtle warmth of the flames bouncing off his face. He remained silent and still, in an emulation of prayer, for quite a while - until he heard the chapel door slide open, and then faint footsteps - and he knew the intruder must be family, because any other Alderaanian would have seen the Viceroy occupying the chapel and bowed out to pray another time. He tilted his head a little, more alert, listening as - she, he heard the rustling of a dress - sat down, and he waited until his moment of silent reflection had passed before he opened his eyes and tilted his head up to the altar, studying the stained glass motif in the window behind it.
He raised his hand to his forehead in a sign of universal peace, and then leaned down, nudging his fist into the stone floor to help leverage himself up - he grimaced, as his back protested, and the bones in his knees cracked, irritated by the stress put on them. He turned to her - he knew it was Leia - with a calm, welcoming expression, taking a moment to study her in the candlelight.
She looked good - so much better than she had looked in the hospital before she left, and better, even, than she had looked in her first day or so back at work; the colour was back in her cheeks a little, and she was sitting up straight, holding her bearings regally. Uncharacteristic as it was for Leia to seek sanctuary in a chapel, he was not surprised to see her - he only wondered who had directed her to him.
She let him look at her for a long time, and then she shifted, sitting forward a little, tilting her head at the softly glowing candles. Bail watched her eyes flick over them carefully, and was ready to meet her eyes again when she tilted her gaze up, looking at him through her lashes.
"Eight?" she asked finally, her voice hushed. He watched her lips part in quiet sadness. "I never knew it was eight."
Bail tucked his hands into the sleeves of his robe and came forward, turning to sit down next to her heavily. He straightened up, and sat back, quiet for a moment, and then he shook his head.
"Seven," he corrected gently. He lifted one of his hands, and pointed at the last lit flower. "That one is for you."
Leia gazed at it, the light reflecting off her face. She pressed her lips together, her heart skipping a few beats. She lowered her eyes, and turned her head back to her father, hands resting in her lap neatly - wax candle vigils were an ancient Alderaanian tradition; one lit flames, and let the light burn, out of respect for a lost loved one's soul. She held her breath achingly, thinking of her mother - seven; seven, and Leia had thought - perhaps three, before they looked outside themselves.
Fixated on the flowers, Leia pursed her lips, her voice husky when she spoke:
"Do you pray, Father?" she asked, gently curious.
She had never known him to be particularly religious.
She heard him sigh thoughtfully next to her.
"Much more, these days," he answered quietly. "It is difficult to deny the likelihood of some higher power, given my odds," he said, laughing quietly, "and I have always believed in the Force."
Leia said nothing, and after a moment, Bail leaned forward slightly, nodding his head at the flowers, his lips turning up in quiet nostalgia.
"This ritual meant very much to your mother," he said. "She always lit candles," he murmured. "So, I do it for her." He paused, and then inclined his head. "I do it for you, because she would. Because it would mean something for her."
Leia nodded, her gaze still lingering. After a little while, she tore it away, and turned to look at her father closely, her brow furrowing. She equivocated, unsure what to say, and then took a deep breath, shaking her head ever so slightly.
"Seven?" she asked again.
She didn't seem able to qualify the number with the word - seven miscarriages?
Bail took a deep breath. He had been preparing himself to talk with Leia for some time now, since the moment he had been woken up and told she was going through this. She didn't have her mother to lean on, and Bail wanted to offer as much in terms of understanding support as he could.
"Six," he said finally. "One of ours was late enough to be termed a stillbirth," he told her. He folded his hands together in his lap, and Leia looked down to see he was wearing his cuff links, the ones her mother would have given him as a wedding gift. "The last one," he murmured, "before you. The ordeal...it nearly killed Breha."
Leia's heart dropped, her stomach twisting. She felt - as if she might faint, or vomit - the very idea of it was unthinkable. The thought of having this happen a single additional time was enough to turn Leia off and yet, and yet -
She slipped her hand into the crook of her father's arm and turned towards him slightly, looking up at him wordlessly through her lashes - it was all she could do for the moment; she had no ability to think of something to say, or to do. She just looked at him, studied the lines on his face, the tranquility in his eyes, and though to herself - how did he survive?
Mama, how did you survive?
"It was harder on her, physically, every time," Bail recounted quietly. "To say nothing for the emotional toll."
Leia swallowed hard. She leaned forward and rested her forehead on his arm, finding some comfort there.
"They were never able to tell you what was wrong?" she ventured huskily, murmuring into the fabric of his robes.
Her father's arm moved as he lifted it, moved again as he shrugged.
"They speculated. They tried to give us answers," he said, his voice even and slow. "There was nothing concrete." He frowned thoughtfully, remembering his and Breha's desperate search for answers, how they had scraped the bottom of the barrel when it came to specialists, and new age therapies - "Modern medicine...and nothing they could do."
It's what Han had raged about on Leia's behalf, too, outside her room at the Med Center. It's what Obi-Wan Kenobi had pondered in disbelief, standing outside of the clinic where Padme had just died, each of them trying to soothe one of her babies - how does this happen? Obi-Wan lamented - she was young, and healthy - and this is the modern age! It didn't matter - motherhood was an ancient killer, in some regards, and some mysteries still remained; some facts of life were so inherently natural that scientific advances would never defeat them.
Leia reached up and touched her forehead with the back of her knuckles, silent as she processed it. She placed that hand down on her father's arm, too, encircling his bicep with both of her hands, leaning against him.
"How?" Leia asked, the word escaping her lips in a hushed whisper. "How did she get through it?"
Through it, through it - because Leia knew she must have never gotten over it, not even when it was buried in the past, and she had Leia running through her palace halls causing mayhem and needing to be mothered.
Bail sighed.
"I don't know that I can answer that for her," he said. "I like to think I helped. That I made life worth it for her to keep waking up, to keep her faith alive, and her heart steady," he said, trailing off. "Hope," he said hoarsely. "She never lost hope, Leia," he said honestly. "Even when she seemed to be in despair," he shook his head. "She never lost hope."
Leia bowed her head, her eyes drifting back to the little chorus of candles, shimmering and remembering, a proxy for her mother's presence. She clenched her teeth softly, bit down on her tongue - and she still couldn't imagine; she felt in awe of her mother's fortitude and strength, humbled by it - shamed a little, by her own skittishness as it existed now - her raw warning to Han that she might not want to try this again seemed so cowardly, in the face of Breha's perseverance.
She wasn't Force sensitive, a nervous, insecure part of Leia whispered - that isn't to say it didn't hurt her as much, but you, Leia, you felt excruciating death in your bones, in your soul, bleeding out of you like hot knives - Leia compressed her lips straightening up. She took a deep, steadying breath, quelling her thoughts a little. She wasn't here to compare herself to her mother, or vice versa; she was just here to talk to her father, to carry on with her grieving, to try to find insight, and feel as close to Breha as she could.
"It was something she very much wanted," Bail said honestly. "Something she didn't want to feel she had failed at, though I think the idea of it being a failure for her to not bear children is a distinctly feminine fear I don't understand. She was willing to die for motherhood," Bail went on, with a strange look on his face, "until I managed to convince her of the peculiarity of that," he gave a short, hoarse laugh, "how could she be a mother if she died trying?"
Bail shook his head - selfishly, almost, he'd been afraid of losing Breha; he would have given up long before she had agreed to, long before the final pregnancy that very nearly took her away from him for good.
"I was terrified of losing her," Bail murmured.
Leia nodded, squeezing his arm. She rested her head on his shoulder briefly again, quiet, reflective, content to stare at the flowers. She wasn't entirely sure if she had come to him for specifics, or just to talk, or just to be with him, to be in silent grief with someone other than Han - not because Han had failed her, or disappointed her in anyway, but because she was re-learning that there was merit to sharing sadness with more than one person. Different perspectives, and different kinds of comfort, were so much more important than she'd realized, these past few years.
Bail tilted his head down, and looked at her, resting her head on his arm as if she were a young girl again, a wounded child, or an affronted teenager - except he knew her pain was deep, and mature, and not so easy to fix as her youthful ills.
"How are you, Leia?" he asked her gently, a question he had not been able to bring himself to ask her in the times he'd seen her - the night of the miscarriage, or since. He hadn't wanted to overwhelm her, or make her feel pressured to have an answer - certainly, he had checked on her through Han, and that was enough, for a while; he wanted her to have time to start to cope, to feel lost and listless for a few days.
Leia drew in a shaky breath, sitting up. She squeezed his arm, and then released it, drawing her hands away and pressing her palms together in her lap. She smoothed her knuckles over her dress, her eyes on the material, and then looked up at the ceiling, eyes gazing intently through her lashes. She breathed out with a little more steadiness, and lowered her chin to meet his eyes.
"Exhausted," she said softly, "Angry. Devastated, anxious," she listed, "resigned."
She bit her lip, and lifted her shoulders.
"I'm a mess," she confessed in a small voice, and then tilted her head, lowering her shoulders in a completion of a slow shrug. "But," she added, very light. "I'm going to be okay."
That, she said with confidence, and Bail smiled at her. He reached over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ears in a short, sweet gesture, and then pulled his hands back to his lap, continuing to study her profile. Her hands curved in towards her stomach, and she looked down at her knees, licking her lips.
"It was - Rouge, who told me you were down here," Leia said quietly. "I - I've been meaning to talk to you, I just haven't wanted to put you through...old heartache."
"You needn't worry, Leia," he said, just as he'd told her before - "The thing about old heartache is that it is unchanged by new pain. Only made wiser."
A small smile crept across Leia's lips at her father's philosophy - he always was one for wizened, gentle philosophy. Her fingertips brushed her ribs, and she nodded, almost to herself, before venturing -
"I spoke with Jobal," she revealed. "In my office, just after dinner...she asked me to call her. To talk," Leia took a deep breath, "and it was nice. I needed it. Almost as if...I had something close to Mama," she trailed off, her lips trembling. "Not the same. But she - she talked to me. She just talked. She understood."
"She understood?" Bail ask, thinking of Han - he'd wanted Leia to have a woman to talk to, and Bail remembered telling him - you can't just ask a woman if she's been through it.
Leia nodded.
"Yes," she said, biting her lip softly. "She'd had two."
Jobal had told her - that her first pregnancy was a miscarriage, and so was her last; the first had been bewildering to her, happened too early for her to have been very attached; she was honest with Leia, reflecting almost clinically - I abhorred myself for how detached I felt from it. And then her last, she said, after Sola and Padme, it devastated, because with her two little girls healthy and happy at home, she was so keenly aware of what she had lost.
Leia had asked tentatively asked her why, after the last, she hadn't tried again if she wanted a third child – and Jobal, kind as ever, had simply answered that she already had two babies, and she had taken the disappointment as a gentle sign.
Leia – was still not sure she wanted to hear about signs, and things meant to be – it was spectacularly infuriating, in the most awful of ways, but she felt no animosity for Jobal for her forthrightness; in fact, being able to talk to another woman about the shared experience was – invaluable.
It eased the sharp, persistent pain of not having her mother to help her through this.
"Was she helpful?" Bail asked earnestly.
Leia nodded, crossing her ankles and sitting back, relaxing a little. She reached up to brush her knuckles under her chin, thinking about the conversation.
"Ahhh, yeah," she said faintly. "Yes, she was. She," Leia's brow furrowed, "she's very wise," Leia murmured.
Jobal had – inadvertently, in a way – been very good at guiding how Leia could act with other people about this, because she had been there; she told Leia how she answered questions, or how she had handled things that brought up memories.
"Optimistic," Leia murmured. "She's got such a good heart."
Leia bit her lip for a moment, shaking her head.
"It was a good conversation," she admitted, folding her arms across herself. "I still…miss Mama," she said, voice quivering. "I still wish I could talk to her, hear her insights," Leia trailed off.
She looked at the eight glimmering flames, seven of them for her mother, and parted her lips, her breath rushing out of her.
She laid her head on her father's shoulder.
"She had such incredible strength," Leia whispered.
"She did," Bail agreed warmly. "So do you, Leia," he added simply. "And you…gave your mother a lot of her strength. In some ways, you brought her back to life."
Leia smiled a little. Mesmerized by the flames again, she parted her lips, hesitating on her next question – she swallowed hard, and then –
"Did she – you – ever get over not having a baby of your own?"
Bail looked down at her, studying her face intently.
"She had you," he said. "I have you."
Leia grimaced softly, her lashes closing over her eyes – she understood that; she considered them her parents, plain and simple, and nothing about blood diminished that – yet still, still –
"You know what I mean," she murmured softly – pleading, because she wanted an answer; needed it.
Bail sighed.
He sat forward a little, and frowned hard, looking at the light of the wax flowers – at one time, he might have said the answer was complex, but he was long over any conflict he'd had with himself regarding bloodlines or the pitfalls of adoption.
He was still parsing out his answer when Leia cleared her throat.
"Father, I," she started, her voice thickening uncertainly – she sounded choked up, and when he looked at her, she was pale, and her hands were shaking a little. He sat up, and turned towards her, reaching for her shoulder.
"You look ill," he said, concerned. "Do you need medical – "
"No," she interrupted in a rush. "No, I'm alright, I – this is difficult for me to…ask, or," her brow furrowed, "talk about? I want to ask you about," she broke off, her lips compressing, "something, and it makes me feel – awful."
He ran his palm gingerly over her shoulder and sat up, nodding.
"Well, ask, Leia," he said calmly. "I won't think less of you."
She grit her teeth, nearly dissolving into tears, and then she composed herself, taking a deep breath, and pressing her palms together as she looked up at the eighth flower – the flower he'd lit for her.
"When Han and I…were discussing having a baby, when I was working through my fears about Vader…he never mentioned adoption," she took a steadying breath, "I didn't either," she admitted. "And he…I," she sighed harshly, "don't get me wrong; Han has been – incredible, I'm not mad at Han," she mumbled, prefacing this – "I was having a rough night last night," she revealed, "again."
She paused to lick her lips, and then looked down at her fingers, rubbing her palms together as she braced herself to go on.
"I'm fairly, ahm, skittish of the idea of – this happening again," she forced out, "and Han's…been good about that, and last night he said – he said," she pursed her lips, swallowing hard. "That he'd be okay if I didn't want to; he had no reason to ask me to risk this pain again," she reached up and pushed her hair back messily, "that we could adopt, if that was better."
Bail listened, his expression carefully controlled – he had not expected her to want to talk about this, but he wasn't oblivious to the conversation she was referencing, if for no other reason than Han had surreptitiously called him in the middle of the night last night, waking him out of a dead sleep, and started the conversation with the words – Hey. Viceroy. I think I fucked up.
Leia closed her eyes tightly.
"He's doing everything he can to make sure he's there for me, and he's trying to – show me, I know, that he doesn't want to put any pressure on me."
Bail nodded slowly.
"That comment bothered you?"
Lai laughed mirthlessly at herself, the sound hoarse.
"It did," she said, "but only – because of how I reacted."
She bit her lip for a moment, and then looked up at her father, her face pale – and she didn't say anything else, thinking of her response – in tears, wrapping herself up in his arms, mumbling – I don't want that, Han, I want to have your baby! – anger coursing through her, the thought that it wasn't fair – and then guilt, because of her own background; because of her beloved parents.
She swallowed hard and looked back down at her hands.
"I told him that I – "
"Didn't want that?" Bail finished.
Leia looked up at him sharply, her face flushing hotly. She reached up to rub her palm across her cheek, wiping away tears, and then nodded, flicking her eyes down, watching him through her lashes.
He offered her an empathetic, encouraging smile.
"It isn't usually the first inclination, Leia," he said simply. "There's no shame in that."
She looked a little miserable, nose crinkling, brow furrowing.
"I can't control these fears that I'm going to find out I can't have a baby," she whispered, "even though I have no factual basis for them," she bit her lip, "and while that absolutely heartbreaking thought is plaguing me, I keep having this aggressive, recurrent thought that I don't want to adopt," her voice cracked, "and I feel awful," she confessed, bringing her wrist up to her lips, "because I was adopted," she said, "and I had such a good life."
She closed her eyes tightly, catching a few tears as they fell, and then opening her eyes, and sitting up, taking a deep breath –
"And Han – " she started – but she did not elaborate, because the reasons Han had given her for wanting children – I want little versions of you, Leia – those words meant so much to her, and they had so convinced her, and they were the very essence of what was hurting her right now.
"Han…I think he wants it to be his," she whispered, leaving it at that.
She pressed her lips together hard.
"Father, I – please, don't think I'm trying to imply that I am not yours – "
Her father laid his hands on her knee in a placating gesture, clearing his throat. He waited until her words faded, watching her, and then took his own deep breath, thinking with some amusement of how Han had related this very tense conversation – Yeah, I fucked up, Bail, I made it worse somehow – but I didn't think she'd – I mean, she's adopted –
"Lelila," he said calmly.
He held her gaze for a moment.
"Breha felt that way, too. Hell, Leia," he said honestly. "I felt that way."
He watched that settle in, her eyes widening, watching him intently – and then he nodded slowly, going on.
"We, of course, were also considering the nature of our positions – the pressures we were under to provide an heir of the blood. Listen to me, little girl," he said paternally, his voice earnest, and wise: "it is not a sin to want a child that is a physical part of you and the person you love. It's normal. It's a biological imperative. Breha and I wanted that. We tried for years," he stopped, and turned pointedly to look at the flowers – seven, Leia; he thought seven times, we wanted this.
Bail sighed tiredly.
"It didn't make us bad people, wanting that. It became a problem when Breha's health became so threatened, and our relationship was suffering for something that was not meant to be. And we had to decide…was where the child came from important to us, or did we want to raise a child together because we, as a couple, wanted to be parents?"
He hesitated.
"We did not automatically decide to adopt," he said, blunt and honest. "We worried it wouldn't be fair, the responsibility we would demand of a child – or we worried of what message it would send if we adopted, but did not raise the baby as the heir. We hadn't quite understood what we wanted yet. For years we were still coping with our own losses."
He smiled a little.
"The galaxy was falling apart and war was raging – and even when we decided that for us, the desire to be parents was stronger than anything, we weren't sure what to do. We were more tentatively considering surrogacy – and then circumstances aligned, and you needed a home, and protection," he trailed off, shrugging, "and that was that."
He reached over to take her hand, squeezing it.
"There was nothing wrong with us trying to have a baby, and nothing wrong with us turning elsewhere when it didn't work," he said. "What would have been wrong is if we had treated you as lesser when we took you in. And I," he shrugged a little, "like to think we never did."
Leia looked at his hand for a long time, and then looked up.
"I never felt less than," she said quietly.
She pressed her lips together, and smiled weakly.
Bail shrugged.
"You were our fate," he said, releasing her hand and reaching up to touch her face reverently. "You needed us at the right time, and we needed you, and that's what worked."
He pulled his hand back to himself, leaning back to study her, and giving her some space, thinking about his next words, what she might need to hear. She looked bewildered, thoughtful – relieved.
She shook her head, holding her hands up helplessly, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.
"I can't even understand why I'm hung up on this, why," she trailed off, her tone frustrated, her shoulders tense. "Han's right, this is not – the end of the world, but it feels so, so, final – and those thoughts made me feel so – selfish and ungrateful."
"Han told you it wasn't the end of the world?" Bail asked, a little wary – that sounded a bit dismissive.
Leia gave a quiet snort of derision.
"No, of course he didn't, Han would never," she quite abruptly started to cry, stumbling over her words – "Han has been so sweet and so supportive, and I love him so much," she gasped, wincing at herself. She caught her tongue in her teeth. "Oh, I'm sure you have no interest in hearing me this moonstruck."
Bail smiled a little dryly.
"I'm glad he's that good to you," he said simply.
Leia covered her face for a moment, nodding. One moment she was fatalistic, the next she was optimistic, she went from withdrawn to upbeat to scared – hormones, surely, but it was also – so many other complex feelings.
Bail waited for her to settle down a little, watching her wipe her eyes, and he sat forward to be on eye level with her, leaning down.
"The mind just goes wild, in times of heartache. You fixate on odd things. You lose sight of logic, or you start to be too logical. You start to think optimism is futile, but you remember that hope never is," he paused, and nodded to affirm his words: "You take it day by day, Leia, and you don't beat yourself up over decisions you haven't even had to confront yet."
Leia licked her lips, staring down at her feet. She slowly lifted her head to look at the flames still dancing in the flowers, and she pulled one of her hands in towards her abdomen, brushing her fingertips against it.
"Daddy," she started bravely. "I think…this is it for me," she began slowly – she had told Han himself, even, that she had not had an encompassing desire to be a mother; so much of what defined her decision, and her desire, to have a baby was Han, and right now, it still remained that she wanted a baby that was his – "I don't think I want a baby if I can't have it myself. With Han."
She pursed her lips.
"And it's going to be so hard if I can't."
Bail interlaced his fingers, his expression serene.
"Leia, in life, people make different choices – all their own, all for personal reasons," he said. "That's normal. That's fair. You just see what happens."
Leia nodded – she looked at the flowers still.
"I know…there's no reason to believe I can't," she said, fixated for a moment on the flowers – "I mean this," she shrugged, thinking of her mother, of Jobal; "this happens to so many women. I could be okay."
Bail nodded.
He considered her for a moment longer, and then he said, succinctly –
"You are not required to adopt simply because you were adopted," he told her sagely, "and you do not know what is going to happen. You might change your mind - or, you might try again, and have it all go well," he smiled softly, and whispered, "and this will just be another sadness of the past."
If the worst did happen, she – and Han; though Bail didn't know Han's specific thoughts on this, he presumed Han had the same chemical inclination that many men had, to want a baby that was his in the specifically physical sense – might very well change their minds; they might see it more as spiritual, than physical. Bail – acutely, and deeply personally, understood how difficult it was to overcome certain biases, when nature demanded it. The fact remained, though - that people were different; for some, adopting a child was a no-brainer, the first choice even when fertility was a given, for others, adoption was not the answer even in the face of a childless life; there were complicated facets to all decisions, in all parts of life, and this was no different.
"For what it's worth, Leia, you might have your own reasons against adoption as a result of yours ending in a somewhat traumatic crisis of self," he said honestly. "That's valid. I don't think it erases the family we were, you, your mother and I," he went on, self-aware, logical – "adopted children have plenty of struggles – they differ from the struggles of biological children, but there are struggles, all the same."
Leia considered it – and maybe I'd rather deal with the inarguable genetic connection to Vader, than the horror of dragging some poor, orphaned innocent into this public family hellscape.
She didn't think her life was a hellscape, though; and in most cases, considerations regarding children went back to the same root: would they be happy, healthy, safe, provided for? She had this fierce resistance to adoption right now - and perhaps, deep down, it stemmed from a selfish root; she had looked upon the prospect of motherhood with such hope and conviction, and she had wanted it to be one thing in her life that was perfectly, completely hers, without baggage - no other parents, no other legacies, or identity crises; perhaps her father was right - she respected adoption, but shied from it, because of the intersectional burdens: she knew what it was to have a slight, disconcerting wonder in the back of her mind regarding where she came from - she wanted this to be hers, and Han's - and maybe, the complexity of her thoughts on that did not diminish her admiration for adoptive parents, her own included. Nor did it delegitimize adoption.
Leia looked at the flowers for a long time, silent now, thinking of all the places her mind had gone lately, all the people she had talked to – she stared at her mother's seven flames, and her new one, burning there together, and she felt braver, and smaller, all at once.
"I want answers, and I might never get them," she murmured.
Bail sat back casually.
"You have a follow-up appointment?" he asked.
Leia nodded, compressing her lips.
"In two days," she said, lifting her shoulders. "I want it over with," she sighed tiredly. "I want a point to…move on from."
She sat back, too, and wiped her face. She looked up at the altar lazily, her mind calming in the presence of her father's understanding – and the presence of her mother, too, she thought - some ethereal, spiritual part of her.
"Are you prepared for having no real answer?" Bail asked.
"I don't think so," Leia answered, quick and simple, "but…I'll find a way to cope. I always do."
She was quiet a while, and then closed her eyes heavily.
"It would be…so much easier, if I hadn't," she trailed off. "If I wasn't – sensitive," she said vaguely. "So…aware of it's presence, of…the life fading."
Her father reflected on that.
"No," he said gently. "It wouldn't be easier. Perhaps in some ways – but harder in others."
Leia accepted that – accepted it, because it explained, in some unexpected way, why in some hours in the Med Centre, after the worst of it was over, after there was nothing but hollowness inside her – she had felt some spark of relief, and not because she was relieved she had miscarried – nothing such as that – but an almost soothing whisper from the Force, almost peaceful, telling her – it was better for it this way; something was wrong – the distress was too much.
There were some who said that miscarriage was a way of nature making a decision that modern medical advances had wrenched away from it, and placed into the laps of devastated parents - and Leia thought – if something was wrong with my baby – at least I didn't have to make the choice.
At least Han and I didn't have to.
She took a deep breath, and looked over at her father.
"Thank you," she said quietly. She looked around the chapel, reveling in the comfort she found here. "I don't know what I would do without you," she said – both to her father, and the overwhelming presence of her mother.
Bail smiled good-naturedly.
The two of them, father and daughter, sat in silence for a while; awash in the glow of candlelight, quietly reflecting, taking solace in the sanctuary that was left of Alderaan – and then Bail spoke, gentle, and slow:
"The Christening ceremony, at the Haven," he began. "I wonder if you would prefer Rouge," he started.
Leia was already shaking her head.
"No," she said, very soft. She nodded at the flowers. "Mama would have done it. I'll do it."
Bail nodded.
"You may change your mind," he allowed mildly. "I know that would have been close to term for you. You need only say the word."
Leia nodded.
"Thank you," she said softly, turning her eyes on him.
She shifted her hands towards her abdomen – she said nothing to her father of it, but she had been looking over the files of couples for the Christening in the past few days, finding both solace, and heartache in it.
She had thought there might be a chance it worked out that the Christening ceremony was for her baby – but that was not to be – and it would have been an inconvenient to her duties, to be pregnant, or have a newborn at the time –
Leia swallowed hard at the callous thought, furrowed her brow – part and parcel of the hormones, of the process; intrusive thoughts, feelings that were alternatively devastated, or confident.
After a moment, she asked –
"The aviary, Mama's," she murmured. "Was it her safe place?" Leia lifted her eyes. "The birds, were they how she filled the emptiness?"
She saw her father nod out of the corner of her eye, and smiled a little.
"You have your own little bird, do you not?" Bail asked, arching a brow.
Leia laughed hoarsely.
"He's a mooka," she mumbled. "Zozy."
Bail arched his brows.
"I thought Han was kidding," he said dryly, and Leia laughed again, deeper this time, richer.
"Oh, Han," she sighed.
Han, who couldn't decide if he loved or hated that damn thing, now, he spent half his time trying to teach it tricks and the rest of the time outraged that Leia let it sneak up on their pillows at night and snuggle with her, nudging Han out of the way –
Bail looked at the smile on his daughter's face, and felt confident that she would be okay – she had a lot of her mother in her, blood or no blood – and for that matter, she had plenty of strength from the mother that was physically in the blood; both were incredible women – and so, Bail felt, was Leia; incredible enough to get through this, and destined, he thought, to find her answers to this much sooner than she thought – with much more ease than all of her parents had.
Luke ventured out to the Falcon's private hangar in the late afternoon partly for lack of anything better to do – much like Han, he was a fighter pilot without a fight, these days; a commander without real commands to give. Luke was so often on personal or extended leave in his Jedi searches that his military command was more of a formality, as it were, and for reasons that were in some ways the same as Han's, in some ways different, he, too, had his doubts about re-commissioning when the new commitment cycle came up. He wanted to devote his time to the study of his art, the fortification of his knowledge in the Force, so he could have confidence in passing that art down to new generations.
It was thinking of future generations – those lost, those wanted, those still on the horizon – that led him to seek out Han shortly after he and Leia returned from Corellia. He wanted to check up on them both – speak with them, offer support, reassure Leia where he could – but he considered it best to approach Han first, test the waters.
Leia was dealing with enough as she re-ingratiated herself in work, and brief as it had been, Luke had spoken with her while she was tucked away at her mountain retreat. Beyond the tense night at the med center, he hadn't really had a chance to sit with Han – and he had a mild suspicion that Han's needs might have been neglected, for the sake of Leia's, in all this. That wasn't to say triage was a poor way to address emotional trauma – Luke was painfully, physically aware of how damaging Leia's was – but he had no frame of comparison for what it was like for Han, and he figured he could provide some head space for his friend that was – disconnected, a little.
The Falcon's ramp was down, and he traversed it easily, glancing around the outside to see if anyone was there. He ran into Chewbacca in the mainhold, and the Wookiee greeted him with a warm growl and a grin, rubbing his paw over Luke's hair. As he smoothed it, Luke asked –
"Han here?"
Chewbacca nodded, and grunted, gesturing back at the cabin.
[Of course he is here. He is supposed to be at work,] he quipped, and Luke gave him a sheepish look in response, tugging at the collar of his orange flight suit.
"Errr," he muttered. "Me too."
Chewbacca snorted, but shook his head good-naturedly, waving Luke off towards the cabin blithely. Since Chewie had directed him that way without caution, Luke made his way there and ducked in, his hands tucked into his pockets as he stepped over the threshold – the door was flung wide open, but almost as he was saying Han's name – rather loudly, at that – he realized the man in question was asleep.
Sprawled out on his bunk at an angle that looked – significantly less than comfortable – Han's feet were hanging off the bunk because of how far he'd scrunched down. He had a pillow tucked awkwardly under his chest, his head hanging off of it, and he jerked a little when he heard Luke call his name.
Blinking roughly, he lifted his head and grimaced, looking very much like people often did when they had been taken in by an impromptu nap – and from what it looked like, Han had spent most of that nap stubbornly twisting around trying to get comfortable, without surrendering to actually getting into bed and committing to a bona fide, mid-day sleep.
Luke frowned apologetically, holding his hands up.
"Damn," he swore under his breath. "Uh, sorry, Han," he said with a wince. "Chewie said – he didn't mention you were asleep – "
"S'fine," Han said gruffly, wincing. He sat up, and swung his legs off the bunk, his boots hitting the floor with concrete finality. "Need to be up," he muttered thickly, rubbing his hands over his face – he frowned, and checked his wrist, hen arched his brows, annoyed. "Didn't mean to sleep that long," he griped.
Luke folded his arms, looking curious for a moment, and then he compressed his lips, nodding in understanding.
"Leia's havin' bad nights, huh?" he asked quietly.
He knew – by virtue of Chewbacca, and his own experience in finding Han asleep on the Falcon at random hours – that there were times when Han snuck away to catch up on missed sleep, if things were particularly rough during his normal sleep schedule. Luke had rarely mentioned it to Han, and he'd never dare mention it to Leia – he knew, just as Han did, that it would do a number on her if she thought she was disturbing Han or making life hard on him in ways it didn't have to be, and she'd – probably lose some of the respite she found knowing he was unbothered by her restlessness.
Han didn't resort to sneaking shut-eye on the Falcon very often; for the most part, Leia wasn't half as bad as she thought she was, when it came to waking him up, or having restless nights – he was so used to it, more often than not he could soothe her half-asleep himself – but these past few weeks had been rough ones.
Not only for her – he had his own reasons for insomnia, hypersensitivity to her wakefulness.
He gave a short little nod.
"You blame 'er?" he asked dryly, knowing full well that Luke did not, and Luke answered –
"No," – redundantly, and with heavy understanding.
He shrugged a little, a grimace touching his lips.
"I had a bit of trouble sleeping," he muttered.
Han nodded, squinting.
"Sorry 'bout that," he said slowly.
Luke compressed his lips hesitantly, thinking at first Han was being sarcastic – but he realized Han was sincere, and just didn't know what to say. Han usually didn't know what to say in reference to Luke and Leia's Force connection.
He watched Han yawn, and then start rubbing his shoulder and neck, wincing. He was getting – too damn old to be sleeping sprawled out casually on the bunk like that – and he swore under his breath at himself, also thinking he was too damn young to be thinking things like that.
He glanced up at Luke.
"You need somethin'?" he asked mildly.
"Huh-uh," Luke answered, shrugging. "Uh, nothing, no, I was just dropping by to see how you are," he admitted bluntly. "Hope that doesn't bother you."
Han shrugged, shook his head.
"It doesn't," he said, and then eyed Luke's flight suit. "Skivin' off your shift, eh?" he joked.
"Aren't you?" Luke retorted pointedly, and Han grinned wryly, and nodded, his brow crinkling. He sat up a little straighter.
Luke folded his arms and leaned against the wall, looking smug.
"Leia know you're losin' your passion for the Rebellion?" he teased.
"She know you are?" Han fired right back. He shared a mildly accusatory look with his brother-in-law, and then shrugged, reaching up to grab onto the top of the bunk, stretching one of his legs out flat with a wince. "S'not the Rebellion anymore," he muttered.
Luke nodded in earnest agreement.
"Which is good," he said sincerely. "But, uh, the military in peacetime – "
"Is just politics?" Han finished.
Luke shrugged.
"Well, its bureaucratic," he placated.
Han snorted.
"That's what Leia says when she wants me to go to a function but doesn't want to trigger me."
"Trigger you?" Luke quoted.
Han gave him a half-smirk.
"She thinks political events trigger me."
Luke laughed.
"So?"
"So, she'll call 'em bureaucratic get togethers," Han elaborated.
Luke smirked.
"What does she think happens if you get triggered?"
"She thinks, maybe based on fact, maybe she made it up, beats me," Han said, with an air that said he was consciously aware that she was not making it up at all, "that I'll drink a lot and grab her ass."
Han yawned again and sat forward, leaning on his knees.
"True," he muttered, laughing smugly to himself.
Luke rolled his eyes.
"Great, thanks for the info," he muttered.
Han shrugged. He smirked, and lifted his head, jerking his chin at Luke a little.
"You okay, kid?" he asked seriously.
Luke blinked a few times, caught off guard.
"Hey, I said I was coming to see how you were," he answered.
Han shrugged.
"Yeah, but you were pretty messed up," he said gruffly. He didn't elaborate, because he was sure Luke didn't want to be reminded, but when they'd asked him to give a little blood just to shore Leia up some, he'd passed out during the process – which Han had never known the kid to do before.
Luke shrugged.
"It didn't last," he said quietly. "You know, after," he shrugged uncomfortably. "It mostly faded for me, after," he stopped again. "Did Leia talk to you about this? Do you know - ?"
"Yeah," Han said shortly, looking down at his palms. "She told me. I get what you're saying. The heartbeat stopped."
Luke nodded, his expression solemn.
"I haven't been…sure if I did the right thing, coming over," he said hesitantly, "because I know I barged in, I just hadn't really felt her that…distressed before."
Han appeared to flinch a little – never uncomfortable with references to Leia suffering something – but nodded, looking up firmly.
"It was okay," he said. "I wasn't doin' such a great job of handlin' it, Luke," he said honestly, a sour look crossing his face. "Couldn't find my damn comm, didn't know what she wanted me to do," he trailed off, shrugging roughly. "Glad you showed up."
"Okay," Luke said simply.
He hesitated, and scuffed his foot on the floor.
"You don't have to ask about me," Luke added. He frowned, unsure if he should continue, and then said – "It wasn't my baby."
Han looked back down at his hands. He rubbed his thumb in a rough circle in the middle of his palm, and nodded.
"I'm sorry, Han," Luke said quietly. He lifted one shoulder uncomfortably. "I don't really know how else to say it. Guess it's kind of empty or generic but…I am. For you and Leia."
Han nodded again. He looked up, narrowing his eyes intently.
"Yeah," he said. "Thanks, kid. Appreciate it."
Luke nodded back. He waited a few moments, in silence, and then cleared his throat.
"You're okay, then?" he asked.
Han got up, really stretching, and paced across the room to one of his metal storage bureaus, turning and leaning against it. He tilted his head far back, staring at the ceiling, blinking, and then straightened to a more comfortable, natural position, his hands braced on the edge of the bureau as he rested back against it.
"'M okay," he said flatly. He frowned tightly. "Just worried 'bout Leia," he said simply.
"How was Corellia?" Luke asked.
Han shifted, and folded his arms, his brows going up. He nodded more confidently.
"Good," he said, sure of himself. "It was right, goin' there," he said. He glanced at Luke, brow furrowed. "She talked to you, didn't she? Called you that day she called Tavska?"
Luke nodded.
"Not for long, not about much," he said honestly. "I think she just wanted reassurance that…she wasn't responsible, y'know," he said gruffly. He bowed his head a little, thinking of that night, thinking of Leia demanding of him – Luke, can't you do something! He shuddered, wishing he'd had a better answer – he had no power to reverse death, and even if he did, something deep in the depths of his soul told him that was a violently perverse act, to take command of the Force's will and twist it.
"You couldn't have done anything, right?" Han asked brusquely. He didn't sound suspicious – he sounded dismissive, but maybe a little interested. "You don't…I mean, I've never seen you do nothin' like that."
Luke shook his head.
"Don't have power over death," he said flatly. His brow furrowed tensely. "Things happen the way they do – " he stopped talking, noticing Han give a sharp twitch of his shoulder, as if a warning that he didn't want to hear any faithful platitudes.
Luke fell silent, and then said:
"She mostly wanted to talk about the Force aspect of it," he said quietly. "Um, she…well, I don't have any guidance on that, but she wanted to…confide, I guess?"
Luke, she'd said quietly, there might have been reason the Jedi order did not allow women to do this.
Luke wasn't sure what to think of that, except perhaps it was some way of protecting them from crushing sorrow that may have been – distracting, or debilitating –
But life had its crushing sorrows no matter what, and Jedi had always been privy to them more often than the average person, given their profession; for them to mandate that women weren't entitled to embark on their own choice regarding whether or not to risk sadness was – misguided; unfair.
The men had no such restrictions - but then, Leia's experience left Luke wondering if he would have some similar experience, if the same thing were to happen to his own child; would there be some connection, or was Leia's so strong and so bewildering because it was, in more ways than genetics, she was physically a part of it, for the first significant months of life?
He had felt, through Leia's own inability to shield herself, the sudden absence of a glow that had been about her lately, but he hadn't really felt it like she had, his agony had been more tangential to hers, specifically.
I feel more attuned to the Force, and I can't make sense of it – Leia had told him, tired, eyes red, while Han was away at the market – I think it took a lot of innate power to feel so aware of that little presence, and now everything is amplified.
Luke doubted she'd have been so aware if she'd gotten pregnant before she ever knew she was Force sensitive – she wouldn't have been looking, might have misidentified things.
Han was staring at him expectantly, and Luke cleared his throat. He shrugged.
"I mean, all things considered, she seemed to be doing okay," he said hoarsely.
His brow furrowed almost curiously, and Han smirked dryly, nodding.
"She is," he said sincerely. "I mean, she's real upset," he said, and Luke nodded – obviously – "but, uh," Han continued, "she doesn't seem…scared of bein' upset. S'like she's not…bothered by it."
He went quiet for a moment.
"'M proud of her," he said, almost to himself.
Luke smiled, and Han shifted his weight, frowning a little.
"Been a little harder, gettin' back to things," he said flatly. "Y'know, Corellia was good, but it was kind of a bubble – which she needed, but," he trailed off. He shrugged roughly. "Facin' people's hard for her."
Han actually gave a little grime shudder.
"You know she'd just told Carlist and Mon, that day?"
Luke nodded, grimacing.
"The press seems tame, though," he offered.
Han snorted.
"Yeah, that threw 'er off a little," he said. "Winter joked that they were all distracted because Evaan and Pooja leaked a bunch of nude pictures of Bail."
Luke looked alarmed.
"What? I didn't see any. He has – what?"
"Kriff, kid, they were jokin'," Han snorted, rolling his eyes. "It made her laugh, though. Not sure why the press doesn't seem to give a damn she disappeared for two weeks," he said dryly.
They sure seemed to give a damn about every other single thing Leia – or he himself – did.
This time, Luke shrugged.
"Guess it's close enough to your year anniversary maybe the thought you went on a second honeymoon."
Han looked grim.
"Some second honeymoon," he muttered.
Luke cringed. He tucked his hands behind him to cushion his perch against the wall, and frowned, watching Han sadly – he did seem okay; quite like Leia, he seemed in control, but acutely aware of grief, and able to cope with it – of that, Luke was glad, for both of them.
"Well," Luke began, cocking his head, "is that thing she keeps taking with her to work helping her ease back in?" he teased, arching a brow smugly.
Han looked uncertain, and then glared at him, frowning.
"Zozy?" he asked, knowing full well what Luke meant.
Luke laughed.
"Her name is Zozy?"
"She's a he," Han started – and Luke laughed harder.
"It's a boy thing named Zozy?"
"It's a boy mooka, and yeah, it's named Zozy, 'cause it's named what Leia wanted to name it," Han fired back stubbornly, turning a menacing glare on Luke. "And you're not gonna make fun of it."
"Nah, not to Leia," Luke said. "To you, I sure as hell am gonna make fun of it."
Han scowled at him.
"Mooka?" Luke asked. "Where'd you find somethin' like that?"
"At the market," Han muttered grimly. "He was kinda cute, 'cept," he lifted his hand, and showed Luke the tiny little bit marks all over it – Zozy's favorite chew toy was Han's knuckles, and Han had attempt to put a stop to it once by popping Zozy on the snout, but the little guy had looked so offended and betrayed that Han grudgingly allowed him to resume.
Luke's eyes widened, and he snorted.
"He was rejected by his mother, the guy hockin' him said," Han said gruffly. "And, he makes Leia smile."
Luke looked smug, but nodded in understanding.
"She needs that, right now," he allowed.
Han nodded, and Luke shifted his weight, reaching into his pocket. He held his hand there for a moment, and then cleared his throat –
"Hey, uh – look, I got somethin', for Leia – well for both of you, sort of," he muttered uncertainly. "Or um, for the baby," he said slowly, pulling his hand out of his pocket, "and I was gonna give it to her if he had a shower – or, at her shower, 'cause Sola wanted to plan one," he trailed off, holding it in his palm. "Anyway," he muttered, "I figured I'd ask you what I should do."
Han leaned forward, looking over at what Luke was offering. It was carved, clearly by hand, the size of Luke's palm, and had all round edges. Curious, Han picked it up, his brow furrowing, and he leaned back, examining it.
"Is it a rattle?" he asked, stumped.
Luke shook his head.
"No, it's for teething," he said. "It's carved out of japor ivory," he explained.
Han held it in his palm with interest.
"Splinters," he mumbled, looking at Luke warily.
Luke grinned.
"Hey, at least we know you think like a concerned parent," he said gently, and then nodded. "The carvings are treated, to make it soft, not dangerous – japor only grows in desert rains, you know," he said. "It's rare on Tatooine, and precious, so it's good luck."
"Yeah," Han agreed – he'd spent enough time in the cantinas on the desert planet to know, and even some of the Hutts had been reverent of japor – reverent here meaning they paid dearly for it.
Luke cleared his throat.
"When I was a little kid, all my toys were japor," he said. "Aunt Beru made sure of that, so," he shrugged. "I made that for Leia," he trailed off a bit. "I don't know if I should give it to her, now," he said. "Figured I'd ask you."
Han turned it over, looking at it with interest, tightness in his chest. He frowned, unsure what to think – currently, he had the few baby-related things they had been given stored in a drawer in the very bureau he was leaning against. He'd placed the arallutes in there, and the seeds Tavska had given Leia – not to hide them, but to keep them safe until Leia was ready for them.
He hadn't told her he was removing that stuff, but he had tucked it away, and she seemed tacitly grateful. He'd also tucked away a blanket Winter had bought them on an over-excited whim, and white knit booties that Ryoo Naberrie had sent – a traditional good luck gift, on Naboo – and had arrived yesterday. Ryoo had reached out to warn Han they were coming, and Han intercepted them before Leia saw them.
He weighed the teething toy in his hand.
"Well," he muttered. "'M keepin' some stuff, until some time's passed," he trailed off. "You want to give this to 'er yourself, I reckon?" he asked.
Luke nodded.
"I'd like to," he said quietly.
Han nodded, and handed it back – not for his drawer, then.
"Ask me in a couple months, okay?" he decided gruffly. "Things're still…raw."
Luke nodded fervently, tucking it back into his pocket.
"Sure, no problem," he said quickly.
Han nodded a few times himself, and then offered:
"Jobal called to talk to her," he said. "Leia called 'er back the other day, had some…woman-to-woman time," he muttered. He looked at Luke intently. "S'a good thing you stayed on her about gettin' to know them," he said firmly. "I think havin' that really helps."
Han sounded almost aggressive in his gratitude, and Luke shrugged, nodding eagerly – he was glad they had that, too; he was glad Jobal had been some kind of comfort to Leia in a time of need – a time when she clearly would have very much needed female support.
"They want to help in any way they can," Luke said seriously. "They don't want to bother her, obviously, but all of them have reached out to me."
Han nodded, and it sounded like he muttered a word of thanks –
"She'll probably call Ryoo," he said, almost to himself. "She liked what Ryoo had to say about havin' kids."
Luke nodded, folding his arms. After a long moment of silence, he asked –
"Her doubts are back?"
"Dunno, kid," Han said, rapidly and heavily – he did not divulge any information about the pessimistic conversation he and Leia had about it. He still wasn't sure she was far enough removed from the pain to think straight about it, and he very much wanted to avoid saying or doing anything that would make her think he resented her taking time, or having negative thoughts – and their appointment, they still had their appointment.
If it could give them some clarity, if everything could just be all right –
Han sighed curtly, and shrugged. Luke nodded sagely as if he understood – the freshness of the loss was a factor, and it was no small feat, getting through pain like this.
"What about you?" Luke asked simply.
Han lifted his shoulders.
"Still want 'em," he said slowly. "Don't wanna see her go through that again."
Luke tilted his head.
"'Course not," he said, shrugging. He hesitated. "I don't think she will," he said abruptly. "I think there was something – "
"Luke," Han growled, interrupting, his expression warning.
"No, I'm not gonna say something was good about it," Luke said quickly. "I just…don't know if it was – senseless."
He left it at that, furrowing his brow – Leia had told him she knew this was going to happen; not when she found out she was pregnant, but after the fact, when all was said and done and experienced – I saw this, Luke; don't you remember? I saw it. And I think – I think even I knew, somehow, this might be what it meant – I asked you, at Varykino, how to – how to analyze a vision - !
Luke understood the irritating nature of hearing that something had happened for a reason, and in many, many cases, he was not a proponent of absolving tragedy for the sake of faith, but he felt – there was something here.
Some purpose.
Whether it was – Leia's experience in deep, healthily handled grief, or something yet to be discovered –
Han shrugged. He laughed a little harshly.
"It's rough," he said tensely. "She was so…happy."
"You both were," Luke said encouragingly.
Han nodded curtly, and his brother-in-law smiled sadly, glad to see Han could admit that in a straightforward manner. Han unfolded his arms and braced them back against the bureau again, tilting his head at Luke. He narrowed his eyes, and then tilted his chin, clearing his throat.
"Got you two talkin' again," he said gruffly. "This whole thing – you get Leia on board with your demon girlfriend?" he asked bluntly. "She didn't say much about it."
Luke gave him a withering look.
"Demon?" he quoted.
"Well," Han drawled, smirking a little, "that's what Leia called her once."
Luke scowled mildly.
"Me," Han said, tapping his chest, "I called her the mean-eyed redhead."
"I'll pretend you said green-eyed," Luke said loudly, narrowing his eyes. He frowned, thinking back, and hesitated – "She was – a bit more receptive," he allowed fairly.
Han tilted his head back and forth. His jaw tightened.
"Might just take a while," he said. "Y'know, might just need to meet her and go from there," he added frankly.
"Maybe," Luke said, sighing.
Han shot him a look.
"You tell her about all this?" he asked sharply.
Luke was quiet, and finally he said, vaguely:
"I tell Mara everything. She repeats nothing."
Han grunted, a noncommittal, indecipherable noise. He figured that was fair. There was plenty of stuff Han relayed directly to Leia, even if he figured it was probably confidential or privileged – and Leia did the same to him. Someone's significant other was – always the exception to a secret.
"I want to meet her," Han said abruptly.
Luke arched his brows.
"You do?"
"Yeah," Han said, as if it were obvious. "'Course I wanna meet the woman who made you a reformed slut," he said, deadpan.
Luke rolled his eyes, and Han grinned.
"I don't have the same hang ups as Leia on some stuff," he said bluntly. He'd done some things from behind command center walls and filters, when he was at the Academy, that he didn't like to reflect on, and that he hadn't thought too much into at the time.
"You always align with Leia, though," Luke said hesitantly.
Han nodded, shrugging casually.
"Yeah, and I won't meet her until Leia's ready, or 'til Leia feels comfortable with it, even if she doesn't wanna meet her yet," he explained slowly. He shrugged again. "I can defend her side, and uh, kind of, get it, without thinkin' the same. Most times."
Luke tilted his head, nodding thoughtfully.
"Interesting," he said. "Okay. Mara thinks you're boring, though," he warned, deadpan in his own right.
Han looked affronted. Luke nodded solemnly.
"She thinks all you care about is Leia."
Han looked even more affronted.
"She's got a problem with me carin' about my wife?" he growled.
Luke laughed.
"She thinks you're whipped," he mocked.
Han looked at him very seriously, incredulous, and Luke felt sure he was about to protest – when he instead said -
"I am whipped!" He jabbed his hand at Luke, narrowing his eyes knowingly. "You better get wise real fast, kid, 'cause if you love that woman, you're fucked, your life belongs to her, and," he said pointedly, "it's gonna shock you how much you want it to be like that. It's gonna blow your damn mind."
Luke, eyes wide, stared at Han for a moment, and then leaned back, arching a brow slowly.
"Yeah," he said slowly, thinking maybe he was starting to feel more and more like that, every moment he spent with Mara. "You're right."
"Damn straight," Han growled.
He stood there, nodding firmly to himself, and Luke grinned for a moment, looking around the cabin. He noticed the modified bunk, and his grin faded to a small, sadder smile, quietly wishing Han and Leia hadn't been through this – Han and Leia had been through too much already.
He didn't need to ask about the modifications; he understood them without clarification. He looked at it for a while, his head tilted, comically wondering if Han ever, ever imagined modifying his precious, fixer-upper of a ship to be safe for a baby – and when he looked up, Han was staring at him, watching him study the little bunk.
Instead of referencing it, Luke changed the subject – normal conversation was just as important, in terms of re-orienting oneself after a tragedy, as confronting the root of the grief was.
"So," he said curtly. "You think you're gonna re-up your commission, come next year?"
Han looked sheepish. He hesitated a little, and shrugged, shaking his head.
"Nah," he said grudgingly. "Don't think so."
"Me neither," Luke confided, with a wince. "I'm…gonna fully focus on the Jedi Order," he said.
Han nodded, and cocked a brow.
"Who's tellin' Leia we're both leavin'?" he joked.
"Uh, you," Luke said immediately, giving him an incredulous look.
Han glared at him. Luke shrugged, miming washing his hands of it – Han had plenty of ways he could ease the blow, since they both expected her to be a little nettled they were detaching from the New Republic machine – Luke did not have the same ways of soothing her, and did not want them – at all.
"What're you gonna do?" Luke asked, with interest.
Han gave a groan that sounded half like a whine, and threw his head back.
"She's gonna ask me that, isn't she?" he muttered – it was only fair, and he had no clue what to say. He frowned. "See, I was gonna have a reason to be home for a while," he muttered, trailing off.
Luke tilted is head.
"You wanted to…stay home with the baby?"
Han tilted is head back and forth.
"Was plannin' on learnin how to take care of it first," he said dryly, arching a brow. "Leia and I were both gonna take leave at first, but not all of it," he trailed off again – they were allotted up to a year, paid, under Coruscant standards, but almost no one utilized that extent of time – at least, not all at once; most parents broke it up.
Han waved his hand.
"Then I was just gonna…not…go…back," he muttered sheepishly.
Luke snorted; Han shrugged. He frowned, shaking his head.
"I gotta figure that out," he muttered.
"What'd you want to do when you were a kid?" Luke asked, cocking his head with interest.
"Fly," Han answered promptly.
He gestured around; he'd clearly done that.
Luke folded his arms, shrugging a little.
"You'll figure it out," he said. "Money's not an issue."
Han grunted. He knew that – but he didn't want to do nothing; he was used to work, he liked some aspects of what he did – he hadn't spent enough time thinking about it. As usual, the idea of playing it all by ear resonated with him more than anything – and there was more time to justify that now, since there was no immediate need for stability of the – paternal sense.
Luke unfolded his arms and went to straighten his tunic and his robe, tucking the teething tool deeper into his pocket to keep for later – he felt better, talking to Han; he felt like things were going as well as they could be – on the right track. Across from him, Han took a deep breath, and frowned, looking over at Luke.
"She's got that appointment tomorrow," he said gruffly, and shrugged. "Figure…we'll go from there."
Luke looked at him for a long time, and then straightened his shoulders and walked over to him. He hesitated, not entirely sure how Han would respond, and then leaned forward and gave him a firm, strong hug, nothing too intimate, but fraternal, and supportive, all the same.
Han responded with one arm, but no resistance or animosity. Luke drew back, and squeezed his arm.
"Good luck," he said sincerely.
Han reached up and ruffled Luke's hair, like he might have done to a kid brother, if he had one – like he did to Chewbacca, sometimes, when the Wookiee was in need of reassurance.
"Thanks, kid," he said hoarsely.
Luke stepped back, and Han lifted his arm, rubbing his wrist across his forehead – they stood in silence for a little while, but Luke – Luke had a feeling that things were going to go well for Han and Leia; he had a feeling that they were going to survive this more unscathed than they thought.
The walls of Doctor Arksiah Mellis' office were papered in a neutral, soothing lavender, trimmed in white, and artfully decorated with artistically abstract oil-and-water paintings of flowers – abstract, because Leia wasn't sure they could explicitly be called flowers, and her suspicions were confirmed the first time Han laid eyes on them, poked her ribs, and snorted under his breath – know what else those look like? – which prompted Leia to snap at him to behave himself, while quietly agreeing that Dr. Mellis clearly wanted to make the central theme of her profession clear.
Leia thought the office was lovely, for the most part; despite the fact that it was a place where she'd had a handful of nerve-wracking discussions – first, the initial ones, outlining what had happened to her on the Death Star, why she had concerns, then the conversations that analyzed her tests – and now this, this –
She was unsure what this was yet, and so she was pacing, ever so slightly; pacing, then coming to stop in front of various subtly metaphorical flower paintings, her lips pursed lightly, brow furrowed – despite having slept understandably poorly last night, she felt alert, and hyper vigilant.
She was acutely aware of Han's eyes following her lazily around the room – he seemed better at ease, but he had a little more confidence than she did; Han seemed to really – more wholly believe that this was just an inconsequential thing that had happened to them – ahh, not inconsequential in that it didn't matter, but inconsequential in that he didn't seem to think it indicated some catastrophic overall problem.
There's no reason to think this is the end –
Reason – is hard to grasp, right now, Han.
She knew he understood that she was struggling to cope on an emotional level, which impeded her better angels in comforting her logically. She also understood that he wasn't having the same problem, at least not with the same depth, and she didn't fault him for that.
She hoped – that this appointment could give them some insight, some better way to move forward with each other, and some, some peace of mind, for her. She hoped that was what they were in for – she had hope, she just -
It was like she had told Han, on Corellia; the less hope she had, the easier it was to be let down.
"Sweetheart," Han drawled. "If you keep lookin' at those paintings, 'M gonna get jealous," he teased.
Leia's brushed her fingers against her lips, tilting her head, smiling a little. She turned away from the one she'd been aimlessly staring at, and began to pace – over to Dr. Mellis' display shelves, which were full of little holos neatly presenting the progression of pregnancy. Leia bit down on the edge of her thumb and looked at those, narrowing her eyes hesitantly at one labeled neatly at – twenty weeks – her eyes shifted back to the one before – fourteen weeks – and then lingered, somewhere in the middle.
Somewhere, in the middle; there. Fifteen or sixteen –
"Leia," Han said softly. "Sit down, huh?" he coaxed gently – it made him nervous to see her so anxious, and it provoked a tight ache in his chest. Regardless of how much calm he had tried to project over the past week as they prepared for this appointment, the worry crept in, and that worry was accomplished by a slight, irrational irritation at Dr. Mellis – what was taking her so long, and if she dared tell Leia something Leia didn't want to hear –
Folding her arms tightly across her chest, Leia turned on her heel and paced along the wall again, her eyes flicking over flower motifs. She looked over at him, managed a small tight smile, and then she paced over to the empty chair placed in front of Dr. Mellis' empty desk.
Leia sat tensely on the edge of the chair, unfolding her arms and clasping her hands neatly in her lap.
His eyes running over the obvious stiffness in her spine, Han set his shoulders back, trying to think of a way to distract her, ease her stress in any way he could. The physical exam aspect of this appointment had already been an ordeal – uncomfortable, too evocative of what had happened a few weeks ago – Han swallowed hard, summoning some roguish charm.
"Come sit over here," Han suggested playfully, rubbing his hand on his thigh.
Leia shot him a withering look.
"We are in public," she hissed.
Han turned and looked incredulously at the closed office door, and then gave an exaggerated performance as he looked around the room, empty but for the two of them. He looked back at her, and she flushed, shaking her head.
"That's - wildly unprofessional," she retorted stubbornly.
Han sat back, resting his hand on the arm of the chair and looking at her calmly.
"S'gonna be okay, Sweetheart," he said. "Try to relax."
Leia closed her eyes and bowed her head a little. She breathed out slowly. She nodded, and looked back at him.
"Distract me."
"Small talk?"
"Mm, yes," she muttered, "just how I like it."
Han grinned. He thought about it a moment, letting them sit in silence, and then frowned, at a loss - how could he - well, he was pretty on edge, too, so –
"Think I'm gonna quit the military," he blurted.
Leia tilted her head, her expression blank as she stared at him. Very subtly, her eyes narrowed, and she parted her lips.
"Han," she said crisply. "That is not 'small' talk."
He grimaced.
"Yeah, sorry. I panicked."
That brought a smile to her face, and she began to shake her head a little, incredulous – this was the first she had heard of any serious inclination on Han's part to re-evaluate his career, and though she marveled at him for truly thinking now was a good time to bring it up – it cleared her mind of the unbelievable strain for a moment, and she pursed her lips.
"You're going to quit?" she asked, taking a steadying breath. "Or finish your commission and retire?"
She hoped the question didn't sound patronizing, or judgmental; she was genuinely curious, and to placate him in his concern for her, she did try to seize on to a different topic of conversation, rather than waiting here, her heart slamming painfully against her ribs, thinking about her baby, and her body, and all the things that could go wrong.
Han shrugged, frowning a little.
"'M not gonna just quit," he said, amending his statement a little.
Leia nodded.
She turned towards him, her knees pressed together, her head tilted – she pursed her lips.
"What would you do - ?" she asked, almost as Han shrugged and said – "Dunno what else I'd do – " skeptically, and both of them broke off at the sound of the door clicking open behind them.
Dr. Mellis' entrance was almost comically timed; cutting them both off and immediately redirecting their attentions back to the reason they were holed up in this office to begin with.
She smiled at them, closing her door snugly again and breezing over to her desk, a bundle of holo docs pressed against a data pad and tucked under her arm. Before she took a seat, she placed the documents on her desk, and shrugged off the customary white coat of her profession, hanging it casually on a hook near her display case.
"Leia," she said warmly, stepping closer – she extended her hand, and clasped one of Leia's in both of hers, bending down to brush her lips gently against Leia's cheek.
She squeezed her hand comfortingly, and straightened up, releasing it, and nodding to Han pleasantly as well.
"Han," she said. "I am sorry to keep the two of you waiting," she said sincerely, returning to her desk and taking a seat comfortably. "I chose to handle a call from an anxious mother before speaking with you, in hopes that we won't have any interruptions," she explained.
Leia nodded.
She set her shoulders back stiffly, and twisted her hands together in her lap, compressing her lips. Han watched her profile, noticing the paleness that crept into her cheeks, and he sat forward in his chair, reaching under it and taking one of the legs in his hand. He scooted closer to her, so he could reach out and run his knuckles lightly over her shoulder.
She turned her head a little, her lips pursing appreciatively, and gave a small smile to acknowledge the gesture.
Dr. Mellis gathered some of the things on her desk, and breathed out slowly, spreading her hands out and looking up at Leia calmly, her intelligent, bright eyes full of optimism – Leia looked back at her, apprehensive, unable to determine if that was – good news, or Dr. Mellis' way of appearing calm –
"Leia," Dr. Mellis said again, her tone soft, and conciliatory. "I am so very sorry you experienced this," she said quietly, sympathetic and genuine. "I am sure you have had statistics quoted at you about the prevalence of this sort of thing, and I am also sure that does nothing at all to make you feel the slightest bit better."
Han continued to run his hand up and down her arm, silently watching Dr. Mellis.
Leia gave a small, curt nod.
"I don't want to offer you any platitudes, but I do want to extend my apologies for not listening closer to your concerns, and valuing your instincts," Dr. Mellis went on. "I lack experience in your specific power, and I fell back on my own experience with nervous first-time mothers. I was wrong."
Leia blinked, and when Han turned to look at her, he could tell she was taken aback. She stared at the doctor for a moment, and then she swallowed hard, tilting her head.
"Would you have been able to alter it?" she asked quietly.
She herself didn't think Dr. Mellis had been dismissive of her concerns; Dr. Mellis had encouraged Leia to see an emergency medic if she was truly concerned, and Leia had taken that to heart – she didn't feel as if Dr. Mellis had obstructed her care in anyway.
Dr. Mellis shook her head.
"No, I am afraid not," she said honestly.
Leia nodded.
"Then let it be," she murmured.
Dr. Mellis nodded, but held up her hand flat, in a sign of peace.
"I still accept responsibility for speaking with you in a way that may have leveraged your instincts against my experience," she said. "That wasn't fair. I do know what I am doing," she said confidently, "but you know yourself, too, and even if there was little I could do in terms of prevention at the time," she bowed her head apologetically, "better emotional preparation for you may have softened the blow – for you too, Han," she said earnestly. "I am sorry."
Han blinked. His hand paused on Leia's arm.
"Uh," he grunted. "S'okay," he said slowly – he didn't think anything would have softened the blow, for him or for Leia, but – he smiled at her a little all the same, tiredly grateful; there was a reason Leia had settled so firmly on Dr. Mellis, and Han bitterly wished she'd been there during the worst of Leia's miscarriage, so she wouldn't have been in the hands of the bastard who had wanted to –
"And," Dr. Mellis said crisply, "I've spoken to the head of emergency regarding the medic who was on duty at the time of your intake."
She sat back, and said little else, her expression firm. Leia simply gave another nod – she herself hadn't said a word, too preoccupied with other things, but both Han and Bail had leveled such scathing complaints that – she didn't bother to add her own.
"Good," Han said aloud, his eyes narrowing. "That guy wanted to drug her, and work on her," he reiterated. "Without her consent."
Dr. Mellis nodded. She reached out and tapped a file.
"I've studied the report," she said dryly. "Though I would like to think he had good intentions, there is no room in medicine for ignorance of a patient's wishes," she said simply. "I know that procedure was difficult for you, Leia," she added. "Please know that – it was safest, in the end. It did give us some insights," she added.
Leia lifted her chin – she didn't speak to the procedure, just noted Dr. Mellis words with an understanding look, and then took a deep breath, flexing her fingers in her lap. She lifted one arm to rest it on the side of the chair, and Han's hand crept down her shoulder to her elbow, and then her wrist, slowly entwining his fingers with hers.
"Insights?" Leia asked, the word barely audible.
Han pressed his palm against hers, and looked warily at Dr. Mellis, his expression guarded – he studied her intently, trying to read her face – and the doctor nodded, her eyes brightening somewhat as she sat forward – businesslike, and invigorated.
"You should know immediately that you are medically cleared today - you're healing as you should, there appear to be no irregularities," she listed. "Hormone levels, blood work – everything is normal," she said. "If you still experience any discomfort in your sex lives," Dr. Mellis shrugged, matter-of-fact: "use lube."
Han glanced at Leia, just for the amusement of watching her face turn a little pink, and she poked at his palm with her fingers, annoyed at his scrutiny. He grinned a little, and turned back to the doctor, clearing his throat.
"You find anythin', Doc?" he asked gruffly, wasting no time. He nodded his head at Leia. "Don't drag it out," he muttered, giving a small grimace at the thought.
Dr. Mellis folded her hands, sighing, and lifted her shoulders.
"You know, the conversation I have with couples most often is generic, and bewildering. It doesn't answer question, and it leaves them feeling anxious, and confused," she explained. "More often than not, miscarriages just happen." She shrugged. "They just happen. There's no rhyme or reason; it just wasn't meant to be."
Leia nodded, her hand pressing into Han's. Dr. Mellis sat up a little, tapping her finger on one of her files.
"It is actually refreshing," she said, glancing down attentively, "to be able to give you two a concrete answer about what happened."
She pulled some documents in front of her, and Leia looked up sharply, her face losing its colour again – Han sensed her concerns immediately; something must be wrong, something's wrong, they found something wrong – no –
"There's a problem," Leia said quietly, her words dully. "With me."
Dr. Mellis looked at her intently, her lips compressed in a gentle, calming smile.
"No, Leia, there is not," she said, immediate, and firm – she didn't make Leia wait, or guess; she certainly didn't mince words. "We have identified a problem, and we can give you answers. There is an issue," she said, "but it is something we can correct."
Leia sat back, and Dr. Mellis cleared her throat. She studied her files for a moment, an then looked up, holding both of their gazes separately for a moment, and then – she turned a little to her left, settling on Han.
"The RH factor in your blood is different from Leia's," she said simply.
Han looked at her blankly, and then turned to look at Leia. She tilted her head, a look of quiet uncertainty on her face, and gazed back at him for a moment before looking over to Dr. Mellis. The doctor turned the document in her hands around, showing them figures and numbers, statistical charts –
"Leia, you have heavily RH negative blood," she explained clearly, "it's relatively rare, but I've had my apprentice do some research, and it seems to be highly prevalent in Force sensitive beings," she said. She pointed to another side of the chart. "Han, like most humans, your blood is RH positive – this is just an antigen in blood," she said bluntly, "it isn't harmful – no disease, nothing such as that."
Dr. Mellis laid that chart down, and pointed at Leia.
"Your brother's is negative, as well," she said. "I see he has the same concentration as you – he gave you a blood transfusion?"
Leia compressed her lips, and nodded – she hadn't lost much, in the miscarriage, but Luke was always quick to offer it, just in case – he was –
"He's," Leia said huskily, "Ah, he's one of the only people who can donate to me."
Dr. Mellis nodded.
"Yes, there's another enzyme in your blood that's common in Force sensitive beings, as well, but that one has no bearing here," she said briskly. She folded her hands, one finger pointed up, caught up in explaining. "In most circumstances, differing RH factors are not a problem in a first pregnancy, and with the access we have to testing, we would have discovered the issue anyway, and prevented it from being an issue in any subsequent pregnancies – "
"Okay," Han interrupted, a little on edge. "But – what's the problem? What's wrong with my blood?" he asked tensely.
Leia turned towards him a little; her lips pursed, and reached out to run her hand over his knee soothingly. He quieted a little, but leaned forward, his hand slipping out of hers as he waited, his jaw set.
"Well, as I said, the RH factor is not anything wrong," Dr. Mellis said. "I delayed Leia's amnio because it can carry small risks, and I did not see her pregnancy as high risk, thus we didn't determine the RH issue – but again, it wouldn't have been a problem under normal circumstances, not in the first pregnancy."
"What – " Han started harshly, and Leia squeezed his knee, quieting him.
She gave him a moment to bow his head, and take a deep breath, and then she cleared her throat, taking her own deep breath.
"What about my circumstances were," she paused, the word difficult for her to get out – "abnormal?"
Dr. Mellis sighed.
"You have an aggressive immune system," she said gently. "Another thing I found is common with Force sensitive beings – from what I can deduce, reading your medical records – you are rarely sick?"
Leia heisted, and swallowed hard. She nodded.
"You recover from injuries relatively quickly, comparable to others?" Dr. Mellis pressed.
Leia again nodded – even in her weeks of medical attention after the Death Star, one or two of the droids had remarked upon her pronouncedly quicker recovery.
Dr. Mellis nodded, and picked up her next chart.
"Your vigilant immune system compounded the risk here," she said. "Issue occurs when your blood blends with the baby's blood during pregnancy, which usually provokes no adverse reaction until the second time around, but here," she pointed to some more stats that Leia did not focus on, "your immune system resisted immediately, and that," Dr. Mellis took a deep breath, and turned back to Han kindly, "was likely due to the incredible concentration of carbon particles in your blood, which have fused to your blood cells."
Han sat back rigidly, an ache starting in his temple – carbon particles; blood – RH factor – this whole – this whole revelation screamed – that he was the problem – it was him –
"Now I know – you had an uncommonly prolonged exposure to carbon smoke and carbon compounds, correct?"
Han stared at her, until Leia cleared her throat softly.
"He did, yes," she said.
"That's a nice way to put it," Han said tightly, snapping to attention. "I had carbon poisoning," he said gruffly.
Dr. Mellis nodded. She laid down her file, and leaned back, folding her arms.
"I doubt you need me to tell you that what you survived, in terms of that incident, is somewhat of a medical marvel," she said casually.
Han's jaw tightened, he grimaced.
"You appeared to suffer no long term complications, am I right?"
Han swallowed hard.
"Bad vision, for a coupla days," he said stiffly. "Nausea, problems breathin' oxygen."
Dr. Mellis hesitated a moment, considering him thoughtfully.
"Understandably, the less advanced medical centers you had access to with the Rebellion chalked your recovery up to a miracle – a strong constitution," she said. A small, wry smile touched her lips. "Much as a I hate to deconstruct any notions of extreme masculinity you may hold, what has really been the case is that the prolonged exposure infected your bone marrow, which produces your blood," she explained.
Leia made a soft, strangled noise and leaned forward, covering her mouth. Dr. Mellis sat forward again, holding her hands up gently.
"He's okay," she said. "All I mean to say here is that Han's body is acclimated to dangerous levels of carbon, because it's incrementally becoming more and more present in his blood, as the marrow contaminates it more," she held up her hands, to mimic a scale, "it allowed for a quick recovery from carbon poisoning, but a slow process over all."
Leia ran her hands back over her face, her chest aching – she was distracted, for a moment, from the idea of her blood being somehow incompatible with Han's – which was ironic in the worst of ways, considering the differences in their social class – and acutely absorbed in the information she was being given.
She breathed out slowly, and hugged her abdomen, her lashes trembling.
"This marrow problem," she said slowly. "It's killing him?"
Han looked taken aback, skeptical.
"It ain't killin' me," he said, rolling his eyes. "'M fine, Leia, I never even feel sick. I – hell, I passed my last military physical," he broke off, giving a sharp glare to the doctor. "What're you talkin' about? You're scarin' her."
"I don't mean to," Dr. Mellis placated. She looked at Leia kindly. "I would not go as far as saying this is killing him," she said. "However, it is progressing towards what could be a serious problem – if I can try to explain, Han," she turned to him, and took a deep breath.
She inclined her head.
"Have you ever had…Selpox?" she chose flippantly.
Han shrugged tensely. He nodded once – short for Selonian Pox, it was a common illness on Corellia; pretty much everyone got it, and the vax against it was functionally useless.
"You have one case; you didn't get it again," Dr. Mellis illustrated. Han nodded, and she went on. "Your blood produced antibodies to it, so if the virus ever infected you again, you were protected. Likewise, your blood produced antibodies to attempt to fend off the overwhelming influx of carbon – but your marrow is replenishing the carbon, because it was contaminated to a toxic level. Essentially, you're maintaining a homeostatic balance, but if that balances tips, you will become very ill, and your marrow could be permanently damaged."
Leia caught her breath, turning to take his hand. She swallowed hard, her vision blurry for a moment – and would they ever have – found out, if –
"The high concentration of carbon in your cells, in addition to the RH factor incompatibility, was damaging to Leia's immune system – and, from what I can tell," she paused, her face grave, "caused some base cellular problems with the fetus after conception. Leia's body knows all that carbon is not supposed to be there."
Distress, Leia thought, remembering the overwhelming feeling she'd felt as the days rushed past, and she felt sicker – distress.
She closed her eyes tightly, and turned towards Han, breathing out. She reached for both of his hands with both of hers – and she didn't care ff Dr. Mellis saw her stress, or the beginnings of tears; this place was safe, and Dr. Mellis was a trusted confidant.
Han's hands were stiff in her grip, and he looked at the doctor tightly, his jaw aching as he held it closed. He unstuck it, finally, his mouth dry.
"So," he said, more harshly than he meant to. "It's my fault."
Leia looked up at him, her brow furrowing.
"No," Dr. Mellis said simply. "There is not room to be assigning blame, or speaking of fault, in things like this," she said. "My main concern right now is ensuring you get attention," she said. "Han, you need a few rounds of bacta therapy for your marrow. That will clear up the carbon issue."
Leia, her head spinning, stood up, pacing a little. She felt restless, and edgy – her spirits rose, thinking – answers, answers; answers she needed – and then sank, worrying about Han – Sith, he's been – I could have lost him, if we hadn't known –
She came to stand behind him, her hands coming down tenderly on his shoulders, beginning to rub. Han sat back stiffly, and then leaned into her, his expression stony, and fixed on the doctor.
"You figured all this out from…some…tissue tests?" he asked, getting the words out with difficulty. He didn't want anything he said to upset Leia, or jar her memory – he swallowed hard. "How come no one else – "
"The homeostatic baseline," Dr. Mellis said softly. "Military physicals only run standards tests, to ping abnormalities. Since," she paused, curious, and Leia supplied her with the place of incident – "Bespin," Dr. Mellis repeated, "your baseline has read as normal for carbon particles."
"You got that from the," Han faltered again, his expression frustrated, helpless.
"Fetal tissue," Dr. Mellis said, inclining her head – she said it gently, clearly understanding his hesitation, but without flinching – as if silently assuring him: this is a doctor's office, Han, and Leia can handle it. "Yes," she affirmed softly. "Your blood, and your cells, were there, too, Han."
Han fell silent, his jaw clenched so tightly it was aching – yeah, part of me and Leia; 'cept the parts of me poisoned her – so no one caught this, and because of it, she'd lost – he'd put her through–
He turned his face stubbornly to the side, and Leia's hand brushed against his neck comfortingly, her eyes focused on him gently for a moment. She stroked her knuckles against his skin, and swallowed hard, choosing to save a deeper conversation for later.
"Bacta treatment is all he needs?" she asked softly.
Dr. Mellis nodded encouragingly.
"Well, deep tissue, chemo-bacta," she amended, her expression still bright. "It is a simple procedure, and a very harmless one at that," she said. "Cleaning marrow is a surprisingly easy fix, these days."
Han sat forward tensely, and Leia's hands fell to his back, resting there gently.
"What about this RH shit?" he asked roughly.
Leia pressed her hand against his back, her brow furrowing.
"Han," she reprimanded softly, but Dr. Mellis seemed unfazed.
"It won't be an issue," she said kindly. "Once your blood is clear of the carbon, that toxicity will no longer be a risk, or there to exacerbate the RH risk," she said. "And in any case, RH incompatibility is fixed with a vax."
She lifted her head, and nodded at Leia, saying simply –
"When you're ready to get pregnant again, we'll vax you to engender synthetic protection."
She paused, a funny look on her face.
"I – I need to be vaccinated against Han?" she asked faintly.
She felt the incredibly absurd, inappropriate urge to laugh – how many times had commentaries, had the Elders, had the galaxy, commented on Leia and Han's different backgrounds, their different blood – and now this, this was a physical truth; their blood didn't mix.
Apparently giving in to the same odd urge she had, Han gave a derisive snort, a gruff laugh that had no real mirth in it. He ran his hands over his face tightly, his knuckles white, and Leia's stomach twisted – anxiety over him, how he was handling this – and yet, she felt pressure slough off her shoulders, and almost – almost wanted to smile.
She swallowed hard, gripping Han's shirt.
"When I'm – when I'm," she started, thinking of the words – ready to get pregnant again. "I can?" she asked, hesitating. "I can get … I can have a baby?" She ran her hands over Han's shoulders. "We can?"
Dr. Mellis folded her hands, and smiled warmly at Leia.
"You can," she agreed. "I have no qualms about encouraging you to try again," she said, "and you try when you're ready," she added firmly. "That may not be for a little while. Leia," she paused, "I can't promise you that you'll never have another miscarriage. The fact still remains that they happen. They just do. Most of the time, I can't give couples answers this concrete," she repeated. "You try to move forward, and you see what happens," she advised.
She tilted her head.
"If it were to happen again, we might re-evaluate some things," she said gently, "but this," she tapped her finger on the items on her desk, "this particular snag is reparable. It will not reoccur."
Leia's hands gripped Han's shoulders so tightly that he winced a little, sitting back – abruptly reminded she was there; yanked out of his own reverie. Leia struggled for a moment – daunted, as always, by the prospect of uncertainty – can't promise you it won't happen again – if it does happen again – but to know that – it wasn't something wrong with her, something indefinable; that the problem was something that could be fixed –
- and to find out that Han was safer, he was safer, because of this – it was a strange, conflicted feeling, but she handled it as gracefully as she could, standing there behind him; she leaned down to kiss his temple, and then retreated to her seat, moving it closer to his.
She took his hand, and caught his eye, biting her lip – she smiled, shakily, but a little relieved, and Han was – so relieved, for a moment, to see her smile, to know her mind was eased a little, her suffering alleviated, that he smiled, too; for a moment, he put aside the maelstrom of emotions that were plaguing him, and he clutched her hand in return, and smiled.
She moved her chair a little closer, and pulled his arm into her lap – she pressed her lips together, cognizant of the fact that it was going to take her a while to process all of this, really process it, but trying to embrace the moment a little, the hope if it – Han had been right, maybe this wasn't – the end of the world, and when she had moments of bliss right now, she tried to cling to them, because they often also reminded her that she was still prone to intense grief.
Han lifted his head, sitting back heavily. He turned to her and mustered a serene smirk, his posture full of its usual charm –
"You see, Sweetheart?" he offered soothingly. "Nothin' wrong with you."
She accepted a kiss on the forehead from him, and noticed how it lingered, how his eyes seemed to flick down a little, his jaw tighter – she laced her fingers into his more tightly, providing silent comfort – it will be okay, Han – you'll be okay.
"If you'd like," Dr. Mellis began gently. "We can discuss both a consult appointment for Han – my office can handle it, if we bundle it under a fertility procedure – no need for you to search for an additional doctor," Leia felt relief at Dr. Mellis' offer there – she must know how difficult it was for people of Leia's status and fame to find loyal, circumspect service in any industry – "and, Leia, some contraception options," she explained.
Leia had mentioned she wanted something to rely on again - and she still did, even the optimism of these revelations did not immediately stoke in her a desire to run home and try to get pregnant. She was still fragile, still had other concerns – Han, for one; Han –
She gave a little nod to Dr. Mellis, and the doctor beamed, pulling up her data pad to begin going over some more technical specifics.
Leia pulled Han's hand up to her lips, kissing his knuckles, and then the pulse point on his wrist, pressing it against her cheek lightly. He turned his head to look at her, and mustered another slow, easy smirk to bolster the relief she felt - the relief he wanted her to feel – and he felt it too; he felt good for her, and he felt good, in some ways, himself, to have answers but –
- the sudden guilt was bone-crushing, unbearable, and it choked him; it felt suffocating – Leia didn't seem to be looking at him with any accusation, anything remotely definable as hurt or betrayal, and yet he felt like he'd – failed her, done her wrong he -
He swallowed hard, staring at her even as she turned back to the doctor and listened to her calm explanations, and Han, in turn, pulled her hand to his mouth, and pressed his lips against hit, his throat tightening painfully – it wasn't the unforeseen threat to his health that left him gutted, but the idea that something in his blood, some part of him, had hurt her.
In the quiet, early hours of the morning following her appointment, Leia woke up slowly, lulled peacefully out of sleep by groggy wakefulness that crept over her naturally. Her lashes fluttered, blinked open to find faded yellow sunlight peeking around the thick curtains around the bedroom windows - and then she closed them again lightly, taking a moment to appreciate how rested she felt. It had been - such a relief of a night; she had felt lighter, more at ease, more comfortable in sadness, because some of the piercing anxiety was lifted - and to sleep undisturbed was a blessing, particularly on the eve of a day off from work. She had arranged her appointment specifically so that it preceded a non-work day, on the off chance they received bad news and she needed time to recoup - but as that hadn't been the case, she could spend this whole day ahead with Han, on a better note.
Thinking of him, she rolled over sleepily, her arm reaching out a little, feeling for his hip or his arm - coming up short, her eyes opened slightly, lips pursed; Han was never far, she never had to really reach; he was always right there. If he wasn't asleep with his head tucked against her shoulder or the back of her neck, he stayed close; she had never quite figured out if it was for her comfort, or for his own. She felt an immediate surge of disappointment when she found his side of the bed empty, sheets all tangled - one of his pillows appeared to be on the floor, even - she'd been thinking they could spend some time lingering in bed this morning. She was feeling more - up to it, so to speak, and she wanted him.
She brushed her hand over his empty spot, her lips turning down. Vaguely, it occurred to her he had a rougher night; he had taken a while to settle down, to stop tossing and turning; even in the depths of her better sleep, she knew that - she often found herself eerily attuned to him even when she wasn't actively focusing on him. She remembered, without knowing, somehow, that he'd had a bad night, and she turned onto her back, staring up at the canopy fabric thoughtfully, her lips pursed.
He had seemed distracted last night, on edge - and she thought, with a sinking feeling, he was more bothered by implications that his health was in bad form than he let on. Han was so, so - seemingly invincible, when he was injured, he was more prone to showing off his wounds than nursing them. This wasn't something he could flaunt, it was an internal affliction, and it had to be - haunting him, nagging at him like reminders of mortality often did. Leia brushed a hand over her forehead, thinking critically - and turned her head to the side.
"Han?" she called quietly, on the off-chance he was in the 'fresher.
She sat up, tucking the sheets around her torso, and waiting, thoughtful. Her eyes were drawn to Zozy, snuggled up at the foot of the bed, sleeping blithely, his tongue poking out of his snout. She burst into a grin - he was such a sleepy little thing, in the mornings - and then her smile faded, as she looked around still, wondering where Han was. She figured there was a chance he'd risen from a fitful night and headed down to the Falcon to clear his head, but that assumption didn't necessarily fit him, at the moment. He was still too wary of her emotional state to go off disappearing. She tilted her head from side to side, loosening the muscles in her neck, and compressed her lips. She shrugged away the sheets, and got up, plucking her robe from its makeshift hook on one of the bed posts, and slipping her feet into a pair of warm moccasins.
Zozy peeked at her, his tail perking up, and Leia shook her head, bending down to kiss him between his soft, feathery ears. She gave him a mildly stern look, shushed him to indicate he ought to stay asleep, and left him with another affectionately little kiss. Yawning, she tied the robe loosely, tucked her hands into the blowzy pockets, and began a laid back search, blinking steadily into a more alert state as she went.
She noticed the balcony door was open as she came into the sitting room, and nodded at it, keying in on a probable location. She left it for a moment, shuffling into the kitchen to set some kaffe brewing in its decanter - dark, rural blend, Han's go-to wake-up call. When the bitter-fresh scent started to waft around the kitchen as it should, to signal the start of a day, she reached up to push her hair back, and made her way through the sitting room to the balcony doors, poking her head out to see - and there she found him, sitting in one of the modular, wire-frame patio chairs, his back against the industrial siding of the apartment, eyes fixed on the steady flow of early morning traffic.
She stood there a moment, running her fingers over the loose knot she'd tied into the strings of her robe. He was clearly irked - his jaw had that self-preserving, angry tenseness to it - and she thought of her instinctive knowledge that he'd slept badly, restlessly; she didn't know Han to have bad nights very often - at least, not bad nights specific to him; he was always up with her - tired as a result of that.
Leia cleared her throat softly, and he startled, sitting up straight. He looked at her, blinked warily, and then took a deep breath, shaking his head.
"Go back to bed," he said roughly - and she could tell, from the way he instantly winced, that he hadn't meant to sound so harsh. Understanding that, she tried not to react to it, even though his tone was a shock that scraped at her core, made her stomach drop. She folded her arms tightly across herself, a little soft armor, and leaned against the open door, looking at him worriedly.
"Han?" she asked - just his name, soft and inquiring, and unhurried - asking him if he was okay, and simultaneously letting him know that she knew he wasn't, at all, if he was that brusque with her.
He shook his head again.
"I don't - want to - just give me a minute, Leia," he said tensely. "I don't want to," he broke off - talk, he thought, and she knew what he was trying to say, having snapped the same words herself, so many times. "I'm fine," he said curtly.
She watched him for a moment without looking away, and then glanced down at her feet, tapping her bare toes against the patio floor. She took a quiet breath.
"Ah," she sighed mildly. "So, this is what it feels like."
Drawn in by that - as she'd expected he would be - he looked up, his gaze narrowing slightly. He gave her a curious look, and tilted his head in silent question, demanding clarification, and she went on, lifting one shoulder simply:
"This is what you feel like when I would...push you away," she explained carefully, "and - avoid talking to you?"
She held his gaze intently, pointedly, and Han looked back at her quietly, taking that in. Then, he laughed hoarsely, and hung his head a little, shrugging as if to concede the point.
"Yeah, it is," he agreed - all too familiar with what he'd probably just made her feel.
She smiled, and pushed away from the doorway. She crossed the balcony in graceful, unassuming strides, and sat down on his thigh, tucking her legs in between his - much like he'd suggested she do in the office yesterday. She rested her arm over his shoulders, and ran her fingers through the tangled hair at the nape of his neck, turning into him intently. She studied him, her mind working attentively, and he bowed his head as if to get away from her inspection, bringing one hand up to rub his brow jerkily. She put her other hand against his chest.
"What's wrong, Han?" she whispered gently. She pressed her lips against his temple in a soothing kiss. "Tell me, honey."
Leia's use of pet names - genuine ones, rather than affectionate nick names, like hotshot - was so rare, that maybe that's what pulled it out of him, unlocked his jaw, so to speak - the thing that had been keeping him up all night rushed out, rough, and guilty:
"It's my fault," he mumbled, as if that were obvious. "It's my fault, Leia. I'm...I'm sorry."
Her hand still moved in his hair soothingly as she listened, hearing his words, but not really comprehending them - not immediately, not like he clearly thought she would - or should. She pursed her lips, smoothing out a wrinkle in the t-shirt he was wearing, and tilted her head wordlessly. Thinking over the last few days, she let her hand drift down his chest a little, choosing her words carefully. She should have realized he would be more shaken up about the issue with his blood - particularly since, if it hadn't been caught -
She sighed.
"You're going to be fine," she promised. "You had no way of -
He looked up and gave her kind of a hazy, consternated look, his brow knitting tensely. He gave one sharp shake of his head.
"'M not talkin' about me," he said. "I don't - yeah, they'll fix that, whatever," he said gruffly. "'M talkin' about," he broke off, looked down, gestured at her abdomen. "You," he said hoarsely. "This, it was my fault, and I can't," he shook his head. "Can't stop thinkin' about it."
Leia's hand stilled in his hair, and she watched him for a moment, her lips parted - and then she closed her eyes very lightly, in quiet realization - oh, she thought - of course. Her stomach flipped uncomfortably, and she lowered her forehead to the side of his head, resting there reflectively for a moment to gather her bearings. She should have realized he would fixate on that - he'd even said it in Dr. Mellis' office - so, it's my fault? - she was just so caught up in her own overwhelming relief - and Han was so adamant that he didn't blame her, she hadn't considered how he was feeling now, regarding - the root of the problem.
It was him, but it wasn't -
"Han," she said gently, moving her hand in his hair again. She lifted her head. "Han," she called, moving her other hand up to his neck, and nudging his chin up so he'd look at her. She caught his eyes, and moved her head, deliberate and slow. "No," she said firmly.
Han pulled his head back a little frowning.
"Yes, Leia," he retorted, bristling stubbornly. "I did this to you," he snapped. "My blood, my," he waved his hand jerkily, his face flushing angrily. "It hurt you. I made you lose a baby."
She dragged her thumb over his jaw.
"It's not your fault," she repeated. "It is not your fault."
"It is! You heard her, there was nothin' the matter, 'cept your - system, tryin' to protect you from me - "
"Han," she interrupted. "You told me over and over again how it isn't my fault," she said, her lashes trembling. "You've made me believe that. How can you turn around and place blame on yourself?" she pleaded. She shook her head. "Don't do that. I don't blame you." She stroked his jaw. "I can't blame you."
"How?" he demanded stiffly. "Why not?" His jaw hardened. "It was my bad blood - "
"You didn't know that," she soothed calmly, her torso pressing into his warmly.
Han quieted a little. Leia swallowed hard, running her hand from his forehead, back through his hair, exerting strength to try and keep him calm, try and convey to him how much - she meant what she was saying; how it had never crossed her mind, not once, to hold him responsible. She bit her lip softly, watching his face.
"If she had told me that I had a chemical imbalance that caused it, something they couldn't identify until I conceived, would you say it was my fault?"
Han shook his head violently.
"No," he retorted immediately.
Leia's hand paused, and she gave him a pointed look. He sat back hard, his shoulders hitting the apartment siding with a dull thud, and reached out to place his hand on her hip, holding her steady on his lap.
"Yeah, Leia - I get it, I get what you're saying," he said hoarsely. "But - fuck, I didn't even think about tests gettin' done for me!" he pushed back tightly, his eyes searching hers - almost as if he were eager to take some blame, as if he wanted her to yell at him. "You got all kinds of shit done, and I just assumed I was fine. You got...a bunch of needles, you hate needles," he said huskily, trailing off. "That ain't right, is it? That's not fair...and look what happened."
She swallowed hard, tilting her head to the other side pensively. She looked up, out at the traffic, the rising, copper sun, and frowned - not in agreement, but in thought, deciding how best to respond to him. She just didn't think - he deserved to feel like this; she had been plenty preoccupied with her own fears, and while she had been told explicitly, by a medic, that the damage from the Death Star could affect her in multiple ways the rest of her life, Han had not been issued that same guidance: Han had been slapped with a clean bill of health and never thought twice about carbon again.
"I didn't think about it either," she murmured. She turned her head back to him slowly. "I didn't ask you to have anything done, even," she gave a small shrug, "but I know you would have, Han," she added, thinking it would give him some peace of mind.
"Don't you think Dr. Mellis shoulda looked at me, too - "
Leia laughed a little hoarsely.
"She thought I was being overly cautious." Leia brushed her knuckles against his jaw. "She knew about your exposure and didn't think anything of it, either."
Han let his head fall back against the brick, his expression miserable, skeptical. Leia moved closer, shifting her weight on his knee, and leaned in to kiss his brow again, and the corner of his mouth. She closed her eyes, pressing her lips together hard - her heart went out to him, but if he at least knew that...she was able to see some small bright spot in all of this now; they had an answer, and more than that, they could circumvent something unimaginable happening to Han down the road.
"I could have lost you if we didn't find out about the carbon toxicity," she said in a low, tight voice. "I know this is hard, Han," she murmured, "but if nothing else, we have a concrete answer, and I," she licked her lips, "I feel a little better knowing...there was a reason," she explained hoarsely, "and that reason means I don't lose you."
Han squeezed her hip and wrapped his arm around her, reaching up to cup her head in the back of his hand and pull her closer for a quick kiss.
"I'm glad you feel better, Sweetheart," he said sincerely. He kissed her again, and she felt the clench if his teeth against her lips as he went on - "but I don't feel good right now."
She nodded in understanding, running her hand over his shoulder in a gentle massage.
"That's okay," she assured him. "You don't have to."
She laid her head against his shoulder, staying put, thinking of ways to tell him it would get better - to turn back all the promises and nice things he'd always given her to make her feel better.
He said -
"I feel like I took somethin' away from you."
Leia's heart skipped a few beats, and she nodded tentatively.
"I feel like that, too," she answered, seizing on to a common thread, that relatable twist of guilt he'd been trying to assuage for the past few weeks and now, she was tasked with soothing. "And you tell me it's not my fault. You tell me to stop apologizing," she murmured, reaching up to touch his hair again. "It's the same, Han."
"S'easier to say, I guess," Han admitted grudgingly.
"It's always easier to say," she agreed huskily. "But you mean it, don't you? You mean it, when you tell me you don't blame me."
"'Course," Han said firmly, clearing his throat. "'Course I mean it. More'n anything."
Leia pressed a kiss below his ear.
"I mean it, too," she promised.
He gave a small nod of understanding. He just felt so - powerless, like all the confidence had been sucked out of him. He was apprehensive about his own health, to a certain extent. He was anxious about what it meant for them in the future - he'd made an appointment to have the marrow treatment, but was there really any concrete way to tell it solved everything, other than trying again and - losing, again? He cut his eyes to the side narrowly, and then realized abruptly this was almost exactly how Leia felt, exactly how she'd tried to explain to him why she might not want to try again - and he realized with a jolt it was easier to tell her they could adopt, when he'd been confident, deep down, that this was just an awful fluke - but for a moment he understood how devastated he'd be if it turned out he couldn't - they couldn't.
He slid both his arms around her tightly and leaned forward, pressing his face into the soft material of her robe. Leia moved forward a little, so her feet touched the ground between his, and pressed kisses into his hair. She took a deep breath, holding her tongue hesitantly - he seemed so down, more upset than she'd ever seen him, outside of his reaction to a physical injury of hers, and she tried to think of any way she could put his mind at ease, distract him, and comfort him, the way he was so good at doing for her.
She bit her lip, combed through her mind for the right words, the right vocabulary, and leaned closer to talk to him, her voice soft, and only a little confident as she began to speak in his native tongue:
"Time," she murmured. "We need time, Han, that's all," she went on, sweet and deliberate in making sure she spoke correctly - despite being married to one, her Corellian was rusty, at least in terms of speaking; she understood and read it fluently. "It's going to take time to heal. No sense in rushing it."
Han's arms tightened around her, then loosened; he lifted his head cautiously, catching her eyes. His brow furrowed, and he studied her uncertainly - she speaking...? He thought - or was he losing his mind altogether. It sure as hell sounded like -
"Are you speaking," he paused, cocking his ear a little. "Corellian...?"
Leia bit her lip again, and tilted her head, her brows lifting. Her expression answered his question, and he looked baffled, unsure what to say. She thought of how she'd felt, when Han had unexpectedly given his vows in her native language, and wondered if he felt the same - or if he felt betrayed, as though she'd hidden her ability from him in some - subversive act.
"You...been learnin' it?" he ventured.
"Ah," Leia breathed, wincing. "I've had a working knowledge for years," she twitched her nose. "Major system, and all."
Han blinked a few times.
"Bel Iblis," he muttered, arching a brow - suddenly seemed odd that it had never occurred to him before, that she understood it - spoke it. Bel Iblis had been a huge investor in the start of the Rebellion, and Corellia was -
"I never kept it quiet to use against you, I just," she began hoarsely. "Well, I suppose I did at first. When I hated you."
"You never hated me," Han maintained stubbornly.
He shook his head, drawing back, and looking at her intently. He shrugged - he hadn't really thought that, when he realized she was talking to him in Corellian; he hadn't. His first thought had been - she sounds like a fucking dream -
"Sounds nice," he said thickly. "You speakin' it."
She smiled softly.
"Well, we," she swallowed hard, "talked about how Father, and Rouge, and Winter," she listed, "would speak to the baby in Alderaanian, to preserve that," she lifted her shoulders. "I'd want you to feel comfortable speaking your language, too."
She blinked a few times, reaching up to brush under her eyes, and Han nodded. He hesitated, and then gave her a mildly suspicious look.
"So, hang on," he mumbled. "How much did you understand when I'd bitch about you in Corellian, on the way to Bespin?" he asked.
Leia laughed huskily.
"Most of it," she confirmed. She smiled shakily. "It was always very sweet bitching, though," she reminded him pointedly.
"Yeah, I know," Han said grimly, squinting at her. "S'why I was askin'," he grumbled. Since he'd usually had no qualms about telling Leia to her face how annoying she was being, he'd used Corellian more to - abuse himself for - being so -
"Mmmhmm," Leia teased softly. "Slamming hydrospanners around while you berate yourself for falling in love with such a pain in the ass is hardly too offensive."
Han gave her a sheepish look, a smile coming back to his face. He shrugged a little, looking over her shoulder at the sunrise, and then looking back to her.
"I got it better than that guy," he quipped wryly. "Don't I?" he asked. "In spite of...all this."
Leia laced her fingers into his hair again, shrugging softly, nodding slowly. She valued each aspect of their relationship, each little stretch of time during which it had its significant developments - and the trip to Bespin had been something unique all on its own - but she wouldn't go back; she wouldn't give up the place they were in no, the balance they had, the foundation - the trust that was inherent, and not new, and tumultuous, and uncertain.
She smiled a little recklessly.
"Imagine going back to that guy and telling him that you," she said, a little faux-accusatory, "knocked me up."
Han gave a soft, skeptical whistle.
"He'd be pissed."
"On purpose," Leia added.
"Yeah, he'd think I lost my mind."
Leia nodded, resting her hands on his neck. Her thumbs drew little circles below his ears, and she bent forward, her lips starting to tremble, overwhelmed, rather suddenly, with tears. She shook her head, forehead pressing against his heavily. Han caught her by the shoulders, closing his eyes tightly and setting his jaw - and she held onto him, too, just as tightly, offering just as much support.
"Time," she murmured - in Corellian again, her voice musical, even in the tones of the rough language. "That's all. We both need time."
Han kissed her nose, his eyes closed, and cleared his throat gruffly.
"Sweetheart, you're just saying 'chrono' over and over," he informed her huskily, "but I get the concept."
Her nose wrinkled, and she laughed, drawing back and biting her lip, flushing with mild embarrassment at butchering the right word during this particular moment - yet it seemed fitting, too, and she gave a quiet little laugh, looking down at her hands. In the silence that fell between them - easier silence, patient, and full of tempered, but still present, grief - she turned to look at the traffic, listen to it hum, watch it scar the sun with dark spots of shadow. She tilted her head towards the living room, inhaling pointedly, to draw his attention to the scent of kaffee.
"Breakfast?" she asked. "Bed?" she offered, as an afterthought - she shifted on his lap, and pursed her lips. She leaned a little closer. "I was thinking about you this morning," she murmured.
Han hesitated, giving her an uncertain little grimace.
"'M not...up for it," he said finally, cringing - it didn't take a leap of the imagination for Leia to understand he was trying - albeit sheepishly - to let her know he wasn't in the mood, and she understood that more than he knew, she thought. The wound was still as fresh for him as it was for her, and she didn't mind being brushed off, at all - she didn't even consider it that.
"Breakfast, then," she said smoothly. She gave him a wry look, and reached up to tap his cheek affectionately. "I'm not a man," she said primly, "lack of desire doesn't baffle me."
She stood, stretching her arms a little, and adjusted her robe, giving in a small wink. Han watched her, rubbing his jaw tensely, and it was only after she got up, and started back into the apartment, back to the kitchen, that he roused himself - and followed, tugging at the collar of his t-shirt.
"Hey, Leia, s'not - lack of desire," he quoted, scowling at the terms - he circled around her as she fetched kaf mugs, and bread for toast, and then leaned on the counter next to her, watching her earnestly. "That's not - "
"I know, Han," Leia murmured. "I get it," she assured him simply - she remembered, acutely, how jarring it had been a week ago, when they'd started down that path, an unfinished, uncomfortable, mess of intimacy that she didn't particularly want to revisit with him, if he wasn't ready, because Han was the person her sexuality was safe with, and she didn't want that complicated, or taken away.
Han frowned, frustrated. He wanted Leia, he always wanted Leia, it was only that...knowing he might inadvertently hurt her, if she got pregnant, and this stuff she was using now was more - temporary, it made him -
"It's like I want to, but," he broke off abruptly.
Leia paused, messing with the twist enclosure on the bread. She looked up at him.
"It scares you?" she supplied.
She could tell, from the look on his face, that he did not like that word - scared. He didn't deny it, though, and Leia nodded, looking back to the bread.
"I get it, Han," she said again, very softly - you wouldn't believe how much I get it. "Butter and Shuura preserve?" she suggested. He turned to get those things from the icebox, and paused, holding them in the crook of one arm, looking at the contents of the freezer for a moment.
"Uh," he muttered. "There's a lot of skappi in here. You want me to throw it out?"
"Yes," Leia said quietly, without hesitation.
Han gave her the butter and jam, and disposed of the fruits she'd craved only a handful of weeks ago. He didn't make a huge deal about it, and returned to her side without much ado, reaching for the kaffe decanter to pour. She slathered the bread in jam and butter and then put it in the toaster oven - a preference for which Han usually subjected her to some outraged teasing - that's the wrong way, Your Highness! - well, how is it wrong if I like it that way, Hotshot? - and then she licked the spoon, turning her head a little.
"We ought to move," she said softly.
Han cocked his head, frowning intently.
"Move? You like it here."
"I did," she said. "I do," she corrected. "It's been...there for us. A good start," she said, laying the spoon in down in front of her carefully. She pulled a full mug of kaffe towards her. "And...we've been through a lot here," she said, cupping the mug. "Father, fighting over children, the miscarriage," she listed huskily. "We ought to...have somewhere fresh. We need a little more space, I think, for kids," she sighed, glancing at the balcony. "Windows that face towards private courtyards, instead of traffic," she said slowly, and then looked back at him. "I want one of those little greenhouse rooms, like a nature yard?" she said tentatively. "For...kids."
Han listened to her, swallowing hard.
"Uhh, with an s?" he asked slowly. "It's more than one now? Or...you still want...?" he faltered, unsure what to ask, or how much pressure any questions would put on her - and, admittedly, unsure how he felt right now, in terms of the risk - he so badly didn't want to put her in a bad place again.
"We should, I think," she said slowly, reflectively. "Have more than one. Right?"
Han shrugged. He nodded a little - he'd been lonely, growing up, his mother always having to work to feed him; he was sure if Leia hadn't had Winter, she'd have felt the same - and what she had with Luke was invaluable.
She took a long sip of kaffe, wincing at the temperature.
"You still want to do this?" she asked hesitantly.
Han ran his hands over his face. He chewed on his lip, and then nodded.
"Yeah, I do," he said.
Leia took a deep breath.
"I do, too," she said faintly, her voice small. "The feeling," she said, gesturing at her heart, and then vaguely at her ribs, her abdomen, "is still there, all the things that made me want to have a baby with you," she explained, "so is the pain, right now."
"It's fresh," Han said dryly. He shrugged. "S'like you said," he added. "We need time."
He used the Corellian word for chrono, though, to tease her a little, and she laughed. She looked up at him, her expression brimming with a ferocious affection; in some ways, her cloudy uncertainty on some aspects of motherhood was clarified by this whole experience - she did want it, badly, and it had taken having the opportunity snatched to show her that. She wanted it with him, and she was relieved to hear him still express hope - if only the process wasn't so scary -
But in some was, even in that respect, her fear was tempered; she felt as if there had been meaning to all of this, even in its emotional brutality; Leia was not one often soothed by faith, she wasn't her brother, she didn't find meaning in terrible things - but somehow, she felt an inkling of grace through the Force, in this - how else would they have possibly found out that Han's blood was careening towards irreversible toxic levels? How else? She was tempted to rage at fate for making it this way - and she wasn't entirely ready to declare a positive aspect to the loss, but for once she did not feel suffocated by the pressure of senseless tragedy.
Skittering on the floor, and Zozy came trotting in, lazy and sleepy, chirping happily the moment he saw his humans standing there. He rose up and pawed at Han's leg with his little talons, and Han, rolling his eyes, reached down and effortlessly swept Zozy up with one hand, placing him on the counter. He scooped up some jam on the spoon, and fed it to him.
"Han," Leia reprimanded loosely. "The counter?"
A few of Zozy's tail feathers shed to the surface, and she arched a brow at them accusingly.
"Leia," retorted Han, mimicking her tone. "We've had sex on this counter. Don't act like you care how clean it is," he reminded her, snorting. "'Sides, you'd be sad if he did his crying noise down there."
Zozy sat down on his haunches and happily chirped at them, attacking the jam covered spoon with vigor. Leia smiled at him, nodding - he was right; she would be. She set her kaffe down and leaned forward, letting Zozy hop up and prance over to her to nuzzle her cheek. She grinned, and picked him up, snuggling him close. Running her palm affectionately over his soft ears, she tilted her head at Han.
She took a deep breath.
"I'm going to meditate," she said firmly - she'd been thinking about it, since their return; thinking about it more now, that she had a better, balanced handle on her sadness, and a better idea of what to look for. The Force might give her some insight on the visions she'd had in the past, might soothe her - might give her nothing at all, but she wanted to see what it had to offer. "Will you sit with me?" she asked him.
Han looked surprised. He nodded slowly.
"Yeah, Sweetheart," he agreed huskily. "Sure." His brow furrowed. "What do I...?"
"You just sit there," she said. "Quiet. Just be there."
"'M pretty good at that," Han said.
Leia nodded. She tilted her head back at the balcony - out there; she wanted to be in the sun, Zozy rolling around basking in it, Han sitting there near her, keeping watch. She gave him a wry, coquettish little smile.
"I thought, after I meditate," she ventured temptingly, "there's no harm in," she lifted her shoulder charmingly, "you and I...laying around, making out all day."
Han grinned smugly.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"Well, I ain't been propositioned like that in a long time, Your Worship," he drawled - and there was a comical amount of truth in it; he couldn't remember the last time in his life he'd gone no further than kissing a woman, except -
Except with Leia, because when that's all she'd been ready for, that's all he'd pushed for - and now, just that seemed like an incredible suggestion, the right kind of therapy; he wanted to kiss her until neither of them could breathe. He straightened a little, and then leaned over, sliding his cheek against her palm and pulling her in for a kiss, a kiss that was intense and consuming, prolonged and gentle. Leia leaned towards him, drawn in; she felt a little like crying - his proximity was such a strange trigger for what they'd lost; everything about him reminded her so sharply, though in a way that made her want to hold him closer, rather than push him away.
In the heart of it, Zozy scrambled up between them, snout poking at Han's cheek, talons tapping jealously at Leia's shoulder, and Han reared back, giving their bright little pet an olympic glare - and Leia's tears were somehow tried, and shifted into choked laughter, and she lifted her eyes to Han's without any inhibition, not entirely sure if she was laughing or crying - and that was acceptable, that she could cope with - she and Han were hurting, and she embraced it; and because she embraced it - and in time, in time, they would heal.
- alexandra
