Swan
Title: Swan
Characters: Han/Leia, Luke/Mara, others
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: When the universe is coming down around their ears, they know there's always at least one person they can count on, with something that even the Force can't rival.
Watching Luke and Mara walk down the aisle, Han had to grin. The way Luke's face lit up looking at his wife made Han remember one day, many years ago now, when Luke saw the stars from space for the first time. It had made Han turn away, because he was too cynical to handle the brilliance shining off that kid's face. And of course he'd had to make a hard-edged quip, to hide that he felt that way.
In fact, Han thought, the only other person to lay him bare that way was the petite woman slipping her arm through his now as they followed the newlyweds out. In a way, he should have known they were related. Both of them had that rampant idealism thing going on, eyes that shone with purpose and hope even when there didn't seem to be any hope left.
What he realized now, looking back at it, was that it was that Leia had given him hope for the future, even when he'd thought he'd gone beyond all that into the hard life that smuggling had given him.
And now, looking down at Leia (she looked ridiculously beautiful, even after years of governmental squabbling and three kids) and seeing her turn those big, hopeful eyes up at him filled Han with a warm glow. It wasn't something he showed to other people. It was something they kept for themselves, when everything else seemed destined to pull them back.
*
It's the long flight from Coruscant to whatever safe haven they've found, and things are tense. The Falcon has people crammed in it, as many as could get on board, and the scrubbers are working overtime to compensate for the amount of carbon dioxide exhaled. It can't do anything for the smell though--fear and anger and distress and sadness, all mixed into one. For Leia's fledgling Jedi senses, it's almost too much to bear.
Worse is the ache she gets in her chest when she thinks of Anakin, her baby, dead in a place where they couldn't even bring his body back for her to hold one last time. Anakin, her way of reconciling her past.
Now, Leia thinks, she knows how her father must have felt. Trying to keep his family safe, but watching it slip through his fingers...
As if on cue, a set of calloused, tan fingers grab hers that are white-knuckled on the controls. Hands she knows well take hers, hold them tightly. She knows Han is holding her hands tight so she can't feel that he's shaking too, but she doesn't mind. That's not what's important right now.
"We're gonna make it through this," Han says, looking her straight in the eye. "I know it's pretty bad now, but we've been through worse."
The words give her comfort, but what truly makes her offer up a small, hopeful smile is the way he looks at her. How even though he's lost his best friend, and she's lost practically everything she worked to build during the Rebellion, and both of them have lost a son--it's still them against the world, and they know they're going to win. For a moment, the cockpit is quiet, the two of them sharing something in a reaffirmation of a bond that even the Jedi can't touch.
And then Ben, in his makeshift bassinet made out of a cargo crate stuffed with blankets, starts to cry, and Leia has to get up to quiet him. She knows how it feels to a Jedi parent when their child is upset, and Mara and Luke have enough to deal with right now.
*
Midnight on Coruscant, and Han is up pacing back and forth. There've been a lot of sleepless nights lately, since the end of this stupid war that's torn the galaxy apart once again. He doesn't like to think about how it ended. The cost, to their whole family, has been too high.
In their apartment, they always kept rooms for the kids to come home to when they weren't on Jedi business. Only three when there should have been four, but Han had figured that even though the kids would eventually move out, marry and have apartments of their own they might have grandkids to fill the rooms.
There's only one, so far. And she doesn't sleep in her father's room.
Jacen's room is quiet when Han sticks his head in. It feels empty, even though it's furnished, like its purpose has been served and its time is done. Still, he goes and sits on the neatly-made bed, looking around at the things that used to be Jacen's, the clothes hanging up in the closet that he'll never wear again, the few personal things he left here. When he was little, the shelves would probably have held a dozen different terrariums or cages for whatever animals his son was keeping. Now, they're just empty.
"Han?"
His response is as automatic as the way his arm falls slightly to the side in an invitation to come sit. "Yes, Your Worship?"
"Don't call me that." Leia takes the silent invitation and nestles against his side. War and time have put lines on her face and silver in her hair, but to Han, she's still the most beautiful thing in the universe (something he feels he has an authority to speak on). "I can hear you thinking."
"You Jedi have a bad habit of eavesdropping."
"Okay, okay." She sighs, and the lines look a little deeper for a moment. "What's on your mind--it keeps me awake, too." They're both silent for a while. Then Leia clears her throat quietly.
"But when he died, he was Jacen. I take comfort in that, despite everything that he did as Caedus. When he died, he was our baby."
A look passes between them, one that they've shared all too often lately. But it's the kind of thing that never gets old, and never fails to make Han's mouth turn up in that roguish half-smile that makes him think of the days before he married a princess.
"Yeah, and he saddled us with another one. And I swear she doesn't even need the Force to get what she wants."
Leia pokes him in the side. "That's just because she knows her grandpa is a big softie despite all his tough talk. Come on, flyboy. We'd better get some sleep."
Han lets her take his hand and lead him back to their bed, and as he drifts off to sleep with his face in Leia's hair, he smiles.
Characters: Han/Leia, Luke/Mara, others
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: When the universe is coming down around their ears, they know there's always at least one person they can count on, with something that even the Force can't rival.
Watching Luke and Mara walk down the aisle, Han had to grin. The way Luke's face lit up looking at his wife made Han remember one day, many years ago now, when Luke saw the stars from space for the first time. It had made Han turn away, because he was too cynical to handle the brilliance shining off that kid's face. And of course he'd had to make a hard-edged quip, to hide that he felt that way.
In fact, Han thought, the only other person to lay him bare that way was the petite woman slipping her arm through his now as they followed the newlyweds out. In a way, he should have known they were related. Both of them had that rampant idealism thing going on, eyes that shone with purpose and hope even when there didn't seem to be any hope left.
What he realized now, looking back at it, was that it was that Leia had given him hope for the future, even when he'd thought he'd gone beyond all that into the hard life that smuggling had given him.
And now, looking down at Leia (she looked ridiculously beautiful, even after years of governmental squabbling and three kids) and seeing her turn those big, hopeful eyes up at him filled Han with a warm glow. It wasn't something he showed to other people. It was something they kept for themselves, when everything else seemed destined to pull them back.
*
It's the long flight from Coruscant to whatever safe haven they've found, and things are tense. The Falcon has people crammed in it, as many as could get on board, and the scrubbers are working overtime to compensate for the amount of carbon dioxide exhaled. It can't do anything for the smell though--fear and anger and distress and sadness, all mixed into one. For Leia's fledgling Jedi senses, it's almost too much to bear.
Worse is the ache she gets in her chest when she thinks of Anakin, her baby, dead in a place where they couldn't even bring his body back for her to hold one last time. Anakin, her way of reconciling her past.
Now, Leia thinks, she knows how her father must have felt. Trying to keep his family safe, but watching it slip through his fingers...
As if on cue, a set of calloused, tan fingers grab hers that are white-knuckled on the controls. Hands she knows well take hers, hold them tightly. She knows Han is holding her hands tight so she can't feel that he's shaking too, but she doesn't mind. That's not what's important right now.
"We're gonna make it through this," Han says, looking her straight in the eye. "I know it's pretty bad now, but we've been through worse."
The words give her comfort, but what truly makes her offer up a small, hopeful smile is the way he looks at her. How even though he's lost his best friend, and she's lost practically everything she worked to build during the Rebellion, and both of them have lost a son--it's still them against the world, and they know they're going to win. For a moment, the cockpit is quiet, the two of them sharing something in a reaffirmation of a bond that even the Jedi can't touch.
And then Ben, in his makeshift bassinet made out of a cargo crate stuffed with blankets, starts to cry, and Leia has to get up to quiet him. She knows how it feels to a Jedi parent when their child is upset, and Mara and Luke have enough to deal with right now.
*
Midnight on Coruscant, and Han is up pacing back and forth. There've been a lot of sleepless nights lately, since the end of this stupid war that's torn the galaxy apart once again. He doesn't like to think about how it ended. The cost, to their whole family, has been too high.
In their apartment, they always kept rooms for the kids to come home to when they weren't on Jedi business. Only three when there should have been four, but Han had figured that even though the kids would eventually move out, marry and have apartments of their own they might have grandkids to fill the rooms.
There's only one, so far. And she doesn't sleep in her father's room.
Jacen's room is quiet when Han sticks his head in. It feels empty, even though it's furnished, like its purpose has been served and its time is done. Still, he goes and sits on the neatly-made bed, looking around at the things that used to be Jacen's, the clothes hanging up in the closet that he'll never wear again, the few personal things he left here. When he was little, the shelves would probably have held a dozen different terrariums or cages for whatever animals his son was keeping. Now, they're just empty.
"Han?"
His response is as automatic as the way his arm falls slightly to the side in an invitation to come sit. "Yes, Your Worship?"
"Don't call me that." Leia takes the silent invitation and nestles against his side. War and time have put lines on her face and silver in her hair, but to Han, she's still the most beautiful thing in the universe (something he feels he has an authority to speak on). "I can hear you thinking."
"You Jedi have a bad habit of eavesdropping."
"Okay, okay." She sighs, and the lines look a little deeper for a moment. "What's on your mind--it keeps me awake, too." They're both silent for a while. Then Leia clears her throat quietly.
"But when he died, he was Jacen. I take comfort in that, despite everything that he did as Caedus. When he died, he was our baby."
A look passes between them, one that they've shared all too often lately. But it's the kind of thing that never gets old, and never fails to make Han's mouth turn up in that roguish half-smile that makes him think of the days before he married a princess.
"Yeah, and he saddled us with another one. And I swear she doesn't even need the Force to get what she wants."
Leia pokes him in the side. "That's just because she knows her grandpa is a big softie despite all his tough talk. Come on, flyboy. We'd better get some sleep."
Han lets her take his hand and lead him back to their bed, and as he drifts off to sleep with his face in Leia's hair, he smiles.