Chapter Twelve

Arcadia was a quiet baby, rarely fussing unless hungry and more than 
content to go to her mother for fulfillment of those needs.  
Conversely, while her daughter thrived, Leia soon developed a serious 
chill from her nocturnal forest adventure, and had been feverish and 
increasingly congested since the day after the baby's birth.  Han had 
concluded that this was the reason she was not recovering as quickly as 
she had from the births of the twins and Anakin, and did everything in 
his power to assure that she was undisturbed during her convalescence.

While Han could care for Leia's physical self, he was unable to protect 
her soul from the increasingly frequent dark visions, which tormented 
her while she slept.  Many times over the past few nights he'd had to 
awaken her to free her from the clutches of disturbing dreams.

To ensure her peaceful confinement, Han had sent their other children 
to the Ewok village with Chewbacca the morning after Arcadia's birth.  
He'd assumed all of the responsibilities for Arcadia's care, bathing 
her, changing diapers with a minimum of grumbling, bringing her to and 
from Leia for the frequent feedings she demanded.  He was more than 
happy to do all of these things, in fact, he rather enjoyed assuming 
the combined role of nursemaid and nanny.

This was what he'd wanted, after all.  He was spending time with his
family.

But he worried about Leia, his stomach twisting every time he looked at 
her.  It was becoming more and more difficult to ignore the ever- 
darkening circles beneath her once luminous brown eyes.

She was not well.  And that blasted med droid, whom Han had been so 
determined to bring along, had been about as useful as tits on a 
rancor, unable to diagnose her ailment, pronouncing it outside the 
realm of his considerable programming, suggesting that time and time 
alone would heal Leia.  Han and Chewie had overhauled the droid twice, 
but this had done nothing to change its prognosis.

Han had his doubts about Leia's ability to recover on her own, for 
Arcadia was now six days old, and Leia was growing weaker with each 
passing day.  He worried nightly over her physical and mental state.  
She'd been talking in her sleep, and the clues he'd garnered from her 
mumblings were enough to propel his protective instincts into 
overdrive.  He was anxious to have Luke tackle the mystery of that tree 
and eliminate the dark shadow from what should have been a happy period 
in their lives.  

Han stood now at the picture window in their sleeping chambers, his 
eyes sweeping the treetops that lay before him, scanning the darkening 
skies, searching for signs which would signal the approach of Luke's X-
wing.  He was counting on Luke's substantial abilities as a Jedi Master 
to make Leia well again.  He had, on several occasions, witnessed the 
seemingly miraculous recovery process that Luke had brought upon 
himself during a Jedi healing trance, and prayed that Luke would be 
able to likewise teach Leia the Jedi ways of self-healing.

From the cradle beside the bed he heard the first faint stirrings of 
his newborn daughter, and moved to sooth her before she could wake her 
mother.  Han remembered times when the twins and Anakin were infants, 
before they had been taken away for isolation, when Leia would 
anticipate their waking and rouse herself from sleep to be ready to 
tend to their needs before their tiny eyes opened.  Now that ability 
seemed to have left her; all of her energies appeared to be focused on 
simply being cognizant during feeding times, rallying herself only long 
enough to nurse the baby, and relapsing into fitful sleep once Arcadia 
was sated.

Han peered down into the cradle that he had lovingly carved for the 
baby, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the serious 
expression on the infant's face as she gazed up at him, her rosebud 
mouth screwing itself into funny little grins and frowns.  He bent down 
and lifted his daughter from the cradle, tucking the blanket around 
her, rocking her gently in his arms as he strolled back toward the 
window.
 
He looked down at the new life he and Leia had created, marveling again 
at the exquisite perfection of her features, the serious blue eyes 
tilted ever-so-slightly at their outer corners.  He stroked the fine 
baby hair covering her tiny head, as blonde as her mother's was dark, 
yet just as soft.  The infant squirmed in his arms and Han placed her 
on the changing table, removing and replacing the soiled diaper like 
the seasoned pro that he was.

He again wrapped her in the soft yellow blanket and held her against 
his heart.  "Cady, Cady, little lady," he whispered to the infant.  
"Daddy's girl."  He marveled again at the feel of her in his arms, the 
warmth that resonated from her tiny body.  "Your Uncle Luke's on his 
way," he told her, stroking the silky hair.  "We're gonna find out 
what's wrong with your mama and make her well again."

A soft murmuring from across the room brought his attention back to 
Leia's, and he carried the baby over to stand beside the bed, listening 
hard in an attempt to unravel his wife's ramblings.  All he could make 
out were disjointed sentences:  "Gone, all gone...", "...the tree, the 
tree...".  She suddenly let out a wail of piercing clarity:  "Where are 
the children?" at which point she began to weep softly into the pillow.

Han sat down on the side of the bed, cradling the baby with one arm and 
smoothing Leia's hair with his free hand.  "Shhh, sweetheart," he 
soothed.  "It's a dream, honey, wake up.  The kids are here; they're 
all fine.  It's just a dream; wake up."

He lay Arcadia on the bed beside Leia, took her hand and brought it to 
the baby, stroking the downy head with her fingers, willing her to 
awaken.

She looked up at Han and he flinched at the panic he saw in her eyes.  
"Han...where are the children?"  Her eyes flickered around the room, 
reaching out for the presence of the twins and Anakin, and her fright 
increased at the distance she sensed between them.  "Where are they?" 
she asked again, her voice rising.

"Relax, sweetheart.  Chewie took them with him to the Ewok village," he 
assured her.  "They're fine.  Cady's fine, see, she's right here and 
probably hungry.  Think you can take care of that for her?"  He smiled 
down at her, stroking her tangled hair.

Leia looked again at her baby, reached instinctively to gather the 
infant to her, and forced herself to relax as the child took 
nourishment from her body.  During these special times Leia had always 
felt as if she were giving her children the strength of Jedi resistance 
along with mother's milk.  If ever a child of hers needed that, Leia 
thought wearily, now was surely that time.  She wished she had someone 
to feed resistance into her.

She closed her eyes, reaching again, this time for her brother, 
embracing his reassuring Sense as it approached the Endorian sector.  
Not long now, she thought; Luke would be here soon.  She had faith in 
his abilities as a Jedi Master to eradicate this darkness that plagued 
her.

//Hurry, Luke!// she thought weakly.  //Please hurry!//

She felt herself slipping again.  As she slid into unconsciousness, she 
focused on the reassuring touch of her twin, the Jedi Master, urging 
her to find the strength within her to overcome the fever that 
possessed her body - and to resist the menacing darkness that 
threatened to possess her soul.

********************

Luke pulled his X-wing out of hyperspace and gazed with relief at the 
brilliant green moon before him.  He felt the immediate touch of his 
sister's mind as she reached for him.  Automatically, he cradled her 
Sense, projecting reassurance, secretly appalled at the weakness he 
felt within her.  What in the cosmos had happened to her?

He reached automatically for the presence of the other Solo children, 
could even feel the worried presence of Han nearby and a strange, other 
entity, an extension Luke could only assume was the powerful little new 
Jedi:  Arcadia.

Yet there was something else that lurked in Leia's Sense, a formless 
threat that stirred a panic beneath Jedi calm, and he keyed the X-wing 
for the landing cycle with a flicker of Force.  He must hurry!

Luke projected as much reassurance as he could to his sister and called 
back to his droid in the socket behind him.  "Hang on, Artoo; we're 
going in."

Luke jerked in his seat, bouncing against the restraints as they 
entered the upper atmosphere and checked his scanners for the 
Millennium Falcon.  He located it in an area just south of the Ewok 
village that he remembered from that long ago trip to the forest moon, 
just before the Battle of Endor and his own dark confrontation with 
Darth Vader and the Emperor.

Luke brought the X-wing down in a clearing near the Falcon and reached 
again for Leia's presence.  //Hang on!// he told her.  //I'm coming!//

Her Sense gave no response.

He unbuckled his restraints and popped the canopy, pulling off his 
flight helmet and gloves as the lush greenery of the forest moon made 
itself known, assaulting his senses with a wave of sights and smells 
and sounds.  He frowned as he climbed out of his ship and jumped to the 
ground.  Extending a hand toward Artoo, he allowed the Force to lower 
the droid to the ground beside him.

He glanced around distractedly.  There was something not right here.  
Luke sensed a great darkness on the forest moon, a darkness of the 
spirit, staggering in its strength.  //Oh, Yoda!// he prayed yet again.

He sealed the X-wing's canopy and hurried toward his sister's Sense, 
filled with anxiety and a growing sense of dread.

********************

Han was glad that his children were away from home that evening; he 
didn't want them to see their father lose the calm exterior he had 
maintained over the last few days.  Leia's condition had declined 
rapidly as the evening wore on.  Her fever had risen to frightening 
proportions and her ramblings had grown more intense and bizarre.

Han popped yet another ice pack and placed it across her brow, felt 
himself engulfed with the frozen agony of utter helplessness, a torment 
such as he had never known.  He looked again over his shoulder toward 
the window, wishing Luke would hurry up and get there, vowing never 
again to bemoan the existence of the Jedi link between his wife and her 
brother.
 
He looked down at his wife, shivering mightily despite the weight of 
all of the blankets he had brought with them, and a fear such as he had 
never known ate steadily at his stomach.  She seemed such a small 
package in that great big bed he had built for them; a small package 
for a woman such as she.  He had more respect for her than for anyone 
he had ever known, loved her with an intensity that sometimes made him 
hurt.  Right now he was terrified that he was going to lose her, and 
was in agony because there didn't seem to be anything he could do to 
stop it.

He would not allow himself to consciously consider what he would tell 
the children if the worst came to the worst, yet that fear was with him 
as well, on a subliminal level.  How do you explain to a child that one 
of his parents has gone, never to return?  How do you escape the 
crushing burden of guilt for allowing it to happen?  Han Solo was a
strong, courageous man, but he shuddered before the stark possibility
that he might soon have to tell Anakin and the twins that he'd allowed
their mother to slip away.

He'd exhausted all of his efforts, done all that he could medically do 
for her short of packing them all up and heading back to Coruscant at a 
dead hyperspace run.  But he feared even that would only serve to 
worsen her condition; at this stage of her illness the strain of 
hyperspace travel would surely kill her, if this mystery ailment  
didn't take care of that first, an opinion in which Emdee concurred.

She was rambling again.  "...tree will hide...gone...no,
no...don't take them!"  Han smoothed her brow, alarmed at the heat of 
her skin to his touch. She thrashed her head on the pillow, reaching 
with her hands.  Han caught them in both of his and held them tightly.  
"Leia!" he commanded.  "Leia, stay with me sweetheart!  Luke's on the 
way, he'll be here any minute.  You're gonna get better."

He leaned against her cheek, wincing at the blazing heat that seemed to 
radiate from her smooth skin.  "Stay with me, baby," he whispered in 
her ear, and wasn't surprised to feel moisture splash against his cheek 
as it dropped from his eyes onto her ear.  He drew back, somehow 
sensing the tentative arousal of her Sense, and jumped as her eyes 
snapped open, startling him.

"Han," she whispered, barely audible, "where are the children?"

He squeezed her hands in his, thinking for a moment that she was lucid, 
encouraged that she had asked about their children.  "The twins and 
Anakin are at the Ewok village with Chewie," he reminded her gently.  
"Cady's right beside you in her cradle.  Do you want me to get her for 
you?"

"No," she moaned fretfully, tossing her head from side to side, her 
heavy hair clumping into great strands and scattering about the 
pillows, wriggling like serpents.  "No, I mean the other Jedi children, 
the ones who were called away.  Where are they?"

He frowned, puzzled.  "Hon, I don't know what you're talking about.  
Our children, our Jedi children, Jacen and Jaina and Anakin, are at the 
Ewok village.  Arcadia is right here beside us."

"You don't know!" she cried, her voice rising, tears flowing from her 
fever-bright eyes.  "Doesn't anybody know?  What happened to the 
children?"

At a loss, Han could do nothing but hold her as she wept, while his 
mind raced, wondering if this was another piece of the dark vision, or 
if she had simply been consumed by delirium.  He held her with a 
helpless dread and prayed as he had never done before.

He prayed to whatever was responsible for all of the good things he had 
ever known with her, to the Force or whatever Higher Power had seen fit 
to bless them by bringing the two of them together, prayed that she 
would be as strong as he had always known her to be.

And he prayed that her brother would not be too late to prevent the 
darkness from taking her away.

*********************

Luke had unhesitatingly taken the path that led to the clearing where 
Han had built the treehouse, and as he approached, felt his sister's 
Sense hovering between lucidity and delirium.  He spied the 
repulsorlift waiting on the ground below the house, decided not to 
waste time and vaulted effortlessly twenty meters straight up to land 
lightly on the porch.  He entered the house without preamble, following 
Leia's Sense to the room she shared with her husband and made his way 
to the bed.

Han looked up at Luke as he approached the bed, and Luke sensed no 
surprise at his sudden unannounced appearance in their bedroom.  "Thank 
the Force," Han murmured, his voice quavering in a manner Luke had 
never heard from him before.   Han was very afraid.  "Luke, do 
something!  She's leaving us, I can feel it!"

Luke fought back momentary panic, forcing himself to remain calm, 
reaching into his twin's Sense and reading her like a map.  She was 
ailing here...and here...and here.  He sat on the bed beside her and 
spoke directly to her Sense.

//Leia, hear me,// he commanded.  //You can heal yourself.  Open 
yourself to me.  Be calm, let your Sense be still and listen to me.//

Luke Skywalker projected into his twin the methods he had used to heal 
himself on so many occasions; from injuries sustained in his battle 
with the Emperor, through the contamination of those loathsome little 
trichoid larvae he had been infested with on Bakura, through every 
other subsequent hurt and injury.

He closed his eyes tightly, leaned into his sister's Sense, willing her 
to follow his lead, for herself, for Han, for her children.

Her eyes opened sharply.  "Luke!" she breathed, and the Jedi flinched 
at the terrible wheezing noises that rose from her chest with each 
labored breath she took.  "Where are the children?"

Luke looked at Han questioningly.  "I don't think she's talking about 
ours," Han told him, his eyes never leaving his wife's face.  "She 
keeps asking about them, but she knows the kids are safe in the Ewok 
village, and Cady is right here."

Luke peered down into the cradle beside the bed, sensing an enormous 
wave of Force energy sweeping toward him from the baby, and for a 
profound moment the Jedi Master wondered at what cost his sister had 
borne this child.

"Luke," Leia whispered again, and he turned from the baby to look
back into her wild, haunted eyes.  "Please help me find the children!"

"Of course," he soothed her.  "Of course I will.  But first you have to 
heal yourself.  The children need you.  Han needs you."  He paused for 
a moment.  "I need you.  We need each other, Leia.  The Force in each 
of us must be nourished by other Jedi."
 
He squeezed her hands, projecting strength into her.  "Sister, hear 
me," he instructed.  "The Force is strong in our family.  You have the 
power to heal yourself.  You now know what to do."

He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.  "We'll see you on the 
other side," he whispered and Han watched with heart in throat as 
Leia's eyes seemed to go peaceful for a moment, and she suddenly 
relaxed against the pillows.

Luke sat at the bedside and watched her for a long time, watching Han 
holding her hand and feeling the torment within his brother-in-law.  He 
had done all he could, he thought.  There was nothing more to do but 
wait.

He rose quietly from the bed and left the room, leaving his sister to 
her husband's care, their combined fate unresolved, but in the hands of 
the Force.

********************

Luke had warned Han that Leia might sleep for several days while her 
body healed itself from the toxins that had possessed it.  Somehow, Han 
had not counted on her being in such a deep sleep that she could not 
rouse herself to nurse their child, and even though he dutifully 
brought the baby to her on demand, he was eventually reduced to 
preparing bottles of formula to sustain the infant while her mother was 
in what he hoped was a healing trance.  Looking back, he was thankful 
that he'd had the foresight to bring along all those crates of formula. 
Perhaps something was telling him, even then, that he would be needing 
it.

During the long hours he sat beside their bed anxiously watching his 
wife for the first signs of recovery, Han had a lot of time to examine 
his feelings over many things that he had never quite thought of in the 
past, including his own feelings toward the destiny that Luke insisted 
was predetermined.

Leia's link to her brother through the Force was something so powerful 
that to deny it, or even to dampen it in any way, seemed to be going 
against nature.  Since settling on Endor, Han had acquired an enormous 
amount of respect for Nature and her majesty, in such abundance all 
around them.  He wondered what it was about Endor that seemed to 
magnify all of the good things in life:  the love he shared with his 
wife and children, the special intimacy he and Leia had always enjoyed 
while on Endor's surface, a feeling of such rightness of spirit that to 
let negative feelings intrude seemed a crime against Nature herself.

There was a soft tapping at the door.  "Come on in," he called 
distractedly, his eyes not leaving Leia's face.  The door opened 
silently as Luke entered the room and moved toward his sister's prone 
form.

"How is she?" he asked Han.

"You tell me," Han muttered.  "She hasn't moved a muscle since she went 
into that trance."  His eyes flicked up at Luke, a sudden fear 
clutching at his throat.  "If it is a trance," he said uneasily.  His 
tone was questioning, begging for reassurance from the Jedi.

Luke reached into his twin's mind, felt the subtle workings deep within 
her brain, and reached for the familiar nub of primal memories but 
little conscious thought.  He had tried this trick with her many years 
ago, when they'd discovered, quite by accident, that Force-sensitives 
had an instinctive mental reflex when touched in that certain 
vulnerable spot, the degree of which was indicative of the strength of 
the Force that flowed through the person.  Leia's initial reaction had 
been to mentally shove him backward with such unexpected force that he 
nearly fell.  Luke was hoping for a similar reaction this time.

He pushed.  Barely a nudging at his brain; Luke sighed.  At least there 
was a reaction.  At this point he was grateful to have even that much.  
He shook his head, looked again at Han.

"Not much better - but some," he quickly added, seeing the look of 
dejection on Han's face.  Han sat back in his chair, ran a tired hand 
over his eyes, down his face.  Luke looked closely at his brother-in-
law, noting the days' old stubble of beard, the bloodshot eyes, mussed 
hair from too many hours spent running his fingers through it as he sat 
with bowed head beside his ailing wife.

"Why don't you go get some rest?" Luke suggested quietly.  "I'll sit 
with her until you come back."  Han was obviously reluctant to leave, 
and Luke strove to reassure him, patting his friend's shoulder. "Don't 
worry!  It's just the healing trance.  She apparently learned it better 
than I thought she would.  It's a good sign."

He gently pulled Han out of the chair, urging him toward the door.  
"Come on, Han.  The children are going to need their father when they 
get home and you'll be much better able to handle it with a little more 
sleep."

Han reluctantly looked back over his shoulder at Leia, pulled away from 
Luke and walked back to the bed, kneeling beside her, his lips near her 
ear.  "Come back to me, Princess," he whispered.

He kissed her lips tenderly, gave her brow a final caress, and turned 
to leave the room, poking his head back in the door with a final 
instruction.  "Call me if there's any change," he ordered.  "And I mean 
any change.  Promise?"

Luke nodded solemnly.  "My word as a Jedi," he vowed, and closed the 
door behind Han, walking back to the bedside and seating himself 
carefully down beside his sister.  He put his hand to her heart, opened 
his Jedi senses to feel its steady rhythm, and smiled, encouraged; Leia 
had always been of such strong spirit, she would not give in easily to 
this demon that was trying to take her away from them.

His face hardened.  This demon that he needed to understand more about.  
There was only one way he could acquire that knowledge.

He reached out to place a hand on either side of Leia's head, the first 
two fingers of each resting against her temples.  Shutting all 
perception from his consciousness save that of Leia's deepest thoughts, 
he reached within her mind to establish a link with her comatose Sense.  
He saw, as she did, the images that accompanied those ramblings, but 
was able to view them as a rational person rather than as a woman in 
the ravages of a raging fever, and was, therefore, able to analyze 
them, dissect them.

Once Luke made that connection, he had a whole new understanding of the 
darkness they faced on Endor.  And what a monumental demonstration of 
their combined talents it would take to defeat it.

*******************

Han lay exhausted on the couch in the main living quarters, one arm 
thrown across his eyes, worried to the point of nausea.  Now he 
understood how Leia had felt after she'd learned he and Chewie were 
missing during their mission to Kessel, wondered how she'd stood it.  
She didn't exactly have any choice, he thought tiredly.  There'd been 
the twins to think of, and little Anakin hidden away on Anoth.

Now there was one more reason to stand it; Han felt a squeeze on his 
heart at the thought of the bundle that was his little Cady.  A firm 
resolve gripped him.  He would hold on.  And so would Leia.  She had 
such a passion for life that for her to check out of it was unthinkable 
to Han.  He wouldn't let her go, he thought tiredly, his eyes closing, 
sleep clawing at him.  He wouldn't let her go.

*******************

Han was standing in a field of tall grasses, their tops bowing in a 
green cascade as they were stirred by the brisk breeze, making soft 
hissing noises as they touched.  He looked before him and caught sight 
of rich tresses whipping about the dark head of his wife, who was 
walking away from him through the grasses up ahead, steadily 
approaching a twisted tree he knew well.  He called to her, and her 
image turned to him, her features softening into a smile as she saw 
him.

He plowed through the grasses to stand beside her, took her in his 
arms.  "Stay with me!" he implored, holding her tightly against him.

"But they're calling me," she said into his shoulder.  "The children 
are calling me.  I have to see what they want."  She pushed away from 
him, moving again toward the tree.

Han caught her arm, tried to pull her back into his embrace, but she 
pulled free and continued on her way.  "I must go, my love" she said 
gently as she pulled away.  "The children are calling me..."  Her voice 
seemed so very far away, her image fading with every step toward the 
Tree.

*******************

Han jerked awake with a start.  Realizing where he was, he sat bolt 
upright, threw himself off of the couch, and ran across the room, down 
the hall to his and Leia's sleeping chambers, bursting through the 
door, frantic.  Luke was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands on 
either side of Leia's head, and Han could tell from the look of the 
Jedi that he'd been linking with his sister.  He hesitated only a 
moment before dropping to his knees beside the bed, gripping his wife's 
lifeless hand in both of his.

"Come back to me, Leia," he called to her.  "Leave that damned tree 
alone!  Come back to our Jedi children!  To Jacen and Jaina and Anakin.  
Come back to our sweet little Cady."  He squeezed her hand, pressed his 
lips to it.  "Come back to me, sweetheart!  Don't you dare check out on 
me!"

His throat constricted, preventing him from saying more.  He buried his 
head on her bosom, finding comfort in the steady beating of her heart 
against his ear, and was encouraged at the strength of its rhythm, 
clearly audible through the blankets.

Han Solo lay against his wife's breast and prayed that she would be 
strong enough to pull herself out of the pit. 

******************

They stayed together like that throughout the long, lonely night, the 
two men who had loved her for so long, using the combined strength of 
their love to call her back from the inexorable pull of Darkness.  Time 
ceased to exist as they fought an unseen battle for the woman who was 
so much a part of them both.  And sometime during the wee hours of the 
morning she opened her eyes and looked at them with lucidity.

Han was first to react, lifting a shaky hand to lay against her brow, 
mercifully cool to his touch.  He met her eyes and saw a hint of her 
old spark.  "Sweetheart?" he began tentatively, leaning close to her.  
"You okay?"

Leia looked at him for a long moment, at the circles under his eyes, 
the lines of fatigue in the face she loved so much, her Sense reaching 
for him, aching for the emotional torment she knew he had endured 
during her illness.  She lifted a cautious hand to touch his cheek, 
rubbed it across his scratchy beard.  "Somebody hasn't been taking care 
of you," she murmured.

Han let loose with a slightly hysterical laugh, kissed her fervently on 
her dry, cracked lips.  He pulled back to point a finger at her mock 
menacingly.  "Don't you ever pull a stunt like that on me again!" he 
scolded, then gathered her into his arms, hugging her to him in an 
agony of relief.  He held her and thanked the Force or Luke or whatever 
it was that had restored her to him, vowing never again to curse his 
wife's bond with her brother.

Luke watched them embrace and felt his own relief at the healing powers 
of the Force that had pulled his twin from the brink of the unknown.  
He reached tentatively for her Sense, felt her embrace it 
enthusiastically, and he smiled as she enfolded him in the warmth of 
her love, smiling back at him over Han's shoulder, her dark eyes larger 
than ever in her pale face.

//Welcome back, dear sister,// he projected, fighting for control of 
his own emotions.  //Once again, lost and found.  Strong are you in the 
Force, to have fought your way back to us.  Strong are you in the 
Force!//

****************

"Han, where are the children?" Leia asked her husband later, as he 
brought Arcadia to her, hoping fervently that she would still be able 
to nurse the baby after such an illness.  Han looked at her sideways, 
wondering if she was talking about their little Jedi or if she was 
backsliding into that other world.

"Which children?" he asked cautiously, placing their baby on the bed 
beside Leia and helping her get into position to feed the infant.

"Ours, of course," she answered, looking at him strangely, a little 
half-smile on her face.  "Which children did you think I meant?"

"Well, you did ramble quite a bit while you were delirious," he 
replied, placing a pillow behind her back and climbing over her, easing 
down to lie on his side next to them on the bed.  He leaned on one 
elbow, resting his head on his hand.  Reaching out with a finger he 
stroked Arcadia's fair head, smiled at the funny little noises she made 
as she rooted for her dinner, quieting when she found that which she 
sought.

He relaxed as he watched the baby go for it with growing enthusiasm, 
and was relieved that he hadn't done any damage to the child's desire 
to nurse by giving her those bottles of formula.  Nourishing their 
young was something deeply ingrained in women of Alderaanian descent, 
and Leia had enthusiastically embraced the practice with the arrival of 
the twins.  She would have been greatly distressed if she had lost that 
special relationship with her newborn daughter. 

"I don't remember anything," she said, shaking her head thoughtfully.  
"It just seems like I've been asleep for a very long time.  How long 
has it been, anyway?"

Han sighed, uncomfortably recalling the helpless fear of the past ten 
days.  Arcadia's birth had been an incredible emotional high, but they 
had been permitted to enjoy it for such a short time.  Leia's illness 
had come upon her with a suddenness that took them both by surprise.

"Let's see, you took sick the morning after Cady was born in the middle 
of the night," he told her.  "Your fever kept getting higher and higher 
and you went delirious five days later.  Luke arrived the day after 
that; and you were in a healing trance for another three."

Leia looked at her husband and reached her free hand to smooth the 
lines of tension from his forehead.  "You've had a pretty rotten time 
of it, haven't you?" she asked.

He caught her hand, brought it down to his lips and kissed it.  "With 
the exception of catching the bundle there," he nodded toward his 
daughter, "yeah, you could say it's been pretty much of a wash out."  
He met her eyes, held them for a long moment.  "Like I said," he 
murmured, "don't you ever do that to me again!"

"I promise," she whispered.  //I love you, Nerf Herder//, she thought 
at him with a tenderness that hurt.

"I know," he said warmly.  He may not be Jedi, but he could read this 
woman.  "Me too, you," he murmured.  "More than you'll ever know."

She caressed his cheek.  "Oh, I know."  She smiled at him through 
misty, dark eyes, was diverted by a squirming Arcadia, and adjusted the 
baby's position before looking back up at him, collecting herself.  
"You never did answer my question.  Where are the children?"

"I sent them to the Ewok village with Chewie when you first took ill.  
I couldn't exactly give them the attention they needed while I was 
taking care of you and Cady," he said, a little defensively.  He 
inclined his head over his shoulder at the comm center on the other 
side of the room.  "I radioed Chewie a little while ago with the news 
that you're better, and he's going to bring them back tomorrow."

"Why not tonight?" she asked, gazing down at her daughter, caressing 
the downy head.

"Because, Your Highness," Han began in an authoritative tone, tilting 
her chin to look up at him.  "You need all your strength to get well, 
and if they're here you won't concentrate on self-healing like Luke 
says you need to.  They'd be a distraction - albeit a lovable one.  One 
more night away isn't going to hurt them, and it can only do you good.  
So," he concluded in a voice that defied argument, "they're staying 
there and you're staying here.  And you, sweetheart, are to do 
absolutely nothing - with the possible exception of taking care of 
Cady's appetite.  I'll do all the rest."

She looked at him, inches away, and caressed his face with loving eyes.  
"Thank you for saving this for me," she murmured, nodding at their baby 
as she nursed,  "this special time.  You're so good to me," she 
whispered.  "I love you, Han."

He looked at her for a long moment, thinking how close he had come to 
losing her.  "Ditto you, Princess," he growled, in something very like 
his old voice, the voice he'd had before her illness had sobered him to 
such a degree.  Han leaned across the fair head of their child and 
kissed his wife with all of the pent up emotion he had somehow managed 
to control during the crisis.

When he finally pulled away from her he bent to kiss Arcadia's silky 
head as she worked so earnestly at eating.  "Ditto the both of you," he 
murmured, and lay down beside them, his head on the bed beside his 
daughter, his ear at her back, smiling at the little gulping noises she 
made as she ate.  He closed his eyes, permitting himself to relax and 
enjoy the pleasure of their company.  And thanking whatever higher 
powers were at work in the universe that had returned his love to him.

****************

Later, after Leia and Arcadia were asleep, curled together in the 
middle of the massive four poster bed, Han crept out the door leading 
from their sleeping chambers and onto the porch.  He sat on the edge of 
the railing and leaned against a support post, one knee drawn up.

Fixing his gaze on no particular grouping of stars above him, he 
allowed a little crack to form in the wall he'd erected to keep him 
sane these last few days.  The eyes that had been mockingly dry for so 
many years filled as the realization of how close he had come to losing 
his wife settled upon him.

In all their years together, through all of the close calls they'd had 
on their various escapades, the numerous times they'd somehow managed 
to escape from the jaws of death, Han had never been so completely at 
the mercy of the destiny Luke so often spoke of.  During the agonizing 
hours he'd sat at Leia's bedside, bathing her with cool cloths while 
talking softly to her, urging her to stay with him, he'd come face to 
face with the unthinkable:  the possibility that, for the sake of their 
children, he might have to go on without her.  The thought had scared 
him to death.

Miraculously, she had been restored to him, and he thanked the Force 
for that.  The predawn breeze swept through the trees, swirling upwards 
to caress his face, drying the salty drops on his cheeks.  Finally, 
spent, Han sighed heavily, swept one hand over his face and across his 
tired eyes, stood and turned to go back inside.

Luke was watching him from the far side of the porch, his placid blue  
gaze taking in the cautious way his brother-in-law moved, as if leery 
of every movement, senses exquisitely tuned to every sound from the 
sleeping chambers through the door he'd left ajar.  Something was 
different about Han's Sense, Luke thought; something that hadn't been 
there before the family fled Coruscant, some subtle new connection 
between Han and Leia, man and woman - and also between father and 
child.  Luke wondered what could have brought about such a change.

Han caught sight of Luke as he turned to go back into his and Leia's 
chambers.  They eyed each other in silence for a moment, and Han felt 
his former animosity slip away like sand through a sieve.  "Thanks, 
kid," Han called softly to the younger man.  "Now I owe you another 
one."

Luke waved a hand in dismissal.  "Forget it," he said quietly.  "Let's 
call it even.  And get on with our lives."  He approached Han across 
the porch, extended a tentative hand.  "Truce?"

Han looked down at the black glove that covered his brother-in-law's 
prosthetic hand, took it in his own and gripped it firmly. "'Truce' 
isn't nearly good enough," he declared, and pulled the younger man 
against him in a quick, almost embarrassed hug, slapping him on the 
back before just as quickly pushing him away again.

"Make yourself at home, huh?" he said tiredly.  "I'm going to bed.  
It's been a hell of a night."

Han walked wearily across the porch and back into their chambers, 
closing the door softly behind him.  Moving to the bed, he smiled at 
the sight of his wife and child asleep, Leia's arm protectively across 
the baby, a tiny bundle beside her.  Han silently undressed, got into 
bed beside them, and was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

And that night none of them was bothered by dreams.

*********************

[End Chapter]

[End - Part II]