Actions Speak Louder Than Words: Story Submission by StatsGrandma

HOLD ME NOW

Leia is now three months pregnant with Anakin.  Told from Han's POV.

It's been one of those days with the kids.  I got home yesterday after two weeks of schlepping medical equipment all over the damn galaxy.  We'd have been home 2 days sooner save for that the Falcon needed some new pump housings; we had overheating.  I use standard parts whenever I can, but even standards can be out of stock, and that aggravated me.  Chewie wasn't exactly pleased himself.  We did as quick and dirty a job as possible, finished the merchandise drops, and we'll clean it up once we've been on the ground a few days.

The kids are happy to see me, but they're toddlers, and toddlers are people, too, so they have their off days. They're teething, and I think Leia was actually grateful to get to the office this morning. Both are whining and gnawing on anything that doesn't move and some things that do.  It's all I can do to keep up on the ice rings we keep in the freezer cold enough for them.  I feed them the foods they like, and they throw even more of it on the floor and each other than usual, which is saying a lot.

It's not helping that I'm tired.  Once we're done with deliveries, Chewie and I hightail it home to Coruscant. We take turns napping so that we don't waste time.  Needless to say, we don't sleep much. 

I have a bottle of single malt Corellian whiskey in the cupboard.  I've been saving it for a special occasion.  I'm starting to think rubbing some on the twins' gums is a special occasion.

Adding to my exhaustion is that I feel like crap.  My stomach's been on edge the last few days.  This happens in transit sometimes; you eat in a hurry and you tend to eat whatever's easy. Usually once I'm home I'm ravenous, but I haven't felt like eating all day.  All I really want to do is lie down and fall asleep until the nausea and pain subside.

My comm goes off.  It's Leia.

"How're the devil children?" she asks.  She's been in a much better mood since she passed the three month mark.  Her voice has a sadistically amusing tone.

"Demonic." 

"Try some whiskey on their gums."

"You've used my Corellian whiskey?"

She laughs.  "I wouldn't take that from you.  I have some Cadezian whiskey that was a gift that I've been using."

I have to laugh. "Cadezian whiskey is not a gift."  That stuff is beyond rank.  It's the sort of booze you drink only to get drunk, and fast. But apparently it works on teething toddlers.

She smiles at me.  "I have one more meeting and then I'm leaving.  Are you all right, flyboy?  You're not looking so hot."  Her expression's become serious.

"I just need a nap." 

"I wanted to keep this meeting short, anyway.  Hang in there, hotshot.  Reinforcements are headed your way."  She signs off. 

I find the open bottle of Cadezian whiskey.  I take a flimsi, pour some whiskey on it, gagging at the smell.  It smells even worse than I remember it.  I apply it first to Jaina and then Jacen.  They calm down, and I gently put them to bed.  They fuss a little but in a few minutes, they're (finally) asleep.

I'm on my way to the bedroom when I suddenly feel my stomach lurch.  I race to the 'fresher just in time to toss up what I don't have in my stomach.  Usually, I only puke when I'm drunk, and then I feel better.  Instead, I feel worse.  I'm not a chickenshit when it comes to pain, but gods, this hurts like hell.  I'm barely able to stand up.  I think the last time I felt this bad was when we were on Bespin and I had some 'man time' with my girlfriend's father.

At least the kids are asleep.  I fall down on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position, and I can't.  I force myself to get up again and search out some antinausea meds.  Of course, since I need 'em, we're out.  I can barely make it back to bed.  I haven't felt this dizzy since I got drunk at a wedding of some boring bureaucrat that we were forced to attend.  The only good thing about it was that it was open bar all night. 

I'm gonna puke again. And I'm probably not gonna make it to the 'fresher in time. I'm dizzy as I try to stand up.

"Han!"

I didn't even hear her come in.

"Outta my way!" I try to pass her as quickly as possible but I'm too late.

"I'll clean it up,"  Leia says, helping me get up.  She lays a cool hand against me.  "You're burning up.  Let me get you in bed and I'll take care of the mess."

This is Leia.  Strong, capable, always ready to help. Don't let the fact that she's a little slip of a thing fool you.

I lie down on the bed and I feel even worse. This is getting to be worse than the electrical grid.

I hear Leia cleaning up the mess I left.  She comes back to the bedroom with a fever strip and a wash bucket in her hands.  She places the strip on my forehead.

"103.  Han, you're really sick.  I need to get you to the medcenter."

"I just need some sleep."

"You can barely stand up." 

I can hear the babies crying.  I should help Leia. 

"Stay there!"  she orders me.  Which is fine, because right now, I'm curled up in the fetal position and moving doesn't look good. I can hear her pick them up, speaking soothingly to them.  She's probably changing them as we speak; now there's a task that never ends.  I hear the patter of little feet racing about and I hear her talking, probably on her comm. 

She comes into the bedroom, bearing a cold water soaked flannel and places it on my forehead. The shock of the cold makes me bury myself deeper into a crunched up position. "Chewie's on his way over."  Chewie lives downstairs, so it's not as if he has far to go.

"Good, he'll help you out." These two can be a handful.  Soon, there'll be three of em.  What was I thinking, that this was going to get easier.

"We're going to the medcenter,"  Leia informs me.

"I think I just need to sleep it off." 

I can hear the intercom give off its eight bell chime.  I modified it so that it wouldn 't sound like a siren.  Leia and I get tense at sirens.

She stands over me.  "It's that, or I call 999."  999 is the galactic standard for emergency assistance. 

Leia goes to let Chewie in. I can't hear what she's saying to him.  But I do hear the kids laughing.  They've got Chewie wrapped around their little fingers.

Leia and Chewie come to the bedroom, Chewie holding both kids.

{Call 999} He says to Leia.

"This is not necessary!"  I don't want to go to the medcenter.  I pride myself on not being afraid of much, but medcenters are up there.  "Leia, please!"

She ignores me and calls it in. Chewie takes the kids into the other room. 

I'm lying there and suddenly, it feels as if something exploded, and I'm wracked with the worst pain I've ever felt.  And having been tortured a few times, I know from where I speak. "Leia,"  I gasp. 

"They'll be here soon," she says softly, brushing my now soaking wet hair off my face with her fingers.

She knows I'm terrified, and she knows that her touch brings me comfort.  She doesn't have to say a word. 

I don't know if it was one minute or half an eternity till the emergency responders arrive, but I'm carried away in a litter, Leia following me close by. 

I barely remember getting to the medcenter, but suddenly there's a burst of people, droids and activity all around me.  I ask for my wife.  I'm told she's waiting outside till they get me ready for surgery.  I'm being stuck everywhere with pointy things.  At least the pain's a little better; they must be feeding me something good.

Okay, I admit it.  I'm terrified.  I was sort of planning to keep all of my internal organs till I didn't need them anymore. 

I'm trying to ask what the hell's wrong with me. 

A droid with a sweet voice (well, for a droid) finally informs me I've got peritonitis and will have to have surgery and a bacta treatment.

Good times, I mutter to myself.  Just what I had planned. And here I was going to watch the smashball playoffs tonight, have a few beers, read 'The Little Lost Bantha Cub' for the nth to the i time, tuck the kids in.  Silly me, thinking about what I said to Leia about nothing in our lives ever going according to plan. I'll keep my mouth shut next time.

"Can I see my wife now?" I demand. 

"Yes, you may,"  a human male says to me.  "I'll get her."

I'm pushed out of whatever area I've been in and into a cold, gleaming white hallway.

"Hey flyboy."  She leans over and smiles at me.  "Rumor has it you're going to survive." 

"Good, because I need to read 'The Little Lost Bantha Cub' to the kids a million more times."

That makes her laugh.  I love it when she laughs. 

"And who'd remember to foodshop?"  I ask her, and she laughs again.

"That reminds me, the pantry's a bit low,"  she says, taking my hand in hers.  "Get well soon, because we're going to starve if you don't." 

We both laugh. 

"Hold me," I whisper to her. "Just hold me now."

She does so, not losing her smile. 

"Kiss your wife, it's time to go,"  one of the droids tells me. 

"As if I needed an excuse,"  I mutter.

"See you on the other side, flyboy."  She turns to the droid.  "Take good care of him.  He's the only one in the family who can cook." 

I love that woman.