A/N: Finally a chapter you guys didn't have to wait a month for! And it's the longest one yet, so let's just get right to it. I hope you like this one.

The Sheriff took over taking care of the baby, insisting Stiles try and get some sleep. Stiles was only asleep for an hour when the baby's cries woke him up. He trusted his dad to take better care of her than he could, but he couldn't help but respond to her cries. It was as if he was already attuned to her, like he couldn't ignore her even he tried. He rolled out of bed, somehow feeling more tired than before he'd gone to sleep.

The calls and texts began not long after that. Visitors started arriving by 9 am, and they came and went all day. The first was Melissa, just checking in to see how the first night had gone. Stiles insisted she examine the baby to be absolutely sure she was fine, and after a quick check-up Melissa assured him she was okay. A few minutes after she left, Stiles opened the front door again to see Lydia and Allison on his doorstep. Allison was carrying a car seat.

"When is the last time you showered?" Lydia asked in way of greeting.

"Good morning to you too," he said, stepping aside to let them in.

"Seriously, when? Because you smell like –"

"Poop? Vomit? The unmistakable stench of fear?"

"Stiles, who is it?" Upon seeing the two girls, the Sheriff smiled. "Hello girls. And you brought a car seat too."

"I'm so sorry I forgot to bring it to the hospital last night!" Lydia cried. "I don't know if you'll still need it, but I wanted to bring it over just in case."

"Technically, I'm bringing it over," Allison said. "And it's getting heavy. Can I just put it down anywhere, or . . .?"

"Sorry, here, I'll take it." The Sheriff put it down with the rest of the stuff clogging the entryway. "There's no need to apologize, Lydia. You did more than enough to help us. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Better late than never, I guess." Lydia looked for the baby, quickly spotting her asleep in her baby seat. She addressed Stiles. "Allison and I will stay with her while you take a shower."

Stiles sniffed his shirt and turned to his dad. "Is it really that bad?"

"Who knows? I don't know what smells are coming from where anymore."

Stiles did as she said, mostly because he didn't have the energy to argue. He stood in the shower for a long time, letting the hot water run over his head and stiff shoulders. Once he got out, he had to admit that he felt refreshed. Or slightly more awake, at least. When he returned to the living room, he saw that Allison was looking after the baby while the Sheriff and Lydia were going through everything she'd brought over and finding a better place for it.

"Thank God you're here son. As soon as you left, Lydia put me to work."

"Those deputies of yours just dumped everything right in the doorway and took off. I hope they're more efficient at their jobs than they were at this."

"Well, you know how hard it is to keep deputies around here . . ."

Lydia sent the Sheriff off with an armful of stuff before taking the opportunity to ask, "So have you heard anything about Malia yet?"

"No," Stiles sighed. At this point he was wondering if he ever would. "Scott called earlier this morning. He said Derek thinks he's getting close, but he's said that before."

"Isaac told me she's really good at covering her tracks," Allison said as she rocked the baby. "She certainly knows how to take care of herself as a coyote."

"Yeah, maybe a little too good."

Later, while Stiles changed the baby's diaper, Lydia stood over his shoulder and questioned the job he was doing. "Are you sure that's how you do it? Is that enough powder? You don't want her to get a rash."

"Lydia, I have a whole night's worth of experience on you, okay? I know what I'm – oh God!" The baby started to pee, and Stiles hurriedly closed the new diaper he'd just put under her. Lydia backed away, using Stiles as a human shield.

Allison laughed and pushed them both aside. "I'll show you how it's done." She grabbed a new diaper and had it on the baby in no time at all.

"Where did you learn that?" Lydia asked.

"I used to babysit all the time when I lived in San Francisco," Allison said as she snapped up the baby's onesie. She then picked her up easily and cuddled her close. "I've changed a lot diapers."

Stiles was impressed. "Allison . . . would you consider moving in?"

"Stiles, I think my dad would have a problem with me moving in with a guy to help him take care of his baby."

"Sure, when you say it like that –"

"Not gonna happen."

"Why didn't you ask me?" Lydia wondered, looking somewhat offended.

"I'm sorry Lydia, but I'm only offering to people who are willing to change a diaper."

They didn't leave for another hour or so, not until Lydia fed the baby and got enough one on one time with her. She hated to leave, but she could tell Stiles was exhausted and needed to sleep, so she gave the baby to the Sheriff and told a dozing Stiles goodbye.

"I wasn't asleep! You don't have to leave."

"I'll be back later," she promised. "You should try to catch up on some sleep."

"Yeah, and I'm meeting up with Isaac so we can keep looking for Malia. Even my dad is going to help. If two experienced hunters can't find her then no one can."

Stiles no longer cared who was recruited in this mission. The more people the better. "Thanks." Not even two minutes after they were gone, Stiles was passed out on the couch.

A knock on the front door woke up Stiles, and a glance at his phone told him he'd been asleep for twenty minutes at the most. He also had a couple of texts from Scott, so he wasn't surprised to see it was him at his front door.

"How many times do I have to tell you that you don't have to knock?"

"I guess I should be like you and make my own key." Scott looked him over with a worried expression on his face. "Whoa, you look awful."

"Did everyone forget how to say hello?"

"Sorry." Scott walked in and closed the door behind him. He looked around, thinking it so odd to see all that baby stuff in the Stilinski house. "So how's it going?"

"We survived the night, so that goes in the win column. Though achieving that was harder than you might think . . ."

"What does that mean?"

Stiles regretted bringing it up, but he also told Scott everything. "Nothing. She just, uh, did that whole not breathing thing she does. Then started choking. I didn't get much sleep after that."

"But she's fine now, right?" Scott asked, sounding slightly panicked.

"Yeah, she's fine. Your mom even came by earlier and checked her out."

"Good," he sighed in relief. Scott's eyes searched the living room. "So where is my niece?"

"Scott, don't with the niece stuff, okay? My dad must have her. I'll go get her."

Stiles went on a search and soon found them in his dad's room. The Sheriff was sitting on his bed as he talked on the phone. The baby was lying in front of him, her little feet fitting easily in the palm of his hand. Stiles watched this interaction for a moment until he realized what his dad was saying.

"Yes, that works. We'll see you then. Thank you." He hung up the phone and noticed Stiles standing there. "Hey, didn't see you there. Weren't you asleep?"

"Yeah, but Scott just showed up, and he wants to see her." Stiles picked her up. He had a feeling he knew who'd been on the phone, but he asked anyway. "Who was that?"

"Adoption agency," the Sheriff said, rubbing his tired eyes. "Since tomorrow is the fourth, they said they could get somebody out here the next day."

"In two days. That's . . . kind of soon, isn't it?"

"It's just a talk, remember?"

"Yeah, I know." It was a strange feeling, to feel as if two days was far too soon while simultaneously not being soon enough. She was breathing fine, but he still found himself running his hand softly along her arm. She didn't take kindly to it, letting out an annoyed little cry before falling back asleep.

"Stiles, if you're going to stay awake, you might as well let her sleep," the Sheriff said, smiling kindly.

"Right, sorry." He said, and then he said it to her. "Sorry. For everything."

He brought her to Scott, who was oddly quiet once he got her. After a few minutes, he turned to Stiles and said, "So . . . your dad called an adoption agency."

"How did you – oh, right. Of course you heard everything." He cursed his dad's bad timing. He might tell Scott everything, but this was one thing he might have waited on. Scott was taking all of this surprisingly hard, and Stiles would have preferred to spare him on this for now. "Someone is coming here on the fifth. We're just gonna ask some questions. Nothing's getting decided yet."

"But you will after this meeting?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

Scott didn't push it anymore after that. He stayed for a couple of hours, looking after the baby when Stiles dozed off again at one point. In an effort to keep himself awake, Stiles broke out the PS3. They hadn't played videogames in such a long it seemed, so it was great to just hang out again like the old days. Well, not exactly like the old days, since there was now a baby girl sitting between them.

"You are dead!" Stiles yelled, as he shot through a hoard of approaching zombies. The baby made a noise, so he continued much quieter. "You are all so dead. Again."

"Stiles?" the Sheriff said, walking into the living room. "Does The Terminator need a bottle?"

Stiles quickly glanced at his watch before focusing on the game again. "Yeah, I was going to make her one in about ten minutes."

"I'll make it and bring it to you."

"Cool, thanks Dad."

They kept playing, but Scott just had to know if he'd really heard what he'd thought he heard. "Stiles, did your dad just call your baby The Terminator?"

"Yep," he said, his eyes never leaving the TV as he rapidly pressed buttons on the controller.

He paused for only a moment before shrugging and saying, "Okay." After many years spent in the Stilinski home, sometimes Scott didn't even bother to ask.

When they weren't receiving visitors, Stiles and the Sheriff took turns tending to the baby when the other needed a break. They made a good team once they figured out her schedule. Stiles didn't know very much about babies, but he felt right in thinking that he had a good one. She really didn't cry very much, and she was easily soothed once she got what she wanted, which was usually a bottle.

The Sheriff had just woken up from his own catnap when he found them both in Stiles's room. "How's Samantha doing?"

"Samantha? I think you're missing the spirit of the game here," Stiles said. The Sheriff would slip in a "normal" name sometimes, but Stiles never gave them much thought. He still wasn't ready to name her yet, and he was too amused by their little name game to stop now.

"I'm playing the game. Samantha is from Bewitched."

"Hmm, you have always had a thing for Elizabeth Montgomery. But Samantha? I don't know . . ."

"I think it's a nice name. Forgive me from trying to keep my granddaughter from being named Marty McFly."

"Hey, Marty McFly is the hero of a generation!" Stiles cried, suddenly impassioned by his love of Back to the Future. "And considering he's a time traveler, he's actually the hero of several generations."

"Fine, call her whatever you want," the Sheriff huffed, only truly half annoyed. He left the room, calling behind him so his voice carried down the hall. "Keep calling her John McClane, and Rambo, and Storm. Call her Han Solo for all I care."

Stiles eyes went wide. How could he forget Han Solo? That was only his favorite character of all time. He looked up to make sure his dad was really gone before trying it out on her. "Hey little Han Solo."

She was awake and making her usual cooing noises. He decided to take that as a sign that she liked it. "You like that, Han?" he asked while lightly bouncing her. He was surprised to find that he really liked the name too, so much so that when the Sheriff kept offering names for the rest of the day, he never noticed that Stiles was no longer playing along.

Later in the day Lydia returned as promised, and Stiles soon realized that it might be difficult to get her to leave. He'd never thought of Lydia as the nurturing type, but he had to admit that she was good with the baby. She liked to feed her and change her clothes, and Stiles even convinced her to change a diaper once. Lydia wasn't so bad at looking after him either, suggesting they take a walk around the block to get him out of the house. Soon into their walk he'd told her about the appointment with the adoption agency and she'd said she understood, but there was a sad sort of quiet hanging between them.

"The fresh air is nice, but I miss the air conditioning already," Stiles said to break the awkward silence. He watched her tie up her long hair into a messy bun and thought now was as good a time as any to apologize to her. "Lydia, I'm sorry."

"About what?" As far as she was concerned, he didn't have anything to be sorry for.

"Well, I was kind of jerk to you yesterday. You know, back at the hospital? And I felt like an even bigger idiot after I got home and saw what you did for us. Thanks for that, by the way."

"You're welcome, but you really don't have to apologize. You were about to hand your baby off to a stranger. You were upset."

"Sure, but that doesn't mean I wasn't acting like an asshole," he said glumly as he kicked a rock down the street.

"You were stressed out. It's understandable."

"Yes, I was understandably being an asshole."

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Lydia cried, stopping in front of him. "I'll admit that you were kind of a jerk if you accept the fact that I accept your apology."

Stiles laughed. "Deal."

Once that was settled and they'd taken all of the heat they could stand, they returned to the house and relieved the Sheriff from baby duty. They took her up to his room, and Lydia sat beside him on his bed, watching him with the baby as she slept soundly in his arms. He looked exhausted, but he was still so good with her. Lydia smiled at him. It was incredible to see Stiles be so sweet and attentive.

"What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing. So, have you thought about giving her a name?"

He was surprised by the question, especially since no one other than his dad had ever asked. He looked back at the baby. "I've thought about it, but . . . it doesn't seem like a good idea."

"Why not? She has to be called something other than 'baby'."

"Does she?" he wondered, though he said it more to himself than to her. After drifting off for a moment, he focused on Lydia's face and tried to keep his voice light. "Look, I hear if you name something, you get attached to it. Like how a farmer's kids aren't allowed to name the animals?"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Did you just equate your daughter to livestock?"

"No. Okay, maybe a little, but I think the point still stands here. And . . . it would be weird giving her a name without Malia."

"Oh, of course," Lydia said, feeling insensitive for not thinking of that. "It makes sense you'd want to wait for Malia, but I guess it's just strange that she's three days old and she doesn't have a name yet."

"Her not having a name is the least strange thing about all of this." He then took a deep breath, finally ready to admit what was really stopping him from naming her. "Lydia, what if we don't keep her? Then whatever name I gave her wouldn't matter anyway."

"It would still mean something to you. Wouldn't you want something to remember her by?" she asked, scooting closer to him and taking hold of one of her tiny hands that had slipped out of the blanket. "That way, whenever you'd think about her or look at her picture, you'd have something to call her, something that you chose so it's special."

Stiles nodded, rapidly blinking his eyes until his vision was clear again. It amazed him how often he was on the verge of tears lately. "I haven't thought about it really, not seriously anyway. But the one time I did . . . . I considered calling her Claudia, after my mom."

"That's sweet, and it's a pretty name."

"Yeah, but I always thought that if I ever named one of my kids after her, that kid would definitely be for keeps, you know?" Stiles turned his head away, feeling the guilt that always arose when he thought about giving her up.

Lydia put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "So call her something else. There has to be a name that suits her, something you like."

"Well, I've actually been calling her a name in my head."

"What is it?"

He shook his head. He didn't want to share it. "It's nothing. It's more like a silly nickname really. I didn't even tell my dad or Scott."

"So tell me," Lydia said, looking up at him with those big green eyes of hers. When he still seemed reluctant, she asked, "Why don't you want to tell me? Is it because you don't want me to get too attached? Sorry, it's too late for that."

For him, that was part of it sure. He knew everyone was starting to become fonder of her by the hour, so fond he was sure that more than just his own heart would be broken if he did give her up. Giving her a name and taking pictures of her was all adding up to this real, tiny person having a profound impact on his life, more so than he could have ever imagined when he held her that first time.

Of course, there was something else holding him back too. "I don't think you'll like it."

"Try me."

"You aren't going to let this go, are you?"

"Nope. When I think about her or look at her picture, I want a name to call her by too."

When she put it like that, it felt selfish to hang on to it. "Fine, but you're gonna think it's weird."

"I've been properly warned."

"Okay," Stiles said, steeling himself against the backlash he knew he was about to receive. "I've been calling her . . . Han."

Lydia blinked once. Twice. Once the shock wore off, she said, "Han? Like Han Solo?"

"Uh . . . yeah. Exactly like Han Solo."

She shook her head. "No."

"What do you mean 'no'?" Stiles laughed. "She's my kid! I can call her whatever I want."

"Stiles, you can't name your beautiful baby daughter after a Star Wars character! And a male one at that! At least have the decency to go with Leia if nothing else."

"Well I like it. I think it's cool."

"It isn't. Why would you willfully do that to her?"

"Lydia, I'm a teenage father. It should be obvious to anyone that I'll make bad parenting decisions."

"That doesn't mean you have to start now, with this!"

Stiles's joking demeanor slowly slipped away. He looked at Lydia with a sort of sadness that was always present in his features recently, even when he was smiling. "In a few days time she could have new parents who will call her Madison or Emma or something. So what does it matter?"

Lydia sighed, conceding his point while still not agreeing with his name choice. "But there are so many cuter names you could give her."

"I like Han," he shrugged. "It's how I think of her now."

"Fine, I give up. Can I hold her now?"

Stiles put the sleeping baby in her arms, and Lydia positively lit up. She spoke to her softly so she wouldn't wake her. "I can't believe your daddy is calling you Han. He could have tried just a little bit harder."

Stiles, who'd gotten up to gather the laundry that had begun to accumulate on his floor, said jokingly, "Like what, Han . . . na?"

Lydia perked up. "That could actually work!"

"Wait, that's a name?"

"Of course it is! Hahn-na. It's spelled H–A–N–N–A."

"So I add two letters to the end and now you like it?"

"At least it's actually a girl's name. And it still has Han in it." When Stiles still looked wary, she added, "What, you add two letters to the end and suddenly you don't like it anymore?"

The clothes fell from his hands and back onto the floor as he went over to them. He looked down at the baby and thought the name in his head. Hanna. It felt right somehow. That was it. That was his daughter's name. He swallowed nervously and took a step back, and Lydia noticed.

"Oh, you really don't like it."

"No, it's great. It's a real name."

"Of course it is," Lydia said, confused. Then it dawned on her. "Oh. It's a real name . . . for a real baby, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Stiles choked out. There were those damn tears again, but he smiled. "It is."

Lydia finally left around dinnertime, just before Melissa showed up with food. A lot of food. "I hope you guys didn't eat dinner yet."

"Melissa, thank you, but I hope you didn't spend your whole day off cooking for us."

"Not the whole day," she smiled. "Besides, it gave me something to do. Lately Scott only comes home to sleep for a few hours and then he's gone again."

"Well that settles it. You'll stay and have dinner with us."

Stiles couldn't remember the last time a woman made dinner and then stuck around to actually eat it with them. After his mom's funeral, the casseroles came for weeks, but those women never stayed longer than a minute or two. His dad had only had a couple of women to the house for dinner over the years, but the dates were always disastrous. But with Melissa it was nice. She'd become somewhat of a surrogate mom to him in the last few years, and she and the Sheriff had a good friendship. As he sat there shoveling Melissa's delicious dinner into his mouth, he couldn't help but wish they could do this more often.

Despite the fact that he was having a good time, Stiles still found himself picking up the baby monitor and putting it to his ear every five minutes or so. The first few times they didn't comment on it, but when he got up half-way through dinner to check up on her, the Sheriff reached over and forcibly sat him back in his chair.

"Sit. She's fine."

"Are you sure you put fresh batteries in these things?" he asked, shaking the monitor.

"Yes, now eat."

"I'm done. I'll go check up on her," Melissa offered.

She was gone before the Sheriff could protest. He turned to his son. "She'll be fine on her own for twenty minutes. You shouldn't be so worried."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bust up this thing you two have got going on," he smirked, gesturing with his fork to the Sheriff and Melissa's empty chair. He could blame sleep deprivation, but he was almost positive he was sensing some light flirting between them.

"Don't start that again," the Sheriff growled. "We're friends."

"Sure dad, okay."

Stiles was about twelve when finally felt like he could be ready for his dad to move on, and from that point on he'd always kind of hoped that something would happen between his dad and Melissa. Sure, at first that was mostly because he wanted Scott to officially be his brother. But as the years had gone on and he saw how lonely his dad was, he just wanted him to be happy. If it happened to be with Melissa, then that would be even better.

Melissa soon returned with the baby. "Look who's awake."

"And how's my granddaughter doing?"

"See for yourself."

She brought her over to the Sheriff, and they both fawned over her. Stiles watched them for a moment before saying through a mouth full of food, "I gave her name."

The Sheriff looked up in surprise. He certainly hadn't been expecting that. "You named her? A real name?"

"Yes, a real name." He swallowed. "Hanna."

"Oh." The Sheriff shared a look with Melissa. They both glanced at the baby and then back at Stiles. "Hanna? How'd you come up with it?"

"It . . . just came to me. So, do you like it?"

The Sheriff watched her yawn and stretch in Melissa's arms, and it made him smile. He said the name aloud a few times, even imagined her a bit older and calling for her with it. "You know what . . . I think I do."

"I like it too, Stiles."

"Good, because the only one who gets a veto is Malia." He'd tried to keep his tone light, but his voice still cracked on her name. "You know, when she gets back . . ."

After they finished dinner and washed the dishes, Melissa showed Stiles how to give Hanna a bath. "Make sure to get between every fold and crevice. And be careful around her bellybutton."

"Right," Stiles said, his brows furrowed in concentration. He realized his level of focus was more intense than probably needed when bathing a newborn, but he thought he couldn't be too careful.

One thing he found out rather quickly was that his daughter did not like getting a bath. She wailed through the entire thing, but she was happy as soon as she was wrapped up and warm again. She didn't like to be cold, and he supposed she was like her mother in that way. He also realized that it was the first time since she'd been born that he saw her hair lie flat, and as soon as it was dry it was as wild as ever. That reminded him of Malia too somehow.

Soon Melissa was gone and it was just the three of them again. They watched TV while Stiles gave her a bottle. Stiles was so tired, but when they decided to turn in for the night he suddenly became very anxious. He knew his heart was beating much too hard to ever fall asleep. He'd just resigned himself to the fact that he was in for another sleepless night when –

"Stiles, why don't we put her in with me for tonight?"

"Dad, you don't have to –"

"You're nervous," he said matter-of-factly. When Stiles opened his mouth to argue, the Sheriff interrupted. "What, you think I can't tell when you're nervous? Give me some credit, kid. I did raise you."

"Don't gloat, old man." Stiles was relieved his dad suggested it, but ultimately she was his responsibility, so he wasn't sure he could take him up on the offer. "You really don't have to –"

"I want to, and you need at least three hours of uninterrupted sleep. Look, we'll switch out the monitors and take turns waking up with her. You don't have to do this all by yourself."

Sometimes he felt like he should. It felt like the consequence he deserved for being careless, for bringing a baby into the world he didn't think he was ready to take care of. He hated to burden anyone because of his mistakes, even if those mistakes led to someone as precious as Hanna.

Still, he took him up on the offer because even he could admit that he needed some sleep. "Okay. Thanks, Dad."

It was the laughter that had intrigued her. The loud, happy screams drew her out from the trees and closer to the lake to investigate. If she were a real coyote, she would be running away from the sound, not toward it. But she wasn't a true coyote, no matter how much she wanted to be. The sound made her recall her own laughter, and the friendships she'd made, and many other good things she'd rediscovered about being human. It brought her back to herself somehow.

Malia wasn't sure where she was or how she'd gotten there. She vaguely recalled sunrises and sunsets, but she couldn't be sure how many had come and gone. All she could remember was running. She ran for miles, rarely sleeping or eating. Her extreme thirst had led her to water, only to find the lake already occupied.

She moved even closer until her paws were nearly in the water. Two college-aged girls were splashing each other, one screaming as the other dunked her head under the water. Malia watched them for a while, at least until their playfulness turned sensual. Seeing them together, all hands and mouths, reminded her of one of her favorite parts about being human. She wanted to be touched and kissed that way too.

Stiles. His face invaded her mind, and try as she might she just couldn't shake it. Malia could clearly see his light brown eyes, and the moles along his jaw, and the way his wide mouth quirked in the corner when he tried not to laugh. She remembered that first time they were together in Eichen House, and the moment he'd given her that questioning look to be sure it was really what she wanted. She'd smiled and nodded because in that moment she'd never wanted anything more. He'd smiled in return and kissed her lips before moving down to her neck. She was shaking when he took her hand, and his weight was so comforting and warm –

Her thoughts stopped cold. There was something about that night that was trying to claw to the forefront of her mind, and a part of her was fighting it. The more the memory pushed its way forward, the more panicked she felt. Then suddenly it all came flooding back: the shock of finding out she was pregnant, the horrible labor pains, and the overwhelming fear that had caused her to run. They'd made a baby. How could she possibly have forgotten that?

For the first time in days, Malia felt fully present in her mind and body. She recognized the lake from the one time she'd been to Lydia's lake house and knew that somehow her instincts had brought her back to Beacon Hills. Now she knew where she was but more questions plagued her. Where had she been? How long had she been gone? And her baby . . . where was her baby?

Malia made sure the girls were still distracted with each other before making her way over to their discarded clothes. With her mouth she picked up a top from one pile and a pair of jean shorts from the other and carried them back into the trees. She had somewhere she needed to be.

A/N: Malia's back! Well, almost back. That's the most important thing, right? I had a feeling some of you might have been getting frustrated with me for taking so long for Malia to return, ha. Sorry guys, this was all supposed to happen two chapters ago, but everything gets longer than I anticipate and it got pushed back. I think I'm correct in guessing the next chapter will be the one everyone has been waiting for.

It didn't take as long to write this one because I wrote the naming scene way back in April. (Have I really been writing this since April?) It was the first thing I ever wrote after I finished the first chapter because I couldn't wait to get to it. I'm not that great at explaining pronunciation, so just in case I didn't make it clear, Hanna is pronounced like the Han in Han Solo, not like how the name Hannah is typically pronounced. At first I thought, "Am I really going to have Stiles name his daughter after Han Solo?" And I soon decided, "Yes. Yes I am."