From a Certain Point of View
Han stood in the main hold of the Falcon, his body frozen in place. If his ship had looked different to him when he had finally gotten her back, he was sure that he must look different to her now. Several hours ago he had left in search of answers, and an elusive woman that drove him crazy in ways both good and relentlessly frustrating. He returned a father-to-be. Something he had never given much thought to becoming. Something he had only given thought of not becoming. And the woman that he found, in her Jedi robes and detached demeanor left him jumbled up and rearranged on the inside.
He found it nearly impossible to get angry or attempt to yell at a pregnant woman, much less the mother of his child. The mother of his child, the phrase was nearly comical to him if he wouldn't have found it so damn terrifying. He wished Chewie was there to talk to, the fur ball philosopher would know exactly what to say. Of course, he would make light of the situation, forcing Han to laugh at himself for taking it all so seriously. He would probably point out that only humans inherit a god complex when they find out that they can procreate like every other animal in the damn universe, or something along those lines.
Han smiled and ran his fingers through his hair. He thought of how beautiful Leia looked carrying his child. He did feel godlike. He chuckled. He felt a euphoria that he could only compare to his random experimentation with spice. Han Solo, a father. It was all that he could think about.
He walked into the galley and fixed himself a quick meal. Sitting at the holochess table he fed the ravenous hunger that roared inside of his empty stomach. The events of his day replayed through his mind, from the moment he had recognized Yavin's moon to watching Leia walk away from him just moments ago, to everything in between. He recalled his run-in with Roman and felt a stab of anger punch through his euphoria. The sense of reckoning that had greeted him earlier shot forward again and something made him think of Luke and the innocent words of a farm boy about a princess and a guy like him. He set his fork down.
Like the fabricated high of spice, he felt himself deflating rapidly at the onslaught of memories that went as far back as his childhood. Memories of his father and of not having a father, forcing him to face the reality of why he had never wanted to become a father himself. Then visions of Leia, naked in his arms, underneath him and on top of him, of the reunion that he had imagined between them, hit him like slaps in his face. The sound of his declaration of love and the painful rejection on her face dragged him right back down to the depths of those emotions that he thought he had outrun.
He stood, picked up his plate and headed to the galley. The night had brought with it a driving rainstorm and as he stood in the galley the sound of rain pelting down on the Falcon's hull waxed and waned as the wind pushed it down in sheets. He gripped the edge of the sink trying to steady himself, feeling as though he was drunk but knowing that he was simply exhausted.
The highs and lows of the day's events had left him emotionally drained and he walked slowly toward his cabin, trailing his hand along the bulkhead for support along the way. When he reached his cabin he stood in its center and stared at nothing in particular. Finally, he spun around and headed back to the lounge; he could not think of sleeping.
He sunk into the conformed chair at the engineering console and began to randomly press buttons and flip levers. Ever since he had gotten the Falcon back he had had to painstakingly review all of her innovative programming, ensuring that the random buttons and dials that he flipped and turned would do exactly what he expected them to do.
As the words flashed before him on the screen he knew that he would have to redo anything he did tonight while in this state of mind, but he did it anyway. There was a comfort in the steady flow of figures and in the confidence of knowing that he could make them do anything he wanted them to. There was no emotion involved in the flipping of a switch that would engage the hyperdrive system. As long as her parts were in good working order, he would always get the expected response.
He thought of Leia. He couldn't help it. If anyone thought that the Falcon had a complex system of creative engineering he felt sure the inner workings of that woman would make their head spin. There wasn't a consistent formula in the galaxy that could predict her actions. If he thought he was engaging her sublight engines, her laser cannons hummed to life, if he pressed forward on her hyperdrive modulator, her shields shot up. And if he did it all again, something different would happen entirely.
He slumped back in the chair and closed his eyes. He was finally spent. His arms pressed against the armrests, his thighs melted into the seat of the chair, his feet pushed down on the metal grating of the floor as his entire body felt the extreme heaviness of pure exhaustion. His muscles quivered like a space slug on hot duracrete and his eyelids jumped in a final stand against the erotic pull of sleep.
It was the sound of the Falcon's proximity alarms that bolted him out of his seat. His head spun around, claiming his bearings as he stumbled through the lounge and towards the closed gangway. He didn't bother checking the cams, but lowered the ramp and waited, blinking away the fog of interrupted sleep.
A black figure ascended the ramp, the dark sound of the pounding rain its only backdrop. A stream of artificial light sliced diagonally through the darkness and as the figure crossed its plane, the familiar wide, brown eyes came into focus before him and he snapped awake.
He grabbed her hand. It was a frozen, bony skeleton engulfed by the warmth of his grip. He pulled her along the corridor, through the lounge and into his cabin. Turning to face her she stood stiff and stationary, her mouth clamped shut. He unhooked the fastener of her hood and pushed it off of her head and body. Turning to the 'fresher, he threw her rain-soaked cloak into the autovalet and grabbed two large towels. He wrapped one over her shoulders on top of her damp tunic, he took the other and dried her hair.
When he pulled the towel away from her head, her short hair stuck out like a pixie's and he couldn't help but smile at the sight of her. She didn't move. He turned her around by the shoulders and led her to the lounge, lowered her down to the banquette and disappeared into the galley.
As he heated up the water for tea, he shook the cobwebs out of his head, dragging his hand over his face. Walking back towards her, a mug of hot tea in his hands, he approached her as one would a wild animal unsure of its intentions. She took the mug from him and wrapped her tiny hands around it, holding its warmth for a moment before bringing it to her lips and taking a tentative sip.
He turned toward the sound of the driving rain from outside and walked over to raise the Falcon's gangway. When he returned she had kicked her wet shoes off and tucked her feet underneath her. Her stomach stuck out uncomfortably and she rested the mug of tea on top of it. He had no idea what to make of her.
"Remember when I told you that it all started when Luke died?"
She looked at him questioningly and he nodded his head in response.
"Well, if that was the start…it was the beginning of the end."
He shook his head in confusion. She held the mug out, lifting it slightly for him to take. He approached her, keeping the distance of their outstretched arms between them. He grabbed the mug and set it down the holochess table. Leia arched her back and rubbed her stomach. When she shut her eyes he took the opportunity to turn away from her, walking toward the middle of the lounge.
He heard her exhale. "You don't have a contrachip."
He spun around, she was watching him intently. "What?"
"That day. I realized I was pregnant and I went to the med center. You don't have a contrachip…according to your medical records."
He rubbed his arm where the chip should have been, he hadn't even thought of how he could've possibly been the father with a contrachip in place. "Is that what this is about? You think I did this on purpose?"
"What were my other options to think?"
"Leia, I have had a contrachip since…since as long as I care to remember."
"Well, somewhere along the way you lost it."
Han thought back, his mind tumbling over his recent past. "When they tortured me…?"
She nodded. "Unfortunately, yes. That's exactly what I think."
"What do you mean unfortunately?"
"Your capture, and rescue. The dreams that kept us together. The dreams that miraculously stopped at what could only have been the conception of this child."
He let her words sink in and then said, "And you think I would've been a part of something like that? Setting aside the fact that I was tortured and beaten to near death."
"Weren't you the one that told me that I would be surprised at what a man, any man, would be capable of doing?"
He stared at her as everything clicked into place. "And is that the kind of man you think I am?"
"No." She looked down at her belly and at the hand that rested on it. "But it's made me realize…it's made me see things more clearly…" She looked back up at him. "Concerning us."
"And what would that be?"
She exhaled. "That whatever was between us, was just another manipulation. Like my entire life before it."
"What is that supposed to mean?" He took a step towards her.
"It means, whatever feelings you think you have…they've been orchestrated. This entire ordeal was an orchestration. They made me want to protect you, they made you think you felt something for me. So this baby was created out of that illusion. Created out of…" She stopped, hesitated and then said, "Nothing."
His heart skipped a beat.
"So, you see? What they believe…" Her hand swept out toward someplace in the distance. "The rumors…they're not entirely untrue…from a certain point of view."
He stood watching her, unable to comprehend…to make the leap from her convoluted story to the facts set out before him now.
She sighed, moved uncomfortably to free one of her legs from beneath her and let it hang over the side of the banquette, her foot not quite making it to the floor. "I've been manipulated my entire life, Han. Every corner I turn, I find nothing but lies. And now this." Rubbing her belly she swallowed and continued, "This is the greatest manipulation of all."
Han thought he heard himself screaming, but it was the beep of the autovalet.
She let her other leg fall from beneath her. "I should go."
"No." He was standing over her in an instant, looking down at her. He knelt in front of her, placing his hands on her thighs. "I don't care what happened. I don't care what kind of games anybody else was playing. What you and I have is not an illusion. My love for you is not someone's orchestration."
She pushed her shoulders back against the cushions behind her. "If we consider that for a moment. If we…believe that there is something between us-"
"There-"
"Let me finish." She placed a hand on top of one of his. "Would you be willing to stay here, at the academy? While I rebuild the Jedi council?"
"You didn't want to do that before, why do you want to do it now?"
"I was…in denial before. In shock. I realize now that this is my responsibility. My destiny."
"Why is it your responsibility?" He took her hand in his. "I mean, look around this place, you aren't the only Force sensitive person left in the galaxy. Let someone else rebuild the Jedi council. I know this isn't what you want."
She shook her head, not as though his words were wrong, but as if they were futile.
He stood, turned away from her and ran his fingers through his hair. Turning around to look down at her, he asked, "Will anything in your life ever be about you? About your wants? Your needs and not everybody damn else's?"
"No, Han," she answered coldly. "You've got the corner on that market covered."
His face registered the hurt that her words shot through him and he didn't care to try and hide it.
She looked down guiltily. "I'm sorry." She studied her hands for a moment and then looked up at him and said, "Luke was my brother."
The hurt on his face turned to shock and his mouth dropped open as his eyes shot to the side while he tried to comprehend the meaning of her words.
"This," she swept her hand around the expanse surrounding them. "This was supposed to be his destiny…" She exhaled. "And now it's mine."
His eyebrows furrowed at her, but he stood and said nothing.
"Before I slept with you, I told you that you didn't know me and you told me that you did. That you knew me and that you wanted all of me. But if you think I can walk away from this responsibility. If you think I can let the Jedi legacy die by my neglect. If you so loathe a person who is willing to sacrifice their happiness for the greater good of humanity. Then you don't know me at all."
He studied her for a moment, at the exhaustion in her eyes, at the sag of her shoulders and the nervous way she continued to study the hand that rested on her swollen belly. He took a step towards her and said, "I don't expect you to walk away from something that you see as a responsibility. But I need you to be honest with me. Pull out all the stops, Leia. For once in your life, open up to me and trust me."
She held his gaze, purposefully as if she knew exactly what he was talking about but preferred to act as if she did not.
"You are not telling me everything," he said firmly.
She clamped her mouth down and Han could see that she was biting on the inside of her bottom lip. Whatever button he had pressed, he knew that her shields had just shot up.
"I've realized something." He knelt down before her again, resting back on his heels, placing his hands, not on her knees but on the banquette on either side of her. "You have told me things that you may not have told anyone else. And I know how hard that has been for you." He looked down at her hand resting on her thigh and took it in his, rubbing his thumb tenderly on the inside of her palm. "But they're…they've only been an historical account, a series of incidents, facts and events."
She said nothing.
He continued, "What I want to know, is how they made you feel. What are the things that you're afraid to say, the things that are terrifying you?" He took her other hand off of her belly and squeezed both of her hands in his. "The things that are making you run. And I know they're in there." She shook her head and he pressed, "Leia, burden me with them, and not your empty rejections."
Her eyes narrowed. "I've told you everything. I am facing my destiny. I am doing what I feel is right." She shook her head again. "There isn't anything that I haven't told you."
"I hear you answering me, but I know…" He drew his body up off of his heels and knelt before her, his stomach pressing into her knees. "I may not have the Force, but I can tell when someone is lying to me. I worked really hard back on Coruscant to convince myself otherwise." He pushed a lock of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. "Leia…I'm asking you to trust me, really trust me. Trust someone, for once in your life."
She inhaled a deep breath through flared nostrils and replied tightly, "It would not be for once. It would not be the first time. The only man I ever trusted died with Alderaan. And that man lied to me my entire life."
He paused, giving her words a wide berth before he leaned closer in to her and stated firmly, "I…am not that man."
Her composure cracked and her eyes softened.
"Aren't you tired of running, Leia? Always running?" He rested his hand on her stomach feeling it for the first time. He looked down at his fingers splayed against the curved extension of the body that he had memorized. "You've been running since your feet last touched the earth of Alderaan, haven't you?"
Her features relaxed into a child's on the verge of a breakdown and he knew that he as getting close. He moved his hand down her side and then leaned down and pressed his lips against her stomach. He heard a sharp intake of breath from her and he felt her fingers slip into his hair.
He lifted his face to hers. "Talk to me, Leia. Stop running and trust me."
Her mouth fell open as her hands fell down to her sides. He watched her face contort in a silent struggle of emotion. She looked mangled, wrecked by the internal battle raging inside of her. She started as if to speak, but then stopped. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
"Luke wasn't just my brother. He was my twin." She exhaled and looked in his eyes for a moment as if finding her strength somewhere inside of his dark pupils. "If the legacy of Darth…of Anakin Skywalker was to bring balance to the Force..."
She paused, searching for words and he sat back on his heels and waited.
She looked at him, an assuredness taking over her demeanor as if she had found her direction and the courage to follow it. "One can never truly understand a prophecy until it has played itself out and you can look back on it. Anakin Skywalker wasn't supposed to bring balance to the Force. He fell to the Dark Side. If we believe in destiny we have to believe that was his. But he brought…a set of twins." She held her hands out in imitation of a scale. "Was it those twins that were supposed to fulfill the prophecy? Was it those twins that were to bring that balance to the Force?"
She paused and he remained silent.
"Luke," she said as she looked at one of her hands and crumpled it into a fist. Shaking that fist slowly she said, "Luke wanted to be a Jedi. Luke would've been able to rebuild the Jedi council." And then she looked at her other hand, the fingers outstretched bearing the open palm symbolizing her life. She shook her head repeatedly. "I…" The tears began to fall.
He placed his hands on her thighs and squeezed them, trying to offer her his strength.
"I…" she began again as she took the fist that was Luke's crumpled life and she began to pound it down on Han's shoulder. She looked at him as if a blinding pain was ripping through her soul and she whispered, a low painful whisper, "I…can't."
The words sounded as if they were made of shattered glass ripping a path up out of her throat. She closed her eyes, still shaking her head taking both of her hands now and pounding them against Han's shoulders and repeating the words. "I can't. I can't. I can't." As if releasing the millions of times she held them back and she was finally letting them go.
He let her release her anger, fear and frustration on him until he finally pulled her to him and she buried her face against his neck, collapsing against him in a shuddering heap.
"This wasn't my destiny," she cried as her warm tears fell against his skin. She pulled away from him and looked at him, terror and agony streaking down her face in the form of a salty liquid. "For the first time in my life, I feel destined to fail."
He held her gaze for a moment and then whispered, "You won't fail."
"You don't know that."
He pulled her to him again and held her as she cried. After a long while, he whispered, "Stay with me tonight."
He pulled away to look at her and she wiped her eyes and nodded slowly.
He gave her a t-shirt and she came out of the 'fresher wearing only it, the edge hitting high on her upper thighs as it stretched over her stomach. She climbed into his bunk as he walked into the 'fresher. When he exited, several moments later, she was asleep.
He stood over her and watched her for a long time. Not wanting to wake her but yearning to hold her, he sat on the side of the bunk and traced his finger along her face and then down along her belly before he stood up and left the cabin, unable to disturb her slumbering form or perhaps unable to bridge the emotional distance that he still felt stood between them. He crawled into the medical bunk and unsuccessfully fought the sweet pull of sleep.