2016 Valentine's Day Challenge Submission #6 by Knighted Rogue

"Distractions" by Knighted Rogue

Leia Organa had spent the last hour striving for inner peace and had only managed to kneel on the floor of their suite and stew in anxiety. Her knees were killing her. The air felt too hot. Her mind couldn’t focus.

And her breathing was too loud in her ears.

She opened her eyes and sighed. This was ridiculous. She was creating obstacles for herself, and the worst part was that she fully realized it. To her credit, she tried to meditate often, every couple of days at least. Sometimes she even managed a decent facsimile of Jedi calm.

Sometimes.

Today was not one of those days. Her mind spun in circles and her heartrate would not calm down. The internal world that Luke described was rife with distractions. Her inner peace was nowhere to be found.

Frustrated at herself, Leia sat back, off her knees, and swiped a hand over her braids. It was the damn suite, she thought. Or the upcoming elections. Or maybe her total mental paralysis whenever anyone mentioned the word family.

Sometimes she was able to accept Anakin Skywalker as the hero Luke claimed he was. Sometimes she empathized with the struggle to change a habit – as though crimes against sentience could be considered a habit. Sometimes she could see the good in a man that had done such evil.

Most days it was like looking through a narrow tube. She only saw hatred through the other side. How could anyone be party to such evil? Such depravity?

Those days were the days when she couldn’t focus.

Like today.

Leia laid out onto the rich orowood paneling of the floor. The chill felt wonderful against her back and she briefly wondered how long she had been trying to meditate. She considered sitting up, then decided the floor was probably clean enough to just lie here for a moment.

“Hey there,” she heard, along with the sound of a door closing.

Some Jedi she was. She hadn’t even heard the door open.

 “Hey,” she answered, and wriggled her feet. Footsteps moved towards the conform couch to her left and now, yes, now she could feel Han’s presence in the Force, a nice familiar warmth. . “How did the repairs go?”

“Could’ve been worse,” Han said, sitting. “This is a good look for you.”

She smiled. “I’m meditating.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Leia closed her eyes and sighed. “Today is not my day.” Han hummed, tapped his foot, and she felt the vibration through the floor. She briefly thought about Luke’s lessons, how he described the Force like waves of energy emitted from every living thing. Very seldom did any of the energy waves feel as real to her as the vibrations from Han’s boot hitting the floor. She tapped her temple. “It’s too busy up here.”

“It’s always too busy up there,” he answered. “What are you going to do about that?”

She wasn’t sure if that was an innuendo; it was a little too oblique for Han. His more salacious prompts tended to be more direct. “Fall asleep on the floor?”

“Nice try, Princess.”

She opened her eyes and rolled to her stomach. “Have dinner? Seduce you?”

She liked the way he was sprawled out there on the couch, one foot resting on the table in front of him, his arm thrown over the back. He quirked an eyebrow. “Better idea than falling asleep on the floor.”

She agreed. Pouting slightly, she took her time crawling to where he sat. He didn’t move but to adjust his feet to the floor, giving her room to sit up between his knees and rest her hands on his thighs. She looked at him, tilted her head to the side.

Waited.

After a moment he laughed. “I can’t believe you just did that.” He nudged a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. “The indomitable Leia Organa. Where did this come from?”

She scowled. “Indomitable?”

He nodded and she dug her nails in a bit to see him grimace. “If they could see you now …” He trailed off. “Actually, it probably should be ‘if they could see me now.’”

Leia briefly wondered who the they was. “What makes you say that?”

“Well,” he gestured to their suite, his eyes following his hand. “This is probably the last place anyone thought I’d wind up.” He looked back down to her and grinned. “Much less you sitting there, looking like that.”

She accepted his praise with a head tilt. “It would be a stretch of the imagination.” She looked down towards his belt, ran a finger through a loop.

“What would your younger self think of this compromising position we’re in, here?” His voice was jovial, teasing, but she detected a shift in his eyes. “Hardly proper royal etiquette.”

She smiled. “How do you know?”

Han’s eyes hardened so infinitesimally that Leia wasn’t sure she’d actually seen the change. “Funny. Thought you were from Alderaan. Raised at Aldera, bastion of the right and moral – “

“I don’t remember ever saying that.”

“ – beacon of good manners and sexual repression – “

“I definitely never said that.” She stood up, banter forgotten, and sat next to him on the couch. “What’s this about?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.” She opened her mouth to argue and he quickly continued. “Really. Just a weird conversation with Luke.”

That was unexpected. “About our sex life?”

If she had hoped to make his smile return, she was out of luck. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, rested it on the back of the couch. “He was going on and on about how important your training was, how you and he were the only hope for the next generation of Jedi.”

He sounded like he was repeating Luke verbatim. “Okay.”

“And I said something like if you and he were creating the next generation of Jedi together, we were all in a heap of trouble.”

“That’s disgusting.”

He lowered his chin long enough to say: “Says the woman who stuck her tongue down her brother’s throat.” Then he resumed his inspection of the ceiling. “And he told me I was a distraction.”

Leia wasn’t sure she heard Han correctly. When he looked at her again, she sputtered out one word. “Why?”

“He says you aren’t concentrating.”

Leia didn’t know how to react to that. Especially now, after a particularly trying meditation session. She took a moment to consider that. It was, of course, none of Luke’s business what she did in her private time and in her own quarters. And she’d been a good apprentice. Diligent, attentive, responsible. She’d amassed the same level of concentration that she had at the university.

She shut her eyes and leaned the side of her head against the back of the couch.

While at university, Leia had been a good student. But she had also been bored. Political theory wasn’t the most exciting of subjects, and she’d always had a bit more adventure in her blood than Bail had known what to do with.

She’d been going through the motions because she’d known that was what she was supposed to do.

Then and now.

“I have been distracted,” she murmured. “But not with you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

She rolled her eyes. “I mean,” she said, “I am probably not the most focused of students right now.”

Han looked at her a moment, then said: “Because of Vader?”

The man had to be Force-sensitive, she thought. There was no other explanation for his moments of incredible insight. “Probably. Yes.”

He nodded. “That’s a lot to think about.”

It was.

He continued. “Look, maybe you need a break.”

“I can’t take a break, Han – “

“Why not?” Han asked. “What is so goddamn important that you can’t sort out your brain for a bit?”

She gaped at him, mouth slack and unresponsive.

”I’m just saying, you’ve had a lot of changes in the past year. Relatives coming out the woodwork, magic powers suddenly appearing.” His eyes twinkled. “Me.”

She tried not to smile. “Yes. You.”

“And maybe you need some time to sit with all this, all these distractions – “ He rolled his eyes, “ – and try to make some sense out of all of us.”

She almost laughed at his phrasing, lumping himself into her relatives and magic powers like he was just another thing to worry about. “You do make it difficult to concentrate.”

He nodded.

“If I took this little break, I’d want to actually leave this planet.”

He nodded again. “Even better.”

“And I’d want you to come with me.”

“Of course,” he said. “It’s not much of a party without me.”

She laughed and moved over to him, sliding a leg over to his other side until she was straddling him. “We can’t really do this.”

“I know.”

But she appreciated him trying. More than he would ever know.

“I don’t actually think you are a distraction,” she said, as she leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I think of you more as an …. educational aid.”

She felt his hand slide down her back, slowly and so soft. Maybe his younger self wouldn’t have believed she’d ever be sitting in his lap like this, her tongue in his ear and his hand slowly sliding underneath her tunic to sweep across the skin of her lower back.

But her younger self probably wouldn’t be so surprised.

Her younger self had imagined moments just like this one. Often, too.

“You facilitate good cognition,” she continued, laughing quietly and sneaking a hand under his shirt and resting it on the skin of his abdomen.

“Do I?” He sounded a bit breathless.

She hummed into his ear, then swept her lips under his jaw. “Every apprentice should have a Han Solo.”

He laughed, slipped his arm around her and tumbled her down onto the couch, pressing their chests together and weighing her hips down into the cushions below her. She brought her hands to his face and smiled at him.

“There’s not enough of me to go around,” he said. “I have this one customer who takes up most of my time, real demanding, very stubborn, orders me around like some kind of – “

She leaned up and kissed him to shut him up and remind him exactly why there wasn’t enough to go around.

*****

A big Thank You to Knighted Rogue for her submission and a callout for any other talented authors as we near Valentine's Day!  We know you're out there. 

2016 Valentine's Day Challenge Submission #5 From Arallute

“The Earrings”

Hanna City, Chandrila, 31 ABY

The rain was pelting Han Solo. Up and down the street, people and squalls were racing for cover from the sudden downpour. Han ducked into the first shop he saw, a jewelry store with an inviting display window.

“Greet the day, sir!” called a friendly voice from the back of the shop. 

Without thinking, Han replied in kind, “Though it be cold and rainy.”

Han wiped his feet and shook the rain out of his gray hair as best he could. Looking around, he locked eyes with the shop owner, who had now come out from the backroom and was staring at Solo with an unreadable expression. Surprise? Respect? Wonder? Is business that bad here, Han thought sardonically, that he’s astounded when a customer comes in? “I’d be grateful if I could wait in here until the storm’s over,” Han added.

The elderly jeweler realized he was staring, broke eye contact, and moved gracefully behind the counter. “Of course, of course. You look soaked. May I make you a cup of tea? Chandrila has excellent teas.” Without waiting for an answer, he busied himself with a kettle.

“Yeah, tea would be nice, thank you,” Han murmured. He noticed a small flag hanging on the wall behind the counter. A blue and green flag, with an upside down triangle in the center. “You’re Alderaanian?” Han guessed abruptly.

The man smiled at him calmly. “Did you figure that out by the flag, or by my greeting?”

“The flag,” Han admitted. “But now that I think about it, ‘greet the day’ is Alderaanian too, isn’t it? Haven’t heard that phrase in...well, in a long time.”

Since Leia, Han mused. ‘Greet the day’ was a formal form of greeting on Alderaan; you were supposed to answer with ‘For it be beautiful’ or some other positive adjective, or else say ‘Though it be…’ if something negative came after it. Leia had explained—one day, a lifetime ago—that it was a way of starting a conversation between strangers, using the weather as an impetus. Every culture makes small talk about weather.

She used the phrase on him occasionally. Usually to greet the night….

“Well,” the jeweler said, interrupting Han’s train of thought, “You still remember the correct response.” He poured boiling water over the tea, and offered Han the warm mug.

Han let its warmth creep into his hands. “My wife is from Alderaan.”

The jeweler smirked. “Yes, General, I know that.” He sounded cheeky, almost patronizing. Any more sarcasm, and you’d sound just like that other Alderaanian I know, Han thought.

“I’d like to show you something,” the man continued, beckoning Han through a door from the showroom to the workspace.

The back room had a long counter with lumps of metal, obviously works in progress, as well as metal-cutters and various gemstones. But the room was dominated by a huge rock, several meters long and high.

 “Is that an asteroid?” Han asked.

“That’s one word for it,” the jeweler replied. “It’s a piece of my homeworld. Every so often, I pay a smuggler to bring me a boulder like this from the asteroid belt, and I extract various metals from the rock to make jewelry for Alderaanians. For the survivors. It’s comforting for them to have a small fragment of home. The parts I don’t use go back to the asteroid belt.”

Han moved to the counter to examine some of the pieces of jewelry. “What a beautiful idea,” he said quietly. I don’t care how much it costs. I’m doing some shopping here.

 

The jeweler handed Han a small box containing a pair of earrings, uniquely shaped and heavy. “I’ve just finished these. 75% pure gold, about 25% titanium and iron alloys.” The metalsmith smiled, proud of his design. “The outer layer of gold makes the piece beautiful, but the core is as unbreakable as any steel. Like our Princess.”

Han looked up from the earrings and into the eyes of the older man. “Like our Princess,” he repeated earnestly. “Name your price.”

The Alderaanian’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh, no, General Solo,” he protested. “I’d never sell to you. These are a gift. Please give my warmest regards and my sincerest admiration to Her Highness.”

Ten minutes later, the tea was drunk, the rain had stopped, and Han had a new mission. The earrings were in a delicate green velvet box with a small flimsi card tucked into the ribbon, explaining the jewelry’s origin.

The main spaceport of Hanna City was bustling with activity. It didn’t take Han too long to find what he was looking for: an X-Wing with blue matte markings. A pilot in orange fatigues was readying the ship for take-off. 

“Hi, Lieutenant,” Han greeted, noting the bars on her helmet. “Nice T-70. Blue squadron—that’s Poe Dameron’s group, isn’t it?”

The pilot looked Han over, trying to place him. “Yes, it’s Commander Dameron’s squadron,” she answered cautiously. “I’m Jessika Pava, sir. It’s nice to meet you.”

Han shook her proffered hand. “Han Solo. Nice to meet you, too.” Now she recognized him. Her jaw dropped. Han continued quietly, “I’ve got a mission for you, Lieutenant. Are you heading back to Hosnian Prime now?”

Pava hesitated. “Maybe.”

“Or maybe,” Han whispered, leaning in close, “D’Qar?”

She blinked, then nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Great,” he said, removing the velvet box from his jacket. “I need you to deliver this to General Organa for me. Within the week. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir,” she answered immediately, before inspecting the box.  “A ring?” she guessed.

Solo gave her a crooked grin. “Earrings. Sweetest Day is next week.”

Pava grinned back. “Ah. I’m sure the General will appreciate the gift, sir. I’ll be ready to go in an hour or so; I have to do a pre-flight check and get some lunch before I go.”

“Good. That gives me some time to write a letter.” Han looked around, considering the spaceport’s café offerings. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

Hi, sweetheart,

I found an Alderaanian jeweler on Chandrila who makes these pieces out of metals he extracts from the Asteroid Belt. He wrote you a card with all the details. But I knew you’d like his stuff, so I’m sending you a piece. Just a token. Before I forget: I’m supposed to pass on the jeweler’s “warmest regards and sincere admiration” to you.

I’m not exactly sure which emotions I should be passing on to you, though. Warmth and admiration sound like a good start. I couldn’t admire anyone more than I do you. The Resistance you’ve created, the Republic before that…hell, your whole life you’ve been giving yourself to the galaxy. That old Alderaanian is proof enough of that; he’s full of respect for you and he doesn’t even know you. Your heart is pure gold, with that unbelievably strong core. Your generosity, your unselfishness, your strength, it’s humbling. I’m in awe of you.

I’m still out here flying around, smuggling or trading. Of course, I’m still looking for our daughter and haven’t given up hope that I’ll be able to bring her back to you someday. One of the smugglers or slavers out here must know something. And I know you won’t be whole until she’s found, just like I still have this Breha-shaped hole in my heart. I wish I could give you back our little boy, too, but…he’ll have to find his own way back to us.

I know I’ve apologized to you, over and over, for how I left. But it still seems insufficient. I feel like there are so many things left unsaid between us. I’m sitting here in a tapcafe, trying to come up with the right words, to un-say all those hateful things I said. In anger, in pain. I didn’t mean any of it. The anger wasn’t meant for you. I know you know that. You’re the only one who’s ever known me at all.

I still wake up every single morning in surprise and confusion that you’re not next to me.

I love you. I miss you, so much sometimes that it paralyzes me. I cherish the memory of every minute we spent together. I’m not coming back to you until I find our baby girl, but when I do, I’ll never leave your side again.

In the meantime, happy Sweetest Day.

All yours,

Han

2016 Valentine's Day Challenge - Submission #4 From Kelleher

 A Change in Plans

I owe a fellow fan fic writer a debt of gratitude for this one.  Quite a while ago, I read a fan fic with a similar theme relating to carbonite poisoning, but with a different outcome (as you can see, I’m trying not to give away too much).  I can’t remember who wrote it, but I wanted to thank her for the inspiration. 
 

Arriving back at the Solo home on Corbis after a quick trip to check in on the New Republic regional capital being constructed on Kentu, Leia Solo quickly showered and changed into the ridiculously skimpy fuchsia monstrosity-masquerading-as-lingerie that Han had bought at a cheap bazaar on Corellia as a joke gift for her last birthday.  It was barely more than a few triangles of fabric held together by a few strings, and he’d bought it just to see the consternation on her face when she opened the gift, because he was confident she’d never wear it. She’d show him, she thought, as she tied the last string.  She did, however, cover it with a delicate pale yellow shimmersilk robe before hurrying into their bedroom.

She checked again to make sure that the two gifts she’d bought for Han were perfectly wrapped and placed – one on the dresser, one under the bed – and that the scapio petals she’d strewn across the bed looked artistic and not ridiculous.  Sighing as she rearranged a few petals, she acknowledged to herself that Han had always been better than she at planning romance.  He’d always been the one to make their Khieu Dahm plans. After all, it was a Corellian holiday.  Leave it to the Corellians to come up with a holiday celebrating erotic love.

But this year would be different.  This year, she had made plans, as Han had been out on a three-week mission to test a new design for a long-haul freighter. This, year, she was going to give her husband the best night of his life in every possible way.

Of that much, she was absolutely sure.

*******

Han landed the Falcon at Landing Field Six, only a few kilometres from their home.  He’d briefly considered comming Leia yesterday from the Selashni checkpoint and telling her that the ship he was testing needed repairs, just to avoid Khieu Dahm. He didn’t quite know if he could face it this year, given everything.

But Han Solo was not the kind of man who’d run away from his wife, no matter what. Besides, none of this was her fault.  It was all on him.   All on his past.  He probably deserved it.

She didn’t, he thought. Yet again, Leia was going to be forced to confront the impact of his past on their marriage.  At the moment, she seemed less bothered than he was.  Bothered…that wasn’t at all the right word.  Humiliated. Heartsick. Feeling like Leia had chosen a giant, worthless pile of bantha kest for a husband – THAT started to describe how he felt.

He picked up the Khieu Dahm gift he’d bought for Leia; a delicate Alderaanian floral bracelet he’d found a few months ago on one of the mid-levels on Coruscant.  Even the gift – rare and expensive though it was – seemed to fall short. 

Han sighed and passed on the opportunity to take a shuttle home.  Maybe he’d feel better after a walk.  Maybe he’d be able to battle this mood that he’d managed to hidden while home before the test flight, but which had descended on him like a dark cloud once he was gone and he didn’t have to try to keep up appearances so his Jedi wife wouldn’t pick up on his unhappines.  He doubted it, but it was worth a try.

Half a kilometer into his walk, it started raining.

********

Leia heard the monitor beep to warn her that someone approached the home from the front lane.  That was odd; if Han had taken the shuttle, he’d arrive from the back gate. But she looked out the window and there he was, looking cold, soaked, and miserable has he trudged through the rain.

She sighed.  His appearance now matched the mood he’d been trying to hide from her – unsuccessfully - before he left.  He was probably trying to hide it from her Jedi skills, but she hadn’t needed them – only her wifely senses -- to pick up his unhappiness. She would have needed her Jedi skills to suss out why he was so blue, and she’d long ago promised not to use them to unlevel the playing field with her husband. So she was still in the dark.  Waving her hand over the door’s sensor, she unlocked the front door for her husband.

“Stupid, kreffing, rain---“ Han started but didn’t manage to finish as Leia threw herself into his arms. 

“Happy Khieu Dahm, flyboy,” she purred, finding his lips and kissing him hungrily.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said quietly, returning the kiss, then holding her tight to him.  He knew that, given she was in lingerie and he was in soaking wet bloodstripes, he should let go before her robe was ruined, but he found he couldn’t.  He was so in love with her, and he couldn’t stand that he was letting her down.

She felt the wave of sad resignation roll over him, and it chilled her more than the rainwater that had dampened her robe and was doing odd things to her lingerie underneath.  She looked at her husband and realized she couldn’t go through the wild, erotic night she’d planned, culminating in the second gift she’d hidden under the bed, when he was so clearly unhappy.  She stepped away from him.

“Han, what is it?” she said, quietly but firmly. “You were very down before you left, and you’re even further down now.”

He shook his head. “It’s nothin’—“

“Is it me, Han?” Leia asked, swallowing the fear in her throat.  She hadn’t sensed that his feelings for her had wavered, but what if they had?

“Gods, no, it’s not you,” Han said, his voice turning hoarse. “I’m crazy in love with you, Leia, and I always will be. It’s me.  It’s that we’re never gonna escape my past, are we?”

She looked at him quizzically.  He hadn’t so much as mentioned any nefarious characters from his past in ages.  He’d treated the rise of the New Republic as a chance for a do-over of sorts, a chance to reclaim the life he’d intended when he talked his way into the Imperial Academy as a teen.  He was proud of his position overseeing new military construction at the Corellian shipyards and test piloting the new ships they built.  He loved test piloting more than Leia wished he did, but she knew all about the adventurous man she’d married, and the position was perfect for him.  Plus, it allowed enough flexibility for him to accompany her as pilot, security, and military attaché on any diplomatic missions that looked like they may be trouble…or romantic.  

Until this very moment, Leia had been sure that his past was long behind him, and she’d personally see to it that her lightsaber sliced clear through any gangster who wanted to change that.

“Who is it?” Leia asked.

“It’s not a someone.”  Han shook his head and looked at his wife, wearing a pained expression. “It’s been almost ten months…so I guess we know our answer, huh?  I’m sorry.”

He turned away and walked into the kitchen.  Suddenly he needed a shot or six of Corellian ale.

It took Leia a moment to understand what he was saying.  Then she understood – it had been ten months since they both let their pregnancy inhibitors expire.  The medic had told them to give it at least a year before they underwent any testing, since Han had suffered from carbonite poisoning and it could take six months of more for his body “to decide if it would come fully back on-line” as the medic put it.

Leia had taken it all in stride.  They’d known all along about the possibility of the carbonite poisoning making it impossible for Han to have children.  Quite honestly, Leia had enjoyed the last ten months immensely, with the new home on Corbis, her Jedi training and reduced obligations to the Republic, and many romantic interludes with her husband occupying her time and her thoughts.  She’d long been convinced that whatever the medical evidence said, Han Solo would be able to father children because, she snorted, come on: Han Solo.  But on the outside chance that he couldn’t, they’d also agreed that adoption was a viable option, and one they might pursue even if they did have biological children, given their own childhood histories.

She followed him into the kitchen. “Is this what’s been troubling you lately?”

Han nodded, offering her a tumbler of Corellian ale.  She shook her head. 

“Han, it’s not a year yet. We’re barely at ten months.”

"Close enough,” he shrugged.  

“Have you been feeling like this for the last ten months?”

He shook his head. “They said it would take six months to know.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Humiliated. Embarrassed. The more the months rolled on, the more I wanted a little version of us.” 

“Follow me,” Leia said firmly.  Her plans for the night had been completely upended, but they’d been replaced in a nanosecond by an even better one.

She led Han into their bedroom, where he saw the scapio petals she’d artfully scattered.  He sighed.  Leia had done everything in her power to make this a memorable Khieu Dahm – his holiday – and he’d screwed up this too.

“Sit down,” Leia said, and he obeyed, sitting on the edge of the bed as she reached down and picked up a small, wrapped gift that she handed to her husband.

“Open it,” she said softly, standing close to him. “Open it.  I promise you’ll like it.”

Han quickly unwrapped the present and opened the box, pushing back a few layers of white flimpaper. He saw something pink and feminine.  He thought it might be lingerie until he felt the nubby fabric.  He pulled whatever it was out of the box and let it unroll.

In his grip was a small, fuzzy, pink onesie.

Stunned, he looked up at his wife, then down at the onesie.  Leia tucked her hand under his chin and tilted his head toward her, looking deep into his eyes.

“You’re going to be a father, Han.  I’m four weeks pregnant.”

He was instantly in her arms, his head burrowed against her neck.  She realized with a start that he was crying -- no, not crying.  Her strong, courageous, loving husband was sobbing like a child in her embrace.  

“I never doubted you, Solo,” Leia teased, before becoming serious and looking down at him. “But you’ve been suffering, Han.  Please, when you’re hurting, I need to know why.  Don’t suffer alone.”

He nodded.  “I just felt like I was failing you.  All because of my past…”

“No,” said Leia, more sharply than she intended. “t wasn’t your past that landed you in carbonite: it was Vader.”

She unconsciously put her hand to her pelvis and the tiny life growing inside her.  Han knew what his wife was thinking; Vader had kept them both from even considering getting their pregnancy inhibitors removed for over a year of their marriage because, Han’s carbonite poisoning or not, Leia wasn’t willing to risk an accident before she was ready to risk having biological children.  Han also knew that he was not worried about this child’s potential for evil.

“The baby is Force-sensitive,” Leia said quietly. “I’m sure of it.  I felt it within a week of her conception…I felt her presence, out of nowhere, really. A small, gentle presence. Defenseless.  Not entirely self-aware, but it wasn’t only me reaching out with the Force.  Something where there had been nothing was reaching out with the Force…and it felt female and then the presence felt,” she shrugged, “like us.”

“Leia,” Han murmured. “We considered this, and we talked about this, and we planned, and we studied, and we promised each other when we decided to go for this that we’d do whatever we had to, and give up whatever we have to, to keep our children safe.  I’m pretty sure we know more than anyone in the galaxy about raising a Force-sensitive child. And our child is going to be loved so completely and protected so totally that the Dark Side won’t stand a chance,” he laid his hand over hers on her stomach. “Our little princess will be fine.”

Leia saw his eyes well up again.  She gently brushed a finger along his cheek as they held each other silently for a long while, thinking about the momentous journey on which they’d just embarked. 

“I really ruined your plans for tonight, didn’t I?” Han smirked after a while, feeling himself slide a little on the shimmersilk sheets. 

Leia laughed. “I learn a lot of new moves smutty digimags over the last two weeks.  Hope I didn’t accidentally send Mon the wrong datapad…but yes, General, I was going to give you a scorchingly passionate night and then hand you this gift, while telling you that these incredibly erotic nights were going to be few and far between when we’re both covered in spit-up.”

“I can live with that,” Han laughed, “for a while.”

“Me too,” Leia said, before twisting uncomfortably. “Ouch.”

Han looked at her, alarmed. “You ok?”

“Han,” Leia said, “do you remember that insanely tawdry lingerie you bought me on Corellia last year?”

“The thing I knew you’d never wear?”

“Yes, that one,” Leia said. “Were you aware, when you bought it, that it was made of very cheap candy floss?”

“No,” he snorted with laughter.  “Why, did you have some pregnancy craving for candy floss?”

“No, but I hope you do.”  Leia dropped the shimmersilk robe, revealing the Corellian lingerie in all its cheap glory.  Han was thunderstruck. He hadn’t expected his wife to ever entertain actually putting it on – especially not if it was edible.  “Because, Han, your clothes are soaking wet, and your candy floss lingerie is now sticking to me  everywhere. I guess you’re just going to have to find a way to get it off.”

“I think I can manage that,” his voice rumbled in her ear as he pulled her closer. “I love you, Princess.”

“I know.  I love you back.”

“I kno—“ He felt his hand stick to her side. She was right; this was some cheap candy floss. “Uh, I think I might break my teeth on this stuff...”

Leia giggled as he scooped her up in his arms.  “That would be a little awkward to explain to a medic.”

“I say we start our Khieu Dahm in the shower,” Han murmured, scooping Leia into his arms.   He wondered if he was going to be able to lift his tiny wife into his arms even when she was nine months pregnant. He hoped so.

“Works for me,” Leia whispered as she planted kisses along his jawline. “And I’m so glad a modified version of my plan is back in effect.”

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