From a Certain Point of View
Han awoke slowly to the drone of the Falcon's ventilation system. He looked around, finding his bearings, unused to awakening in the medical bunk of his ship; at least not soberly. As he sat up, he let his legs hang over the bunk and his hands gripped its sides. He gave a moment's pause to everything that had happened the day before and then he hopped off of the bunk and headed to his cabin.
He found her in his bunk, just as he had left her, curled up on her side and deep in a peaceful slumber. A warm smile crossed his lips as his chest swelled with emotion. He walked towards her tentatively, and standing over her he silently studied her for a long moment.
His eyes traveled down her body, from her tousled hair to the outline of her legs and feet at the end of the bunk. But it was the interesting curve of her stomach that he kept coming back to. The heavy, clinging fabric of the coverlet bowed out over the new bends of her body like snowdrifts on a hillside.
The innocence of her mouth and facial features as she slept combined with that fascinating arc of the bright, white coverlet made his insides burn with the flare of a protective father. He would die a thousand deaths before he let anything happen to that face, and not to the physical appearance of it - although he did hold it dear to him - but to that pure serenity that it seemed she could only achieve in slumber. That was his sole purpose in life now, to create the world that would allow her to wear that look during her waking moments.
He watched as her eyebrows furrowed and she turned onto her back with a faint moan. One of her arms flung up and rested over her head. She was dreaming, her face rapidly losing its tranquility. A stab of anger shot through him as he watched her toss her body on its side, facing away from him now with another stifled moan. He felt the empty pang of helplessness. Gently grasping the coverlet, he pulled it over her shoulders, leaned down and kissed her tenderly on the temple and then turned around and left the room.
He returned to his cabin over an hour later, fully dressed and carrying a tray of food. She was lying on her side, facing him again and this time, when the cabin door slid open, her eyes fluttered open in response. She looked at him for a moment as he stood holding her breakfast. She smiled and he walked towards her.
She rolled onto her back and scooted her body to a seated position, her back resting against several pillows propped against the bulkhead. He sat next to her on the edge of the bunk as he had the night before while she slept. The tray of food balanced on his lap, he handed her a piece of toast and she took it. He curled his hand around the cool glass of juice and waited.
She ate in silence, her inhaling the food he offered and him devouring the very simple pleasure of merely being in her presence once again. The air surrounding them smelled, tasted and felt different inside of his lungs, everything made sweeter by her sheer existence. He wore a dopey smile, he was sure. He was also sure that he didn't care.
He held a piece of fruit out to her and she put her hand up in protest and then rubbed her belly and sighed as she stretched and slumped back against the pillows in contentment. She scooted down and rested her head against her bent arm as she curled up on her side and looked at him.
He set the tray down on the floor and then took the backs of his fingers and pressed them against her cheek and then her forehead. "Did you sleep alright?" He asked, the sound of his voice a small shock, finally breaking the silence that they had shared over her breakfast.
She shut her eyes against the feel of his skin on hers and hummed her affirmative reply while nodding her head.
He let his hand travel down to her shoulder, following her arm until it found its way to her stomach and he rested it there lightly. There was a constriction in his chest as his body responded to a knowledge that had not quite sunk in yet as his new reality.
She opened her eyes, watched him for a second and then her face grew serious. The expression mirrored the marred look he had witnessed as she dreamt, although he noted that it struck him much harder with her eyes open - the wide, brown moons a perfect barometer to her frame of mind.
"There's something wrong in the Academy, Han. I can feel it."
She spoke softly, not lifting her head. He took in a deep breath, but didn't reply.
"It has something to do with me." She placed her hand over his on her stomach and added, "With this baby. And I can't stop it. Some of those people," her glance traveled through him, straight to the temples in the distance, "know more about the Force than I do. Than I ever will." She looked down at her hand on his and she said, "Whoever was behind this is on this moon. I just know it."
He slid his hand from underneath hers and took it inside of his own. As he curled his fingers around her hand, he said, "We'll get Chewie and we'll get you out of here."
"No, I can't just leave all the others. And we can't choose who to take with us because I have no idea who's behind it. I don't even think we can fit everyone on the Falcon, we have so many people here now. Younglings, even."
She shook her head vehemently and sat back up against the pillows. "No. I know." She rubbed her stomach absently while she held his gaze. "If there's one thing I know, it's that I will face this…whatever it is, before I leave this planet. One way or another."
"What about the baby? Leia, at some point we're going to have to do what's best for you and the baby, above all else."
She had never stopped shaking her head and he watched as she looked down and away from him. "It was agreed by all the elders that I would return to Coruscant to have the baby." She looked back up at him as if offering an apology or an excuse. "If things had gone differently…if you hadn't come. I would have at least found you then. I promise you that."
He shook it off. "That doesn't matter now." His mind began to race. His focus sharpening on the problem set out before them. "When were they going to let you leave for Coruscant?"
"At thirty weeks."
"How far along are you now?"
"About twenty-eight."
She kept talking but the words went through him like water through a sieve. He had only heard, 'twenty-eight'. Twenty-eight. Twenty-eight long weeks of not knowing where she was or why she had disappeared. Twenty-eight weeks of preparing himself for the worst kind of scenarios a man in love can dream of. Twenty-eight weeks to ill prepare himself for what he had finally found.
"…I have to think that whatever's going to happen, it's going to happen before they let me leave."
He exhaled, jerking his mind away from the edge of that cliff. "I'm gonna get you and this…" Placing his hand on her stomach, he corrected himself by saying, "Our baby off of this planet." The words choked in his throat, he knew Leia did not suspect the true reason of why that was.
She nodded her head and fought back on the tears welling up in her eyes.
"Leia?"
She held his gaze, but said nothing.
"What about Roman?" He bit his teeth down as he finished the sentence.
She shook her head slowly, an easy smile forming on her lips. "Roman cares about me." She placed her hand on his face. "Don't fault him for that."
He kept his jaw clenched tightly, trapping several words that begged to come free. The sting of her words contrasting sharply to the tender expression on her face.
"And as for me…" She traced a finger along his chin and then dropping her hand, she added, "I don't feel for him, like…I feel for you."
His shoulders dropped a centim and he felt the muscles in his face relax.
"And I don't think Roman is involved in…whatever is going on here."
He shook his head skeptically. He had forgotten how quickly she could flip flop his emotions. "We'll have to agree to disagree on that." He paused and then added absently, "I'll have to get to Chewie…do they know who he is?"
"No."
He eyed her suspiciously. "No one?"
"No, not even Roman."
"We don't talk to anyone else but the three of us, are we agreed on that?"
"Han, with all of my ability…I do think Roman can be trusted."
He swallowed, glanced down in an effort to conceal what emotions were churning inside of him and then looked back up at her. "I think it should remain between the three of us for now, Leia. We need to deal in absolutes. Are you absolutely sure Roman is not involved?"
She shook her head. "No."
His mind was in overdrive now, having engaged in full problem-solving mode; enjoying the respite having a purpose gave him from facing all of his conflicting emotions. "What about the others? Is there anyone you suspect?" Every single face he had met since his arrival began to flash before his eyes.
Her expression changed. He watched it soften and she smiled and shook her head at him as if she had just remembered a funny joke. She ran her hand along his jaw, her fingers lingering against the stubble on his skin.
"What?" He asked, confused.
She leaned into him and kissed him, her hand wrapping around his neck and pulling him to her. He responded, deepening the kiss, his body reeling in response to this intimacy that they had not shared in months. She leaned back against the pillows, pulling him with her and forcing him to brace himself against the mattress with his hands.
He felt Leia tugging at his clothing. He broke away from her, struggling to regain control of all of his faculties. He looked down at her seriously. "We're not done talking."
"I'll tell you everything I know," she breathed out, her words hurried, almost blending in to one another. She was tugging at his shirt once again as she added, "After."
"I knew you missed me." He stated soundly while she pulled him to her once again and trailed a line of kisses down his neck. "You must've been using all of your Jedi powers to play it so cool with me."
She pushed him away from her, gently so as to allow their eyes to meet for the briefest of seconds before she pulled his shirt up and over his head. Running her hands over his naked chest, she planted kisses along his collar bone and then up the side of his neck. He felt her hands trail down his torso and begin to fumble with his belt.
He chuckled in response. "A little anxious, are we?"
"And you're not?" She pulled away from him, her hands stilled and she eyed him questioningly, a hint of knowing amusement sparkling in her eyes. But it was the flicker of doubt that sparked an ache inside of his chest.
He was anxious. But his anxiousness was of a different sort, of that he was sure. His was not the heady rush that causes lovers to make love in turbolifts and on living room sofas. His was an anxiousness of the sort that slows everything down and shines a light on all that's not right with the situation.
Was it because he had never made love to a pregnant woman? It was certainly a tad bit disconcerting to see the large belly, containing a living being that they had created protruding out in between them like an obstacle. But it wasn't that. The sight of her carrying his child increased his want for her, it did not spurn it. No, it was something else entirely. Something that he didn't care to name.
Han slid off of the bunk, not answering her, and he knelt on the floor as he grabbed her legs and swung them down so that she was sitting in front of him. He sat back on his heels as the rush of emotion that had quickly erupted between them slowed back down to a crawl of tentative anticipation. She was watching him and he knew she understood him more than he cared to be understood.
He ran his hands up her thighs and pushed the material of her shirt up and over her pregnant stomach. A painful bubble of air expanded painfully inside of his lungs and he forced out a heavy breath to relieve it. The sight of the taut, stretched skin that contained his child hit him like a stiff wind on frigid winter morning, freezing his mind on one, sole thought.
His eyes dragged up to meet hers and they locked on each other in a silent exchange as if the reality of their situation was only now fully accepted and understood. Their child's heartbeat pulsated between them as if they could actually hear it and it hung between them just as real an obstacle as her belly was.
He looked back down to her stomach and ran his hand over the warm skin. Under his flattened palm, Han felt the sensation of movement and all of a sudden the enormity of everything that had happened crashed down on him with a furious ferocity that would've knocked him off of his feet if he had been standing. It was the twenty-eight weeks and everything that they contained; it was the uncertain future ahead of them and the unsettled past that lay behind them.
He swallowed and then slowly bent down and gently pressed his lips against her belly, lingering there for a long moment his eyes shut tightly. He pulled her shirt back down and sat back on his heels. She was watching him, only partly confused. He shook his head, and whispered, "I'm sorry. I can't." And then he grabbed his shirt, stood and left the room.
He slid into the pilot's chair and gazed into the morning mists of the forest in the distance. The gray, earthbound clouds hung above the forest floor in a game of hide and seek with the cutting rays of the morning light. Something about the struggle between the fog and the sunshine captivated Han and he stared at it so intently that his vision blurred, turning the entire forest into a fog of thoughts.
He felt her enter, felt her standing behind him and watching him. His eyes came into focus as he thought of her parting words the night before, that it was not about him. But it was, it was about him and he had to know that she understood that now.
"I will help you get off of this planet," he said without looking at her.
She said nothing.
He turned to face her, surprised to find her dressed. "You left instead of talking to me, not even giving me the benefit of the doubt that you knew I deserved." He spoke softly, calmly. The words were things that had to be said, but he felt no need to fling them at her viciously. "What if I wouldn't have found you? What were you going to do? What if something would've happened to you? Or the baby? Our baby?"
She still did not respond.
He turned back to the viewport. "I'm not angry, Leia. I've told you how I feel and that hasn't changed. I understand what you're going through…and I'll help you fight this or whatever it is we have to do to get you out of here safely." He paused. "But, I need to know what you want from me, Leia." He turned to look at her. "Specifically, from me. Before I can…" His eyes looked toward the exit, his glance traveling down the corridor and into his cabin. "Before I can make any other decisions about us." He turned back toward the viewport. "If there is an us."
When he finished speaking, Roman walked out of the forest path, emerging through the fog like an aberration. Han turned his eyes away.
"Your bodyguard is here," he said as he stood up and left her standing in the cockpit.
Han lowered the ramp of the Falcon and as he walked down the gangway he passed Roman, saying only, "She's inside."