Chapter Five Han sat in his captain's chair, luxuriating in the comfort of the age-worn seat that had conformed over the years to the shape of his body. He settled into it with the comfort of slipping into an old, treasured pair of shoes. This, he thought, this is where I belong. He glanced over the control panels, lovingly fingered the hyperdrive levers, leaned forward to peer outside the canopy at the flashes of lightning making their leisurely approach to the city. He longed to bring his ship to life, to hear the melody of her converters as they powered up, and to feel his body pressed back into his seat as the ship shot into space and readied itself for the jump into hyperspace. Han leaned back, closed his eyes, rubbing at his temples where his head had begun to ache in the aftermath of the disastrous dinner. What a miserable night. His thoughts flew guiltily to Leia. He wondered how she was, what she was doing now, how she had handled Luke after he'd stormed out in such a furor. Luke. Han's mouth twisted grimly. Always Luke! Lately Han had begun to feel that his brother-in-law had taken up residence in the suite Han shared with Leia and the kids. Constantly checking on Leia's condition, stopping by in person when he was in the vicinity, communicating either by comm or, more often, through the Force, at various times of the day and night, he seemed to have no regard for their privacy whatsoever. As if she needed her big brother to keep her safe; as if her husband weren't up to the task. The sooner they got off Coruscant and away from Luke's influence, Han thought, the better off they would all be. Suddenly he stood and walked back into the hold, palming the hatch to the main compartment and hitting the lights as he entered. He strolled over to the piles of crates he had been slowly compiling over the past few months, taking a quick mental inventory of his stockpile of familial necessities: food, drinking water, clothing, linens, medicinal materials, diapers, baby formula. He smiled to think of Leia's opinion of that last item; she would scoff at its inclusion, but he thought it best to plan for emergencies. Leia. He closed his eyes, aching to hold her, to make everything right between them again. Why did Luke have to stick his nose into their affairs anyway? This is our baby, Han had told the younger man. Why couldn't the kid leave them alone and let them experience the coming event like any other normal couple expecting a child? But we're not just any other normal couple, he thought morosely. One of us is Jedi material - and the other, just a man. He wondered if he would ever be good enough for her; strive though he might, could he ever give her all that she deserved? He hit the lights again and turned to go, stopped in his tracks at the figure in the hold's doorway, and knew from the stance that the figure was Luke. Anger flared in him anew. "What the hell are you doing here?" he growled. "Come to hound me some more about giving up my kid?" Luke moved toward him, palms up, trying to project calm into his brother-in-law. Somehow, he had to get through to Han, make him see the dark influences already at work against them, breeding dissention in their ranks. "No, Han, I'm not here to talk about the baby. I'm here to talk about us." "Now which 'us' would that be?" Han smirked. "You and me? Or maybe, you, me and my wife?" He snorted, shaking his head. "You know, kid, maybe I'm funny this way, but I never did like more than one other person in my bed." He glared at Luke, lowered his voice menacingly. "What made you decide you had territorial rights?" Luke winced. Han was really hitting below the belt tonight. His pain must be immense. "Han, you know I'd never intrude on your privacy. I'd never invade that area of Leia's consciousness that belongs solely to the two of you." He spread his hands. "She's my sister, for crying out loud." "She's my wife," Han retorted. "And that's my kid she's carrying. And I'd be much obliged if you would kindly keep your damned Force communiqués out of my home, away from my table and most especially out of my bed!" He pushed past Luke, passing through the lounge, stopping at the hatch and hitting its release. The door hissed open softly and Han gestured at Luke with exaggerated eloquence. Luke stood for a moment, reaching, feeling Han's resentment as a tangible foe. How had this happened? What dark forces had combined to create such a breach between the two of them, who had been as close as brothers for so many years? He sighed as he approached Han at the hatch. "I've already explained that I'm just the receiver, picking up on whatever feelings are strong enough in Leia to penetrate her subconscious. I don't enter where I'm not wanted." "And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Han snarled, freshly outraged, drawing his right arm back as if to punch the younger man. Luke reflexively reached out through the Force, willing Han's arm back and down by his side. Hating the look of stunned disbelief written in Han's face, Luke despaired that the situation had escalated to such a state. He sighed heavily and turned to go, conceding to the futility of trying to make amends this night. Things were too far gone at this point for him to have any success at talking some sense into his friend. "By the way, you might want to go to your wife," Luke called back to Han, over his shoulder as he made his way down the ramp. "She needs you...now more than ever." Feeling more despondent than when he had come, Luke walked down the ramp and off into the night. Han stood in the dim corridor of his ship, guilt-ridden, anger flowing from him like water through a sieve. He hurried back to the cockpit, powered down and left the Falcon in a rush, suddenly anxious to get home to Leia. He longed for the chance to make everything all right and hoped the damage already done wasn't irreparable. ***************** Leia had eventually fallen into the deep sleep of emotional exhaustion. Han stood over her where she lay on the couch, his heart a cold lump in the middle of his chest as he replayed the memory of the preceding hours. Hearing again the despair in her voice as she'd run after him, calling his name, feeling his gut twist with guilt as he remembered the way he'd ignored her. Hating himself for storming off and leaving her to face Luke and his machinations all alone. Han knelt on the floor beside her, gazing with a mixture of tenderness and remorse at the face he had grown to love so deeply, all his anger toward her gone, now sorry that he had been angry with her in the first place. It was Luke's doing, he thought fiercely, Luke and his damned Jedi interference that was invading and polluting all of their lives. Somehow, he resolved, he would find a way to restore Leia's peace of mind, if it meant kidnapping her as he had done all those years ago and whisking her away from the source of her turmoil. He knew of a few isolated planets himself. He lifted her in his arms and strode into their chambers where he lay her gently on their bed, removing her shoes and stockings, meticulously undoing the dozens of little buttons that ran the length of her dress. He lifted her to slide the gown off of her shoulders and down her body, then turned to drape the garment over the back of a bedside chair. He looked back toward his wife and stood for a long moment, transfixed by the sight of her. The delicate mauve hues of her chemise rose and fell with her rhythmic breathing and Han caught his breath at her dark beauty, the new fullness about her body that gave evidence to the coming baby. Her hair had come loose from the thick braid she wore over one shoulder, and Han lifted his hand to smooth the stray tendrils from her face, his fingers lingering to trace the tracks of her tears. He felt his heart go out to her. At this moment he wanted nothing more than to hold her, to take her pain into his body and make her happy again. He pulled the blankets over Leia's shoulders and left the room, intending to check on the children and close the suite down for the night. Jacen and Jaina were sleeping soundly, but little whimpering noises were coming from Anakin's alcove, and Han moved to his son's bed, frowning as he observed the child's restlessness. He was thrashing his head from side to side, moaning faintly in his sleep. Poor little guy, Han thought, smoothing the dark curls from Anakin's forehead. He wished he had his wife's Jedi abilities to reach into their children and relieve them of their anxieties. As it was, the best he could do was to love them. And to do everything in his power to keep them safe. He stayed a moment longer, until Anakin ceased his moaning and seemed to settle into an easier sleep. With a final caress of the child's brow, Han turned and left the room. He paused as he passed the double doors leading to the balcony, stood for a moment watching the wildly erratic patterns of lightning as they danced garishly against the utter blackness of the night. He shook his head sadly, recalling his earlier notion that perhaps the storm was an omen of things to come. He returned to their chambers, silently undressed and got into bed beside Leia, gathering her into his arms and pressing her against him so that they lay like two spoons coming together, his hand covering the gentle mound that was Arcadia. A firm resolve gripped him. Nobody - Jedi or no Jedi - was going to take this child from her mother, for any length of time. Somehow he would find a way to make things right. Han Solo held his wife and unborn child protectively within his embrace and eventually drifted into an uneasy sleep. ******************** Leia was dreaming, in the frenzied pattern of someone deeply disturbed by events taking place in the waking world, her subconscious rising up to take possession of her emotions where she had lost control of them only hours before. In her mind she was a child again, running across the sweeping grasslands of her home world of Alderaan, laughing gaily, her heart light with the innocence of childhood. Behind her came the sound of running feet and she glanced over her shoulder to see her mother, the mother of her childhood memories, gaining on her, holding her voluminous skirts up with one hand, reaching for Leia with the other. The child Leia squealed with delight and ran faster, darting away from her mother and ducking behind an enormous twisted tree at the edge of the meadow. Smothering her giggles with one hand, she peered around the bole of the tree, worried when she found herself alone. Suddenly fearful, Leia eased out from her hiding place, calling for her mother, eyes darting in every direction, desperately seeking the presence of the woman who made her feel so safe and secure. She was alone, suddenly chilled and very frightened. The dream shifted, and the child Leia became the woman Leia, and she was wandering about the meadow, anxiously looking for someone she loved, calling a name she could not hear. Parting the thick curtain of grasses before her as she ran, she searched high and low, calling for that elusive Presence. Finally, she found herself once again at the base of the familiar twisted tree, and her eyes caught sight of a bit of cloth snagged on a serrated knothole in its base. She peered inside the tree, weeping with relief as her eyes beheld the tiny baby girl resting peacefully inside the hole. Eagerly Leia reached for the bundle of humanity, gathered the little body into her arms and nuzzled the infant's fair hair, pressing the baby to her heart. She felt a touch on her shoulder, looked down to see the slender manicured hand she somehow knew to be her mother's, and turned with the baby in her arms, lifting her high, proudly presenting her prize. Just as Leia was about to release her hold on the infant she raised her eyes to meet those of her mother -- and recoiled in horror. The lovely, deep brown eyes of her mother were gone and in their stead gleamed the demonic yellow eyes of the evil Palpatine. The baby was snatched from Leia's arms and Leia began to scream. **************** Han awoke with a shock, realized the high pitched keening his rum-soaked brain had thought was the storm was actually coming from Leia. He bent over her, took hold of her shoulders and called her name to wake her. She thrashed wildly against his grip, crying incoherently. He sat up in the bed, lifted her and shook her so that her hair came fully unbound and fell across her face, her head lolling drunkenly. Again and again he called her name until Leia finally awoke and looked at him, her eyes wide and stark with terror, gasping for breath. Han pushed the hair out of her face, peered at her intently, gauging her wakefulness. Finally freed from the clutches of the nightmare, she threw herself against him. Her body was shaking with reaction, as was his, and he held her fiercely to him, as though to shield her with his own body from her unknown terror, their hearts pounding together in the anxious rhythm of fear. Outside the palace, the storm reached a fevered pitch, gusts of wind and rain slamming against the windows with such force that Han feared the panes might not hold. Overhead the leaden skies growled ominously, lightning flashes turning the interior of their chambers into a netherworld of blue-white shadows and menacing dark corners. He held Leia tightly, trying to be an anchor in the turbulence that now dominated her world, rocking her gently and murmuring unintelligible words of comfort. Eventually the quaking in her body eased and she lay limply against him. Cautiously, he let out a breath. Would this night never end? He looked down at his wife, lifted her chin so that he could see her eyes, and was relieved to recognize some semblance of lucidity. "Whoa, sweetheart," he breathed. "Must have been one stang of a nightmare. Okay now?" he asked quietly, lowering them back against the pillows. Leia nodded wordlessly, weak with the residual sick terror of the nightmare. Or was it a vision? She shuddered at the implications and pressed closer to her husband. "You want to talk about it?" Han tightened his arms around her, brushing his lips lightly against her hair. "No," she murmured, burrowing her face into the comforting warmth of his chest. She didn't want to think about it, much less discuss it, even with Han. "It was just a bad dream. I want to forget about it." She wanted to put it out of her thoughts, lock it away in that secret storehouse in the back of her mind where she stashed all things she found too uncomfortable to deal with, as she had done with all of her previous brushes with Darkness. If she ignored it, the Darkness didn't exist. She would not allow it to enter her life. Leia huddled against her husband, appreciating the lean, hard body pressed tightly against hers. All she wanted at this moment was to be close to Han, to seize upon the brightness that was their union. Only the unparalleled ecstasy they found in each other could evict the alien Darkness from her consciousness. She looked up at him and her eyes were bright, as if with a raging fever. Reaching for him, she twined her fingers in the thick hair at the back of his neck and pulled him toward her. "Make me forget," she whispered hoarsely, and pressed her mouth to his, kissing him with desperate hunger, clinging to him as his arms tightened around her. Han matched her ardor with astonished pleasure. Here was something he could do for her, something good, something that had always been good. He rolled her back against the pillows, pulled his lips away from hers and pressed them behind her ear, moving greedily to the hollow at the base of her throat. Her hands were in his hair, urging him on, and he felt her own craving for sweet oblivion. Residual reaction from the dream and the furor of nature's tantrum impacted to escalate their already heightened senses to overload. As the mighty tempest raged outside the Palace walls, Han and Leia succeeded in putting the memory of the evening's upheaval behind them, and commenced to create a storm of their own; one spawned by terror, nurtured by passion and one which ultimately rivaled the other in might. ***************** Across the suite, in the little blue room adorned with images of Alderaan, and lit by the glow of Corellian constellations, little Anakin Solo dreamed of his mother running in a field of grass, a dark twisted tree, and of a mysterious woman with dark hair and even darker eyes who wanted to take his mother's baby from her. Far too young to understand his mother's terror, he whimpered in his sleep and rolled over, his small hands clutching his pillow, seeking comfort from nameless fears. Anakin slept fretfully, haunted throughout the night by disturbing images of an unknown Darkness, calling to him, beckoning him, commanding him to come before it. ******************* In the lonely solitude of his apartments halfway across the Palace, Luke jerked to wakefulness, gasping for air as he pulled free from the nightmare vision of his mother reaching for his sister's baby, his mother with demonic yellow eyes and clutching hands, snatching the child from a terrified Leia. His already heightened Jedi senses clearly caught Leia's turmoil, and he instinctively reached to console her, wanting desperately to go to her and offer what comfort he could. He stopped himself, remembering the events of the preceding hours, realizing that he no longer had that privilege. Leia didn't want him there, and Han most certainly did not. Luke sighed heavily. He felt Leia's Sense shift from nightmare-induced hysteria to something more elemental, and immediately broke contact with her mind, feeling a guilty twinge at the voyeuristic impingement upon his sister's passionate love for her husband. He could understand Han's outrage at the notion, albeit untrue, of Luke's listening in through his Force-link with Leia. He wished he could make Han understand the nebulous qualities of being a Force-sensitive, and hoped to someday enlighten his friend. At least, he thought, Han and Leia have worked things out between themselves. He rose from the cramped confines of the chair in which he had fallen asleep and wearily made his way to bed. Dropping his clothes to the floor in an untidy puddle, Luke slipped between the cool sheets, remembering Yoda's words. //For the Jedi, there is no emotion; there is peace.// Firmly, he subdued his aching heart, and eventually he fell asleep. ****************** Leia lay against her husband, at peace with herself and with the universe. He had come back! She had hurt him so badly and he had come back and he loved her as always, had given testament to that fact repeatedly throughout the night. They lay together now, entwined in each others arms, listening to the diminishing sounds of the passing storm as it made its way northward, luxuriating in the euphoria of their reunion. "You came back," she whispered against his chest, her eyes misting at the thought of losing him. He had become as essential as the air that she breathed, the food that she ate. He was such a basic part of her and had been for so many years. She couldn't conceive of life without him. He was Life. And together they had created new life. She kissed him fiercely, proud that he was the father of her children. "I never should have run out on you," Han murmured, his heart twisting with guilt. He reached up to stroke her cheek with a finger, eyes meeting hers, humble in his remorse. "It'll never happen again - I promise." He kissed her softly. "Forgive me?" "You had every reason to be angry," she assured him, snuggling into his shoulder. "Sometimes I wish I weren't Force sensitive; it seems to cause more grief than it's worth." She sighed. "Life would be so much simpler if I were someone else." "We wouldn't be here, together, like this, if you weren't who you are." He lifted a length of her hair, brought it to his face and let it trail across his cheek, enjoying the feather soft feel of it against his skin. "We were meant to be, sweetheart," he mumbled from behind the silky strands, "and you know it. Destined, like Luke always says. How else would an old cynic like me come to believe in this Force of yours?" "But you don't like it," she reminded him, relieved to be talking with him about it. He rarely wanted to discuss the Force and its impact upon their relationship, for reasons Leia had never been able to fathom. She seized upon the opportunity to discuss it now. "I don't necessarily like it, but I do respect it," he admitted, grudgingly. "Only I think there's more to it than just the Force between you and Luke; Jedi to Jedi. What about the force between you and me, between us and the kids, our own personal force? It's what makes us so good." He emphasized his words with another quick squeeze, turned his head to look at her, somewhat surprised to have finally figured it out for himself. Now if he could just get her to understand. "We should grab it with both hands, not push it away because others seem to think their needs are greater than ours." She was silent for several moments, digesting his clearly heartfelt words. It was true, she thought. She had let others come before her own needs for far too long, and had lost so much in the process, missed so much of her life outside of her duties as Chief of State. She had lost years with her children, she thought despairingly, feeling the tight grasp of regret on her heart. She looked up at Han, recalling her earlier fear that she had lost him tonight. Now, for the first time in her life Leia was moved to consider more personal needs over those of the masses. She suddenly felt she could no longer embrace the galaxy as a whole, as if its enormity somehow gave it more importance over the enormity of her love for Han, for their children, for the life they had created. Nothing could take precedence over that; not Luke, not the New Republic -- not even the Force. Han moved against her. "Run away with me," he whispered huskily against her ear. "The Falcon is packed and ready. I've got everything we need on board. We can be out of here whenever you want." His lips nibbled at her earlobe. "Just say yes." Run away? Her subconscious seized the fantasy. "When?" she asked breathlessly, guiltily, again contemplating the unthinkable. "Tonight...say yes." He rolled her onto her back, leaned over her and rubbed his face against the softness of her hair, nuzzled his favorite spot behind her ear, delighting in the shivers he felt coursing through her body. "Say yes..." he urged again, his lips traveling down her neck, "...let's run away...let's go to Endor." Leia's senses reeled. Her decision would have enormous repercussions for them all; she had to think, consider the impact her departure would have on the New Republic, on Luke. She fought for control - how could she possibly think clearly when Han was deliberately distracting her in such a manner? But perhaps this wasn't the time to think, she reasoned, and was suddenly as impassioned as he; perhaps this was the time to do, to act upon what her heart had been telling her all along. She weakened, reaching for her husband, stroking the back of his head as he kissed the hollow at the base of her throat, making her catch her breath at the touch of his lips against her skin. "You're serious about this, aren't you?" she asked, when she could speak again. "You bet, I am," Han vowed, his breath warm against her neck, feather-soft kisses blazing an upward trail toward her mouth. "We're all set...we can leave now...tonight..." his lips crested her chin, "...as soon as we can get out of this bed..." His mouth lowered over hers and he kissed her deeply, with passionate abandon, felt her heartbeat quicken against his chest. A tiny moan of defeat escaped her lips, her arms pulled him close, and Leia capitulated to the insistent demands of his body - and those of her own. Every time was like the first time, Han marveled, his hands in Leia's hair as he surrendered to the overwhelming hunger that consumed him whenever he touched her, kissed her. Tonight he would convince her to leave with him, to take their children and make a new life on Endor. Endor, where life was good, the air was clean and there were no politicians - no interferences, Jedi or otherwise. Endor, where he would build a home for his family and they could enjoy all of the basic goodness that life there had to offer: an abundance of nature, ideal climate, non-aggressive habitat - and an incredible effect on his wife. Oh, yeah, he thought, before pleasure obliterated all thought. She would agree to come. Or his name wasn't Han Solo. Han wielded his own brand of power that night, calling upon personalized persuasive techniques gained through years of intimate knowledge of his wife, and gently but very persistently bending her to his will. For once in their married lives, they would put themselves and their children before the rest of the galaxy. Lost in each other, Han and Leia reached their own communion sometime during the predawn hours. And before the sun broke over the eastern plains of Coruscant, Leia was ready to follow her husband to the ends of the universe.